At last, Logan Clark spoke. “Big brother and sister-in-law are both young, you can still have more children. If it really doesn’t work out, you could take a concubine. Sister-in-law is understanding…”

“I didn’t call you here for that.” Evelyn Smith put down his cup.

“Alright.” Logan Clark said no more.

“You hear a lot at the police station. Have there been any more children in the city recently who lost their souls?”

Logan Clark was taken aback. “Well… the police station investigates thieves. If people don’t report it, we wouldn’t know. Why are you asking, big brother? Is there something wrong with Warren?”

“I heard that in Wu Lao’er Alley, a family’s child also lost their soul, but was saved by a priest from Lingji Temple. I think there might be something going on here.”

Logan Clark was startled again. He lowered his head and thought for a while, then looked up and said, “I’ll go ask around. I’m on duty with the troops tomorrow night, so I’ll get back to you the evening after.”

Evelyn Smith nodded. He knew his brother well and didn’t need to say more.

Logan Clark picked up his cup and drained it in one gulp, then stood up and said, “Big brother, listen to me. You’re still young. Some things are destined—don’t force them.”

Logan Clark left. Evelyn Smith sat alone for a long time. Only when the room was completely dark did he get up and leave. He walked out, gazing at the faint light in the main room, picturing his wife chanting scriptures and praying.

Evelyn Smith married before he was twenty, and didn’t have a son until he was thirty. Now, at thirty-five, he wasn’t really that old, but he didn’t believe he was destined to have another son, nor did he want to try. He just missed Warren, missed him down to his very bones, so much that even the ground seemed to tremble under the weight.

“I’m still young,” Evelyn Smith murmured. But what rose in his heart was not hope for more children, but a nameless fire. “What does it really mean to be sincere?”

When Logan Clark visited again, Evelyn Smith prepared a table of food and drink. The two closed the door, eating and drinking for a long time, talking for a long time. Only Ethan Sullivan came in a few times, and all he saw was their faces growing redder, their speech less clear, but nothing else unusual.

Late at night, Logan Clark took his leave. At the gate, he mumbled, “Big brother, you’re still young. Buying a maid is just a matter of a few dozen taels of silver. As long as sister-in-law agrees, tomorrow I can…”

Evelyn Smith laughed and pushed Logan Clark out. He stood in the courtyard, watching Ethan Sullivan close and bolt the door, then returned to his own room to rest. His steps were unsteady, but his mood seemed lighter. Ethan Sullivan noticed this and felt a bit relieved, thinking the master must have come to terms with things.

Five

Evelyn Smith got himself ready and went to see his wife, Miller.

Married young, losing a son in middle age—both of them had so much to say, yet nothing to say at all.

Miller held prayer beads, dressed in plain clothes, softly chanting scriptures. Ever since the priest from Lingji Temple failed to retrieve their son’s soul, she had turned to the Bodhisattva. Every day, except for eating and sleeping, she spent most of her time chanting and praying. The room was thick with the scent of burning incense.

When she saw her husband come in, Miller stopped chanting and looked up at him, her gaze both searching and reproachful.

Evelyn Smith stood for a moment and said, “Pack up and go stay at your mother’s for a few days. I need to go out.”

Tears immediately welled up in Miller’s eyes. “Husband, why put yourself through this?”

He could never hide his feelings from his wife. For a moment, Evelyn Smith felt a flash of regret, but quickly steeled himself. “Warren was smart and well-behaved. I don’t believe he did anything wrong in a past life, and even if he did, he shouldn’t have to pay with his life in this one. I also don’t believe we were insincere when we prayed to the gods. So there’s only one explanation.”

“It was fate.”

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Evelyn Smith’s mouth. “Yes, everything is destined. But I want to see for myself…” Evelyn Smith didn’t want to say more. “Go back to your mother’s.”

Evelyn Smith left. Miller cried alone for a while, then called in her maid. Together, they rummaged through boxes and cabinets, gathering all the family’s gold and silver valuables and piling them on the table. Then she sent the maid to fetch Ethan Sullivan.

Ethan Sullivan had just seen the master leave the house with a strange look. Now, seeing the table covered in jewelry, he couldn’t help but be surprised.

“Uncle Seven, I’ll make a list. Please help me give all these things away.”

“But this… this is…”

“Yes, it’s everything we have. Give it all away—to the nearby temples, to a few poor families, and you and Wendy as well. It all has to be given away today.” Miller paused. “This is to pray for your master, hoping the Bodhisattva will forgive what he’s done.”

Six

Like many hereditary military households, the centurion Evelyn Smith didn’t actually command troops, nor did he train in the barracks, let alone fight in battle. Every year, he paid a set amount of silver to his superiors in exchange for an easy life. After that, he just showed up at the garrison to check in, collected his government salary, and that was it. When he was young, he’d felt uneasy and wanted to serve his country, but after his father died, those thoughts faded.

After checking in, Evelyn Smith went to see some officers he knew at the garrison, collected a few debts, paid back some silver, and exchanged a few jokes.

Leaving the garrison, Evelyn Smith wandered through the streets and alleys, making a big loop, visiting many households—again, to collect debts or repay money. Some went smoothly, some did not. He didn’t press anyone, just recorded everything in his ledger, had each person leave a fingerprint, so there would be proof in the future.

The last person he visited was his sworn brother, Logan Clark.