It took some while for Fan Xian to finally calm down. The cold sweat made his clothes stick to his body
He took the long, thin dagger out the assassin's shoulder. The terrible sound the blade made as it was dislodged from flesh and bone made him pause before he finally removed the small, insidiously hidden crossbow from the dead assassin's sleeve.
The slender blade was covered in some sort of black, opaque substance. Fan Xian knew that Master Fei created a black coating that was not only poisonous but that could cause excruciating pain for anyone wounded by it. He carefully placed the blade inside a scabbard made of elephant hide and glanced at the corpses, those of the assassin on the bed and Old Ha the vegetable seller underneath it before he turned to leave.
As he opened the door, Wu Zhu was standing quietly at the corner of the stairs. "If the carriage hadn't come, what would you have done?" he asked.
Fan Xian lowered his head and said nothing for a long time. Finally, having managed to get a hold on the horrible feelings that his first kill had brought up in him, he raised his head and smiled. "I would have stayed still like he did, and waited for you to come."
They climbed down off the wall again. The lessons he had learned climbing the cliffs outside Danzhou had finally been put to use that day. Fan Xian lowered his feet onto the floor and walked ahead, knowing that Wu Zhu would leave him, and that when he was in danger, he would appear again.
He walked through the hustle and bustle of the market and stayed quiet, his right hand dangling by the side of his thigh as it trembled gently.
He walked with heavy steps through the market and came to a stop in front of a stall. It was a tofu stall, and the hawker was a fair-faced woman in her twenties, with pale, delicate hands and an apron tied around her waist.
"Dong'er," Fan Xian called out to her, smiling. Dong'er was the servant girl he had driven out of the Count's manor. When he was younger, he would lie on her bosom and sleep. They had always been close. After Dong'er had left the manor, she had opened a tofu stall at the market, so Fan Xian often dropped by to buy some tofu to take home.
A gentle smile crept across Dong'er's face when she saw who it was. "Young Master," she asked as she led him in, "what brings you here?"
He sat on a small stool, and as more people came in to buy tofu, Dong'er glanced at him awkwardly.
Fan Xian nodded, and allowed her to see to her customers first. Looking around, he saw that there was a crib at the back of the stall, with a little girl inside it who seemed to be two to three years of age. Her cheeks were rosy and her clumsy and delicate hands reached out at the little bell attached to the crib.
Fan Xian reached out to pick up the little girl and play with her. Dong'er turned around and hurried back to clasp her to her bosom. "Don't get your clothes dirty," she grumbled. "You'll only create more work for those servant girls."
Fan Xian giggled. "Dong'er, when I was the same age as your daughter, didn't you hug me like that every day?"
Dong'er laughed. "Young Master, how can you compare yourself to us mere servants?" It was rather curious. Dong'er had been chased out of the Count's manor for testing a dish before Fan Xian had had the chance to. But by the sound of it, she bore no malice toward the boy at all.
Fan Xian scratched his head, unsure of what to say. Dong'er realized that something was wrong with him, so she picked up her daughter and cooed to her, "This is the young master, can you say that? 'Young... Master..."
"Call me Uncle," insisted Fan Xian.
...
...
He sat at the tofu stall for a long time, watching Dong'er cut tofu, weigh it, and wrap it up in paper while he played with the young girl, getting her to call him 'uncle'. After a long while, he managed to expel the gloom from his mind, and stood up to say goodbye to Dong'er.
"You've come all this way," said Dong'er, a little embarrassed, "and I don’t have anything good for you to eat."
Fan Xian smiled. "Dong'er, do you think I'm not eating well?"
"That's true," Dong'er laughed with a young woman's bashfulness. "Thank you for buying all these things for my little girl, young master."
Fan Xian shook his head and smiled. "I just hope you don't hold it against me for chasing you out of the Count's mansion."
Dong'er smiled and said nothing. She trusted the young lad, and even though she'd never understood why he'd flown into a rage over her testing a little bit of food, she knew that he didn't do it on purpose. What was more, after she'd left the manor, the young master would secretly send her money. After she'd married, she'd lived comfortably with her husband and her child. A large part of why she came to work at the tofu stall was because it made it easier for the young master to come see her.
Fan Xian waved goodbye to her and stepped out into the market. Looking back, he saw the gentle young lady holding her daughter Xiaoni as she cut the tofu floating in the water. Leaning forward slightly, her body was still slender and supple. With no trace of the passing years upon her, she looked just as she had ten years ago, when she would hold him tight.
Fan Xian had found an excuse to chase her away because she was his personal servant-girl. If anything had happened to him, she wouldn't be safe either.
In Fan Xian's 'early years', he had loved her most, and loved to climb all over her, often fantasizing about what they could do together when he was grown up. But he had forgotten one very important point - as he slowly grew up, she would also grow up, and now he was twelve, she was in her twenties.
It was just like the story of Bao Yu and Qing Wen in the Dream of the Red Chamber. It seemed hopeless.
"When you were born, I had not been born;
when I was born you were already old.
You regret that I was born so late;
I regret you were born so soon.
When you were born, I had not been born;
when I was born you were already old.
I regret that we could not be born at the same time,
so that I could spend all my days with you."
As he made his way back to the manor, he hummed a tune to himself and fantasized about how he could get Dong'er to love him - an attempt to rid himself the image of the cold dead eyes of Old Ha and the assassin staring at him.
—————————————————————————
Because he had eaten stir-fried bamboo shoots laced with poisonous maokouzi for lunch and had snapped a man's neck in the afternoon, he found he had very little appetite at all; he could barely eat anything before going to his room that evening..
When night came, he found himself somewhat hungry. Holding an oil lamp, he walked to the kitchen alone, taking care not to alert any of the servants.
Entering the kitchen, he washed and cleaned a fish, his vegetable knife like a bird in flight. In a flash, he descaled and removed the belly, and used the techniques Wu Zhu had taught him to cut thin shreds of ginger. As his knife fell upon the chopping board, it made no sound, and he put the ginger shreds into a small bowl with some vinegar.
Over a large flame, he steamed the fish belly in steaming water.
As he squatted, watching the stove and the steam that gently rose from it, Fan Xian had an amusing realization. Fei Jie and Wu Zhu were teaching him how to kill and avoid being killed for his mother's sake. But objectively speaking, they had also taught him how to be a good medic and a successful cook.
Three minutes later, Fan Xian took up the steaming plate of fish in his hands. He covered it with some exquisite soy sauce that had been sent from the south and watched the beautiful amber juices flow over the plate. The aroma flowed through the kitchen as he mixed the steamed fish with the sauce. He found some leftover rice from that evening, combined it with the steamed fish, a little ginger and vinegar, and ate happily.
The next morning, when he went to say hello to his grandmother, the servants informed them that a thief had sneaked into the kitchen during the night. When Fan Xian realized what they meant, he couldn't stop himself from smiling.
"I cooked myself something to eat last night," he said to the housekeeper as he kneaded the old woman's shoulders. "Don't worry about it."
The housekeeper stared at him, dumbstruck. The young master wasn't a young child. Why didn't he call for the servants' help? Instead he'd insisted on doing it by himself. It would have been no laughing matter if he'd burned himself.
Fan Xian could tell that the housekeeper was pondering something. "I read about a way to steam fish in a book," he said to the Countess, acting cutely. "I wanted to try it. If it was good then I’d cook it for you as a surprise. That's why I didn't want the servants to know. I didn't realize it would cause such trouble. I'm sorry."
The excuse seemed reasonable. Nobody would have suspected a thing.
The Countess did not react. "That's fine," she said gently. "You just have to remember to clean up after yourself after you've finished doing something."
She had always been rather strict with Fan Xian; it was rare for her to speak so kindly. Fan Xian felt something was amiss. There was a trace of tenderness in her words. Why?
"I already know what happened last night," she continued softly. "Housekeeper Zhou failed in his duties. It's outrageous that you were able to sneak around in the kitchen like that and do something so dangerous without anyone noticing. I've already sent him back to the capital. They can deal with him there."
Fan Xian was taken aback. He remembered that, after the killing, he'd completely forgotten to investigate the matter with Zhou. It was clear that Zhou was responsible in some way for allowing the would-be killers to sneak into the house and poison his food. He was disappointed in his own carelessness.
——————————————————————
In the library the next morning, he skimmed over a few of the books that had arrived from the capital before heading out again. As he passed the market, he suddenly realized what his grandmother had meant when she had said "you just have to remember to clean up after yourself after you've finished doing something."
One corner of the market had already been burned to ruins. Oddly, the fire had not spread to any of the neighboring buildings - only one building had been burnt to the ground, with nothing left remaining. The people gathered around were enthusiastically discussing the fire. Thanks to his small stature, Fan Xian was able to crouch nearby and eavesdrop. Two people had died in the fire, their corpses left completely unrecognizable.
The place that had burned down was the building where Fan Xian had killed a man the day before.
Had the fire destroyed the corpses and wiped out all traces?
Fan Xian thought about how his grandmother had already sent Zhou the housekeeper back to the capital, and when he connected that fact to the wretched pile of ashes in front of him, he broke out in a cold sweat. He understood now what had happened. He never could have imagined that his strict, gruff grandmother could come up with such a meticulous plot to keep her grandson safe.
He thought of the Countess and how she spent most of her days resting. He found it hard to reconcile that image with the smouldering rubble that stood before him.
Fan Xian loitered amongst the people in the crowd. As he looked at the charred stones and blackened wood and took in the smell of burnt house, he realized something.
The people around him had noticed his arrival. After having greeted Fan Xian, they were ready to say something to him. He acted as if he hadn't heard them and left the market, wandering toward the old grocery store.
"The housekeeper has been sent back to the capital," Fan Xian said.
Wu Zhu stood in the shop, facing the quiet street. He didn't react. The local residents had all rushed to the market to see what all the hubbub was about, so the streets were empty.
"The building we went to yesterday burned down," continued Fan Xian.
Wu Zhu still made no response.
Fan Xian grabbed his sleeve, speaking in a firm whisper. "You think I'm stupid for forgetting to deal with Zhou, don't you? I even had to get my grandmother to clean up after me!"
Wu Zhu turned towards him. "Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you? Do you think that you're so young, that you don't know how to deal with such things, so you've lost your self-esteem and you've come seeking my pity?"
His voice seemed almost curious, much livelier than his usual emotionless tone.
Fan Xian smiled. "I don't have that much self-esteem. It's just that I don't feel good about killing a man. And..."
He stopped talking. Deep down, he felt that if he hadn't had Fei Jie and Wu Zhu as teachers after having come to this world, he wouldn't be much stronger than any other child of nobility, and maybe... maybe he'd already be dead. Caught in this power struggle and surrounded by a web of secrets, it seemed like knowing a little more was of no use. Anyone who sought to ride the waves of power also had to be proficient in such underhanded and intricate means.
Compared to them... he was still just some naive kid.
"There's the feeling of killing a man, and the feeling of being killed. Which would you prefer to experience?" asked Wu Zhu.
Fan Xian wasn't sure how to respond. Of course nobody wants to be killed.
"Since you already know the answer, don't ask me." Wu Zhu handed him a seal. "There's something else I need to tell you. The Countess expelled housekeeper Zhou from Danzhou Harbor. She didn't have him killed, because she thought it best that the people of the capital didn't make a fuss about this."
Fan Xian looked at the seal. It seemed familiar; he'd seen it used on paperwork around the Count's house. It belonged to Zhou the housekeeper. He raised his head and looked at Wu Zhu with suspicion. "You killed him?"
Wu Zhu nodded.
Fan Xian suddenly remembered the assassin's identity. "Why were the poison and the follow-up methods used by the assassin so similar to the methods of the Overwatch Council?" he asked, puzzled.
"Ask Fei Jie."
———————————————————————————
It was a bright spring day in the capital. In the west end of the city stood a square building, its exterior painted gray-black. Within this sinister-looking building, in a secret room, a thin-faced, clean-shaven man sat in a wheelchair, his legs covered by a smooth woollen blanket.
The glass windows of this hidden room were covered completely by a thick black cloth; not a single speck of sunlight could enter. Many years ago, this man had contracted a serious illness somewhere in the north - from that point on, he began to fear the light.
"Master Fei, how goes the investigation in Danzhou?" The old man asked the strange, grey-haired man - the same age as he was - who stood before him. He gazed into his brown pupils and smiled.
Fei Jie sat in his chair, sipping tea, looking at the strange smile that crept across the lips of his superior officer. "Which of us is the real old pervert?" he thought.
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