Jiang Ning entered the production room after inspecting the finished products.
"Didn't I tell you no one is allowed in-"
"Eh? My lord! Why are you here? This place is filthy."
A middle-aged man with shaggy hair and a messy beard spun around, eyes wide.
"Vince, you look like you have not slept in days," Jiang Ning said with a wry smile.
This was the man behind the soap. A sharp mind and a stubborn heart lived in that untidy body. The only problem was that he bathed once a week at best, which was a strange habit for the creator of scented soap.
"It is fine. I slept two days ago," Vince said, waving the concern away as if it were nothing.
Jiang Ning could only shake his head.
Vince's obsession swallowed time. He skipped meals, forgot to drink water, and worked until his hands trembled. It was impressive, but it was also worrying.
"You should stop that," Jiang Ning said. "It is not good for your health. You are not young anymore. Do not push yourself."
Vince peered at him. "Sometimes I think you are not a noble, my lord. Nobles do not care about servants' lives. You do. That is why I agreed to work for you."
Jiang Ning smiled and shook his head. "Enough about me. Are the products ready to sell?"
At the mention of products, Vince brightened. He gestured at the workbench. "These are the soaps, my lord. They only need boxes. Once they are packed, they are ready for the shelves."
"How many did you make?" Jiang Ning asked.
Vince rubbed his chin. "About six hundred pieces."
"Six hundred is not enough," Jiang Ning said, frowning.
It was far from what he wanted.
"If you want more, we will need more hands," Vince said. "But more hands mean the recipe might leak."
"Do not worry about that. I will handle the people," Jiang Ning said. "Rest for a while. Start a new batch after I send trustworthy workers."
Vince clicked his tongue. "Fine. You are the boss."
Jiang Ning chuckled at his sour look. "There will be a celebration at the manor next week. All of you should come. I will send invitations later."
"A celebration? For what?" Vince asked, curious.
"You will find out soon," Jiang Ning said, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Vince saw he would get no answer and shrugged.
"Close the shop early and go home," Jiang Ning said. He patted Vince on the shoulder and stepped out of the production room.
He informed the two attendants about the celebration as well, traded a few light words with them, then left the shop.
"Let's go," Jiang Ning said to Ronan, who waited outside.
He climbed into the carriage while Ronan took the seat beside the coachman.
"The orphanage," Jiang Ning said, folding his arms.
"Yes, my lord," the coachman replied. He snapped the reins, and the horses moved.
In Val,e there was a place for children with nowhere else to go. An old couple had built it with their savings and their patience. In Jiang Ning's past life, a few of his comrades had come from that home. They called it their heart. They sent coin back when they could. They spoke of it quietly on cold nights between campaigns.
Fifteen minutes later, the carriage stopped before a worn three-story building.
Plants and fruit trees surrounded it. Even from the carriage, laughter floated across the yard.
Jiang Ning stepped down and studied the building.
It looked like an abandoned house dressed in fresh paint. Patches of repair dotted the walls, placed by hands that did their best without real skill. It had the rough charm of a place held together by love rather than coin.
In the garden, a handful of children ran between rows of vegetables, their linen clothes streaked with dust and grass.
"Ronan, stay here," Jiang Ning said. "You will frighten them if you come."
The knight bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
By then, the children had noticed the newcomer. They saw Ronan's height and the cold line of his jaw and scattered like sparrows, peeking from behind trunks and bushes.
"Hey! Who are you? What do you want here?" a voice shouted.
Jiang Ning turned toward it and saw a lanky teenager with fire in his eyes. Behind him walked an old couple, side by side.
"You rude boy, stop shouting at our guest," the woman scolded. She lifted a broom and swatted the youth on the back.
"Grandma, he looks suspicious," the boy protested, pointing at Jiang Ning with a defiant glare.
Jiang Ning could not help but laugh.
So this is you as a kid, Rasmus.
In his past life, Rasmus had been one of the rare friends he made after conscription. The boy had been abandoned at birth and raised here, and he guarded the old couple like a dog with a bone.
The old man's eyes moved to the insignia on Jiang Ning's chest. The crest of House Ning was stitched there in silver thread. His gaze sharpened.
He drew the teenager gently behind him and bowed his head. "My lord, are you from House Ning?"
"House Ning?" Rasmus blurted out, stunned.
Even as a commoner, he had learned enough to know the name. House Ning held the northern line. The stories said the Shield of the North stood there and did not yield. Rasmus admired them the way boys admire heroes.
"That is right," Jiang Ning said. "I am Jiang Ning. Forgive the unannounced visit."
He cupped his fists in the knights' salute.
The old man returned the gesture with steady grace. There was strength in his posture and courage in his eyes, the marks of a man who had stood his ground more than once.
"You honor us, my lord," he said. "I am William Dominic, once a knight of the Vastel Empire."
After polite greetings, Jiang Ning turned to the boy and offered his hand. "Hello. I am sorry if I alarmed you. What is your name?"
It is good to see you again, my friend.
For a heartbeat, emotion tightened his chest. Memories of another time flickered and were gone.
Rasmus scratched his head, shame replacing his earlier heat. "I should be the one to apologize. My name is Rasmus, my lord."
"Rasmus, is it? We should be about the same age. No need to be so formal," Jiang Ning said, smiling.
"Please, come inside, my lord," William said. He stepped back and opened the door with a welcoming gesture. "We can talk more in our humble home."