Every time he saw Little Henry Grant, he found it amazing and thought that the butcher Butcher Grant, who had slaughtered a thousand pigs, must have been born with eyes like a hawk—after all these years, he still hadn’t mistaken his son for a pig and butchered him. However, Charles was steady by nature and spoke kindly; no matter what he thought inside, he never said anything hurtful.

Charles acted like a true big brother, reaching out to help Little Henry Grant up and brushing the dust off him. “Why are you running? Be careful not to fall and hurt yourself. Looking for me for something?”

Little Henry Grant: “Charles big brother, your dad and the others will be back tomorrow, so we don’t have class. Will you come with us to snatch the wild goose food? We’ll definitely beat Li the little monkey and his gang until they’re running for their lives!”

Charles’s father was John Foster—but not his biological father.

When he was two or three, Charles came here with his widowed mother, Xiuniang, to seek refuge with relatives, only to find they had already moved away. They were left with nowhere to go. As it happened, the officer John Foster had lost his first wife and had no children. He took a liking to Xiuniang and married her as a second wife.

John Foster had taken men beyond the pass to collect tribute from the barbarians, and by now, he was likely to return to the city in the next couple of days.

Life was hard in the border town, and children had no snacks. Every time the soldiers returned with tribute, they would bring back some cheese and dried meat from the barbarians and toss them along the roadside, sparking a scramble among the local kids. This was called “snatching wild goose food.”

Since it was a “snatch,” a bunch of kids inevitably ended up fighting. As long as no one got seriously hurt, the adults didn’t interfere, so the kids formed gangs and took it all very seriously.

In this kind of thing, whoever could get Charles to join their group was basically guaranteed to be unbeatable.

Charles had always been meticulous in his martial arts practice—there were many military households on the border, so plenty of children trained, but most just went through the motions and learned poorly. Only Charles, from the day he started learning swordsmanship, practiced alone on General’s Slope every day, never slacking off for years, with astonishing perseverance.

Now, Charles was not yet fourteen by Chinese reckoning, but he could already lift a heavy sword weighing over sixty jin with one hand. Although he knew his own strength and never took part in the kids’ fights, the other boys were still inexplicably a little afraid of him.

Charles didn’t take it to heart and said with a smile, “I’m too old for snatching wild goose food.”

Little Henry Grant wouldn’t give up. “I already talked to Mr. Sullivan, and he agreed. We have these days off.”

Charles walked slowly with his hands behind his back, the heavy sword tapping against his calf now and then, ignoring Little Henry Grant’s childish talk.

Whether he studied or practiced swordsmanship was up to him; it had nothing to do with whether the teacher gave them a holiday.

Little Henry Grant: “Besides, Mr. Sullivan said he needs to change medicine for Uncle William, and he might have to go out to buy herbs in the next few days, so he won’t be home. You don’t have anywhere to go, so just come with us. What’s so fun about practicing swordsmanship all day?”

This time, Charles finally took it to heart. He paused and asked, “Didn’t William just come back from Changyang Pass? How is he sick again?”

Little Henry Grant: “Ah… I guess so. He’s never really gotten better, has he?”

“Then I’ll go check on him,” Charles waved at the two little tagalongs. “Go home now, it’s getting late. If you miss dinner, your dad will beat you again.”

Little Henry Grant: “Hey, big brother, um…”

Charles had no interest in listening to his endless “um”s and “uh”s. At this age, even a year’s difference made a big difference in height and thinking. Charles couldn’t really play with Little Henry Grant and the others anymore.

Relying on his long legs, he quickly walked away.

The chubby boy had made the trip for nothing and failed to recruit him. He sighed in disappointment and glared at Mary Carter. “You could at least say something!”

Mary Carter’s cheeks were flushed, her gaze evasive. The bossy look she’d had earlier was long gone. Now, like a lovesick girl, she clutched her chest and said, “Even the way my Charles big brother walks looks better than anyone else.”

Little Henry Grant: “……”

Never bringing this embarrassment out again.

The “Mr. Sullivan” and “Uncle William” that Little Henry Grant mentioned were brothers and had quite a connection with Charles.

Two years ago, when Charles was still young, he slipped out of the city gates alone to play, got lost, and ran into a pack of wolves. He was nearly dragged away, but luckily, the The Sullivan Brothers happened to be traveling through.

Mr. Sullivan used medicinal powder to drive off the hungry wolves and saved his life. The brothers later settled in the small town of Yan Hui. John Foster rented them an empty courtyard of his own, and in gratitude for saving his life, didn’t charge them rent.

The elder brother was named James Sullivan, a scholar who had repeatedly failed the imperial exams. Though still young, he had given up on an official career and settled down as a recluse in this godforsaken place. The townsfolk all respectfully called him “Mr. Sullivan.”

Besides being a recluse, Mr. Sullivan also served as a doctor, letter-writer, tutor, and “long-armed master,” among other roles. He was very talented—he could treat injuries, help mares give birth, run a private school at home during the day to teach the local boys to read and write, and at night, after sending the students home, he would roll up his sleeves to repair steam engines, armor, and all kinds of puppets to help make ends meet. He was a true recluse, hidden away from the world.