Chapter 2.8

When one gazed afar, to the distant future they desired, they were often blind to what was right before them. That was what Liu Zhaoning thought of this brother.

Or perhaps they just sacrificed one for another. That was what Liu Zhaofa knew of himself.

…

Fear coursed through Liu Zhaofa's veins, spreading from head to toe to the tips of his fingers. He couldn't move. He was utterly incapable of moving. Why wouldn't his body just… move? To run, to get away from here, to hide somewhere he didn't have to face the world from?!

Instead he lay on the floor, his life flashing before his eyes as if his heart had given up despite its continual beating.

He was born on the fourth day of the fourth month of the year. His mother was beaten for it, and he was cast away to a dark, unseen corner of the manor. For the first seven years of his life, he never saw light.

Then Liu Zhaoning showed up, like a ray of light in his unimaginably dark world.

He taught Liu Zhaofa how to read and write, how to stop living to be alive. He even convinced their father to acknowledge Liu Zhaofa by losing against him in a competition of wits intentionally.

Back then he had been so eloquent with his words, and then came that day.

Liu Zhaofa was rising in status, soon equal with his two brothers. However his birth mother despised him because of the flogging she had received years ago. He stayed with Liu Cai's most favored concubine, Tang You. She even took him in.

In front of others, Tang You acted sweet and coy, but behind closed doors, her ambitions ran wild. She manipulated him, and he knew it, but that couldn't set him free. Especially when he knew that somewhere in that barren heart, she loved him.

On the eve of his tenth birthday, which nobody but he and Liu Zhaoning celebrated, Tang You suggested that he do something for himself.

She told him of all of the benefits and none of the drawbacks. However, at the time, her advantages outweighed his perceived disadvantages, the only one being his guilt.

He had no idea that the moments after he pushed Liu Zhaoning over would be his worst. The shame was uncontrollable, just like the outpour of blood from Liu Zhaoning's head.

He started crying, then. The tears rolled down his face, and he tried to stop them, but they just kept pouring out. The noise brought Liu Zhaoning's maids to the site, and their screams brought more and more people. Soon, his father beheld the sight of his oldest son, unconscious, possibly dead.

There was only one thing Liu Zhaofa remembered about his father that evening: his livid face.

It was the first time, ever, that he had seen those emotions on his father. He hoped it would be the last. His father was always so calm and collected, every action measured and deliberated thousands of times over to the point where it was frightening for him to ever be caught off guard.

Then came the crippling fear. For the rest of the night, he only thought of his father's face. He could not focus on his brother's injury, instead afraid for his own life. It ashamed him that his own life was put above his brother's endangered one, but it was not a question of self-interest anymore, so he let it go.

The memory of his father haunted his dreams, and he woke up the next day wishing he could undo it all. Unfortunately, there was no undo button in life. What was done was done. Best to move on, to plan the next scheme, to take advantage of his new position. His brother wouldn't mind anyway; he had forgotten everything.

Every time Liu Zhaofa saw Liu Zhaoning treated as a fool since then, regret tugged at his heart, but it consoled him to know that Liu Zhaoning wouldn't be able to know anything was wrong. Liu Zhaoning had already forgotten, and although the absence of forgiveness pressed down on his heart, there was a reason forgetting was the harder task; its importance laid higher.

He made that choice long ago. Now, on his deathbed, he supposed that was where it had all gone wrong.

He had fooled himself into believing that to calm his turbulent emotions. That was his sin. And this was his punishment.

Judgment had already been delivered. He was to die today, here, by the beast he had hoped to slay.

Liu Zhaofa let the pain of squeezing his eyes consume his consciousness. He waited with bated breath for the heat of the lion's humid breath to become unbearable.

It got hotter and hotter and hotter. Liu Zhaofa wondered when he wouldn't be able to feel the rising temperature anymore, with his bones melted and his consciousness consumed. It couldn't be any worse than these horrid moments, anticipation in fear occupying every last inch of his mind in a tangled mess.

And then the heat vanished. A loud roar ravaged his ears, but Liu Zhaofa couldn't cover his ears. His arms felt like blocks of ice, frozen with fright. If he moved his arms, moved anything at all, the lion would devour him, he thought.

However, despite the difference in species, Liu Zhaofa could hear the transparent agony in the roar. There was so much pain; the lion couldn't possibly be ready to eat him.

Then… the lion–had it been killed?

He wouldn't know until he opened his eyes. But what if what he wanted to be there wasn't there? What if the lion had not been defeated, and his brothers had died instead?

Still, he forced himself to open his eyes. No matter what is happening, he told himself, it is better to bear witness to it than be unaware.

His eyelids fluttered open slowly, fearing the sight that would be before him. The light peeked through his lashes, exposing the golden fur in front of him, far too close.

It was like alarm bells went off in his head. In an instant, he jolted up, his alert mind trying to survey the situation before the pain hit. It hit fast.

Liquid ice crawled up his arm, or maybe it was fiery hot blood running down his arm. He was not able to even raise his head before he bit his lip to forget it all. It was too much to take. He wanted to focus on something else, even if it was the blood seeping into his mouth.

He struggled to lay back down without letting his arm touch anything. Twisting his head awkwardly to see what was going on, he finally took in the scene before him.

The lion lay on the floor. Thick red liquid pooled into a large puddle beneath him, beginning from his throat. Ling Xia stood above the lion, observing Liu Zhaofa. His hand clenched a sword, his expression carrying a ruthlessness Liu Zhaofa had never seen on that face. He found it odd, but his vision was spinning, so maybe it was just him.

After a moment, Liu Zhaofa breathed a sigh of anxious relief. He had been saved.

"Thank y-you, Brother."

…

A puff of air exited Ling Xia's mouth from overexertion, unintentionally blowing a strand of hair off of his face as he let his arm go limp. He stared at the furred carcass until he heard a gasp of pain to his left.

He looked over, watching Liu Zhaoning struggle with his pain. Then the words of gratitude came, to which Ling Xia casually returned, "Of course."

Liu Zhaofa's eyes wandered, and Ling Xia followed his gaze to the blood-drenched sword in his hand. He peered back up at Liu Zhaofa, who continued to stare at it. "W-where did you get that sword?" Ling Xia hadn't gotten a sword, only a bow and quiver of arrows because nobody thought he could actually use it.

"From you." Ling Xia threw the sword to Liu Zhaofa's feet. Liu Zhaofa's eyes widened, which Ling Xia noted with a frown.

He wondered why Liu Zhaofa looked so disoriented about everything. Sure, he had just had a near-death experience, but it seemed as if all of the expected relief was washed away by that unsettled expression.

Ling Xia watched him pick up the sword that had been passed down from generation to generation with hesitance and wonder. It was like he had never seen it before, never witnessed somebody use it even though it had been in his possession for three years, courtesy of Liu Zhaoning, who thought Liu Zhaofa was a better fit for heir.

Liu Zhaofa halted suddenly, narrowing his eyes before they became as wide as saucers. "You took my sword without my notice," he said, appearing to have calmed down all of a sudden. His eyes turned deep, a glint of calculation flashing through them.

He had come to a realization, but that was never enough for Ling Xia. He wanted to know what that realization entailed for him.

"Yes. However, it would not have been possible without our younger brother's help. He shot the lion at the critical moment, giving me the time I needed." His words flowed smoothly from his mouth, and his meaning was crystal clear, unlike Liu Zhaoning's, and most importantly, he took credit for his actions.

It all contradicted Liu Zhaoning's personality, which stayed in the range of meek and quiet at all times.

It was okay because Liu Zhaofa already suspected something was up. To take it one step further, to tell Liu Zhaofa the truth–Ling Xia figured it would be better than to let those suspicions fester into doubt and then transform into hostility. Well, to shed some light on the truth. The entire truth would overwhelm any inhabitant of this world.

That was only one of his choices though. His other choice was to find an ally in the young man that was bounding over to them.

Ling Xia took a step back, leaving an empty spot in front of him. A second later, Liu Zhaoren jumped to a stop, filling it. He pushed Ling Xia aside, striding over to Liu Zhaofa and kneeling down. After examining his brother, he gave his elementary diagnosis that Ling Xia found wildly inaccurate, but the plan he gave afterward washed away Ling Xia's thoughts of acting behind the scenes.

"Put pressure on the wound with a clean cloth. I will get a physician." Liu Zhaoren scurried off to the gathering point without another word. Meanwhile, Ling Xia hurried to do his job like the obedient servant Liu Zhaoning was.

He fell to his knees at Liu Zhaofa's side and set to work under the other's intense scrutiny. It felt as if Liu Zhaofa was staring Ling Xia down despite his position on the ground.

Ling Xia yanked the string that tamed his wide sleeves off. The wind caught it as it fell, unrelenting even in death's presence. Ling Xia grabbed the edge of his sleeve and jerked it downward with cold-stiffened fingers, the fabric separating with a riipp that left loose threads hanging from both pieces.

He set his sights on the wound next. Liu Zhaoren had generously moved the ripped pieces of cloth away earlier, so it was clear the recovery time would be long from the first glance.

The lion had not just sunk his teeth into Liu Zhaofa's arm. He had also ripped apart the flesh, revealing the bone behind the skin. Sticky liquid was the only thing hiding it from view, but where it was sparse, the bone was apparent.

Ling Xia wrapped the cloth in his hand around the wound, tying the ends into a knot tightly. He heard the gasp of pain leave Liu Zhaofa's mouth but didn't bother addressing it. They both knew that his actions increased Liu Zhaofa's chances of survival, and that mattered most.

"Why did you pretend to be a fool?" Liu Zhaofa asked once the pain receded from his face.

Ling Xia shifted his gaze to Liu Zhaofa calmly as if this wasn't the deciding point in the story. "I didn't pretend. I truly was a fool for seven years. In those times, I felt as if my thoughts were muddled by something. Two weeks ago, however, that haze was swept away, and I could think clearly."

"Oh? Then do you remember how you lost your memories?" Liu Zhaofa inquired.

Ling Xia didn't understand how the topic shifted to memories, but Liu Zhaofa's probing expression told him the topic carried many secrets. He wondered what the benefits of lying were, but he quickly brushed that possibility off the table. Saying he remembered something Liu Zhaofa clearly did not want him to remember was a surefire way to breed malicious intent, and he wanted a friend, not a foe.

"I wasn't aware I lost my memories." he replied with a face full of confusion.

The beginnings of what seemed like a sigh of relief escaped Liu Zhaofa's mouth, but Ling Xia saw it be cut short when Liu Zhaofa hastened to plant an understanding expression on his face. "You tripped over a root in the ground and hit your head on a rock."

It was such an unbelievable response, Ling Xia didn't know if he heard it correctly at first. "I see." But seriously, how cliché was that? Ling Xia had to fight to keep a rare smile off his face.

"It was an unfortunate event, but I am glad that you are better." Liu Zhaofa turned his head away from Ling Xia, trying to untwist his throat. He stared at bits and pieces of the sky through the leaves above. "I hope nothing like it happens again."

Ling Xia heard that. The strain in his voice. The punch in his words. It all signaled that Liu Zhaofa liked his position in the family. Ling Xia might need to defend against him. It was unlikely, but the possibility existed.

"I hope so as well." A polite smile placed itself on his face. It showed Liu Zhaofa that he knew something was up. It also showed Liu Zhaofa that he wouldn't take bad treatment lying down, which he had apparently failed to do with Yao Ze, but he would make sure was accomplished here. He refused to have two disloyal allies if he could help it.

Liu Zhaofa opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound of shouting in the distance made him stop in his tracks. "I had forgotten completely about my arm," he commented while the others came into view, and Ling Xia stepped away.

In the front was Liu Zhaoren, and he led a team of three royal physicians, judging from their clothing, and Feng Lian whose face creased increasingly with worry. Ling Xia supposed that if Liu Zhaofa had a wife, she would come as well to complete the scene.

The four in the front rushed past him, one royal physician going so far as to even shove Ling Xia away. He stumbled backward while he registered the words that came from the rude medical practitioner's mouth. "Move aside!"

Ling Xia threw a hand back to the tree behind him to steady himself. A scowl was set on his face because he knew that that physician had no need to even touch him to get past. There was plenty of room.

Ling Xia intended to withdraw his hand, so he could secretly clench it, but before he could move, he noticed the lack of pain on his hand. It seemed the rough tree bark under his hand was not in fact rough or tree bark.

He twisted his head back to find that what he thought was a tree was actually a person. His hand unwittingly lay on the solid chest of Feng Lian for so long, and Feng Lian hadn't said a word about it. He really was a good spy.

Ever-the-actor, Ling Xia silently pulled it back and turned back to the more gruesome scene, appearing as if all was according to plan. He let the awkwardness of the situation flow through him, feeling it dissipate finally when the newly conspicuous heat source behind him moved away. With the distraction gone, Ling Xia focused his attention back on Liu Zhaofa.

Two royal physicians hoisted him up. From the way Liu Zhaofa groaned, it was clear their hold on him was not as gentle as it seemed. The other royal physician, the one who so arrogantly pushed Ling Xia, then ordered them to carry Liu Zhaofa to the medical tent. They shouted in unison, "Yes, Master!"

Ling Xia's eyebrow quirked up. Ling Xia had only witnessed these occurrences occasionally while traveling through worlds, but there seemed to be a master-disciple hierarchy within the medicinal branch of the imperial family. Some physicians were lesser than others. If fate permitted, perhaps Ling Xia could use this to his advantage in the future.

He followed the two men back to the gathering point along with everybody else. The three royal physicians quickly treated Liu Zhaofa with items Ling Xia found could have easily been taken to the site of the injury, but that was a battle to be fought another time, when he was powerful enough to send these three physicians packing.

The three men left the tent, letting Ling Xia and Liu Zhaoren watch over a sound-asleep Liu Zhaofa themselves. They had both stood for a long while, and the soles of their boots barely protected their sore feet, so they searched for a place to sit. After scouring the place through and through, Ling Xia finally found one.

He pulled a stool out from inside what seemed like a barrel and dropped it on the floor, too tired to set it down carefully. It wobbled until Liu Zhaoren dashed over and plopped his butt onto it. His gaze never landed on Ling Xia again, opting instead to watch his brother.

Ling Xia speechlessly stared at the outrageous display. He would protest, for he had found the chair and was older and therefore deserved respect, but all of that meant nothing in the face of favor. No custom could change the fact that Ling Xia made Liu Cai's favorite son stand while he sat.

So Ling Xia resigned to squat into a sitting position, his legs criss-crossed in front of him while he lamented on the despicability of nepotism. However, it was never a good practice in the long run. Ling Xia had seen many empires crumble because of nepotism taken too far, and there would always be more. Soon, Liu Cai would understand that.

The thought came at the perfect time. The man himself burst through the flaps of the tent, his pace hurried as he swept past two of his sons for another.

Ling Xia grumbled under his breath in surprise, "Speak of the devil."

A royal physician quickly followed after him. His words trembled as he spoke, "Sir, we do not advise disturbi–ah, talking to the patient while they are resting." Liu Cai simply cast a sharp glare his way to shut him up.

An expression of surprise flitted through Ling Xia's eyes when the doctor's face matched with the face of the rude physician in his head. That man now cowered before Liu Cai, nervous sweat glistening on his wide forehead. He stayed quiet, just like Liu Cai while gazing at his son.

Liu Cai's expression was pensive, something in between confusion, bewilderment, and worry also present. Ling Xia watched on as he stood up, finding his sitting on the floor to be too improper for Liu Cai. A harsh scolding would come later if he didn't.

After a long time, a sigh left Liu Cai's mouth. A peaceful expression rested on his face, and Ling Xia thought this would be the end of the day. It was a pity because he had wanted to anger Feng Lian past return today, so he could fire Chen Er, but instead they had to go home to let Liu Zhaofa recuperate.

Liu Cai stepped toward the flaps of the tent that billowed with the winds. Ling Xia and Liu Zhaoren followed behind him, and it wasn't long before all three were in a carriage home.

The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, and Ling Xia jostled along with the movements. Such was to be expected, though, because the carriage they rode in was lent to the Liu family by a poor noble family that wanted to rise in power while Liu Zhaofa slept in the more luxurious carriage. Too much movement meant a wound reopened for him. A family doctor accompanied him.

Ling Xia sat in silence in the other carriage. He was squished up against Feng Lian because space was limited, while Liu Zhaoren and Liu Cai sat across from him. He began to lean against the wooden wall to allow for a more comfortable position, but Liu Cai swiftly reprimanded him, "Sit up straight!"

Ling Xia's back went ramrod straight in an instant. "Sorry, Father," he said sheepishly to mimic the timid nature of Liu Zhaoning. The phrase had a certain impropriety to it, something he was trying to avoid in this world. Everybody here spoke in short sentences and went straight to the point, but also with elegance, which Ling Xia copied solely for his own amusement, but had failed to do with his previous statement. Either way, Liu Zhaoning barely talked, so nobody would notice the difference.

Liu Cai narrowed his eyes in dislike. A second later, all traces of that emotion were gone from his face, and he spoke: "What happened?" His eyes flickered between Liu Zhaoren and Ling Xia for an answer.

Ling Xia cringed back from the intense gaze. Meanwhile, Liu Zhaoren puffed out his chest and quickly recounted the events of the day for Liu Cai. Liu Cai didn't say a word during the entire retelling, simply listening to the sentences flow from Liu Zhaoren's mouth. There was a moment where his expression changed–when it was mentioned that Ling Xia killed the lion–but his face returned to its cold, unfeeling state afterwards.

After it was all over, he nodded, and language seemed to be forgotten by everybody again.

…

In the dead of night, a single flame blazed, lighting a man with its orange glow. He opened his mouth, his shout of surprise passing through the thin walls and waking the people of the manor from their deep sleep.

"He's been poisoned!"