"I’ve arranged for those people to be well taken care of without resorting to force. After all, it’s the festival season, and I don’t want to see any bloodshed. However, within two days at most, they should speak the truth. I’ll continue to look for Ella Johnson, so how do you plan to thank me?" These days are special, so he didn’t want any bloody incidents occurring. Even a rat that accidentally came in to steal food was spared today and let outside.
"Between friends, that’s too polite, isn’t it?" Staring at the rosewood table laden with a variety of snacks, Atlas Hallow couldn’t help but start looking forward to what Charlotte Miller had mentioned. She said she would prepare roast chicken and gingerbread—was she buying them ready-made, or was she going to make them herself?
"You really are straightforward," Fifth Young Master said slowly, enunciating each word, his expression as calm as a gentle breeze.
The housekeeper walked behind Fifth Young Master, bending over to whisper, "Fifth Young Master, dinner is ready..."
Fifth Young Master stood up, and Atlas Hallow followed suit, and they walked into the dining room together.
In truth, their conversation could have ended abruptly, but jokes aside, he still felt obliged to stay for a meal with friends. He wasn’t so ruled by passion as to neglect friendship to such an extent.
That evening, a vat of Chinese yellow wine was opened. Fifth Young Master didn’t drink red wine, foreign wine, or even beer; he drank yellow wine.
Some said it was because of his frail health, but Atlas Hallow never believed Fifth Young Master’s health was weak.
His firm and robust steps weren’t those of someone with frail health.
However, the rumor mill had long labeled Fifth Young Master as a sickly person, and he never refuted it, so everyone took it as truth.
The chef of the Foster Family specialized in standard official cuisine. When it came to the abalone, sea cucumber, shark fin, and fish maw, there wasn’t likely a single restaurant chef in the city who could outperform the Foster Family’s kitchen.
"Fifth Young Master, the massage therapist has arrived. Should he wait a bit?" The housekeeper’s forehead was sweating nervously. Today, Master Chase couldn’t come, and they had sent a young man instead. He was unsure if Fifth Young Master would lose his temper.
"You go ahead and eat, finish up, and head back yourself. I won’t see you off..." Fifth Young Master had just poured himself a glass of wine but stood up without even drinking it.
Atlas Hallow, however, drank that glass of wine. Fifth Young Master’s wines were the finest, and his attention to such matters wasn’t new.
He wasn’t in the mood to eat any longer, seeing as it was only a little past eight. Perhaps it was time to prepare a small gift for Charlotte Miller.
As he was walking out, he happened to encounter the housekeeper escorting a massage therapist carrying a small toolbox. The man was slender with short hair, a shirt covered by a bulky sweater. For a man, his frame was somewhat petite.
Still, Atlas Hallow didn’t pay much attention and strode out of the Foster Family’s courtyard.
Fifth Young Master’s room door was ajar, and the housekeeper led the young man up, gently tapping on the door: "Fifth Young Master, the person is here."
"Hmm..." A low voice came from behind the door. The housekeeper stood at the entrance, opened the door, and then indicated that the massage therapist could enter.
"Are you new?" Fifth Young Master lay down on the couch, and he could tell just by the footsteps that it wasn’t the usual massage therapist.
"Yes..." The young man’s voice was a little soft, as were his footsteps.
Even without his clothes, Fifth Young Master’s skin was very fair but had a smooth and sleek texture. The young man opened the box he brought with him, taking out massage oils. After warming them in his hands, he began to massage Fifth Young Master.