Before leaving, Văn Nhữ made Thành sit up straight and listen to one final lecture. He told him to keep Lê Soạn’s studies an absolute secret—even from Madam Thị Diễm. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he hit Thành with another rule: even though they were no longer together and Thành could fool around with whoever he wanted, under no circumstances was he allowed to touch Lê Vân Trang.

If that person found out, they’d all be dead meat.

Whoa. What kind of palace drama threat was that?

At first, Thành thought getting a tutor for the kid would be an easy task. Who would’ve guessed it was such a life-or-death situation?

Lê Soạn had to study in hiding, and Thành had to keep his hands off his own wife. He really wanted to ask Văn Nhữ why all of this was necessary, but let’s be real—guys like Đoàn Văn Nhữ were the just shut up and listen type. If Thành kept running his mouth, he was bound to get himself into some serious trouble.

It was pretty obvious that the Lê siblings weren’t from an ordinary background. Thành had plenty of time to figure out the details, so he decided to take it slow.

When Lê Soạn heard he was getting a tutor, the kid didn’t show much of a reaction. He just lowered his head and politely said, Thank you. He was a quiet child, always keeping to himself—not in the bratty, arrogant way some noble kids did, but more like he was deliberately avoiding getting close to anyone.

And so, from that day on, after dinner, Soạn would grab his books and head to his brother-in-law’s room to study. Thành, meanwhile, would sprawl out on his bed, pretending not to pay attention. But in reality, he was eavesdropping with every fiber of his being, trying to pick up whatever scraps of knowledge he could.

Unfortunately, his stealth learning method wasn’t very effective. After a few days, he gave up on pride, grabbed a brush and paper, and shamelessly joined the study sessions.

Văn Nhữ assumed Thành was just playing along to encourage the kid and decided to humor him.

Lê Soạn, being the protagonist and all, was an absolute genius. He’d hear something once and understand ten things from it. Some words didn’t even need explaining—he just figured them out on his own. Even though he had started learning late, after only a few weeks, Đoàn Văn Nhữ had to admit that Soạn was already on par with the sons of high-ranking officials his age.

As for Thành, a modern man who was completely illiterate in the ancient written alphabet? Yeah… keeping up with that superhuman learning speed was not happening. Within days, Soạn had already left him in the dust.

Oh well, learning was a lifelong journey. Thành had already accepted that he was stuck in this world, so there was no need to rush. He stopped stressing over it and just took things at his own pace.

Still, every morning, he woke up early, diligently practicing his handwriting and reviewing books with Lê Soạn—even if half the time, he had no idea what Văn Nhữ was talking about. With a kid around, Thành felt a bit of responsibility. He wasn’t about to claim he was some shining role model, but at the very least, he didn’t want Soạn to see him give up halfway.

No matter the world, literacy was a crucial skill—sometimes even a matter of survival. Slow and steady wins the race. One day, Thành’s rock-solid brain would finally absorb all this knowledge… or so he hoped.

While practicing calligraphy together, he occasionally caught Lê Soạn sneaking glances at him. But every time Thành looked up, the kid would quickly drop his gaze.

Thành didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Did the boy think he was some clueless adult struggling with basic education? Or was he just an over-the-top clown putting on a ridiculous performance?

Well, regardless of what Soạn thought, there was one undeniable fact—Trương Văn Thành was absolutely a useless noble. No job, no responsibilities, nothing to do all day. After every study session, he would drag the kid out to play.

Thành was naturally outgoing and had always liked spending time with children. He avoided socializing too much with adults, afraid of slipping up and exposing himself, but a sweet and well-behaved kid like Lê Soạn? That was a different story.

At this point, Thành had completely tossed the novel’s plot out the window. He no longer saw the people around him as fictional characters but as real, living individuals. He wasn’t even thinking about befriending the protagonist for a happier ending anymore. He hung out with Soạn simply because he wanted to. The kid was always alone—it was just too pitiful to watch.

In his past life, Thành’s parents had both been migrant workers. They met at a factory, fell in love, and just started living together—no wedding, no family announcements. Then, when Thành was six, they both died in a car accident. Since no relatives could be contacted, he was placed in an orphanage.

Thành was the longest-residing kid there—the one who never got adopted. By the time he aged out and was forced to fend for himself, he had already come to terms with the fact that no kind-hearted family was coming to take him home.

Growing up surrounded by kids who lacked parental love, he understood them well. Even as an adult, he often volunteered at orphanages. He wouldn’t call himself a child psychology expert, but he was pretty damn good at reading kids.

Quiet, obedient ones like Soạn? They desperately wanted someone to play with. They were just too shy—or too emotionally scarred—to say it out loud.

Just as Thành had predicted, Lê Soạn always rejected his invitations to go out. Some days, the kid even straight-up avoided him, sending messages through Vân Trang like, “I’m busy.”

Busy, huh?

Kid, your homework is done—what could you possibly be busy with? Sorting rice from husks like Cinderella?

Thus began the ultimate quest: Luring the Snail Out of Its Shell.

Lê Soạn didn’t want to go out with his hyperactive brother-in-law, but he also couldn’t say no forever. One day, right after finishing his homework, he was about to pack up and leave when—bam! Thành snatched him up, tucked him under his arm, and marched straight out the door.

And, well… once was all it took.

From that day on, the kid could run, but he couldn’t hide.

Thành mostly took Soạn to the marketplace for snacks. As expected of a mini old man, the kid was ridiculously well-mannered. He never asked to buy anything, never showed interest in any of the treats on display.

But Soạn was still just a snot-nosed little kid—how could he possibly hide his true feelings from Thành?

After some careful observation, Thành noticed something: the kid wasn’t into sweet treats like most children. But there was one snack he could never resist.

Bánh tẻ.

According to ancient tales—or, well, according to a certain novel—there was once a man with boundless ambition. To claim the throne, he endured countless hardships, resorted to every trick in the book, dirtied his hands with the blood of both enemies and loved ones alike. And after all that—after seizing the ultimate power, after filling his palace with a thousand beauties willing to offer him their hearts and souls—he found himself bored.

One day, while traveling incognito, he stopped by a humble countryside snack shop. The cheerful shopkeeper served him a plate of bánh tẻ. A simple, rustic dish—nothing compared to the extravagant delicacies of the imperial kitchen. And yet, as he took a bite, a strange warmth filled his heart. Maybe it reminded him of his past, back when he was just a struggling nobody.

Naturally, after three whole chapters of intense romance with the snack vendor, she was brought into the palace as a consort. From that point on, she occasionally made cameo appearances—primarily as the imperial chef, whose sole duty was to serve bánh tẻ to the emperor whenever he was stressed.

(Source: The... spicy chapters of “The Snack Seller and the Emperor”)

Thanks to this wonderful spoiler, Thành now knew one very important fact—Lê Soạn liked bánh tẻ.
However, Thành knew that for a withdrawn kid like Soạn, openly acknowledging his favorite food wasn’t the best approach. No one liked having their weaknesses exposed.

So, instead of saying outright, "Hey, I know you love bánh tẻ!" and scaring the poor kid away, Thành played it smart. Some days, he claimed that he was the one craving bánh tẻ. Other times, he put the blame on Vân Trang. And on some occasions, he simply bought it without saying a word.

Seeing Soạn’s eyes light up as he sat there quietly munching away gave Thành the same sense of satisfaction as when he first fed his old cat, Cơm Rang, a plate of fried rice.

A child should be a child—someone who could enjoy their favorite food without fear, who could express joy without hesitation. Kids were the future of the nation, after all. They deserved a good education, the love and care of adults, and most importantly, they deserved to be spoiled rotten.

Thành had never suffered much during his time at the orphanage, but he had also never experienced what it was like to be truly doted on by an adult. Maybe his late parents had pampered him when he was little, but he had too few memories of them to know for sure.

Regardless, at this point, Thành had already appointed himself as the protector of Soạn and Vân Trang. Right now, they had no one else to rely on but him. He was going to be their pillar of support—making sure they had everything they needed, both physically and emotionally—until the day they no longer needed him.

So, little Lê Soạn… better get ready to be spoiled to death. Heh heh.

They say "The shortest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach," and that couldn’t be more true.

Lê Soạn was still as reserved and soft-spoken as ever, but at least he had stopped rejecting Thành’s invitations to hang out. That alone was already a huge win.

Then, one day, as they sat together practicing their handwriting, the kid suddenly hit him with a sentence that almost made Thành burst into tears.

"Why do you write so ugly for an adult?"

You have to understand—this little old man had been holed up in his shell for so long, he never dared to voice an opinion about anything before. For him to casually drop such a savage comment like that? It meant his wariness toward Thành had loosened up quite a bit.

"Honestly," Thành replied with a sweet, sweet smile, "I’m not writing ugly on purpose to mess with you."

He leaned in, lowered his voice like he was about to share a deep, dark secret.

"I actually hit my head once. Hard. When I woke up, I had forgotten all the words I used to know."

"Really?" Soạn looked up at him, eyes filled with concern. "Have you gotten treated for it? Maybe you should ask His Majesty to summon the royal physician for you?"

"No need, no need! I’ve long since recovered!" Thành waved his hands in reassurance. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned closer and whispered into the boy’s ear,

"But to be honest, I’m kinda embarrassed. I’m already this old, and I have to relearn everything from scratch. You’re the only one I’m telling this to, okay?"

Soạn squinted at him, still skeptical. "You’re not lying to me, are you?"

"Not at all. I swear on the heavens above—right now, I probably know fewer words than you do."

At that, Soạn hesitated for a moment, glancing left and right like he was about to commit treason. Then, finally, he leaned in and whispered back into Thành’s ear.

"…Then let me help you study. If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me."

After a brief pause, he added in a serious tone, "I’ll keep your secret."

Thành squinted his eyes, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the little guy looking all nervous and fidgety. Sure, Lê Soạn would grow up to be a complicated person, but right now, at this moment, he was just a kind and sweet-hearted kid.

"Alright, that’s great news. Thank you so much." Thành hooked his pinky around Soạn’s, sealing their little pact. "Since you’re willing to help me… is there anything you like? I’ll get it for you."

"No, no," Soạn shook his head frantically. "Sister Vân Trang said you’ve already helped us a lot. I don’t need anything!"

"Come on, just say it. No need to be shy."

After a round of back-and-forth, some expertly executed persuasion, and a sprinkle of wheedling, Thành finally wore the kid down.

Soạn hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed closer and whispered in his ear.

"I want to pet a cat."