Chapter 8: The Bastard Son

The room was bright and the furnishings luxurious.

Delicate dishes, a solitary silhouette.

In Qiuliu Youlan, there was such a room, of which the guests were completely unaware.

Yet it existed.

There was a man who often drank in this room.

The accompaniments to his drink were the finest.

But the liquor was the worst—cheap enough to buy by the jug without impurity, choking if drunk straight, tasteless if diluted with water.

He liked this liquor for it reminded him of who he was.

Thud thud—thud thud thud—

The sound of knocking suddenly rang out, twice, followed by three times.

"Come in," the man heard the correct code and responded.

Then, the madam pushed the door and entered.

"Your Grace," upon entering, this is how the madam addressed the man.

But in fact, "Your Grace" was not a part of this man's name; he simply requested to be called this for some reason.

"Speak," Your Grace said, turning around to look at the madam.