Xueming and Huaian were silent for the remainder of the ride.

  The trek through the city centre was painfully slow, and they remained within view of the Peerless shrine for around two incense sticks’ time. The wheels on their cart seemed like they could only make one full turn before halting again.

  Eventually, after a long while, Huaian turned away from the shrine and never looked back. Xueming hardly expected him to explicitly reply to his previous question, but silence was sometimes just as telling as words.

  He was slowly fitting all of the pieces into place, one by one, to get a clearer picture of his past.

  Huaian’s silence also likely signaled his unwillingness to speak on the matter, so Xueming did not press him. Xueming was asking about himself like a stranger would, so he was hardly sensitive in his approach. In reality, he was unknowingly poking a bear, and only beginning to realize it.

  Huaian only seemed to relax when they made it past the shrine, his shoulders visibly slinking back. He flashed Xueming a reassuring smile as they made their way through the bustling streets. It was late afternoon, and there were many people out. Xueming hardly knew what day it was.

  Well, he hardly remembered to count the days.

  He had long lost track of that in isolation; for all he knew, only a year or so had passed in that eternal darkness. Yet it felt like a lifetime—and his approximation had been nearly correct.

  Now that he was outside and his eyes and ears were burning at the unrelenting brightness of the sun and the crisp chill of the winter air, he could no longer imagine surviving even a day more inside that cell.

  Xueming smiled, feeling so light he could float away.

  There were lanterns everywhere in preparation for the new year celebration and Xueming’s eyes felt they would burst at the display of the bright colors. His head whipped left to right and his hands switched from one side of the ox cart to the other as he rapidly looked at each building.

  Eventually, Huaian noticed and began to tremble with laughter, finding that his middle-aged friend was very much like a child.

  “We are here,” Huaian said quietly, breaking their pact of silence.

  But Xueming could already tell they had arrived.

  His line of sight was filled with the colors and bustle of the Huo Guang Market. It was not as lively as it could be, but given the hour, it was quite crowded.

  The foxfolk behind the various stalls were busy peddling their goods and services, while the customers boldly bartered back. The entire display was so lively, Xueming felt his heart would burst.

  With Huaian’s help, he climbed out of the cart and waited near the entrance for Huaian to park nearby.

  Xueming noticed that while most of the workers behind the stalls bore the distinct features of the foxfolk, a few of them did not. The crowd seemed pretty evenly mixed, but it was difficult to really tell beneath all the thick coats and fur hats.

  Xueming shivered, only to feel a tap on his shoulder.

  Huaian was back, and effortlessly led him into the crowd with his hand on Xueming’s wrist.

  Xueming felt his breath catch in his throat as he was jostled left and right by the crowd. He was unaccustomed to being in such a crowded place, but he didn’t want to cause Huaian any trouble, especially since he was the one who suggested they come.

  The first night he came to Huo Guang Market with Lanzhi, he was too overwhelmed to even notice his own nervousness. The firefly-like lights, the endless sea of people—it was all things he’d been kept from in Mo Fan.

  Now, his breath came heavy, but he only noticed how shallow it was when they stopped in front of a stall deep within the market. He was finding it difficult to focus; his eyes traced over every little thing available to see.

  It was getting dark now, and the various lights around them—a mix of little fireflies and glowing lanterns—had a little blur at the edges.

  Huaian clapped Xueming on the back as he grinned at a man in front of them. A stall separated them, yet Huaian had no regard for maintaining the polite distance of a customer.

  Xueming looked at the paper sign on the stall, and slowly read it.

  Thousand Mirages Construction

  Winter Management and Repair Inquiries

  Xueming looked up at the man behind the stall, noting his large square face, which was half-obscured by a grey fur hat and a high-neck coat. The man’s eyes were impossibly pale—like the snow beneath them—and Xueming shivered again.

  “This is… your company,” Xueming whispered in realization.

  Huaian grinned and roughly pulled Xueming to his chest, knocking the air out of him.

  “We work with the government for most projects, but this year is a little chaotic given the situation,” his eyes flashed brightly. “The people are reporting things themselves, and we find it much faster this way.”

  “During the winter,” the man behind the stall continued for Huaian, “We mostly do repairs and snow management. Summer’s when all the actual building gets done.”

  “Huanfeng,” Huaian chided playfully. “Your shifu is speaking. Don’t try to sound smart and interrupt.”

  The silver-eyed man only made a face, then went back to gazing at Xueming, who shifted uncomfortably, still being jostled about by the unrestrained crowd.

  “Xiongdi, this is one of the men who only exists to pour my tea,” Huaian said cheekily, dodging the man’s swinging arm. “Hu Huanfeng.”

  “Yes,” the man, who Xueming could now identify as Huanfeng, shook his head with a sigh. “That is indeed my full government name.” He paused, his expression deadpanned. “And I really only pour tea. This is my side job when my esteemed shifu cuts down on staff and then flails around to cover shifts.”

  Huaian laughed, eyeing the people surrounding them and leading Xueming to the side, behind the stall.

  “Just call him whatever you please,” Huaian patted Xueming, allowing Huanfeng to speak to approaching customers. The two foxfolk that had stepped forward were quite young and bright-eyed, and Xueming could only assume they were a couple.

  Huaian bent down to ruffle through some documents behind the booth, though Xueming was uncertain if he actually needed to or if he was just making himself look busy.

  “Sir, Sir!” the female foxfolk said in a spirited voice. “The side of our house recently caved in due to an overload of snow!” She glanced over at the man at her side, but he seemed to have no intention of speaking. “We bought the house brand new only a year ago! How could this be? We are in one of the coldest cities to the east of Chongqing, and could only come here for support.”

  “Yes, well anything recently built by the previous king is infamous for being poor quality. ” Huanfeng eyed them carefully, then calmly asked: “Which city?”

  Xueming followed Huaian’s gaze to the customers, wondering why he was staring so intently. Then, he realized Huaian was simply doing his job, and he too began to analyze their appearance in light of their story.

  Xueming started by eyeing their faces, noticing the deep red blossoms on both of their cheeks and nose, the nasally sound of the woman’s voice, likely caused by her half-frozen face, and their heavy fur coats. They wore all-white robes and absurdly large hats, to the point where the woman’s eyes were barely visible.

  They seemed to fit their story, at least in Xueming’s eyes. He looked back at Huaian, but he was no longer eyeing them so scrutinizingly.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “Harbing city!” the lady replied instantly, like she was a soldier at attention.

  Huanfeng looked over at Huaian, then easily bent down to sift through the documents while Huaian popped up like some toy on a spring that was finally released. Xueming had to look away to keep himself from cracking a smile.

  Despite their bitter exchange, the two men seemed awfully coordinated while working.

  “While we do not directly support Harbing City right now, we have been looking to open a branch in that area. Some experience there would help us immensely,” Huaian smiled craftily. “If we come to service you, would you be willing to share the news of our good work with your neighbors?”

  The lady smiled cheerfully, looking relieved to be offered support.

  “Of course, of course, laoban!” the lady agreed immediately.

  “A new branch?” Huanfeng muttered, drawing Xueming’s attention. “After performing the usual winter cut?”

  “Excellent,” Huaian said steadily, both a businessman and salesman in one. “We are aware of how little support even the major cities are getting during this transitional period in our government, but to think Harbing is receiving none, when it is typically affected the worst…” He shook his head dramatically, easily receiving a paper from Huanfeng below without even sparing him a glance.

  Xueming was absentmindedly listening to the exchange, half-curious about the way Huaian worked, but even more curious if those little lights really were fireflies. He tilted his head back as far as he could, exposing his long, slender neck to the crisp winter air. He took one step out from behind the booth and was suddenly lost in the sea of people.

  He whipped his head around, finding a person wherever he looked. He no longer had sight of the Thousand Mirages Construction booth, and could only succumb to the sway of the crowd, letting himself be led to another part of the market. He tilted his head back again, trying to distract himself with the glow of those little lights, but his breathing came quick and shallow.

  All around him were people wearing all sorts of overcoats and hats, with various hair and eye colors. It was impossible to tell how many people were native to Chongqing and how many had travelled to experience Huo Guang Market’s famous atmosphere.

  Murmurs and cackles and shouts overwhelmed his ears, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest, in his throat—all the way up to his ears—until he was certain the entire crowd could hear it. He closed his eyes, willing his racing heart to slow. Eventually, he stopped moving and slowly opened them, letting himself adjust to the warm glow of the yellow lights before taking in his surroundings.

  It seemed he had been pushed out much deeper into the market, halfway behind a stall. He landed beside a man whose face was barely visible behind two high stacks of paper, shouting something that was, at first, impossible to understand.

  Xueming looked at the man in confusion, his shouts sounding muffled, as if he was plunged underwater.

  After realizing he was standing somewhere customers and onlookers were not supposed to be, he walked around to the front of the booth.

  He looked down at one of the stacks of paper and sounded out the characters on the very top one. But with just a glance, he could recognize those two characters anywhere; they had been burned into memory since the first time he read them.

  This was the stall he and Lanzhi had ended up in front of during their previous visit to the market.

  That man shouted those same words from before, as if he was simply one of those little friend devices stuck on repeat: “Express your solidarity with this high-quality paper! Lest we forget the price of freedom!”

  Then suddenly, upon spotting Xueming, the man changed his tune after noticing someone had approached.

  “Friend! Friend!”

  Xueming politely nodded, glancing back down at the paper after finding it too difficult to maintain eye contact. Those characters seemed to lift off of the page, as if floating on top of it. The black ink was bold and pronounced and their contrast against the bright paper burned Xueming’s eyes.

  “The entirety of Chongqing is laying down these exact sheets on the king’s headless statue! Don’t miss out!”

  Xueming chewed on his lip, realizing how ignorant he was to the ways of the market.

  “You sell these?” he muttered, then louder: “How much?”

  The man smiled, and Xueming noticed he was missing some teeth.

  “It’s tough right now for everyone. I’ll take whatever you’ve got—coins, pig fat, you name it.”

  Xueming tsked, tugging at his robes.

  “You should… give these out… for free,” he said quietly.

  “Huh?” the fox spirit shouted back, a little puzzled. “How will I afford the paper and ink then? You know some scholar volunteered to do this exquisite calligraphy, but imagine he didn’t? How much do you think it is to hire someone for that? Most of us are illiterate.” He paused, as if dismayed. Then, he added: “And I have a family to feed, you know!”

  Xueming was rendered speechless, realizing just how ignorant he really was. He really didn’t understand how the world worked, and he could hardly remember how he had seen it as an adolescent. It felt as though he were a child, coming to the most basic of conclusions.

  His face burned red, but he forced himself still.

  “What… can you tell me… about this?” Xueming forced every word out of his mouth, flushing as the man’s face twisted with each word he spoke.

  “Huh? You don’t know this? Everyone knows this!” the man shouted, his energy apparent. “What are you, a foreigner? But your language isn’t half bad—just a little slow.” Xueming took that as a compliment; he already felt like his manner of speech was no better than a child’s. “Then what, just get out of prison?”

  Of course, the man hardly expected this guess to be correct, but Xueming winced, averting his eyes, and the man quieted down, a little shaken.

  “Ah, ah!” He recovered within a few moments, ever the salesman. “Sorry for my temper! It’s the energy here. I spend my entire day in this mess, you know.”

  Xueming shook his head to show he didn’t mind.

  He really didn’t.

  It was Xueming who was the bother here, not anyone else. He was too slow and too ignorant and too childish to keep up at his ripe age. He was the burden.

  But he was trying to catch up.

  “Here, take this for free. I made a lot already.”

  The fox spirit shoved a paper towards Xueming, but Xueming only shook his head.

  “I want to… know about this,” he insisted firmly.

  The man’s eyes wandered behind Xueming to make sure no customers were being held up, then he sighed pitifully and relented.

  “All I know is what everyone knows. Don’t go thinking I am any more knowledgeable just because I’m selling them.” He huffed, running his fingers over his mouth a few times, trying to warm them up. “The story goes like this: Peerless—you know Peerless, right?” Xueming nodded feverishly. “Well, Peerless knew this woman who was arrested for… what else? Having the last name Hu. Rumor has it they were quite close. Well, he definitely saw something, enough to push him—Heavens bless his soul—to stand in front of the royal guard and hold up, well… this.” The man shook the paper he had offered to Xueming, then carefully set it back on the pile.

  “What did he… see?” Xueming wondered, half to himself and half to the man.

  But his memory failed him.

  It was as though he were a child, free of any past.

  “Well,” the man chuckled, flashing his toothless grin. He patted his hat a few times, like he was checking it was still there. “That’s what we don’t know.” After a thoughtful pause, he added: “We all heard he left prison. Maybe he’ll come out and tell us all.” He paused again, rubbing at his chin. “But maybe he won’t. I would understand wanting to live quietly after all that, you know?”

  He looked at Xueming, who only stared back, neither shaking his head nor nodding.

  He had no thoughts of living quietly or loudly—he was simply trying to live.

  “But, you know, I heard he doesn’t really remember anything.” Then, with a grunt: “Not even his name, poor soul. May the Heavens give him rest after all this.” He glanced down at the paper, shaking his head. “This Qingling too.” With another pause, he added with a genuine smile: “They’re both from Chongqing though, so maybe I will see them and not even know.” Quieter, he said: “Well, if that’s what they want, I’m glad.”

  Xueming nodded once in gratitude, preparing to step away, but the man continued, as if Xueming had opened a river that could never be dammed again.

  “I wonder if they’ve reunited by now.” The man’s smile widened, and his eyes glazed over, as if he wasn’t really speaking to Xueming, but to anyone willing to listen. “You know, they won’t be hard to spot—there aren’t many foxy wives and mundane husbands just strolling around.” He paused, sentimentally humming: “But maybe that will change now.”

  Xueming nodded again with a tight smile, a stone heavy in his stomach. He suddenly longed to return home and see his mother’s face, but he hardly knew how he had even gotten here. The blur of the lights made him feel drunk, and the conversation was nauseating him.

  The fox spirit noticed Xueming turning away and called out to him.

  “Sir, what’s your name?”

  Xueming half-turned back to the man, already distracted by the large crowd. He bumped into a few people and wondered how he was supposed to find his way back to Huaian.

  “Thirteen,” he uttered back, the response practised, automatic—hardly worth a second thought.

  The man behind the stall watched with wide eyes as Xueming mindlessly disappeared into the crowd.

  As if his reply had been the most casual thing in the world.

  Everyone drop their full government name.

  This is a joke.

  And Huanfeng’s main job is not pouring tea. This was sarcasm.

  Thank you so much for reading again! I can't wait for you all to get to the next chapters! Watch out for the new characters in the future :)

  If you would, consider giving a

  Terms:

  哈尔冰 - Harbing, which is a play on Harbin city with the character change Bin -> Bing (ice)

  老板 - laoban (boss, shopkeeper)