Alex blinked obviously taken aback.
When an old father asked a man that question and especially for his daughter there were typically strings attached.
He cleared his throat, accepted the small knife Mr. Hartwell offered him, and started shaving the charcoal to a fine tip. "Single," he confessed.
"Single?" Mr. Hartwell’s eyebrows went up. "A man like you? Half the city must have its young women after you.
What’s wrong are your standards impossibly high, or are you not looking for one?"
To the old man, Alex was not merely competent and wealthy, but a man of talent and modesty as well.
Women should have been queued up by all reasoning.
"In my hometown, I was merely a ordinary worker," Alex joked, a wry smile crossing his face. "A relative once tried to fix me up on a blind date, but the girl. well, she didn’t think I was good enough for her."
His face wrinkled slightly at the recollection of that disastrous blind date that Mrs. Lata had fixed him up with Anjali.
In this ancient world, the minute a couple got married, they were paired for life. But in his own time? If you didn’t check the all the requirements, everyone treated you as a stray dog.
The world had actually gone to downlhill by the time.
"Even someone as brilliant as you, Is her standards too high?" Mr. Hartwell scoffed. "She must have been blind."
Before Alex could reply, the older man’s gaze shifted to the sharpened charcoal in his hand.
"Hmm, What’s that?" he asked curiously.
Alex held it up, the tip now shaped like a modern pencil. His fingers were smudged black, but it would draw far more cleanly. "This is called a pencil where I’m from. It’s a tool for drawing."
Mr. Hartwell nodded slowly, half-understanding, but didn’t interrupt further.
With his improvised pencil, Alex moved quicker and neater, his brushstrokes bold, his focus totally engaged. The world outside him receded; paper and vision in his head were all that existed.
A figure soon took shape — a woman of about thirty, poised and refined, with a pleasant but dignified smile. Every aspect was alive, from the softness of the smile to the understated dignity of her stance.
"Eleanor...! Really Eleanor!" Mr. Hartwell’s voice shook.
"This is... amazing!"
"I owe you so much, Alex."
As Alex presented him with the portrait, the old man’s eyes glowed so intensely that they seemed wet. He almost fell to his knees in gratitude, but Alex moved forward promptly, supporting him.
"No kneeling, please," Alex insisted.
He had sketched it to make Mr. Hartwell’s greatest desire come true but also, he was a little ashamed to admit, because he was bored and wanted to stretch an old skill.
Lucy just then came back, pushing the door open and halting in shock at what she saw.
Her cute face was tilted slightly in confusion.
She’d no idea what had occurred, but her father’s happiness left no doubt.
"Lucy, come see this," Mr. Hartwell said, advancing to point out the painting that Alex had just completed.
"Wow! What a stunning painting!"
"It looks just like Mother was!"
"I didn’t know Alex could paint ."
"Thank you, Brother Alex, for painting her."
Lucy’s eyes gleamed with appreciation. For an instant, her interest in Alex increased.
Painting her mother’s portrait was not only her father’s desire — it was hers and Nathan’s as well. Alex doing it left them ecstatic.
"Don’t stare at me like that," Alex said, brushing a hand with a sheepish smile. "I just sketched it offhand."
Being thanked so many times in a single day left him feeling as though he were being awarded a nice guy card which he is not.
Lucy held the painting, whispering, "It’s so lovely. I wish I could have a portrait ."
Alex grinned. "Okay. When there’s time, I’ll draw one for you."
Lucy hadn’t meant to voice it, but Alex’s casual reply surprised her.
Her cheeks colored, her heart missing a beat. Who wouldn’t covet their beauty of youth immortalized?
"Thank you, Brother Alex," she whispered.
Watching his daughter and Alex converse so cordially, Mr. Hartwell’s smile grew wider, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
If Alex would court Lucy, it would be a blessing.
"Brother Alex, the water’s selling like crazy," Lucy said abruptly, refocusing on business. "People are fighting to buy it on the black market."
"Look, this is the profit from selling half the stock.
Over 100 boxes had sold in no time, earning a massive sack of gold.
For safety, Lucy had Tommy and Rory haul it back in a straw-filled wooden cart.
She pushed the straw aside, revealing the bulging sack.
Untying the cord, she showed the contents of glittering gold inside!
"There’s 2,400 taels of gold here," Lucy said, eyes shining. "I’ve never seen so much in my life!"
Selling water for that amount of profit excited her.
"Don’t tell me," Alex said, moving forward to lift the sack, bubbling with excitement.
One hand couldn’t even lift it; even two hands struggled to lift it.
No wonder it is so, 2,400 taels of gold were roughly 120 kilograms, the weight of two full-grown men.
1 tael is 50 grams, so 2,400 taels is 120,000 grams," Alex figured to himself. "At the recent gold recycling rates around $7.80 per gram — that’s around $930,000 to $940,000."
Realizing this was from the sale of merely 100 boxes of mineral water, Alex was overjoyed.
He’d brought 200 boxes altogether — selling them all could be more than $1.8 million.
"The water’s selling too well," he said to himself. The black market was flourishing, and next time, he intended to bring even more.
There was a knock at the door and then a clear, musical voice, such as an oriole’s song sounded from outside.
"Is Sister Lucy here?"
Lucy’s face brightened. "It’s Miss Evelyn! She’s come to visit!"
"Miss Evelyn?" Alex raised an eyebrow.
Lucy had spoken of her before, a rich young woman, incredibly beautiful.
They’d only been discussing her in the morning, and she was here now.
Alex’s curiosity was piqued. How gorgeous was this Miss Evelyn.