Joy of Life - V1C5
Chapter 5
The Noctural Visitor
It was a seemingly normal night. Fan Xian rested his head on a hard porcelain pillow. After a moment, he went to his wardrobe and pulled out a few robes, folding them into a rectangle to serve as a second pillow. He lay down against the folded robes. With his eyes wide open, he couldn’t find sleep as the moon and stars illuminated the night sky, preventing it from being completely dark.
Even though he had come to accept many aspects of his reincarnation into this world, there was one thing he still couldn't get used to: having to go to bed by eight o’clock in the evening. He had spent enough time on a sickbed in his past life.
He rolled along the surface of the bed, seeking a nook where he wouldn’t be visible. As he relaxed, his Zhenqi began to flow slowly, guiding him into a meditative state. Before slipping into this emptiness, Fan Xian pondered, How should I live in this world? How should I spend the decades that lie ahead of me?
Just as he was about to drift off into the harem fantasies he had conjured during his former vegetative state, an unexpected guest woke him.
“Are you Fan Xian?”
A figure stood at the foot of his bed, icy eyes and unusually brown pupils locking onto him. Immediately, Fan Xian realized this was not a benevolent visitor. Though polite enough, the question felt disconcerting when asked in the middle of the night by someone who had stealthily entered his room, concealed, dagger in hand, and small bags tied around his waist.
Fortunately, Fan Xian was not a typical four-year-old boy; otherwise, he would have cried out upon seeing such a strange man. He understood that a visitor who could infiltrate the Count’s villa with such stealth was likely a man of great means and little mercy. If he cried out, he would certainly be killed.
As he contemplated this, some pride filled him that his cognitive skills remained sharp even in the face of danger. He coughed twice to keep his nerves from bursting forth. Disguised as an innocent young boy, he suddenly pounced!
“Papa, you’re finally back!”
With teary eyes, the four-year-old boy threw himself into the embrace of this would-be murderer, clutching the man’s waist as if he feared he would flee. However, his arms were too short, and he could only grasp at the man's clothing.
Perhaps he grasped too tightly because, with a rip, he tore a strip from the man's garment. The night visitor furrowed his brow, unsure how to react. He pulled away from Fan Xian's embrace, standing there dumbfounded, trying to comprehend why Count Sinan's illegitimate child would call him "papa."
He was perplexed. His clothing was crafted from the finest materials; even a blade should have trouble tearing it. How had this young child managed to rip it with just his bare hands?
Yet Fan Xian was even more puzzled. When he spent time alone in the rock garden, he tested the power of his Zhenqi on stones. Discovering that he could crush stones, like turquoise, with his slender fingers gave him confidence in his ability for self-defense.
Fan Xian had used the distraction of his childish tears to lower his opponent's guard momentarily. He focused all his strength on his fingers, expecting to stop his assailant in his tracks. However, he hadn’t anticipated that he would only manage to tear away some clothing.
Although Fan Xian was only physically four years old, he carried a grown man’s soul. The bloodshed that had surrounded him on the day of his birth into this world was imprinted upon his mind and had always weighed heavily on him. He knew that his mysterious past would catch up with him one day.
It seemed that today was that day.
His sneak attack had failed. His pathetic tears, intended to confuse this unexpected visitor, were useless now. He quickly racked his brain in search of a means of escape.
If he cried out, his assailant would make short work of him. Currently, the man wasn’t moving—he was still confused by Fan Xian crying out, “Papa!”
Seeing that his sneak attack had been ineffective, Fan Xian relied on his youth's innate advantage. He looked up into the visitor’s eyes and wailed, “Papa! Papa…!”
As tears streamed down his face, he nervously continued to plot his escape.
“It’s no use pretending, Young Master Fan.” The visitor’s tone was indifferent and yet seemingly without a trace of menace. “You’re a smart one, it seems. Quite an instinct for self-preservation for one so young. But it should be obvious that I am not Count Sinan.”
The night visitor gestured with the knife and then moved toward Fan Xian.
Fan Xian’s face remained streaked with innocent tears, and his heart pounded. “Who are you?” he sobbed fitfully.
“Your father sent me to find you. So don’t scream.”
The night visitor’s eyes were tiny, brown, and unpleasant. The wrinkles in the corners betrayed his age, and his manner of speaking reminded Fan Xian of dirty old men who tried to trick the young servant girls into relinquishing their madvisornhood.
But Fan Xian didn’t give anything away and perfectly played the role of a frightened child, startled and slightly angered.
“You’re not my papa!”
Then, as if he hadn’t seen the knife in his assailant’s hand, he turned tail and climbed up on the bed, grumbling. “I don’t even know what my papa looks like.”
The man laughed darkly, advancing toward the bed.
Suddenly, turning around and looking behind the visitor, Xian’s eyes flashed with surprise as he shouted, “Mama!”
The night visitor thought it wasn’t exactly a great diversion. He would not have been fooled had anyone else tried it. After all, he was a great master who owned an entire laboratory in the capital.
But as he had no reason to suspect this young boy of trickery, the night visitor believed him when he heard him cry, “Mama!”
The night visitor’s face betrayed a shock as he whipped his head around to look.
Of course, there was only a tightly closed door and the night behind him.
A thwack! echoed throughout the bedroom.
His head was suddenly covered in blood, and the man fell to the floor.
In his hand, Fan Xian held a chunk of the porcelain pillow. Still rattled, Fan Xian looked down at the man, gripping the severed chunk of porcelain tightly. He gritted his teeth, raised his arm, and brought it down full force upon his attacker’s head.
There was a sickening thud. Although this night visitor was a great master, he’d be out of it for a while, thanks to the blow from that pillow.
A servant-girl’s voice arose from outside. “What was that?”
“It was nothing! I dropped a cup. We’ll clear it up tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? If Young Master steps on it, then what will we do?”
“I said we’ll deal with it tomorrow!”
Hearing such a forceful response from the usually gentle and innocent young lad, the servant girl decided not to press the matter.
Fan Xian returned to one side of the wardrobe and, with some difficulty, pulled out a heavy winter quilt. He tore it up into strips with his fingers, twisted it, and securely tied up the man who lay on the floor.
At this point, he realized his back was soaked with cold sweat.
A sudden fear gripped him: This was the first time he’d ever tried to kill someone in either his previous life or this one. He wasn’t sure whether he’d killed the man or not, but he’d taken a great risk. Fan Xian’s little life would have undoubtedly been snuffed out if this man was a skilled fighter.
Passing his hand over the night visitor’s cloth-covered face, he found that he was still breathing. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly thought he should eliminate his visitor for good.
He shivered.
It seemed he had become so hard-hearted after his rebirth. He was almost ready to do something so heartless without hesitation.
He was unaware that deep within his heart, he saw himself as someone who had already died once. His rebirth in this world was a precious gift, and he would not allow anyone to threaten his life.
It was a simple principle: just as one can only realize the strength of wine after one gets drunk, one can only know the value of life after one has died.
Gripping the knife in his hand, he pondered. He still wasn’t sure whether he should kill this nighttime visitor who lay on the floor. Suddenly, he thought of someone, and a smile crept across his face. Quietly, he pushed open the door and crawled through a hole that the dogs used to come in and out; he went to the shop on the street corner outside the Count’s villa.
Tap, tap, tap. He knocked gently on the shop’s door, his voice low so that no one else in Danzhou could hear him in the night.
But Fan Xian knew that the person inside would hear the knocking. Although he pretended not to know him for the past four years, Fan Xian considered him the only person he could trust when things came to a head.
“Who is it?” The vendor’s dull and emotionless voice came from the shop.
Fan Xian wondered if this man was the same as he was outside the capital years ago, meticulous in all his affairs. He rolled his eyes, and in a quiet voice, he responded, “It’s Fan Xian.”
Sure enough, the wooden shop door opened without a sound, and the blind youngster stood at the doorway like a ghost, startling him.
Fan Xian looked at the person who had brought him to Danzhou Harbor. He looked at this man, with cheeks that seemed untouched by the time these past four years and eyes covered by a length of black cloth, and he couldn’t help but wonder: How was it that this man hadn’t aged at all?
