What kind of interest is this?

　　William Thompson gestured to him, “Let’s go, David Harris.”

　　…

　　In the main house stood a tall, opaque screen, with only a few carved openings on the wooden frame allowing those behind it to see into the room.

　　William Thompson led Brian Clark around to the back of the screen.

　　Edward Harris saw that the screen blocked people off completely, finally allowing himself to relax a little. He turned and told Eric Young to light a lamp by the bed and set a medicinal burner in the room.

　　In a moment, white smoke curled around, enveloping the clothes rack and bed curtains, casting a dim, hazy light throughout the room.

　　Edward Harris was satisfied and instructed the servant, “Go invite the guest.”

　　“Yes, sir.”

　　Eric Young urged nervously, “Sir, please get into position quickly.”

　　“All right, all right, I know.”

　　As Edward Harris spoke, he undid his sash and tossed it onto the couch, then, with practiced ease, reached to take off his pants.

　　Eric Young suddenly remembered the emperor was still in the room and hurriedly stopped him, “Sir… sir, don’t! Just cover yourself with the blanket, no one can see anyway.” No need to undress!

　　Edward Harris was shocked: The way he said that, as if he was undressing for nothing!

　　“Don’t worry, I never intended to let anyone see.”

　　“It’s not that, I just—”

　　“Too late, if we’re acting, we have to do it thoroughly.” Edward Harris cut him off, pulled off his pants and tossed them onto the bench, then swung his legs up and rolled onto the bed.

　　The crimson robe wrapped around pale, tender skin.

　　He flashed through the misty curtains, the candlelight flickering in the breeze, casting a swaying silhouette onto the drapes.

　　Eric Young was left completely speechless.

　　…

　　Behind the screen, Brian Clark buried his head low into his chest.

　　Strands of light and shadow fell through the carved openings; he didn’t dare look around at all, much less glance at the emperor beside him.

　　Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that hand hanging at the emperor’s side, the knuckles distinct, unmoving. He wondered if the emperor was…

　　Brian Clark’s heart skipped a beat, cursing himself inwardly:

　　Are you tired of living, daring to speculate about the emperor!

　　Who is the emperor?

　　He is both the sovereign above all and a self-disciplined gentleman. Whether he saw anything or not, he would remain calm and composed.

　　Brian Clark quickly reined in his thoughts and bowed his head, waiting quietly.

　　·

　　Edward Harris had just gotten into position on the bed when the guest arrived.

　　With half his face buried in the pillow, he saw a man in his forties being led in by a servant. Dressed in luxurious clothes, the man was thin and wiry, like a clothes rack in a tailor’s shop.

　　As soon as he entered, his eyes darted around, clearly full of schemes.

　　Edward Harris pressed his lips and coughed twice.

　　Only then did Charles Morgan focus his attention back on him, putting on a worried expression. “Ah, is Mr. Harris’s health all right? I heard you were punished, and I was so concerned that I came to visit right away.”

　　He didn’t forget to stir the pot, “Why is it so quiet in your residence? Haven’t any other colleagues come?”

　　Edward Harris shook his head, “Not even a dog has come, let alone colleagues.”

　　Charles Morgan: ……

　　Behind the screen: ………

　　Charles Morgan forced a smile, “Adversity reveals true hearts, it seems.”

　　Edward Harris followed his lead, looking moved as he raised his head, “Yes, only Mr. Bell truly cares for me.”

　　Charles Morgan’s smile almost slipped, “My surname is Meng.”

　　Edward Harris corrected himself, “Sorry, Mr. Morgan.”

　　The pleasantries went back and forth a few times.

　　Just as Edward Harris was about to doze off lying there, the man in front of him finally revealed his true intentions—

　　“I heard Mr. Harris angered His Majesty by pleading for Minister Geng?” Charles Morgan probed, eyeing him, “Did you learn some inside information?”

　　Finally, if he’d waited any longer, he would have fallen asleep.

　　Edward Harris propped himself up slightly, putting on a hesitant expression.

　　Charles Morgan narrowed his eyes, his tone both caring and meaningful, “Mr. Harris is pure-hearted, inevitably used as a tool by others. As for His Majesty… he’s still young and impulsive, and needs a chicken to warn the monkeys.”

　　Edward Harris looked dazed and bewildered.

　　Charles Morgan felt pleased with himself, feigning regret, “To think you were the top scholar personally appointed by the late emperor, and now you’ve become a pawn in the struggle between two sides, your fate hanging on a single word from His Majesty… I truly feel it’s unfair for you.”

　　Edward Harris was practically overwhelmed:

　　Such provocation, such subtle digs, such empathy, such timely support!

　　He finally understood William Thompson’s interest. Hearing people say these things to your face really was quite entertaining.

　　Edward Harris eagerly pressed, “Then what wise advice does Mr. Morgan have?”

　　“Well…” Charles Morgan’s eyes darted, as if plotting something. Then he lowered his voice, “If you’re willing, why not come to my residence in a couple of days for a chat?”

　　He straightened up and coughed theatrically, “It just so happens there’s a famous doctor at my house who can check your health.”

　　Edward Harris was moved to tears, “Thank you, Mr. Morgan!”

　　…

　　With his goal achieved, Charles Morgan swaggered out.

　　Eric Young, who had been waiting outside, came in. Edward Harris poked his head out from the bed, “He’s gone?”

　　“Gone.” Eric Young glanced nervously at the still screen, “Sir, you should get dressed first…”

　　Bang! A cry of pain suddenly came faintly from outside.

　　The conversation was cut off. Edward Harris: ???

　　Suspicious, he said, “Uncle Young, go take a look.”

　　“Yes, sir.”