Eavesdropping

This winter turned out far better than Tang Feiliu had initially imagined. All the manure from inside and outside the castle was collected and piled for composting. Though the castle lacked electricity, the sewage system was fully operational. With his boss away at a royal banquet, Tang Feiliu’s only tasks were occasionally inspecting the compost piles with Uncle Sam and the others—and secretly treating himself to extra meals!

Could life get any better?!

Tang Feiliu answered, "There's more—it's when the first winter snow falls. After the fields on the distant slopes of the castle hill, Uncle Sam's fields included, are all fertilized, and the first winter snow descends, ushering in the entire social season."

Nandeng Township hosted the first ball Tang Feiliu attended. As the castle's darlings, they were honored guests of every local gentry and the dream partners of every young lady in the area.

Though Tang Feiliu's orientation set him apart, as a man of refined taste, seeing so many handsome men and beautiful women all at once was a delight to him.

This was especially true when he casually mentioned cooking and wine appreciation at a country gentleman's ball, only to find his words instantly embraced as "the latest trend among the elite." Tang Feiliu grew increasingly fond of such gatherings—for the food began tasting more delicious, the wine more mellow and pure. More importantly, he discovered that even in this era, some possessed a sense of justice and compassion.

Take Alan Nates, the gentleman from Nandeng Township. Tall and handsome, he was rumored to be the second son of Old Nates. After his elder brother inherited the estate, Alan took his share of the inheritance and, without hesitation, boarded a ship bound for the open sea.

His mother fainted several times over this, and his brother tried to find him—their bond was exceptionally strong. The inheritance Alan received was ample enough to buy another comfortable house, perhaps even some land, allowing him to continue living a respectable life.

Yet Alan seemed madly obsessed with the sea. He drifted across the oceans for five years, and it was said his fortune doubled repeatedly, surpassing even his brother's. Yet his brother met an untimely death in an accident. Alan was then compelled to abandon his seaside home and return to York to inherit his brother's estate—for if he did not come back, his brother having no heir, the estate would pass to his cousin. That drunkard and gambler would never provide a decent life for his mother and two nieces.

Tang Feiliu met Alan at the second dance in Nandeng Township—she could spot him instantly among the crowd. Elegant and well-dressed, he radiated affluence tempered by restraint. In his prime, likely in his thirties, he carried a gentle, reserved demeanor tinged with quiet authority.

More importantly, Tang Feiliu's radar instantly told him—this man was different, just like him.

"Hey, Jess, who's that guy?" Tang Feiliu couldn't resist tugging on Jess, who was busy eyeing the pretty girls nearby. Jess, currently raising his glass for a hearty drink while checking out the ladies present, followed Tang Feiliu's gaze and spotted Alan too. He immediately said, "Oh. You don't know him? That's Mr. Alan. He's a legendary figure."

Thus Tang Feiliu learned of Allen's background. He understood that despite his current refined and elegant demeanor, Allen was a formidable man who had battled pirates at sea. He also knew that upon Allen's return from the seas, weary and battered, he had encountered his cousin—a repulsive man who had assumed Allen was dead and had come to claim his inheritance. That very cousin was now ranting in the house, addressing Allen's thirteen-year-old niece: "It is precisely because of my kindness that I intend to marry you. At least this way, you, your mother, and your sister can remain on this estate. You are free to refuse, but if you do, the three of you can get the hell out of my estate! I won't give you a single penny!"

Alan's mother—a gentlewoman, the daughter of a gentleman, a lady sheltered all her life—wept in terror. Clutching her two daughters, she shook her head and wailed, "No, spare them! They're just children! I beg you! I'll take my dowry and leave this place..."

But Alan's cousin sneered coldly, "Your dowry is already part of my uncle's fortune. You have no right to take a single penny from here!"

This brings us to one of the repugnant "customs" of the era: women had no right to private property. Indeed, just as it was legal for a second son to die outside the family, in this age—much like Europe before the 18th and 19th centuries—women lived scarcely better than livestock.

It wasn't that they lacked inheritance rights; it was that as human beings, they lacked the legal standing to possess private wealth. The prevailing belief was that women themselves were a form of property.

It sounds disgusting and terrifying, yet this was the stark reality of history. Thus, absurd situations repeatedly arose: when a gentleman with only daughters passed away, his children could not inherit his wealth. Instead, they could only pray that the gentleman's heir possessed even a shred of kindness—that he might marry her, or provide a decent dowry to wed her to a passable man. Should the heir disregard propriety and the gentleman's daughter being cast out of the house would draw little more than moral condemnation.

So, this drunken cousin was actually quite right—if only he weren't more than a decade older than Mr. Allen, reeking from years of alcohol abuse, and limping from a beating over gambling debts...

It was precisely at this moment that Allen returned home, covered in dust and sweat.

This saved the desperate family. The drunkard tried to cause trouble again, but the robust Mr. Allen beat him soundly and flung him out like a piece of mud.

What impressed Tang Feiliu was Mr. Allen's response when the drunken cousin, still cursing, tried to threaten his niece: "...Just wait! When he dies and I inherit this estate... I'll make you all pay!" Mr. Allen declared: If I'm about to die, I'll kill you first! No one has the right to covet this estate—it belongs to them!"

In this era, declaring that one's inherited wealth belonged to those unworthy of it required a nobility of spirit that transcended time—something far from simple to achieve. Thus, when Tang Feiliu heard Mr. Allen's story and stood face-to-face with him, his uncontrollable admiration became utterly understandable.

"Mr. Allen, it's truly an honor," Tang Feiliu said, looking at him. "To know a gentleman of such noble character as yourself fills me with profound respect."

Jace chuckled beside them. "Indeed. Lance was just marveling to me about your glorious past."

Alan possessed short, curly brown hair and gentle gray-blue eyes, appearing exceptionally handsome—yes, this was the first time Tang Feiliu had ever appraised a man of this era so highly. Even Edward hadn't earned such praise.

Edward's hormonal aura was overwhelming, suffocatingly so. His aggressive presence overshadowed his appearance, whereas Alan was different. Alan was handsome, with a physique perfectly sculpted for strength. He resembled an American heartthrob from modern dramas—possessing an upright demeanor, a robust build, and a face almost too handsome for words.

Combined, it was utterly mesmerizing, enough to make one faint.

For Tang Feiliu, the greatest blessing was the scent emanating from Mr. Allen—it instantly snapped him out of his near-fainting state of awe. Otherwise, he doubted he could maintain his sanity in the presence of such a captivating gentleman.

This very quality, however, deepened Tang Feiliu's admiration for Alan. After their initial meeting, when Alan had jokingly remarked on his good fortune to meet such a talented administrator, they hadn't engaged in much deep conversation.

He was neither servile nor arrogant—unfazed by flattery, unaltered by others' status, yet perfectly courteous.

This very quality laid the foundation for their deep friendship, which blossomed after an unexpected, heartfelt conversation later on.

Truthfully, Tang Feiliu was feeling quite irritable at the time. While such banquets were entertaining, like most social gatherings, experiencing them once or twice was sufficient. Once the novelty wore off, they only bred boredom and anxiety—especially as the heavy snow showed no sign of stopping. From afar, Tang Feiliu could see the villagers' dwellings now completely engulfed by the snow.

It tested the tender heart of any modern person. Here he sat on a plush, velvet-upholstered sofa, a crackling fire in the hearth, idly flipping through ornate books in his dressing gown... Yet if you stepped to the window and gazed into the distance, far, far away... At the horizon's edge visible from the castle, all those tiny patches you once discerned had dissolved into pure white... Knowing people were starving and freezing there, you couldn't help but feel their pain.

Yet those people seemed so close. But under heavy snow, carriages couldn't travel far—and those places often lacked wide roads accessible by carriage anyway. Closer still, the villages nestled beneath the cliffs—Tang Feiliu had only recently learned those people were the Duke's slaves. They owned no land or income of their own. In winter, they received permission to freely cut wood for warmth, but their lives were far from easy.

Tang Feiliu wanted to do something, but he didn't know how to broach the subject with Grandfather Dave. In fact, he'd just snapped at Jace that morning, right as Jace was dragging him to the banquet.

"You don't understand anything!" Tang Feiliu snapped at Jace, leaving the boy utterly bewildered. "You're warm, you're well-fed, so you think the snow is beautiful! That's why you have the heart to keep attending balls!"

"No, I just... I just feel... Don't you think the people down at the foot of the mountain need a little help right now?" Tang Feiliu sighed before voicing his frustration.

Jesse burst out laughing on the spot, then sang out, "Oh, sweet little Lance, you're such an angel."

It sounded like mockery, but it was also the truth of their situation—the nobles had no inclination to look down upon the masses, for the Temple's current doctrine held that those with wealth and power possessed them by birthright, as God's favored children. As for those less fortunate... you are rebellious lambs, and thus God punishes you.

It sounded absurd, yet under the weight of successful indoctrination, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible.

This era, this empire, was thriving. The development of maritime trade would bring resources and unparalleled glory to the empire. Yet all this seemed irrelevant to the common folk. Though workers and freemen could eat their fill, even meat, they lacked spices and refined grains. The lowest-caste slaves possessed no personal property whatsoever.

After heavy snows in past years, people always died—houses collapsed, entire families perishing in their sleep. Tang Feiliu knew he couldn't accomplish much; he was just an ordinary man. Yet sitting comfortably within the towering castle walls, he yearned to do something—even if only for those around him, even if only to ease his own conscience.

It was precisely at this moment that Alan and Tang Feiliu, who hadn't spoken since their initial meeting, happened to engage in a conversation.

It began because Tang Feiliu felt gloomy but didn't want to show it in front of others. Fortunately, this was a country gathering hosted by a gentleman who loved the countryside. On this rare, warm and sunny winter afternoon, they were on the lawn of the gentleman's main residence.

This allowed Tang Feiliu to wander freely, eventually settling on a slope in the back garden where she sat squinting in the sun.

It was then that Tang Feiliu overheard voices.

First came a cold, mocking voice: "Why, isn't this the handsome Mr. Allen? How unusual—you actually attending the ball multiple times... Don't you have those poor souls in your country fields to tend to?!"

The words were sharp and cutting. Yet in the next moment, Tang Feiliu heard Allen's polite reply: "...It is simply my duty as a gentleman to provide proper care for the people on my land. If I have the capacity to help others, it brings me great joy."

Yeah, you were so happy... When you ran away from home to hide from my sister, you were thrilled too, weren't you? Do you know it was all because of you that she had to marry in such a hurry? She left home in tears... It's all your fault my favorite sister had to marry far away. I hate you! I hate you!" That harsh voice carried immense fury and sorrow. Tang Feiliu peered through the branches, crouched low on the ground, and saw a chestnut-haired youth standing before Airi. Tears welled in his deep green eyes as he clenched his fists and glared up at Alan, his entire being resembling an enraged little horse.

Tang Feiliu held her breath. Good heavens, this boy looked just like an elf from a CG illustration. If he lived in modern times, he could probably grow his hair long and play an elf in movies.

"Rogers, this isn't fair..." Alan's gray-blue eyes met the younger boy's as he spoke softly. "...Mary Jane and I have no personal relationship. Didn't she tell you we're just friends?"

"...I don't care, I hate you!" Rogers, with his green eyes, wouldn't let it go. He glared at Alan angrily. If it weren't for the fact that Alan towered over him by a full head, he'd have no chance against him, and he absolutely would have fought Alan.

"Rogers, it wasn't about your sister. Though I was running away, it wasn't because of Mary Jane... Do you understand?!" Alan looked at Rogers painfully, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"But you were always with me and my sister back then! You know she turned down Mr. Degu's proposal because of you... Then you just vanished! Besides my sister, what else could you possibly care about?!" Rogers threw his chin up, his voice thick with resentment.

"Mary Jane didn't reject Degu because of me. Listen, Rogers, you were young. I just didn't want to hurt you..." Alan tried to explain earnestly, but his polite manners and social skills were clearly useless on this angry little guy. Rogers refused to listen to his explanation at all. Instead, he kicked Lawrence's leg angrily, then panicked for a second and blurted out, "I'm not little! I'm twenty-three years old! You're a hypocrite!" before bolting away in panic.

Tang Feiliu watched this seamless scene unfold. Seeing Rogers Pearl flee like that, she couldn't help but find the whole thing utterly adorable. This gentleman was just too cute—couldn't he see how much the charming Mr. Allen in front of him wanted to devour him whole?!

So charmed he wanted to pound the floor in frustration, Tang Feiliu made a sudden noise. Immediately, he heard Allen's alert voice: "Who's there?!"

Author's Note:

This story is purely for my own enjoyment—a little fluff piece where Tang Feiliu is a sweet, soft little pastry. Everything exists solely for the sake of this adorable little sugar cube. Don't overthink it, everyone.