Ethan Sullivan gently put down the broom and followed the master toward the east wing.

The room was covered in a layer of dust. Ethan Sullivan, his old eyes dim, didn’t notice and said, “Master, let me make some tea.”

“No need. I have something to ask you.” Evelyn Smith sat down on a chair, a cloud of dust rising beneath him. He didn’t care, his mind fixed on one thing.

Ethan Sullivan grunted in response. He had served the Zhao family with great merit, having waited on three generations, so he wasn’t particularly formal in front of the master.

Evelyn Smith fell silent, as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to ask. Ethan Sullivan wasn’t in a hurry either, standing quietly in place, his aging body swaying slightly.

“How did Wen-ge’er fall ill?” Evelyn Smith finally spoke. His son was named Zhao Wen, and the family all called him “Warren”.

“Huh? Warren isn’t sick, he’s... he’s possessed. That night... somehow his soul just wandered off. Everyone says maybe he was too playful, and even in his sleep his soul wanted to go out, but then couldn’t find its way home...” Ethan Sullivan’s eyes grew moist; he was deeply attached to the young master.

“Did anything strange happen during the day? I remember you took Warren out that day.”

“We just went to the market to buy a piece of osmanthus cake.” Ethan Sullivan struggled to lift his drooping eyelids, feeling the master was acting a bit odd. “Master, you shouldn’t drink anymore. Madam is still at home, and the superior has sent people several times already. They said if you don’t report to the camp soon, they’ll...”

“Bring me a basin of water.” Evelyn Smith couldn’t care less what the superior thought.

Ethan Sullivan sighed and turned to fetch water.

Evelyn Smith sat in a daze for a while, then got up and walked to the wall, took down the saber hanging there, drew it from its sheath, weighed it in his hand, then hung the sheath back up. Holding the blade, he returned to his spot, but didn’t sit down. He stared at the table beside him, zoning out again.

Ethan Sullivan brought the water into the room and, seeing the master holding a knife, was startled. “Master, you... you mustn’t do anything foolish.”

Evelyn Smith turned to look at the old servant. “Old Qi, you’ve been with my family a long time, haven’t you?”

Ethan Sullivan’s body swayed even more, the water in the basin rippling slightly. “Over fifty... years.”

“You watched me grow up. I see you as my own uncle.”

“Master’s kindness to me is as great as a mountain...” Ethan Sullivan certainly didn’t see himself as a “real uncle.”

“Then tell me, why did Warren lose his soul?”

“I really don’t know.” Ethan Sullivan couldn’t hold out any longer and set the basin on a nearby stand. “Everything was fine that day. Warren was jumping and skipping...”

Evelyn Smith looked at the knife in his hand. Ethan Sullivan glanced over too, his heart trembling, his body following suit. He knew his master too well—so well it bred fear. “Master... did you hear something?”

“I’m asking you.” Evelyn Smith suddenly lost control. The knife came down, its blade sinking into the table, the blade quivering and humming.

Failing to split the table in one blow, Evelyn Smith grew even angrier, gripping the hilt tightly and glaring fiercely at the old servant. Days of heavy drinking and lack of sleep had left his eyes bloodshot, making him look like a cornered wolf ready to fight to the death.

Ethan Sullivan dropped to his knees with a thud. “Master, please don’t be angry. Everything really was normal that day. The young master and I went to Guan’s pastry shop in the market to buy a piece of osmanthus cake. He finished it on the way. If you don’t believe me, you can ask at the pastry shop.”

Evelyn Smith’s arm still gripped the knife tightly, the table creaking under the strain. “You stayed with Warren the whole time?”

Ethan Sullivan hesitated before nodding. Evelyn Smith gave a low shout, raised his left fist, and slammed it heavily on the table. The table corner, following the blade, fell to the ground.

Ethan Sullivan’s face was ashen, and he just kept kowtowing, calling “Master.”

But Evelyn Smith calmed down, tossed the knife onto the table, and sat down. “Old Qi, I know you’re loyal to the Zhao family and wouldn’t harm anyone. Tell me the truth—I won’t make things hard for you.”

Ethan Sullivan trembled all over. “I—I just greeted an acquaintance, and the young master ran off on his own...”

“And then?” Evelyn Smith pressed.

“As soon as I noticed Warren wasn’t by my side, I chased after him and saw... saw someone playing with him, seemed to give him something...”

“What did that person look like? And what did they give him?”

“I—I... Master, I really didn’t see clearly. I was running and calling ‘Warren’ at the same time. That person turned and left. I didn’t pay much attention or ask more, just took the young master home. He seemed fine at the time, played for a while after we got home, and only that night... It shouldn’t have anything to do with that person.”

Evelyn Smith picked up the knife again, his resolve hardening. He said calmly, “Go invite Chief Clark.”

Four

Chief Banner Logan Clark was an officer at the patrol bureau and a sworn brother to Evelyn Smith. In their youth, they’d raised hell together and remained close ever since—always coming when called.

After Evelyn Smith lost his son, Logan Clark had only visited once—not out of indifference, but because he believed his brother could pull himself out of grief.

Logan Clark entered carrying a bottle of liquor in his right hand and a package of braised meat in his left. Upon entering, he nodded at Evelyn Smith, “Care for a drink?”

Evelyn Smith didn’t stand on ceremony, nodded in agreement, and reached out to turn over the two teacups that were upside down on the table.

The two sat across the table, drinking in silence for a long while.