Joy of Life - V1C8
Chapter 8
To immerse himself fully in his studies with Master Fei, Fan Xian’s tender hands were implicated in the deaths of numerous rabbits, and toads would instinctively retreat from his presence. That year marked Fan Xian's eighth birthday.
After Fei Jie’s arrival in Danzhou, Wu Zhu ceased to avoid Fan Xian. Whenever Fan Xian would surreptitiously enter Wu Zhu's shop for a drink—something he shouldn’t have been doing at his age—Wu Zhu would prepare a few snacks to go along with the beverages, though he refrained from eating or drinking himself. Fan Xian never questioned this, and what might have puzzled others became routine for him, as if he were oblivious to Wu Zhu's blindness.
Fan Xian had grown accustomed to Wu Zhu always being nearby, silently looking out for him without his knowledge. He often spotted Wu Zhu lurking in alleys or beside a tofu vendor, his eyes concealed by a strip of black cloth.
Upon turning eight, Fan Xian’s internal Zhenqi began to develop steadily. He was on the verge of a breakthrough, but the intense Zhenqi he had gathered during sleep became volatile, affecting his emotions. He was aware of the numerous dangers in this new world and still had much to learn about Count Sinan's estate in the capital.
After awakening in this unfamiliar realm, he set a personal goal: “Live well and improve every single day!” Motivated by this ambition, he immersed himself in rigorous practice, determined to survive and complete his three "grand" missions. In his previous life, he had been confined to a bed due to a severe muscle disease, and the ability to move freely in this new life made him appreciate it even more. Every day, he woke up early to strengthen his body, climbing on any surface he could find and working so hard that it began to worry Master Fei.
He struggled to find an effective method for physical training. Even though he was more dedicated than most children, he constantly reminded himself that he still had the body of an eight-year-old. Yet, no one knew the truth: he didn’t possess such determination by birth; he was simply hyperactive. After being bedridden for over a decade, there was no way he would allow himself to become complacent now.
Night descended, and Fei Jie confined himself to his private chamber. Resting against his writing desk, he watched as the oil lamp flickered. With a goose quill in hand, he inscribed words on a sheet of white paper.
A knock interrupted the silence. “Come in,” Fei Jie replied gently, not lifting his gaze.
The door creaked open, revealing Fan Xian, who carefully maneuvered over the elevated threshold. With a playful grin, he approached. “What are you writing, sir?”
Fei Jie appeared unbothered. He pushed the paper aside and turned to face the boy. “What’s on your mind?”
After spending more than a year with the illegitimate son of Count Sinan, Fei Jie felt an unexpected warmth toward Fan Xian, despite his reputation as a feared poison master of the Overwatch Council, known for intimidating corrupt officials and underworld figures. Though still very young, Fan Xian proved to be resilient and dedicated, never harboring the typical disdain for poison, which endeared him to Fei Jie.
Most notably, as he observed Fan Xian’s progress, his countless questions, and keen learning, Fei Jie began to regard him more as a disciple than just a duty. Time and again, he realized that the boy hardly resembled an ordinary eight-year-old.
“Master Fei,” Fan Xian said as he climbed onto a chair and settled down comfortably. At eight years old, he still had a thin, delicate frame, looking younger than his age. “I would like to know what my father is like.”
This wasn’t the first time he had broached the subject of Count Sinan and his mother, but Fei Jie had consistently withheld details.
“Your father is a remarkable man,” Fei Jie responded, “and your mother was even more striking.”
Yet those words felt hollow, akin to simply stating that the sun was yellow and the sea was blue.
Fan Xian had learned nearly everything about the Overwatch Council[i], an agency tasked with investigating major criminal activities in the Empire and confronting official corruption, instilling fear across the land. Fei Jie, a founding member, had risen to the esteemed rank of head of the Third Bureau, earning respect and fear from even the capital’s criminal underbelly.
Fan Xian believed that the presence of such a formidable figure—a grandmaster of poison—coming to the remote town of Danzhou to teach Count Sinan’s illegitimate son was merely at the Count's behest. It was evident that Count Sinan wielded considerable influence in the capital, though it was unclear whether this stemmed from his official role or more dubious sources.
Fan Xian had little knowledge of his mother, who had died the day he was born, yet he felt a deep longing for the woman he never knew.
Fei Jie appeared reluctant to delve deeper into the topic. "Now that the Count’s concubine has had a son, your chances of inheriting his estate have vanished. What is your plan moving forward?"
Fan Xian smiled. “You’ve taught me not only about poison but also its cures. I’ve learned a lot about medicine. In the worst-case scenario, I could always become a doctor.”
Fei Jie stroked his beard, a hint of pride in his eyes. “You’re right. Even the doctors in the imperial palace don’t surpass my medical knowledge. As my only student, becoming a physician should pose no trouble for you.”
They talked about the possibility of a medical career, knowing deep down that it would never actually materialize.
After a time, Fan Xian sighed into silence. Fei Jie watched him without interruption.
“Teacher, I’m struggling with my Zhenqi practice,” Fan Xian suddenly said. “I was hoping you could assist me. That’s why I came here tonight.”
Though Fei Jie was unrivaled in his expertise with poisons, that was all he intended to teach Fan Xian. “Life is finite,” he explained, “but methods of killing are infinite. Therefore, we should focus our limited lifespan on the endless pursuit of the most effective killing techniques.”
To Master Fei, poison represented the ultimate killing method. With the world’s greatest master of poison as his teacher, Fan Xian wondered why he was concerned about Zhenqi at all. While Fan Xian had been preoccupied with this practice, Fei Jie, like any common citizen of the Qing Empire who lacked talent in Zhenqi, viewed it as mostly unhelpful in combat.
However, since this was the first time in a year that Fan Xian had mentioned it, Fei Jie’s curiosity was piqued. He extended his fingers to take Fan Xian’s pulse and soon became pale.
Fei Jie’s frown deepened. He had always believed the blind man to be powerful, never considering the potential issues with Fan Xian’s Zhenqi training. Yet today, while feeling his pulse, he sensed something was amiss.
Noticing his usually brash teacher being cautious, Fan Xian realized something was wrong. With a grin, he asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Look at you with that smile; don’t you have any concerns about becoming overly obsessed?” Fei Jie responded, adding, “I knew you were practicing with Zhenqi, but I never thought it would turn out like this.”
Fan Xian scratched his head. “Like this? How?”
Fei Jie stated seriously, “Just like this.”
Fan Xian, returning his serious gaze, responded, “Teacher, you’re just rambling now.”
Although Fei Jie was a poison expert and not a martial arts master, he could feel the dangerous energy of Fan Xian’s Zhenqi emanating from him. After pondering a moment, he advised Fan Xian to seek out Wu Zhu, but unexpectedly, Fan Xian sighed sadly and mentioned that Uncle Wu Zhu only listened to what his mother said and had merely given him the book; he had never trained and refused to elaborate further on the subject.
Fei Jie erupted in frustration, “Master Wu is being unreasonable. You are the young master of his household; instead of teaching you himself, why would he make you learn such a perilous skill without any proper guidance?”
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