With an unconscious assassin lying on his floor, he had little time to ask questions. "Someone came to kill me," he said, getting straight to the point. "I knocked him unconscious and he's lying on my floor."
The blind youngster cocked his head slightly. His heart skipped a beat, but his face didn't move an inch. He bowed his head courteously.
"Young Master Fan, what on earth are you talking about?"
"There's no time to pretend. You know who I am." Fan Xian laughed. No matter what, he'd always pretend he didn't know him. Pulling the blind boy along by the hand, he tried to lead him back to the estate.
"You're still talking nonsense, young master."
The blind boy furrowed his brow. It seemed doubtful that this young child could know his identity - when he had bought Fan Xian to Danzhou, wrapped in swaddling clothes, he was no more than a few months old. He shouldn't have been able to remember him. Could the Countess in Count Sinan's mansion have told him who he was?
It was the dead of night. In the distance, dogs howled mournfully - someone in some house had used the wrong door.
Wu Zhu's face remained indifferent as he listened to Fan Xian talking beside him. Finally, he closed the door of the shop and made his way over to the Count's compound. Fan Xian let out a relieved sigh and followed, his small strides struggling to keep up.
Coming to the Count's house, the two boys squeezed through the dog-hole and stood there in the bedroom. Wu Zhu "saw" the unconscious assassin on the floor.
Fan Xian looked at the man, unsure whether he was alive or dead.
"Wu Zhu," he asked nervously, "why did you always pretend not to know who I was when I came to your shop?"
Wu Zhu cocked his head again. He paused for what seemed like a long time before he finally spoke. "Young Master, you really have amazed me."
He was indeed rather taken aback. Even though he knew that the boy standing before him was the Lady's child and so would no doubt be an unusual young boy, he would never have expected a four-year-old to be so mature, let alone capable of… matching wits with Master Fei.
"Let's deal with him first."
With great difficulty, Fan Xian had managed to turn the assassin over, and he removed the cloth covering his face, revealing his true identity.
His facial features were thin, and he seemed to be getting on in years. The beard on his chin was streaked with flecks of white, but for some reason, there appeared to be a faint green tinge, as if he were ill.
Somewhat perturbed, Fan Xian jumped over behind Wu Zhu, and grabbed his sleeve. "This assassin doesn't look like a nice guy," he whined.
"This is Master Fei, head of the Third Bureau of the Overwatch Council." Wu Zhu squatted on the floor, feeling the assassin's jawline. "He is one of three people known to be masters of the use of poison. He is adept at using it, identifying it, and remedying it. For someone as fearsome as this to be struck down by a kid like you, holding a chunk of porcelain pillow? I don't know whether you're extremely lucky or if his luck just ran out."
"He was unlucky," Fan Xian said quietly to himself. Granted, he was rather astonished to encounter such a powerful figure, but thinking on it, it was much worse luck for such a man to encounter a freakish young boy whose soul came from another world.
"Don't touch him," he warned Wu Zhu. "What if there's poison on his body?"
Wu Zhu didn't pause, nor did he explain anything, but his determination suggested to Fan Xian that he wanted to show there wasn't a poison out there that could harm him.
Fan Xian knitted his brow with a pained expression. "Uncle, what do we do about him?"
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