24- 35

Chapter 24: Assassin

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Mr. Ha's corpse lay on the bed, covered by a cotton blanket, with only his feet poking out. The smell of blood was faint, meaning the assassin had done some cleanup. Fan Xian would have missed it had he not developed a sharp nose while under Fei Jie's tutelage.

Fan Xian stood quietly in the corner. The darkness hid the assassin, and also Fan Xian.

Trying to mimic blind Wu Zhu's techniques, Fan Xian relaxed himself as much as possible. Zhenqi flowed slowly inside his body as his heartbeat merged with the noises outside.

The assassin should still be around; the Overwatch Council's secret agents were always thorough. After poisoning Fan Xian, they would certainly stay until the night in order to ensure the bastard son was dead, after which they would leave Danzhou under the cover of darkness. Since the assassin was posing as Mr. Ha's nephew, they must be familiar with the layout of the building, so they wouldn't want to change observation spots.

Unfortunately, Fan Xian couldn't have expected how things would develop. He studied the room carefully. Other than Mr. Ha's cold body on the bed, there were no other people in the room.

He slowly followed the wall, moving further into the room, careful not to noisily bump into any furniture. His eyes glanced over some inconspicuous corners of the ceiling.

He snuck along the wall to the window where light shone through. Mr. Ha obviously wasn't rich enough to afford more windows, so the room was poorly lit. Fan Xian stood beside the window, hiding his presence by taking advantage of the contrast between light and dark.

After standing there for a long time, he frowned. Had he been wrong? Perhaps that poison-toting assassin was long gone. If that was the case, coming to the house right away instead of keeping Zhou under watch was obviously the wrong move.

Fan Xian walked to the bed, wanting to take a look at how poor old Mr. Ha died. But he became tenser the closer he got to the bed. He heard the sound of suppressed breathing. Because of the noises from the market outside, the breathing wasn't audible until Fan Xian closed in.

The assassin hid behind Mr. Ha's body when he noticed someone had entered the house.

The breathing behind the body was extremely steady; about seven breaths per minute. If Fan Xian didn't have his unusually abundant zhenqi enhancing his hearing, he never would have noticed.

Fan Xian stopped, staring at the bed. He didn't know if it was a trap.

From outside came the lively calls of merchants. Fan Xian could pick out the faint sound of a certain carriage.

He knew there was a market directly in front of this building, and that a horse-drawn carriage would have trouble navigating down the narrow road, and thus waited quietly with his dagger.

The assassin also waited quietly. He didn't see who entered the room, but at this point he could tell that the intruder was equally patient. A long time later he started to feel like he had underestimated the dangers of Danzhou. He regretted remaining here to ensure the death of his target.

...

...

As the carriage passed through the market, the merchants on both sides began to hurl insults at the driver, who was obviously vexed. If he wasn't short on time, he never would have taken this route.

With great difficulty, the merchants cleared a path for the carriage. The driver thanked them and was ready to proceed. However, the carriage smashed a crate of eggs, infuriating the egg merchant. The merchant held onto the reins, refusing to let go. The market descended into chaos.

Meanwhile, in the house beside the marketplace...

Hearing the disturbance outside, Fan Xian took advantage of the noise and brought his right foot down hard. He vaulted himself to the side of the bed and mercilessly thrust a thin dagger into the area behind Mr. Ha's body!

At that instant, Fan Xian got a clear look at the assassin's face. His eyes were cold and the brows above them were a little messy. Fan Xian could tell he was relatively young. His appearance was average, with slightly thick lips and dry skin.

Caught completely off guard, the assassin suddenly moved his right hand. A small, black crossbow bolt burst out of the blanket, flying straight at Fan Xian's face — Fan Xian had already landed with his arm up; his entire torso was defenseless.

The bolt sped like a beam of light!

Fan Xian started to react as soon as the bolt was fired. For five years, Wu Zhu had beaten him with a stick that swung much faster than this bolt. When he landed, he didn't put all of his body weight down, and his other foot didn't come down. Twisting his toes, with his entire body stuck in a powerless position in the air, he retreated a few inches to the right.

The bolt brushed past Fan Xian's left cheek, burying itself deep into the roof with a dull thud.

The assassin was absolutely astonished. He couldn't believe that the person who came was this attractive youth who should have already been felled by poison. What was even more unbelievable was that this kid could dodge a point-blank, concealed crossbow shot!

Presently, Fan Xian's dagger plunged deep into the assassin's body with a disgusting, muffled sound. Fan Xian felt like he was stabbing into a slab of pork with a kitchen knife. Because he had to dodge the arrow, Fan Xian's aim was off and he stabbed the assassin in the shoulder; he was still alive.

The assassin writhed like an eel in water. He readied his left hand to give Fan Xian a lethal strike — but the pain in his shoulder combined with the force of being slammed into the bed caused him to fall. The concealed crossbow slipped out of his fingers.

He braced himself, but when he tried to get up, the pain was more intense than he ever could have imagined. Moreover… that boy's dagger had pierced through his shoulder and stuck into the bed. He had been pinned to the bed alive!

...

...

With the assassin completely neutralized, Fan Xian's left hand clutched around his throat. The assassin finally showed his fear of death. His thick lips parted slightly, as if wanting to say something.

Fan Xian's heart tightened as he felt a chill. He didn't give the assassin the chance to talk or retaliate. With a crunch, Fan Xian broke the assassin's neck. His head slumped to the side and he died instantly.

Fan Xian kept his hand on the assassin's broken neck for a moment, feeling the crushed pieces of bone. As the assassin's blood gradually cooled down, Fan Xian finally removed his hand and crouched over, panting heavily.

Chapter 25: Tofu Like Jade

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

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.

Chapter 26: The Old Man in the Blanket

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

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.

Chapter 27: The Overwatch Council

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

The majority of the departments that handled the nation's political affairs were situated on Tianhe Avenue, in the eastern district of the city. Few citizens lived nearby, and the street was exceptionally wide, with many beautiful and grand wooden buildings on either side. These buildings were the center of the empire's authority. For example, the Department for Army Affairs was located at the crossing and sported a great stone lion at the entrance. Its gaping mouth and powerful claws stood in the direction of the rising sun. The interplay of light and shadow gave it a fantastic yet bizarre look, like some great prehistoric creature; as a representation of the military might of the Qing Kingdom, it was sorely lacking.

But the true center of the kingdom's power lay in the bowels of the palace in the northern part of the city. Save for its tall watchtower, the palace lacked the towering height of the other government offices, but the thick palace walls and magnificent courtyard within made it feel like extremely sacred ground.

The officials of the Kingdom of Qing all knew, rather well, actually, that His Most Revered Majesty didn't deal with day-to-day matters of the administration. For them, the most terrifying part of the imperial bureaucratic machine was neither the buildings that housed the departments of state nor the imperial palace. It was that square-shaped building in the west end of the city, with its sinister grey-black walls.

That was where the Overwatch Council presided. The Kingdom of Qing was divided into three ministries and six departments, the three ministries being the were the Overwatch Council, the Ministry of Education, and the Ministry of War, which was a step above the Department for Army Affairs, and of the three ministries, the most powerful was the Overwatch Council. It had the power to investigate, arrest, and in certain situations, held judicial authority. No other department had authority over its powers.

In a sense, it was an unchained beast that acted on the orders of the Emperor, like an agency of His Majesty's secret agents. Or rather, The Overwatch Council was, in truth, the Emperor's secret police.

The officials of the Kingdom of Qing were always rather concerned. His Majesty was a genius, his powers granted to him by Heaven itself. He could even keep in check the sinister Director Chen and the Council's countless secret agents and hidden powers. But if something were to happen to His Majesty... who could take the reins of this ferocious beast? Bureaucrats who had suffered under the whims of the Council cursed it in secret. The Council was no beast; it was simply a treacherous and despicable wild dog.

Within a hidden room of the Ministry's chambers, a secret dialogue was taking place.

"The assassin who was caught in the fire at Danzhou was one of the Ministry's men, under the jurisdiction of the Dongshan Road division," said Fei Jie to the director, his voice hoarse. " The Fourth Bureau has always been in charge of operations abroad. The Department of Internal Affairs discovered during the course of their investigations that an official in the Fourth Bureau was a distant relative of the Master's second wife. That must be how the mission was carried out."

"Has he been identified?" This was the old man's greatest concern.

Fei Jie narrowed his faint brown eyes, filled with uncertainty. "I believe that among the eight people who are aware of this incident, no one will leak it. And although Master Wu was a close confidant of the Lady, he was rarely seen at that time. No one is aware of his identity these days, and Ye Liuyun, the only person who he has met, is now a grandmaster. There is no way he could travel to Danzhou for leisure - it is far too much of a coincidence. So there is no need to worry about anyone figuring out his identity as a result of Master Wu."

The director's thin, prominent fingers drummed on the table as he pondered. "Back then, when I ordered you to dispose of every one of the Black Knights who had laid eyes on Wu Zhu, you asked me for leniency. Now it seems that you were wrong."

Fei Jie laughed. A strange light flashed in his eyes, stained brown by years of exposure to poisons. "There had already been a great many deaths that night."

Fei Jie did not seem - at least on the surface - the least bit afraid of the old bureaucrat before him. His status and experience preceded him. He hissed as he laughed. "It is foolish to kill without good reason. The Lady used to be fond of saying that. Have you forgotten?"

"Mm." The old man smiled. It seemed that he was reminiscing about happy memories. But his smile remained the same even as he gave his sinister orders.

"The Dongshan Road is under the jurisdiction of the Fourth Bureau. As all the necessary signatures were obtained for authorization and there were no errors in the process, there's no reason to hold accountable for this incident. As for the others, deal with them as you wish." He smiled as he thought aloud. "Using my own power to kill the people under my protection. Is it a coincidence, or do you think someone is trying to probe into something? This second wife is quite a woman.

"Yan Ruohai of the Fourth Bureau is useless at his job," he continued. "He'll sign off on anything and will happily kill anyone as long as it's not his own son. He's causing trouble. Freeze his salary for three years and send his son, the one named Yan Bingyun, to work in the north. Don't let him return until he has risen up the ranks by at least two grades."

The director took the documents from the Department of Internal Affairs that were laid out on the table. Writing down his final concluding remarks, he signed his name: Chen Pingping.

Whenever Fei Jie saw the director's shriveled and unsightly signature, he wanted to laugh, but he had no choice but to hold it in. He knew that this weak and girlish signature was going to send high-ranking officials to their deaths and send an even higher-ranking official's son off to infiltrate the bleak lands behind enemy lines, forbidden to return until he could prove that he was of exceptional worth. That was a fate worth than death.

The old man laughed to himself. "I grew up with Fan Jian. I didn't expect his family affairs to cause me such grief. Send one of your best men to investigate how the second wife is involved in all this."

Fan Jian was Count Sinan's personal name - the name of Fan Jian's father.

Fei Jie knitted his bow, and his brown eyes trembled. "Impossible. They should be under the impression that the child died long ago."

"You misunderstand me. I'm also certain that they are unaware of Fan Xian as the Lady's son."

The director smiled. "His Majesty has always demanded that we keep our distance from the nobility and the bureaucracy. And yet, the year that you were sent to Danzhou, even though it was kept secret, it is still possible that they may have found out. Whether it was the Empress or the Prime Minister, our connection to Count Sinan is a source of great intrigue. There is a power hiding in the shadows, and it lent its services to the second wife in order to test the reactions of both ourselves and Master Fan. For this reason, it is important that we do not react too forcefully. Do you understand?"

Fei Jie suddenly found himself filled with doubts over the attempted assassination in Danzhou. He couldn't be sure that it wasn't a result of the Director's intentional leaking of information.

...

...

The old man wheeled himself to the window, lifted up a corner of the curtain, and gazed out. "Anyway," he said coolly, "we need to talk about the box. Whether or not Wu Zhu is telling the truth, we cannot let it fall into the hands of our enemies in the north."

"It's a pity we don't know how big it is, or even what it looks like," Fei Jie stood next to the director, following his gaze out of the window.

"When I end up in hell, you'd better be right behind me so we can play cards together." The director laughed.

Fei Jie knew that the director was not as old as he looked. "But I'm a good guy," he said, smiling. "I'm going straight to heaven."

A shadow drifted like a gust of wind from a corner of the secret room, pulling down the black cloth and blocking out the strong sunlight from shining on the old man. It moved without a sound. This was the person who had killed the staff-wielding sorcerer outside the walls of the capital many years ago.

Fei Jie pointed at the black shadow. "I reckon he'd be the one who came with you to play chess."

...

...

Outside, the sun shone brightly, and the tiles on the main hall of the imperial palace shone with a deep gold light.

As pedestrians passed by the entrance to the Overwatch Council, they found themselves crossing to the other side of the street. It was as if they feared that its gloomy air would spill out onto the street.

A stone tablet stood by the entrance of the Ministry's Chambers. Gold words were painted on the table: "I wish for the freedom of all peoples of the Kingdom of Qing. One must suffer mistreatment without surrender; one must suffer great calamities without retreat. Should disaster strike, do not be afraid to face it. Do not submit to the whims of beasts..."

A name was written underneath: Ye Qingmei.

No one knew who Ye Qingmei was, but the people of the capital all knew that the tablet was placed there when the Overwatch Council was built. It shone with a golden light, as if it were in contact with the tiles of the imperial palace far away - as if it hid away the darkness within both buildings.

Chapter 28: Nighttime Reading with a Beautiful Girl

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Danzhou had recovered from the revelation and was settling back into its peaceful ways. Nobody seemed to be that bothered about the relationship between Old Ha the vegetable seller and the other man who had died in the fire. The authorities had no explanation for how the fire had started, and people didn't seem too bothered about that either.

Order had always been kept in Danzhou. Thanks to the observant eyes of the local neighborhood watch, the criminals and adventurers who could be found all across the north had no chance of applying their trade in the city. Because the center of trade had shifted southward, His Majesty had exempted the seven counties neighboring Danzhou from taxation. Although this hadn't greatly enriched the lives of the locals immediately, it at least made sure that everyone had grain to spare; there would be no revolts over crop failures like there had been 30 years before.

And although Danzhou was next to the sea, the natural disposition of its people wasn't affected by the unpredictable weather borne from the sea. Within the city, the people kept their cool and were always respectful toward the city's noble families, showing the appropriate reverence and care toward the estate of Count Sinan. Although they were all well aware that Fan Xian was an illegitimate child, they still called him 'Young Master Fan', and made sure never to show any of the contempt they might have felt.

This was what troubled Fan Xian.

Apart from the unfortunate business with Zhou the housekeeper, where he had acted with the full entitlement of a scion of a rich family, he had not had any opportunity to play such a part. Strolling along the streets of Danzhou, the people treated him amiably and respectfully; no one ever tried to provoke him.

The zhenqi within him slowly accumulated, refining and strengthening his meridians. Most of the energy that drained off to the xueshan point located on his lower back wasn't causing any issues, but wasn't sure what purpose it served staying there.

Fan Xian had always played the part of an earnest, tactful young gentleman. But as the days went by, he felt stifled. And now that he knew he was strong enough to kill a would-be murderer, he looked forward to the day when he could play the hero, delivering justice and rescuing beautiful women.

But Danzhou was peaceful. Too peaceful.

...

...

Soothing incense burned in the study, its faint aroma comforting the soul. Fan Xian held a delicate writing-brush in his hand, writing earnestly on a sheet of fine writing paper that was about the width of four palms. Because literature was divided into modern and classical styles, one wrote with either a goose quill or a brush. The goose quill was easier to use and was used throughout the offices of state in the Jingdu; when Fei Jie came to Jingdu to teach him, he had also used a goose quill.

But the fine craftsmanship that went into the goose quill's sharpened tip required a true master's touch. If used for a long time, the tip could easily be deformed, and so it was not widely-used.

Fan Xian preferred the writing brush. He thought it was a great stroke of luck that this world used Chinese characters and that using a writing-brush made for much more beautiful penmanship. He decided to practice his calligraphy diligently to avoid embarrassment.

On the other hand, he also felt that only the calligraphic beauty of the writing brush could honor the story that he was "writing".

Sisi, his personal servant girl, held the ink sticks with her slender fingers, slowly and softly grinding them clockwise on the ink stone. Her gaze fell onto the paper the young master was writing on:

"...When Qin Zhong saw Zhineng alone in the room washing the tea bowls, he ran up to her and kissed her. Zhineng was taken aback and stomped her foot. 'What are you doing! Do it again and I scream for help!''My lady, I beg of you, I am overcome with emotion,' said Qin Zhong. 'If you will not do as I ask today, I shall die here on the spot.''What do you want from me?' asked Zhineng. 'I will only do what you ask if you help me get away from this prison and leave these people.''It can be done,' said Qin Zhong. 'But distant waters cannot quench the immediate thirst...'"

Sisi glanced at the page and blushed. "How can Zhineng be so shameless?"

Fan Xian lifted his head curiously at the servant girl's complaint. "How is Zhineng shameless?" he asked, beaming. When he was in the study, or in some other place people were unaware of, he would always call for the servant girls. This habit had started with Dong'er. The servant girls couldn't say no, and the old lady of the house didn't care, so they could only do as he asked. They had long been used to his behavior; there was nothing strange about it.

Sisi's cheeks were as beautifully red as the sunrise. "That nun," she stammered, "she speaks and acts so carelessly... but Young Master, what is a 'nun'? And what sort of place is this 'Mantou Nunnery'?"

Fan Xian giggled. "Wait until I get to the part about Qin Zhong and Zhineng's illicit relations," he thought. "Then you'll see what carelessness means!" But Sisi's question made him realize: if there were no Buddhism in this world, then there were no monks, and indeed no nuns.

He scratched his head with his empty hand. He wasn't sure how to explain it. "Nuns are like ascetics," he finally responded. "And Mantou Nunnery is a bit like a temple."

Sisi was shocked. "Young Master, don't write such things! The temple lies in the mists of the heavens, and takes pity on the common people. It doesn't get involved in earthly affairs. How can it be such a filthy place?"

Fan Xian cut his explanation short. "I understand," he said, smiling. "I will be more careful with my writing."

He wrote a little more, and then a thought struck him. He asked Sisi to leave so that she wouldn't lay eyes on some of his raunchier work and report it to the old lady. When he was young, he would tell Dong'er stories to scare her. Dong'er thought that he had been taught the stories by his teacher Xixi, and she had gone to tell the old lady. It led to Fan Xian being made to write lines from memory as punishment for days.

Sisi warned him to be careful again, set down the ink stick in her hand, and left. As he watched her walk away gracefully, Fan Xian felt his heart pounding.

Grasping his pen, Fan Xian pondered. Copying out Dream of the Red Chamber was a lot more complicated than just copying a few poems from the old masters. He had started writing the year before, and he had probably copied it out from memory 15 times. Luckily, his memory was strangely clear, and he could recall his previous life without even the slightest gap. Indeed, it was lucky that it was so clear, because he could finally remember by heart the beautiful and hard-to-recall prose that Cao Xueqin had written.

The only thing was that the characters and the setting were completely different to this new world. He wasn't sure if the people who read it would understand it, so there were some important parts that still needed to be slowly altered. But he still had total faith in his version of Dream of the Red Chamber. A cow is a cow no matter where you take it - and the same could be said for Dream of the Red Chamber.

Chapter 29: The Book Thief

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

In his previous life, Fan Xian had loved to imagine himself as some classical scholar who read books next to a beautiful girl. He insisted on keeping Sisi close by as he wrote all day. The combination of the smell of burning incense, her delicate aroma, and the smooth glide of his writing brush on paper made him feel exceptionally at ease.

But he realized that if his writing were to be discovered, it would likely cause him a lot of unnecessary trouble, so he decided to keep it to himself.

Fan Xian had always felt that he had to prepare properly for life in the capital both physically and spiritually. And it was nothing like copying some short poems to be recited on the spot at some banquet. Like Dream of the Red Chamber, matters had to be prepared for well in advance.

He wasn't sure why, but he had always thought that his future lay in that faraway capital at the heart of the Qing Kingdom. Perhaps it was because of his father, the high-ranking official. Perhaps it was that silly little girl. Or perhaps it was the nameless yet intriguing mother who he had never met.

He pondered for a while, then picked up his brush and finished the part where Bao Yu and Qin Zhong get up to some unspeakable things. After the ink had dried, he slipped it into an envelope, and got ready to send it off to Fan Ruoruo in the capital.

He never left any part of the manuscript at the mansion in Danzhou. As soon as he had written a chapter, he would immediately send it away to the capital immediately. He found it hard to suppress his desire to share the experiences of his past life with the people of this new world. It was like hiding the most beautiful piece of jade in the world beneath his bed, unseen by the world, for many years. His heart ached terribly, and he longed to show the world - or at the very least just one person - the stunning beauty of this secret he kept.

A collector who refuses to show a work to the world can be only one of two things: a pervert or a thief.

Fan Xian knew he was no pervert. Though he was definitely a thief, he was a smart one, and no one in this world would ever know.

So Fan Xian, ignoring Fan Ruoruo's age, sent her a manuscript every month. He told her that it was a work called The Story of the Stone, and was written by a fellow named Cao Xueqin, who he had come across by chance. Every month, he would write a chapter and share it with his little sister.

Although in the first fifteen chapters of Dream of the Red Chamber there were parts where Bao Yu meets with Qin Keqing in his dream and has his first lustful liaisons, Fan Xian was certain that the young girl would not be influenced negatively by his years of letters, or regard her brother as some sort of perverted freak.

Sure enough, when Fan Ruoruo read Cao's words, ignorant of their origins, she appreciated them even if she could not truly understand them. Yet she began to develop a taste for it - especially when she read the part where Dai Yu entered the mansion - and every month she would urge her brother to send her more of Cao's work.

When Fan Xian received her letter, he couldn't help but feel depressed. The next chapter did not exist, and he would not be able to copy it very quickly. Even if he copied seventy or eighty chapters one day, he would still end up like a eunuch.

...

...

After he had finished copying for the day, Fan Xian began to read a book, as he usually did. His study was filled with all kinds of works, all sent from the capital by the Count. Every time he thought about the Count's attempts to expand his book collection, his impression of this father he had never met would always change. At the very least, he knew that a maturing boy needed such things.

In a country with no pornography, Fan Xian had no way to stave off boredom and loneliness - save for manipulating the powerful zhenqi within his body and tormenting the servant girls - and so he dove headfirst into the many and varied books held within the study.

The books covered all kinds of topics: from agriculture to the laws of the land; nothing was missed. There were also some of the classics of the world, packed tightly onto the shelves like bricks.

Fan Xian had built the shelves according to his vision. They were simple, and each shelf was lined with the lemongrass that grew in Yaozhou. This herb prevented bookworms from getting into the books, but it seemed that few people were aware of its properties in this world, and so outside of the estate it was only used as a cooking ingredient.

After reading books for many years, Fan Xian discovered traces of many things that he had studied in his previous life in the classics of this world. They only appeared slightly different in their writing styles. And thus ended his plan to becoming a great scholar of his time by copying the works of Han Feizi, Xunzi, Laozi, Sunzi, and many other old masters.

Whether it was on the subject of poison, practicing his zhenqi, or reading, Fan Xian was always committed to his studies. With steady and hardworking dedication almost unseen in a boy his age, he continued to gain knowledge. He knew he was no different from the people around him; he had not arrived in a world where the average IQ was 50 points. The only advantage he had was some of the knowledge he had from the society of his previous world, and the fact that he had gained self-awareness earlier than the average toddler.

The oil lamp crackled and let off a small ball of flame, lighting up the room. As Fan Xian bent over his desk to study, his eyes began to droop, and he fell asleep.

After his morning bath the next morning, Fan Xian went to greet the Countess in her room before going to the hall for breakfast. Ever since the incident with the assassin, his impression of his grandmother had changed greatly. Apart from the morning greetings he had been doing for years, he would also chat with the kindly-looking old woman, trying to make her laugh.

"I heard that one day His Majesty once called his Prime Minister, the Chancellor, the Director of the Overwatch Council, the head of the palace eunuchs, and a group of high-ranking officials to the palace hall to discuss matters of state. That day, a meteor fell from the sky, smashed through the roof of the palace hall, and squashed all of His Majesty's ministers flat. His Majesty summoned the imperial physician to treat them, and he waited outside the sickroom. Soon after, the imperial physician came out and His Majesty asked him, 'Doctor, could you save the Prime Minister?' The physician shook his head. 'I'm afraid I couldn't save the Prime Minister,' he said."

As she listened, the Countess's face was full of suspicion. She couldn't understand why a child would speak about affairs in the capital. They were treacherous things - of which she had boundless first-hand experience. She eyed him uneasily.

"His Majesty asked, 'What about the Chancellor?' The physician shook his head sadly. 'I couldn't save him either.'

'Then what about Eunuch Hong?'

The physician shook his head again.

His Majesty got angry. 'Then who could you save?' The physician perked up. 'Your Majesty is most fortunate - the kingdom has been saved!'

On hearing the last line, the Countess immediately burst into laughter, to the point where she was close to tears. She pointed her finger at Fan Xian's innocent face.

"You little devil," she scolded. "If we were in the capital and you told that joke, they'd haul you off to the Overwatch Council."

Chapter 30: The Past

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Although no other nation could match the power of the Kingdom of Qing, there was no end of scheming within the corridors of the imperial court. In the eyes of the citizens, the government's most treacherous officials were the Prime Minister, the Chancellor, and Eunuch Hong Gonggong, leader of the palace eunuchs, all mentioned in the previous joke. It went without saying that the Director of the Overwatch Council was also infamous, but out of respect for his relationship with Fei Jie, Fan Xian had decided not to make him the butt of the joke.

He'd based the joke off of one he'd heard about Taiwanese politics during his previous life. He also relayed it in a letter to his sister, which had amused her greatly. After telling it to his grandmother - that seemingly befuddled but actually shrewd old lady - she'd burst out laughing too.

Having made the most powerful woman in Danzhou laugh, Fan Xian told her that he would be going out for a while. She didn't seem to mind; she'd gone back to her usual expression, that of an unruffled as an old well. She sent him off with a disinterested grunt of approval.

As he left the manor, he felt thankful for his growing closeness to his grandmother. After all, grandmothers had taken care of him in a lot of different ways. As he thought about it, he remembered a rumor he had heard. The House of Fan had been a great clan in Jingdu, but his father Count Sinan's branch of the family was small and insignificant, so they were often pushed around. Not long after his grandmother had given birth to Count Sinan, she was pressed into service as the wet nurse of Prince Cheng's household - unheard of for a member of the nobility.

Luckily, the previous emperor had no heirs, and as a result of his overactive sex life, he died an untimely death. The two most likely successors to the throne were murdered by an assassin from the Kingdom of Northern Wei, and the prince who had ordered the assassinations was also assassinated. Eventually, after an absurd and complicated chain of events - nothing particularly out of the ordinary for the politics of the kingdom - the ever-cautious Prince Cheng managed to ascend to the throne.

Cheng spent a number of peaceful years as Emperor, and when he passed away, the title of Emperor was passed on to the current Emperor. The Emperor led expeditions to conquer the barbarians to the west and the Kingdom of Northern Wei to the north. The once-mighty Kingdom of Northern Wei fell to pieces in the chaos, breaking up into the Kingdom of Northern Qi and a few small vassal states, as well as the always-neutral city of Dongyi.

The role of the Emperor was historically to achieve political and military victories. But the current Emperor was also considered a great master of both literature and martial arts. As a result, there were often officials who presented petitions to His Majesty, asking that he go up to the highest mountain to take part in rituals to thank heaven for peace and prosperity and praying for blessings at the temple.

But for some reason, His Majesty had always refused. Officials would try to win the emperor over with elegant coaxing, assuming the Emperor was just fishing for compliments, but were instead beaten to a bloody pulp.

The old mistress was the wet nurse of this decisive warrior of great power, an emperor who kept himself hidden within the palace.

Fan Xian had been suspicious about his father for years. Count Sinan's secret power far outweighed the power he should have had as an official. He had even gotten Fei Jie from the Overwatch Council to be Fan Xian's teacher. But knowing now that his grandmother had been the Emperor's wet nurse, his suspicions had been resolved.

His father Count Sinan was much like Cao Yin, a noble who lived during the reign of the Kangxi Emperor in Fan Xian's previous world. Cao Yin's mother, Sun Shi, had been the nanny of the Kangxi Emperor, and so Cao Yin was trusted by the Emperor throughout his life, becoming a close aide to the Emperor. Even though he was only a minor official, he was allowed to report directly to the Emperor. When Kangxi went on expeditions to the south, the Cao family would often accompany him. Cao Yin was feared by officials across the country.

In the later years of Kangxi's reign, Cao Yin was investigated for running up huge debts in the treasury. However, Kangxi saw to it during that time to pardon him again and again, situation after situation. It was not until after Cao Yin's death that his family fell on hard times, having growing distant from the Emperor.

And so Cao Yin's grandson, Cao Xueqin, came to Beijing at the age of 18, and wrote Dream of the Red Chamber.

This was the story that Fan Xian had copied and brought to this world.

"Master Cao, it seems that although we find ourselves in different places, we are kindred spirits. It seems appropriate that I'm copying your book." Thinking on the similarities between Cao's family and his own, he couldn't help but laugh. He gently folded up the letter that contained the tenth chapter of The Story of the Stone and left the manor.

——————————————————————

On a cliff overlooking the coast, Fan Xian closed his eyes in meditation. His body was filled from head to toe with a mysterious feeling. Because he had been a materialist in his past life, he now found that this powerful energy swirled around him and gave him a dreamlike feeling - almost as if he were falling in love.

Love is always a bittersweet thing, and his practice with this powerful energy brought him both pleasure and pain. It was clear that it was changing his body in exceedingly mysterious ways, greatly improving his strength and his responses. But it often refused to do as he commanded and would scatter, putting him in danger.

Because of the years he had spent being beaten senseless by Wu Zhu, his zhenqi had become more well-behaved. But today he was approaching great danger - it was the final day of his zhenqi training.

Wu Zhu stood calmly to one side, looking at Fan Xian, who sat cross-legged and in a deep meditative trance. He held his wooden stick in his hand like he usually would.

Following his will, the zhenqi that had pooled into his dantian flowed slowly out and was carefully guided through the meridians in his chest and belly, and as it had done for the past dozen or so years, it disappeared without trace, sinking into the xueshan point in his spine by his kidneys.

But the leftover zhenqi stayed strong, and as it flowed through his meridians it felt like thousands of hot knives scraping at their walls.

Fan Xian trembled all over, and cold sweat caused his clothes to stick to his body. His eyes shut tight and his long eyelashes quivered as he endured indescribable pain.

After many years of practice with this powerful energy, he had found that even the greatest of difficulties could be surmounted after a quick rest. After that, things had been easy. He had never imagined that getting past the first scroll would be quite so hard to bear.

The zhenqi continued to rampage through the meridians in his chest and belly, scouring them deeply and endlessly. This sometimes allowed the meridians to grow larger and wider, and allowed zhenqi to flow much quicker, but it could also cause immense damage. The power to expand one's intangible meridians also caused intense mental pain that was difficult to stand.

Fortunately, 12 years of diligent practice made it so that Fan Xian to was able to make his meridians significantly stronger. No energy overflowed through the walls of his veins, something that would have led to really serious problems. His powers of concentration had been greatly honed throughout his strange lives, both in this world and the last, making him much stronger than the average person.

...

...

Though it seemed like a long time had passed, the sun was only just rising above the eastern sea. As it hung there in the distance, it threw its warm red light upon the cliff, shining upon two lonesome figures, one standing, one sitting.

The zhenqi reversed its flow and headed upward. Powerful and ruthless, it broke through the thin barriers of his body. Flowing from the cycle gate point in his chest straight to the tianshu point in his belly, it suddenly shot up to the top of his nose, slicing like a knife!

In the red dawn light, Fan Xian felt as if he had been suddenly struck by lightning. His head shot up, looking up at the sky, his mouth wide open, unable to make a single sound.

Chapter 31: The Singing Visitor

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

"Take off your clothes!"

Wu Zhu's wooden staff smacked the top of Fan Xian's head with a loud thwack.

The zhenqi continued to rush forth from the top of his nose. It seemed as if a faint light was emanating from him, especially his forehead, which glowed uneasily with a dense, multicolored light. He couldn't see clearly, and a feeling of gloom seemed to spread from the point where the energy was stuck, filling Fan Xian with distress. He could only stare up at the sky in despair.

At that moment, Wu Zhu struck his forehead at the point where the energy was accumulating.

As it hit his body, the wooden staff felt like it had struck his soul. His brain suddenly felt as if it had caught fire, like black clouds being parted by a bolt of lightning, filling the sky with powerful rays of sunshine.

"Take off your clothes!"

This phrase was from a classic of the Kingdom of Qing - Adages of Old. It was said that Zu Genchen - tutor of one of the current four grandmasters, Ku He, a great teacher of the Northern Qi Kingdom - had received great teachings from Heaven itself. When he became enlightened, he exclaimed that the human body was like an undershirt - only once one had shed themselves of it could one achieve greatness.

And in the books that Fan Xian had read in his previous life, a similar saying had brought Buddhist monks to the point of enlightment. The Buddhist monk Qingyuan would often say "if you shed your fleshy undershirt, you shall be filled with the wild joy of enlightment."

And so when Fan Xian, confused and in great pain, heard Wu Zhu's words, he understood their meaning, and the point at the top of his head became free of its block. Daylight broke, and his mind was clear again. He guided the energy through his body, and convinced himself that the pain flowing through his meridians was the suffering of someone else, that it was not even remotely his own

By setting aside all attachments to life and letting go of all bodily perceptions, one could attain the mood found within the Scroll of Power .

A single person's body cannot hold the powerful energy of heaven and earth. Only by abandoning one's body and becoming one with heaven and earth and by becoming a part of nature can one obtain control over such powerful, chaotic energy.

The zhenqi in his body slowly began to settle, and the point on his forehead had opened. The energy flowed out with gentle vigor, going down past the tianzhu point on the back of his neck straight into the xueshan point that existed on his back.

His xueshan point had always seemed calm, but today, he could feel it had changed slightly - a small amount of zhenqi began to seep out and replenish the dantian point in his pubic region.

And so the circulation of zhenqi throughout his body finally formed a free-flowing loop, a channel forming a perfect circle, in faint harmony with the outside world.

...

...

After some time had passed, Fan Xian woke up groggy. A dark and foul-smelling liquid had trickled out beneath him. He looked at Wu Zhu, who stood beside him seemingly unmoved, and smiled weakly. "Thanks... looks like you really hit hard."

Although his body felt weak, he could feel his spirit flourishing. He closed his eyes and felt the conditions within his body, getting used to this new flow of zhenqi. He could sense that this once-ruthless zhenqi, though still powerful, was clearly flowing more smoothly and freely.

Fan Xian let out a sigh. It was hard to imagine that he had managed to master the zhenqi that he had only been able to read about in wuxia novels in his past life. He was gripped by a sudden and unclear urge, and unthinkingly, he slammed his right hand into the ground below him.

There was a muffled thud and a hiss, like a red-hot poker punching a hole through a rag.

A shallow palm print had appeared on the ground, its edges completely smooth.

Fan Xian raised his right hand and looked at it, then lowered his head to look again at the palm print in the rock. He measured it with his hand, making sure the it was truly his palmprint that had just made such a mark, and stared at it in amazement. Finally he regained his focus. "That's amazing," he said with a gasp.

"That's zhenqi leaking out," said Wu Zhu. "It'll clear up soon."

"Didn't you say you'd never trained with zhenqi? How do you know how to teach me?"

"I've watched others train, so I knew what we had to do today."

"So it's like you've never eaten pork, but you've seen a pig run before."

Fan Xian, realizing that he'd just insulted himself, smiled faintly. "That was really dangerous back there," he continued. "If you hadn't been here with your stick, I'd probably be a vegetable again."

"What do you mean, 'a vegetable'?" asked Wu Zhu coolly.

Fan Xian looked up at the sky and let his mind wander, paying no attention.

A short while later, he realized that Wu Zhu was an empiricist. If that blow hadn't brought him to his senses, and instead knocked him unconscious, then the ruthless zhenqi in his body would have scattered, turning him into a puddle of blood and guts...

He shivered, and put such terrifying thoughts out of his mind, looking at the wide sea before him. His mind was free, and he felt excited about his newfound mastery. He hand finally freed himself from his gloomy mood over the incident with the assassin days before.

In the days following the incident, Fan Xian could not understand why the assassin had chosen to use poison. Had all of Fei Jie's training led up to that day? It seemed too great of a coincedence. It had been a bold move from the Count's second wife. Even if she had the support of some high-ranking official somewhere, to use poison in such a way suggested that she didn't care about his grandmother's life in the slightest - even though she had been the Emperor's wet-nurse.

Could his father really have had no idea that this was going on in the capital?

As he pondered, the sound of distant singing came from far below the cliffs.

The cliff bordered the sea, far from Danzhou, and it was dangerous ground. There was a great reef in front of the cliff that prevented fishing boats from getting close, so it remained quiet and undisturbed. This was why Wu Zhu had chosen it as the best place to train Fan Xian in the art of killing—and was why hearing this distant song put Fan Xian on edge.

Though he was nervous, he made sure not to act rash. Lying on his stomach, he crawled toward the cliff's edge, staying behind the rocks while looking down toward the source of the singing.

As he looked down, he saw a small boat drifting through the black reef, appearing and disappearing in and out of the sea foam. The boat weaved in and out, and it looked almost certain that it could smash into the reef at any time, killing its passenger.

But it carried on its way through the rocks regardless.

The person on the boat stood alone, wearing a bamboo hat and singing away. "Flowers fall once they appear, stones stand still a thousand years. But both must go just as they came, and floating clouds are just the same…"

The song was gentle, but perched atop the cliff, he could still hear it clearly through the roar of the waves.

When he heard the song, Fan Xian thought about a line by a poet from his past life named Teitoku Matsunaga: "Flowers blossom but for an hour in the daylight, but compared to the thousand-year pine, there is little difference." How this boatman seemed to be so free and easy was a mystery.

As he pondered, he heard Wu Zhu's voice. "Hide."

Fan Xian hid himself behind the rocks. He sensed the movement of a shadow next to him, and watched in horror as Wu Zhu leapt from the hundred-foot cliff.

Chapter 32: Tipping the Boat

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Before he went in training and developed his Badao zhenqi, Fan Xian did not believe a human's body could be harder than rock. But after one of his palm strikes left his handprint on a rock, he changed his mind.

Even now, he still didn't believe a person would be completely fine after jumping several tens of meters down a cliff, especially without slowing down during the descent. Wu Zhu helped him disprove that thought, and at the same time gave him unparalleled fright; Fan Xian would have never imagined the true skills of this world's strongest to be this terrifying!

...

...

The black cloth which covered Wu Zhu's eyes resembled flowing black silk as it trailed during Wu Zhu's high-speed descent. Wu Zhu, however, was like an arrow striking down with the force of thunder. He aimed his feet at the small boat.

Wu Zhu wasn't using qinggong, he was merely freefalling with the help of gravity. While falling several tens of meters, he never stopped gaining speed. By the time he was about to land on the boat, he was going tremendously fast. A frightening whooshing sound could be heard as he fell faster than the sound of the wind, as if he had split the air itself.

The force Wu Zhu carried reached the boat before his body did. On the boat sat a singing man wearing a bamboo hat which was violently blown away.

The bamboo hat flew far away before landing in the sea, exposing the man's face.

The man had a simple, humble expression, his eyes clear as autumn waters. However, his pupils contracted when he saw the pair of feet crashing down from above.

A pair of hands, pale as white jade, came out of the man's sleeves and waved gently. With his fingers parting like bare branches sprouting new leaves, countless jets of qi rushed out of his fingertips. In the moment before Wu Zhu landed on the boat in the restless sea, those jets of qi forcefully blew the boat two paces backwards.

Wu Zhu brutally crashed down like a meteorite. Due to the boat being blown back two paces, Wu Zhu landed on the deck, not on the singing man.

There was no way this small boat could withstand such force, and before the sound of rushing air died down, there was a loud crunching noise.

Because Wu Zhu landed on the bow of the boat, he forced the entire font half of the boat into the water, while the stern was lifted out of the water, pointing to the sky.

The singer was catapulted high into the air. While airborne, he could do nothing but spread out his arms, looking quite miserable.

With a huge splash, the boat broke from the intense impact and sank.

A black shadow erupted from the waters, locking onto the singer, who was still in the air. In the blink of an eye, fingers shot out like swords, aiming at the singer's throat.

The singer moved his hands, as though he were constructing the beams of a roof. With great steadiness and grace, he forcefully blocked Wu Zhu's killing blow.

Small explosions tore through the air, the result of strong qi clashing against each other. It was hard to count just how many techniques these two world-class warriors unleashed in this short exchange.

Moments later, the two shadows separated, landing on the two sides of an extremely narrow sandbar just beneath the cliffs.

On the sea, the boat's flotsam slowly surfaced, looking like debris left in a jar. The back half of the boat was still floating, ownerless, looking quite desolate.

...

...

"Your assassination failed, so you have to pay me back for the boat." The singer stared at Wu Zhu's blindfold and smiled. He reached out and waved with his hand, as if expecting immediate payment.

There were about nine meters between him and Wu Zhu. In response to this hand gesture, Wu Zhu frowned, turned his body to the side, and took two steps back with unparalleled quickness.

With a light shuffle, the ground where Wu Zhu was standing moments ago appeared thickly dotted, as though rain had fallen on the sand.

From nine meters away, with a slight wave of his hand, the singer's strong qi penetrated through the sand. In this world, not many could accomplish such a feat.

"Why have you come here?" Wu Zhu tilted his head slightly. While remaining expressionless, he was noticeably more cautious than usual.

"I fought you once 16 years ago. Since then, I've failed to find a worthy opponent," the singer replied with a grin. "Last year I visited the capital and Ye Zhong said you had been missing for the past few years. I thought you really followed Lady Ye over to the other side. I got two jars of alcohol, one of which I poured into the ground along with a few tears. I set out again this year and felt a strong qi from far away, so I came to investigate… Who would have thought it was you?"

The singer then became angry. "I've not seen you in over a decade, old friend. How come you tried to kill me on sight? You are well aware that we cannot slay each other."

Wu Zhu thought about it for a moment, then tilted his head as if accepting this fact.

The singer knew of the blind man's strange temperament. If Wu Zhu really could kill him, he wouldn't hesitate, and the singer was mindful of that possibility. He then said with a smile, "After the Lady departed, I thought you'd go back to the temple. Why did you come to Danzhou Harbor?"

"You know why I want to kill you," Wu Zhu said coldly, ignoring the singer's question. "The amount of people in this world who know me are few. And among them, you have the biggest mouth."

Not knowing how to respond, the singer became embarrassed.

Wu Zhu continued, "If I can silence you by killing you, I'm more than happy to do so."

The singer let out an uneasy smile and sighed. "You've still got that same old temper I see. It's rare for someone to train to such a high level and still remain so bloodthirsty."

Wu Zhu shook his head. "The ends justify the means." He suddenly frowned. "Since you found what you were looking for, you may leave now." Quite a crisp way of shooing someone away.

The singer breathed in before letting out a lengthy laugh. He clenched his fist as he smiled. "In truth, I am not much of a talker."

As soon as he said that, the singer rolled up his sleeves and put his arms behind his back. Just like that, he coolly floated back to what remained of his boat, which was somehow still floating. Standing on the wreckage and humorously resuming the motion of rowing, the singer moved his half of a boat with his inner qi and set off towards Danzhou.

Wu Zhu faced the same direction, silent under the black cloth.

...

...

"Who was that?" Fan Xian, who just made his way down from the mountain peak, did not hear the conversation. He was still shaken after witnessing a battle between two of the world's strongest fighters.

"Ye Liuyun."

"As I thought…" Fan Xian sighed as he followed behind Wu Zhu. They too were headed towards Danzhou Harbor.

Chapter 33: Idle Years

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Ye Liuyun came and left, just like the floating clouds which were his namesake; gone without a trace. The inhabitants of Danzhou Harbor had no idea that one of the Four Great Grandmasters had come to their city, drank alcohol, picked a fight, and sang some songs.

Wu Zhu was a bit worried. Not many people in this world knew about his relationship with the Lady, but unfortunately Ye Liuyun happened to be one of them. And directly in contrast with his status as a grandmaster, Ye Liuyun was known for having loose lips.

Wu Zhu did not believe it was a coincidence that Ye Liuyun came to Danzhou and then left immediately after seeing Wu Zhu.

Fan Xian, on the other hand, thought Ye Liuyun was a simple traveler. He patted Wu Zhu on the shoulder, trying to provide some consolation. "Who said a master practitioner can't travel?"

It was purely because of his intuition that he believed this.

His intuition had proved accurate thus far, making him suspect there was something wrong with his father in the capital - the Council of Auditors, assassins, and that second wife who was more sinister than a tigress… All those convinced Fan Xian that his father, Count Sinan, was not as simple as he appeared. He should at least be significantly more formidable than a bondservant like Cao Yin.

But Fan Xian was leading himself in the wrong direction.

He had guessed that his father was the illegitimate son of the previous emperor, King Laocheng, because his grandmother was once a wet nurse who used to take care of the emperor. Nowadays, Count Sinan was bitter about being a petty count while his half-brother sat on the Dragon Throne. So the Count plotted in secret with the Overwatch Council, uniting and taking advantage of all possible resistance against the throne, hoping to inherit the emperor's entire estate.

As for Fan Xian himself? Because his mother had undoubtedly been an important figure, he became some kind of product which would benefit a marriage. Therefore, his existence would have a significant impact on his father's great rebellion.

Such were his delusions he entertained when he was bored. When he told them to Wu Zhu, the usually expressionless Wu Zhu hacked the butcher knife he was holding deep into the chopping board; his way of showing a certain level of respect for the frantically imaginative youth.

For that same reason, Wu Zhu decided that he would not leave Danzhou with Fan Xian for the time being.

This crazy youth did not worry about the future. His face still possessed that shy yet curious smile, ever ready to join Count Sinan's foolish rebellion without regard for the possible dangers involved. That being the case, the blind Wu Zhu had no need to be afraid.

Wu Zhu had never cared for his own well-being, only Fan Xian's. When Fan Xian showed that he didn't care much either, Wu Zhu simple let him to do as he pleased — for example, when Fan Xian started to drink excessively at the age of five. Wu Zhu was only in charge of protecting Fan Xian. He would not voluntarily object to much.

Typically, master and servant duos like Fan Xian and Wu Zhu were lazy and reckless characters. It's not that they couldn't be underhanded, but rather they felt that their martial powers were more effective than any kind of scheme. Thus, they looked upon the connivery of others as trivial.

As they say: "A bright moon on a wide river, a clear breeze among the hills."

...

...

Fan Xian was not a bright moon, however. He was a waning crescent, still afraid of death and without access to extreme methods, like Wu Zhu had. But he knew he wouldn't die that easily; not with the blind servant and Fei Jie in the Overwatch Council supporting him.

After witnessing the clash between Wu Zhu and Ye Liuyun, one of the Four Great Grandmasters, Fan Xian was deeply moved. He had finally understood the artistic beauty of martial arts, which was just as beautiful as tea ceremonies and calligraphy. That was why he stopped copying "Dream of the Red Chamber" for the moment and dedicated all of his attention to training.

Wu Zhu didn't have any exceptional sword styles or unarmed techniques, but he was methodical when killing. He focused on being quick, accurate, direct, and ruthless. Once, he said to Fan Xian, "Don't put your faith in those roundabout tricks. If you want to attack, do it straight ahead, taking the shortest distance, as fast as you can, and strike your target a devastating blow."

Fan Xian immediately thought of the other day when Wu Zhu leapt down from the cliff. He had indeed taken the shortest distance. He smiled bitterly as he wondered how long it would take him to reach the same level.

After some lessons one day, Fan Xian swung his slightly aching right arm around and asked Wu Zhu, who was standing with his back turned. "Based off of what we talked about before, what level am I currently at?" he asked curiously.

"Level seven in zhenqi. Level three in your ability to control it."

Fan Xian quickly did some calculations. "Which averages out to level five. That's more than four. I could get a diploma." The youth was a bit haughty, his pride showing slightly in his eyes.

Wu Zhu shook his head. "If you're lucky, you can kill a level seven opponent. If you're unlucky, some level three rogue can end your life."

Fan Xian signed, still smiling and thinking to himself, "Master Wu Zhu sure doesn't sugarcoat his words." Overall, his luck seemed fine so far, or else he wouldn't have come to this world after dying.

After Ye Liuyun came, Fan Xian's life in Danzhou truly became peaceful. There were no more assassins. Supposedly, the Count's second wife was seriously ill for a while and became less troublesome than before. In the capital, Fan Ruoruo still sent letters once a month. Fan Xian spent his days in the small coastal city, eating tofu, copying books, occasionally buying some clothes to please the old mistress, drinking wine in the shop, and chopping up radishes to go with his wine; a leisurely life indeed.

One day, a mirage appeared above the sea. The inhabitants of Danzhou Harbor all came out to see the phenomenon. Although they had lived by the sea for a long time, the sight of ethereal islands floating above the horizon still astonished them.

Wu Zhu started behaving strangely. He closed the doors of his shop and went to a remote area by the sea. Alone, he climbed up a cliff and "stared" into the distance. It looked like he was recalling some unpleasant memories.

The mirage soon disappeared, but Wu Zhu stayed there.

Looking out into the distance through that black cloth, it seemed like he wasn't blind at all.

Fan Xian ascended the cliff. Having already transformed his skinny build, his bare torso showed excellent proportions. Seeing Wu Zhu sitting quietly, he didn't want to be a bother, so he sat down beside him, looking at the sky touched by a fiery red of the setting sun.

A long time passed. Then, Wu Zhu suddenly asked in a cold voice, "How old are you now?"

Fan Xian tied his long, jet-black hair back into a pony tail. Signs of masculinity had started to appear on his attractive face. He smiled. "Sixteen."

Chapter 34: Zhu the Cool

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Wu Zhu was a strange and mysterious person. In Fan Xian's eyes, Uncle Wu Zhu's life had been very lonely. For thirty-something years, he never had a companion or anyone to talk to. To this day, some inhabitants of Danzhou still thought Wu Zhu was not only blind, but deaf too.

Forever wearing that black strip of cloth over his eyes, Wu Zhu made Fan Xian wonder if there was some unsightly scar behind the blindfold.

Fei Jie called him "Master Wu", an obvious sign that Uncle Wu Zhu had once took part in the capital's official circles. However, he did not act like a government official in the slightest. Rather, he was like a sage who did not partake in earthly matters.

Thinking about this, Fan Xian looked at Wu Zhu, who by this point had returned to a state of silence and continued to "gaze" at the sunset. He basked in the red rays, his blindfold reflecting a fiery color.

Suddenly, Fan Xian had a scary thought. After pondering for a while, he asked: "Uncle, you keep blanking out at the scenery; did you come down from the heavens?"

At this point, Fan Xian had already fully accepted things like neigong, and even started to believe in the existence of a heavenly figure. Even so, if his friend for over ten years were to suddenly turn into some divine sage who descended from the clouds, Fan Xian would not be able to accept this—especially if he were to include to another world. Fan Xian would only end up being scared senseless and fall down.

Wu Zhu shook his head: "I am merely almost remembering the past, when the Lady and I ventured out."

"You sure you and my mom aren't sages?"

"Are there any supernatural beings in the world?"

"Isn't there a temple?"

"Who said supernatural beings lived in temples?"

"Uncle, are you remembering some events?"

"No, I merely forgot some things, some unimportant things."

...

...

Wu Zhu stood up and gave an almost-unnoticeable nod towards the sea, as if saying farewell to an unknown place. He then said lightly: "Let's go back. I can tell you some of those things now."

Fan Xian smiled. Wu hadn't forgotten the promise that, once he turned sixteen, he would be told certain things about his mother.

Walking to the edge of the cliff, Fan Xian took in a breath of air. Zhenqi slowly began circulating inside his body. His entire form held on to the cliff. The zhenqi traveled to his palms through the meridians, coming out as film thinner than a strand of silk before returning to his body through the edges of his hands. His hands had miraculously provided the zhenqi with surfaces of contact—because zhenqi is shapeless, it could form a perfect seal along the edge of Fan Xian's palms.

His hands sticking to the slick rocks, Fan Xian secured himself using the adhering force of his zhenqi. By releasing his zhenqi, he could unstick and reposition his hands. Using this method, Fan Xian began to climb down from the cliff with relative ease.

He looked like Spider-Man.

An ordinary martial artist, regardless of how much zhenqi he had, would never accomplish this. Fan Xian could do it due to his unusual training and body, and also his unique way of thinking.

In this world, every martial artist only cared about "substance" and "potential".

"Substance," of course, referred to how much zhenqi a person had, and "potential" could only be described in the figurative sense, meaning something akin to realms. Studying other crafts had never been the focus of the strong.

Wu Zhu saw substance and potential… merely as ways to describe the quantity and quality of zhenqi and the mastery of its control. After teaching Fan Xian for over ten years, his pupil stayed somewhere between level three and level seven, making almost no progress in the past four years.

The general trend among the strong martial artists was to use their zhenqi like a one-time tool or weapon, releasing all of it at once like water to attack their opponents. Once released, they had no intention of restoring it. They exhausted their zhenqi after every major battle, though they could still recover by meditating.

They could hardly be blamed for adopting such a philosophy. After all, once zhenqi leaves the body, it would be insane to even think about taking it back.

But Fan Xian thought otherwise. The circulatory path of his zhenqi was already different from other people's to begin with. It entered from his back through the xueshan, meaning he had an opening there which formed a circuit with the yuanqi from nature. For that reason, his sense of zhenqi was much sharper.

On top of that… Fan Xian was often bored and very stingy… so he kept on releasing his zhenqi and then taking it back.

He toiled with this experiment for three years, and he could now finally release his zhenqi within one-tenth of an inch away from his palm and reclaim it.

Such a short distance made it completely unsuited for attacking an enemy, causing Fan Xian to sadly admit that he wasted three years on something useless.

A useless trick it may be, but Fan Xian still thought of a way to make use of it. Once every three days he would scale the cliffs by the sea, not an easy task by any means. In a stroke of genius, he started to use the skill for climbing.

Perhaps this was his greatest advantage over other people of this world, that being his way of thinking which was unlimited by time. He had no preconceived notions, and everything was new and possible to him.

Like a fish swimming through the water, Fan Xian made his way down the cliff.

Looking up, Wu Zhu had already become a small speck. Fan Xian smiled; he wasn't in a hurry. Besides, he enjoyed watching Wu Zhu descend the mountain.

Wu Zhu took a step forward, as if there was solid ground in front of him.

His foot suspended in midair, Wu Zhu fell. Every thirty feet, he would leisurely reach out a hand and gently press against the cliff, slowing his descent. After doing this around ten times, Wu Zhu stood emotionless at the bottom of the cliff.

Wu Zhu had made it look easy, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Direction, angle, amount of force, and even the sea wind needed to be calculated meticulously. There wasn't even the slightest room for error. Such strong and precise level of judgement could only belong to one of the strongest in the world.

Considering Wu Zhu was blind, the descriptor "one of" could be removed.

Although he had seen it countless times, Fan Xian couldn't help but admire him:

"So cool."

Chapter 35: Memories of a Rainy Night

Translator: Nyoi_Bo_Studio Editor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio

Warm and gentle seas caressed Danzhou Harbor during the month of March. The spirit of spring took center stage as the entire mountainous region bloomed with unnamed yellow flowers. Every single household used this flower to steep tea. Drinking this tea outside while chatting with the neighbors became a pastime. The fragrance of this flower tea hung in the air while walking through the streets of Danzhou Harbor, neither too strong nor too faint. It brought about a sense of purity and greatly lifted spirits.

When night came, spring rain often followed. It blended into the night with gentle breeze, silently nourishing the earth. In Danzhou Harbor, the black roof tiles and stone-paved roads were covered in the mist created by the rain.

The light rain fell softly onto the tarp that hung outside the grocery shop, barely making any sound. The water washed off layers of dust, giving the storefront a more uplifting look. However, once again, the store was closed. After telling the Countess he was heading out, Fan Xian went to the store and drank with Wu Zhu while shelling peanuts.

The people of the estate should have known that Fan Xian liked visiting that store, but they all thought he was mere greedy for the blindman's alcohol. It was indeed good alcohol, but Fan Xian also felt like it was an effective excuse for him to go out. It was impossible for him to interact with Wu Zhu completely out of sight of others, but they still took care.

A kitchen knife lay on a dry chopping board. There were no bits of vegetables on the blade; the knife apparently hadn't been used in a while.

The crackling of peanut shells resounded. Fan Xian threw a piece of peanut into his mouth and chewed slowly. It wasn't until he chewed the solid kernel completely into an aromatic pulp did he raise the small drinking cup to his lips. Taking the cup, which was only about three fingers wide, he downed the entire thing in one go.

He wasn't drinking yellow wine today, but rather tribute-quality wine from the capital with a rather high proof. Drinking it reminded Fan Xian a bit of Wuliangye.

Fan Xian wasn't in a hurry to ask questions, because he knew Wu Zhu was a simple person who wouldn't keep him waiting for too long.

Wu Zhu wasn't sitting across from Fan Xian. He held a bowl of yellow wine and sat in a dark corner. He started talking in a faint voice.

"They named The Lady Qingmei; her family name was Ye. I was her house servant. Many years ago, the Lady and I ventured away from home…"

"Ye Qingmei…" this was Fan Xian's first time hearing his mother's name. Strangely, a sense of warmth spread through his chest, so he smiled and drank another cup of wine. Out of amusement, he refrained from asking a question… about where they lived; Wu Zhu would answer it if he wanted to.

"We lived in Dongyi City for a few years. From the day of her birth, The Lady showed intelligence and understood many things. She also had a kind and gentle heart. Because of that, she started a business in Dongyi City at the age of fifteen. However, since she was rather young, she did everything behind the scenes and had a shopkeeper pretend to be the owner."

Fan Xian's hand stopped in midair while holding onto his cup. He could not help but ask: "What does having a kind and gentle heart have to do with doing business?" He wasn't curious about his mother's innate intelligence or why she could make money at fifteen. During all these years, he had already guessed it: his mother must be someone who couldn't be judged based on general common sense.

Wu Zhu answered in an emotionless voice: "the Lady was saddened by the suffering of the common people, so she enjoyed performing kind deeds. When Dongyi City was flooded, the one who set up the most congee stations was the Lady. She knew if she wanted to help more people, she must obtain money. It was from there that she started to figure out ways to earn money."

Fan Xian nodded as he accepted his mother's logic.

"Her business did very well. Gradually, some people noticed she was the real owner and began plotting. I ended up killing them all."

Wu Zhu's voice was very flat when he said it, but Fan Xian realized it must have been extremely tense during the time. If Wu Zhu thought the business was doing well, it must be true. People always say "wealth plagues its owner". A fifteen-year-old girl owning so much property really would invite unwelcome ambition from immoral lowlifes. But after realizing what type of bodyguard his mother had, Fan Xian disregarded his unreasonable concern.

Suddenly, he remembered something, and asked with a frown: "My mom's last name was Ye, what that also the name of your shop?"

"Yes."

"So it was!" Fan Xian's face was filled with astonishment: "I heard people mentioning the name. Over a decade ago, it seems, it was the number-one business. But I never thought it belonged to my mother."

"I didn't know exactly how big her business got." Wu Zhu said very calmly, "That was not part of my job. The Lady thought I had killed too many people, so she closed her business in Dongyi City and went to Qing Kingdom, settling down in the capital."

Fan Xian felt it wasn't that simple: Closing up shop in Dongyi City and then coming to Qing? There was a better explanation than that.

Wu Zhu continued: "the Lady started her business again after coming to the capital, and she once again did very well. Later she became acquainted with some people, including Sinan. Everybody seemed to listen to what she said and prepared things according to her ideas. Eventually they changed a few things and came into conflict with Qing's royalty, who felt their benefits were being threatened."

Wu Zhu paused a bit. "Once, Qing was fighting a war on the eastern front, and the defenses in the capital were practically empty. I happened to be away from the city after a major incident. As you can imagine, the Lady's security was compromised… the nobles sent out people and murdered the Lady. When I got back, I only managed to save you, and brought you to Danzhou Harbor."

This event Fan Xian knew very well, he also knew those "enemies" were all killed over ten years ago. He believed that whoever was still talking about revenge must have had something to do with his cheap father and the Overwatch Council.

There was a long period of silence. The sound of rain outside became noticeable.

"That's it?" Fan Xian felt troubled; his mother's entire life was narrated in such a few sentences? What was her business? What did she do that made all the royalty of Qing get rid of her? Why would the famous Fei Jie of the Overwatch Council respond with the utmost respect whenever his mother was mentioned?

"Basically… that's it." Wu Zhu chose his words carefully.

Fan Xian sighed, admitting that Uncle Wu Zhu really wasn't much of a storyteller. A bitter smile appeared on his beautiful face as he realized he must ask the questions himself.

"What was my mother's business involved in?"

"Luxury items, military supplies, ships, food supplies; basically, anything that could earn her money."

Wu Zhu answered casually, but Fan Xian was startled by each one of the items. His two lives made him realize that, people who could manage such business much have some grand backgrounds. His mother was a single woman, and yet she brought her house up to such a terrific level.

"Then what happened to the business after my mother died?" Fan Xian was most curious about this, as according to the national laws of Qing, he should be the sole inheritor of his mother's grand legacy.

"I heard later everything was taken by the Qing government."

Fan Xian gave a bitter smile and shook his head. As soon as he heard it all became imperial property, he gave up the idea of suing to get it all back. Changing the topic, he grinned: "Ye Qingmei must have been quite the name back then. I heard that when my mother came to the Capital, she gave the Commander of Defense a beating."

The oil lamp flickered.

Hearing Fan Xian's words made Wu Zhu remember something. The corners of his lips perked up as if they were rusty hinges—Wu Zhu was showing a gentle smile.

Fan Xian's wrist froze, his drinking cup fell onto the table and rolled several times. Inside his mind, he was screaming: "A smile… he just smiled!"