LUO FAN

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and pulled the rope attached to the heavy pail at the bottom of the well. As I heaved, the weight of the water strained my arms, forcing me to pause halfway to catch my breath. My hands gripped the coarse rope tightly, and I exhaled slowly before pulling again.

Jinjing had gone to the market to buy food. While waiting for her return, I decided to fetch water and wash the dishes. She had repeatedly told me not to do chores, afraid I might aggravate my injuries. But I couldn’t bear to sit idle, contributing nothing. I didn’t want to be a freeloader, so I sought any way I could to make myself useful.

Finally, the pail emerged from the well. I reached for it and poured the water into a second bucket. Straightening up, I gasped as my chest tightened, a sharp reminder of my frailty.

How had it come to this?

The strength I had once taken for granted was gone. Months had passed since I had barely escaped with my life, yet my condition hadn’t improved. If anything, I was growing weaker by the day.

A pang of frustration coursed through me. Even a child could likely best me in a duel now. I clenched my fists, but the effort only emphasized the hollowness in my limbs.

Laughter broke my thoughts.

Nearby, three women stood in a cluster, giggling and whispering. Their conversation was soft, but my hearing—enhanced from years of training—picked up every word as if they were speaking directly to me.

“I feel sorry for that man,” one of them said, her voice laced with pity. “He’s too beautiful to end up as Jinjing’s plaything.”

“I heard she found him beaten on the road and took him in,” another chimed in. “He serves her in bed to repay the favor.”

“Oh, lucky her,” the first woman quipped.

“Lucky?” the third woman snapped. “A man and a woman living under the same roof, unmarried? They should be ashamed of themselves.”

Their words pricked at my composure. A part of me wanted to correct them, to defend Jinjing’s honor. But I was too exhausted to bother. Let them believe what they wanted. My priority was to bring the water back before Jinjing returned.

I lifted the pail and headed home, their gossip lingering in my mind.

Their words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Had I unintentionally tarnished Jinjing’s reputation? This arrangement—me living under her roof—could bring her nothing but scrutiny. A woman of her past didn’t deserve more burdens.

When I arrived, I was surprised to find Jinjing already back. She was standing by the stove, stirring a pot, but when she saw me with the bucket, she rushed over, concern etched on her face.

“I told you not to carry heavy loads yet,” she scolded, taking the pail from my hands. Her grip was firm as she carried it to the kitchen with ease. “You still haven’t fully recovered. If you vomit blood again, I’ll have to call the physician, and we can’t afford that.”

I lowered my gaze, guilt gnawing at me. Every time she mentioned money, it reminded me of my helplessness. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I just wanted to help.”

She sighed, her tone softening. “Don’t worry about helping me now. I’ll make sure to put you to good use once you’re healthy. For now, do me a favor and take it easy. The less you strain yourself, the fewer expenses we’ll have. Besides, you owe me hard labor once you’re fully recovered.”

Her playful tone brought a smile to my lips. I knew she was only trying to ease my worries.

“Sit down and rest,” she said, waving me toward the table. “I’ll cook something delicious for you.”

I obeyed, sinking into the chair with a sigh. Even the simple task of carrying a bucket of water had left me breathless, my chest tight with effort. I pressed a hand against my ribs, willing the discomfort to subside.

Half an hour later, Jinjing set the table with practiced ease. The aroma of fish and vegetables wafted through the air, teasing my senses.

Fish.

Back in Kan Empire, fish was a rarity. Our lands were surrounded by towering mountains, their rocky faces barren and inhospitable. They blocked access to the western seas, and the southern deserts were even more forbidding. The northern reaches, eternally frozen under layers of snow, were equally desolate.

Half the empire was uninhabited, unexplored.

The central and eastern parts of Kan Empire were fertile and abundant, allowing the empire to thrive despite its hostile surroundings. However, even there, water was scarce during the dry summer months. Without rain for two months, rivers, lakes, and fishponds dried up.

The fish that managed to survive were quickly sent to the imperial palace or the estates of high-ranking officials. For commoners, eating fish during the summer wasn’t just difficult—it was illegal. Ten lashes or ten days of hard labor awaited anyone caught breaking the rule.

Xianru Empire, however, was a world apart. Surrounded by rivers, lakes, and seas, its rainy season stretched nearly half the year. Here, fish thrived in abundance, making it a common food for everyone.

As I sat at the table, tracing the rim of my bowl absentmindedly, I sensed Jinjing’s unusual stillness. She had hardly spoken throughout the meal, and though I couldn’t see her face, her silence was telling. Over the months, I had come to recognize the shifts in her behavior, even when I couldn’t see the details of her expression.

Her breathing was steady but shallow, and the faint clink of her chopsticks had ceased. She was holding back something—words, perhaps.

“Is there something you want to discuss with me?” I asked, my voice low.

She inhaled deeply, then set something on the table. I could just make out its silhouette—a small, flat object.

“Here,” she said softly.

Reaching out, I touched the cool, smooth surface of the object. My fingers traced its edges. A coin. It was heavy enough to be silver.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

Her tone faltered, and I sensed her discomfort. “Do you remember that scary man who blocked our way the other night? The one who…” She hesitated. “The one who called me a whore?”

The memory of that man surged back to me. His towering figure, his sharp voice cutting through the air with ruthless insults. He had exuded power—dangerous, overwhelming power. And he was the only person in this empire who knew my real name.

“Why would he give you this?”

She sighed, her hesitation hanging in the silence. “He wanted me to convince you to join him for dinner tonight.”

The coin felt heavier in my palm. A cold sensation spread through my chest, tightening around my lungs. “And you agreed?”

“I didn’t want to,” she said quickly. “I was afraid he might have bad intentions, but he promised me he didn’t. He said he just wants to talk to you. To reassure me, he arranged for the dinner to be at a restaurant. It’s a public place, with plenty of people around. I don’t think he’ll dare harm you there.”

I shook my head, sliding the coin back across the table. “Jinjing, give this back to him.”

Her hand brushed against mine as she gently pushed the coin back toward me. “Fan, it’s not like that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m not selling you out. He didn’t give me this as payment for you. He gave it to me—for my effort to convince you. And I… I accepted it because we’re in a difficult situation right now.”

Her words weighed heavier than the coin.

“I borrowed money from a friend to buy your medicine,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “She needs it back, and I have nothing else to repay her with.”

Guilt slammed into me. My chest tightened further, and I exhaled shakily. This was my fault. Because of me, Jinjing had incurred debt. Because of me, she was burdened.

I couldn’t let her shoulder this alone.

“He only wants to talk to me?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

She nodded quickly. I couldn’t see her expression, but the urgency in her movements was clear. “Yes. Nothing more. He gave me his word. And don’t worry, I’ll accompany you. I won’t leave your side.”

I sighed, pressing a hand to my temple. The thought of meeting that man again filled me with unease, but if this would help Jinjing…

“Fine,” I said at last.

Her breath hitched—a small sound that might have been relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I sat there in silence, the silver coin still lying on the table. Its presence was a weight I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t see the gleam of its surface, but I could feel its significance, its implications.

That man—his presence loomed in my mind like a shadow, vast and inescapable. He had found me once, and now he was drawing me closer. His intentions might seem benign, but I knew better.

Nothing about him could be trusted.