Joy of Life - V1C20
Prologue: Nice Guys Finish Last
1- A Child of the Tanmai
2- The Truman Show
3- The Legacy Book
4- Studies and Ghost Stories
5- The Noctural Visitor
6- Master Wu Zhu
7- Master Fei Jie
8- One Year Later...
9- Grandmasters and Divine Temple
10- Overpowering Bàdào Zhenqi
11- The Sea Salt Merchant
12- Farewell for now, Master Fei Jie
13- Mail Order and Newspapers
14- It Hurts Like Hell!
15- Housekeeper Zhou
16- Ay-ya-ya-yaaa
17- The Three Goals
18- The Attempted Poisoning
19- The Assassin
20- Clean Up After Yourself!
Chapter 20
Clean up After Yourself!
He strolled leisurely through the market and paused in front of a tofu stall. The vendor was a young woman in her early twenties, fair-featured with kind eyes, and she wore an apron tied around her waist.
“Dong’er,” Fan Xian called out with a genuine smile. Dong’er had been the servant girl he had dismissed from the Count’s villa. In his younger days, he often found comfort resting on her bosom. They had always shared a close bond. After leaving the villa, she had set up a tofu stall in the market, and Fan Xian made it a point to visit frequently to buy tofu to take home.
When she recognized him, a gentle smile graced Dong’er’s face. “Young Master,” she inquired as she invited him inside, “what brings you here today?”
He took a seat on a small stool, and as more customers arrived for tofu, Dong’er glanced at him shyly. Fan Xian nodded, encouraging her to attend to her customers first. As he looked around, he spotted a crib at the back of the stall, where a little girl, less than a year old, with rosy cheeks and tiny, delicate hands, reached for a bell attached to it.
Fan Xian reached over to pick up the little girl and play with her, but Dong’er quickly turned and pulled her daughter close. “Don’t get your clothes dirty,” she gently scolded. “You’ll only make more work for the servant girls.”
Fan Xian chuckled. “Dong’er, when I was that age, didn’t you hug me like that every day?”
Dong’er laughed. “Young Master, how can you compare yourself to us, simple servants?” Her demeanor was unusual; she had been sent away from the Count’s villa for tasting a dish before Fan Xian, yet she held no ill feelings toward him.
Fan Xian scratched his head, uncertain of what to say. Sensing his unease, Dong’er scooped up her daughter and cooed, “This is the Young Master. Can you say it? ‘Young Master!’”
“Call me Uncle,” Fan Xian urged. But the little girl, still too young to speak, pressed her head against her mother's neck with a happy smile on her face. She was loved and cared for, and that was all that truly mattered to her.
He spent quite some time at the tofu stall, watching Dong’er cut and weigh the tofu, wrapping it in paper[i] while he played with her daughter, trying to coax her into calling him ‘Uncle’ but only getting giggles from the sweet, innocent child. Eventually, he managed to shake off the gloom hanging over him and stood up to say his goodbyes to Dong’er.
“You’ve come all this way,” Dong’er said, slightly embarrassed, “and I don’t have anything special for you to eat.”
Fan Xian smiled. “Dong’er, do you really think I’m not eating well?”
“That’s true,” she replied with a shy laugh. “Thank you for buying all these things for my little girl, Young Master.”
Fan Xian shook his head with a smile. “I just hope you don't hold any resentment against me for sending you away from the Count's villa.”
Dong’er smiled but chose to stay quiet. She trusted the young boy, even though she never quite understood why he reacted so angrily when she tested a bit of food. She was sure he didn’t mean to act that way. After leaving the villa, the young master secretly sent her money. When she got married, he gifted her a stall as a wedding gift and helped her find a safe place so she could live comfortably with her husband. She had a happy marriage and now a sweet girl of her own she adored. She held no grudge and loved Fan Xian as a wet nurse would.
As Fan Xian waved goodbye and stepped out into the market, he glanced back to see the gentle young lady holding her daughter Xiaoni while cutting the tofu floating in the water. Leaning slightly forward, she maintained her slender and supple figure. The passing years had left no marks on her; she looked just as she had over a decade ago when she would hold him tightly.
Fan Xian had found a justification for sending her away: she was his closest personal servant. When Fei Jie arrived, Fan Xian quickly realized that his father’s concubine would probably leverage the people he cared about. This was a common tactic regardless of the world one inhabited. Those in power often sought to intimidate the weaker or, at the very least, to isolate them. Fan Xian aimed to protect as much as he could until he was strong enough to do so.
“Dong’er,” Fan Xian called out with a genuine smile. Dong’er had been the servant girl he had dismissed from the Count’s villa. In his younger days, he often found comfort resting on her bosom. They had always shared a close bond. After leaving the villa, she had set up a tofu stall in the market, and Fan Xian made it a point to visit frequently to buy tofu to take home.
When she recognized him, a gentle smile graced Dong’er’s face. “Young Master,” she inquired as she invited him inside, “what brings you here today?”
He took a seat on a small stool, and as more customers arrived for tofu, Dong’er glanced at him shyly. Fan Xian nodded, encouraging her to attend to her customers first. As he looked around, he spotted a crib at the back of the stall, where a little girl, less than a year old, with rosy cheeks and tiny, delicate hands, reached for a bell attached to it.
Fan Xian reached over to pick up the little girl and play with her, but Dong’er quickly turned and pulled her daughter close. “Don’t get your clothes dirty,” she gently scolded. “You’ll only make more work for the servant girls.”
Fan Xian chuckled. “Dong’er, when I was that age, didn’t you hug me like that every day?”
Dong’er laughed. “Young Master, how can you compare yourself to us, simple servants?” Her demeanor was unusual; she had been sent away from the Count’s villa for tasting a dish before Fan Xian, yet she held no ill feelings toward him.
Fan Xian scratched his head, uncertain of what to say. Sensing his unease, Dong’er scooped up her daughter and cooed, “This is the Young Master. Can you say it? ‘Young Master!’”
“Call me Uncle,” Fan Xian urged. But the little girl, still too young to speak, pressed her head against her mother's neck with a happy smile on her face. She was loved and cared for, and that was all that truly mattered to her.
He spent quite some time at the tofu stall, watching Dong’er cut and weigh the tofu, wrapping it in paper[i] while he played with her daughter, trying to coax her into calling him ‘Uncle’ but only getting giggles from the sweet, innocent child. Eventually, he managed to shake off the gloom hanging over him and stood up to say his goodbyes to Dong’er.
“You’ve come all this way,” Dong’er said, slightly embarrassed, “and I don’t have anything special for you to eat.”
Fan Xian smiled. “Dong’er, do you really think I’m not eating well?”
“That’s true,” she replied with a shy laugh. “Thank you for buying all these things for my little girl, Young Master.”
Fan Xian shook his head with a smile. “I just hope you don't hold any resentment against me for sending you away from the Count's villa.”
Dong’er smiled but chose to stay quiet. She trusted the young boy, even though she never quite understood why he reacted so angrily when she tested a bit of food. She was sure he didn’t mean to act that way. After leaving the villa, the young master secretly sent her money. When she got married, he gifted her a stall as a wedding gift and helped her find a safe place so she could live comfortably with her husband. She had a happy marriage and now a sweet girl of her own she adored. She held no grudge and loved Fan Xian as a wet nurse would.
As Fan Xian waved goodbye and stepped out into the market, he glanced back to see the gentle young lady holding her daughter Xiaoni while cutting the tofu floating in the water. Leaning slightly forward, she maintained her slender and supple figure. The passing years had left no marks on her; she looked just as she had over a decade ago when she would hold him tightly.
Fan Xian had found a justification for sending her away: she was his closest personal servant. When Fei Jie arrived, Fan Xian quickly realized that his father’s concubine would probably leverage the people he cared about. This was a common tactic regardless of the world one inhabited. Those in power often sought to intimidate the weaker or, at the very least, to isolate them. Fan Xian aimed to protect as much as he could until he was strong enough to do so.
At that time, he had just begun learning about poisons and was not proficient in martial arts due to his young, developing body. He feared for her safety if anything happened to him. In his early years, he valued her greatly and loved to climb all over her, often daydreaming about their future together as he matured. However, he had neglected one important detail: as he aged, so would she. Now at twelve, she was in her late twenties.
It was like the story of Bao Yu and Qing Wen from the "Dream of the Red Chamber." It all seemed hopeless.
As he returned to the villa, he hummed a tune to himself and fantasized about how he could get Dong’er to love him. She was married, but at that moment, it was just an attempt to rid himself of the image of Old Ha's cold, dead eyes and the assassin staring at him.
Because he had eaten congee with poisonous ginkgo fruit for lunch and had snapped a man’s neck in the afternoon, he had very little appetite and could barely eat anything before retreating to his room that evening. However, he forced himself to eat a little of each plate because his testing meant that everyone on the estate could also have their meals.
When night fell, he felt hungry. Holding an oil lamp, he quietly walked to the kitchen without alerting any of the servants.
Once inside, he swiftly washed and cleaned a fish with his vegetable knife. In no time, he descaled it, removed the belly, and applied the techniques that Wu Zhu had taught him to cut thin shreds of ginger. As the knife struck the chopping board, it made no sound, and he placed the ginger shreds into a small bowl with some vinegar.
He then steamed the fish belly over a large flame in boiling water.
Fan Xian had a humorous realization as he squatted there, watching the stove and the steam rising gently from it. Fei Jie and Wu Zhu taught him how to kill and avoid being killed for his mother’s sake, but in doing so, they had also equipped him with the skills to be a good medic and a successful cook.
A few minutes later, Fan Xian took the steaming plate of fish into his hands. He drizzled some exquisite soy sauce over it and watched the beautiful amber liquid flow across the plate. The enticing aroma filled the kitchen as he mixed the steamed fish with the sauce. He found some leftover rice from dinner, combined it with the steamed fish, added a little ginger and vinegar, and happily enjoyed his meal.
It was like the story of Bao Yu and Qing Wen from the "Dream of the Red Chamber." It all 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 I could spend all my days with you.
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 I could spend all my days with you.
As he returned to the villa, he hummed a tune to himself and fantasized about how he could get Dong’er to love him. She was married, but at that moment, it was just an attempt to rid himself of the image of Old Ha's cold, dead eyes and the assassin staring at him.
Because he had eaten congee with poisonous ginkgo fruit for lunch and had snapped a man’s neck in the afternoon, he had very little appetite and could barely eat anything before retreating to his room that evening. However, he forced himself to eat a little of each plate because his testing meant that everyone on the estate could also have their meals.
When night fell, he felt hungry. Holding an oil lamp, he quietly walked to the kitchen without alerting any of the servants.
Once inside, he swiftly washed and cleaned a fish with his vegetable knife. In no time, he descaled it, removed the belly, and applied the techniques that Wu Zhu had taught him to cut thin shreds of ginger. As the knife struck the chopping board, it made no sound, and he placed the ginger shreds into a small bowl with some vinegar.
He then steamed the fish belly over a large flame in boiling water.
Fan Xian had a humorous realization as he squatted there, watching the stove and the steam rising gently from it. Fei Jie and Wu Zhu taught him how to kill and avoid being killed for his mother’s sake, but in doing so, they had also equipped him with the skills to be a good medic and a successful cook.
A few minutes later, Fan Xian took the steaming plate of fish into his hands. He drizzled some exquisite soy sauce over it and watched the beautiful amber liquid flow across the plate. The enticing aroma filled the kitchen as he mixed the steamed fish with the sauce. He found some leftover rice from dinner, combined it with the steamed fish, added a little ginger and vinegar, and happily enjoyed his meal.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
When he greeted his grandmother the next morning, the servants informed them that a thief had sneaked into the kitchen overnight. Upon realizing what they were implying, Fan Xian couldn't help but smile.
"I cooked something for myself last night," he told the main cook while kneading the old woman’s shoulders. "Don’t worry about it."
The main cook stared at him, dumbfounded. The young master was still just a child. Why hadn’t he called the servants for help? Instead, he had insisted on doing everything himself. It could have been serious if he had burned himself.
Fan Xian noticed that the housekeeper was deep in thought. "I read about a way to steam fish in a book," he said to the Old Mistress, trying to act cute. "I wanted to try it out. If it turned out well, 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."
His excuse seemed plausible, and nobody would suspect a thing now.
The Old Mistress did not show much reaction. "That’s alright," she said gently. "You just need to remember to clean up after yourself when you finish cooking."
She had always been quite strict with Fan Xian, so it was unusual for her to speak so kindly. Fan Xian sensed something was off. There was a hint 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 could sneak around in the kitchen and do something 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 had completely forgotten to investigate the matter with housekeeper Zhou. It was evident that Zhou was partly responsible for allowing the would-be killers to infiltrate the house and poison his food. He felt disappointed in his carelessness.
He glanced at his grandmother, and with a mix of shame and understanding, he lowered his head and nodded twice.
"I cooked something for myself last night," he told the main cook while kneading the old woman’s shoulders. "Don’t worry about it."
The main cook stared at him, dumbfounded. The young master was still just a child. Why hadn’t he called the servants for help? Instead, he had insisted on doing everything himself. It could have been serious if he had burned himself.
Fan Xian noticed that the housekeeper was deep in thought. "I read about a way to steam fish in a book," he said to the Old Mistress, trying to act cute. "I wanted to try it out. If it turned out well, 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."
His excuse seemed plausible, and nobody would suspect a thing now.
The Old Mistress did not show much reaction. "That’s alright," she said gently. "You just need to remember to clean up after yourself when you finish cooking."
She had always been quite strict with Fan Xian, so it was unusual for her to speak so kindly. Fan Xian sensed something was off. There was a hint 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 could sneak around in the kitchen and do something 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 had completely forgotten to investigate the matter with housekeeper Zhou. It was evident that Zhou was partly responsible for allowing the would-be killers to infiltrate the house and poison his food. He felt disappointed in his carelessness.
He glanced at his grandmother, and with a mix of shame and understanding, he lowered his head and nodded twice.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The next morning in the library, he quickly browsed through a few books that had come from the capital before heading out again. As he walked past the market, he understood what his grandmother meant when she said, “You just have to remember to clean up after yourself when you’re done with something.”
One corner of the market was already reduced to ashes. Strangely, the fire hadn’t spread to any other buildings—only one structure had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing behind. A crowd gathered and animatedly discussed the incident. Thanks to his small size, Fan Xian was able to crouch nearby and listen in. It turned out that two people had perished in the blaze, their bodies beyond recognition.
The building that burned down was the same one where Fan Xian had killed a man just the day before.
Had the fire erased the bodies and obliterated all evidence?
He thought about how his grandmother had already sent Housekeeper Zhou back to the capital. Connecting that fact to the grim heap of ashes before him made him break into a cold sweat. He hadn’t expected his stern, tough grandmother to craft such a detailed plan to protect him.
As he remembered her lounging around most of the day, he found it difficult to reconcile that image with the smoldering remains that lay in front of him.
Fan Xian lingered among the crowd, gaining insight as he stared at the charred stones and burnt wood, inhaling the scent of the devastated house.
The people nearby finally noticed his presence. After greeting Fan Xian, they seemed eager to say something to him, but he pretended not to hear and left the market, heading towards the old store.
“The housekeeper has been sent back to the capital,” Fan Xian stated.
Wu Zhu stood in the shop, facing the empty street without a reaction. The residents had all rushed to the market to see what was happening, leaving the streets deserted.
“The building we visited yesterday burned down,” Fan Xian added.
Wu Zhu still remained silent.
Fan Xian grabbed his sleeve, speaking in a firm whisper. “You think I’m stupid for forgetting to deal with Zhou, right? 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 sighed. “I don’t have that much self-esteem. It’s just that I don’t feel good about killing a man. And…”
He fell silent. Deep inside, he understood that without Fei Jie and Wu Zhu as his mentors after arriving in this world, he wouldn’t be much more powerful than any other noble child—and perhaps even he might already be dead. Entangled in this struggle for power and surrounded by a web of secrets, knowing a bit more felt futile. Anyone attempting to navigate the currents of power needed to master such deceitful and complex tactics.
In comparison to them, he remained just a naive child.
“There’s a difference between the sensation of killing someone and the feeling of being killed. Which one would you choose to experience?” Wu Zhu inquired.
Fan Xian hesitated. Naturally, no one wishes to be the victim.
“Since you already know the answer, don’t pose the question.” Wu Zhu handed him a seal. “I have more to inform you. The mistress of the house has expelled Housekeeper Zhou from Danzhou. She chose not to have him killed to avoid causing a stir among the capital’s populace.”
Fan Xian examined the seal. It looked familiar; he’d seen it on the papers around the Count’s villa, belonging to Housekeeper Zhou. He glanced back at Wu Zhu, his suspicion growing. “Did you kill him?”
Wu Zhu confirmed with a nod.
Fan Xian narrowed his eyes, recalling the assassin's identity. “Why were the poison and the methods used by the assassin so similar to those of the Overwatch Council?” he questioned, confused.
“Ask Fei Jie.”
One corner of the market was already reduced to ashes. Strangely, the fire hadn’t spread to any other buildings—only one structure had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing behind. A crowd gathered and animatedly discussed the incident. Thanks to his small size, Fan Xian was able to crouch nearby and listen in. It turned out that two people had perished in the blaze, their bodies beyond recognition.
The building that burned down was the same one where Fan Xian had killed a man just the day before.
Had the fire erased the bodies and obliterated all evidence?
He thought about how his grandmother had already sent Housekeeper Zhou back to the capital. Connecting that fact to the grim heap of ashes before him made him break into a cold sweat. He hadn’t expected his stern, tough grandmother to craft such a detailed plan to protect him.
As he remembered her lounging around most of the day, he found it difficult to reconcile that image with the smoldering remains that lay in front of him.
Fan Xian lingered among the crowd, gaining insight as he stared at the charred stones and burnt wood, inhaling the scent of the devastated house.
The people nearby finally noticed his presence. After greeting Fan Xian, they seemed eager to say something to him, but he pretended not to hear and left the market, heading towards the old store.
“The housekeeper has been sent back to the capital,” Fan Xian stated.
Wu Zhu stood in the shop, facing the empty street without a reaction. The residents had all rushed to the market to see what was happening, leaving the streets deserted.
“The building we visited yesterday burned down,” Fan Xian added.
Wu Zhu still remained silent.
Fan Xian grabbed his sleeve, speaking in a firm whisper. “You think I’m stupid for forgetting to deal with Zhou, right? 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 sighed. “I don’t have that much self-esteem. It’s just that I don’t feel good about killing a man. And…”
He fell silent. Deep inside, he understood that without Fei Jie and Wu Zhu as his mentors after arriving in this world, he wouldn’t be much more powerful than any other noble child—and perhaps even he might already be dead. Entangled in this struggle for power and surrounded by a web of secrets, knowing a bit more felt futile. Anyone attempting to navigate the currents of power needed to master such deceitful and complex tactics.
In comparison to them, he remained just a naive child.
“There’s a difference between the sensation of killing someone and the feeling of being killed. Which one would you choose to experience?” Wu Zhu inquired.
Fan Xian hesitated. Naturally, no one wishes to be the victim.
“Since you already know the answer, don’t pose the question.” Wu Zhu handed him a seal. “I have more to inform you. The mistress of the house has expelled Housekeeper Zhou from Danzhou. She chose not to have him killed to avoid causing a stir among the capital’s populace.”
Fan Xian examined the seal. It looked familiar; he’d seen it on the papers around the Count’s villa, belonging to Housekeeper Zhou. He glanced back at Wu Zhu, his suspicion growing. “Did you kill him?”
Wu Zhu confirmed with a nod.
Fan Xian narrowed his eyes, recalling the assassin's identity. “Why were the poison and the methods used by the assassin so similar to those of the Overwatch Council?” he questioned, confused.
“Ask Fei Jie.”
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