Faraway Wanderers

Chapter 27. Slaughter

[Warning for graphic description of violence (more so than the usual)]

He knew he was in a dream, but the sight before him was too real to be so. The Northern wind grazed his mask, but he didn’t feel the cold. He had been waiting there for so, so long with utmost calmness, his pulse even slower than usual. The sun was done traversing the sky, and the night was falling.

Zhou Zishu watched all of it, detached from everything as a habit. He didn’t know how to view himself as a human—someone with emotions, with a sense of right and wrong. It was for his own self-preservation; as long as he acted without thinking, he wouldn’t be driven to insanity.

He was merely a pair of bloody hands on which the kingdom of Da Qing rested. Prosperity was like beautifully decorated sleeves, and his hands were forever hidden inside of them, making it difficult for people to really see him. Until the rotten age of war was over and peace reigned over the people, another chapter in history would begin…

Zhou Zishu lowered his head. The face of the person in his dream was hazy, but he thought he could still see the features that belonged to a little girl—she was held in the nanny’s arms like an innocent, helpless lamb while her protector never strayed from her task with a desperate expression on her face.

The young girl looked up and said in a tiny voice. “My father is a good person, my big brother is also a good person, I’m also a good person, we’re all good people, you shouldn’t kill us.”

He remembered. During the reign of the late Emperor, to deal a killing blow to the Second Prince, Tian Chuang was ordered to assassinate the entire family of court official Sir Jiang Zheng, who was recently fired from his position and was planning to leave the capital. Sir Jiang’s daughter Jiang Xue was only four years old, an incredibly smart girl. How would she have turned out to be if she ever got a chance to grow up?

Zhou Zishu felt his hands raised, then a shrill feminine scream pierced the night sky. The sword went through her chest, then through the little girl’s body. There was no disgust or grief, for he had been used to it ever since he came into his position.

Did it matter whether people were kind-hearted or loyal? There was never a law that forbade good people to have their lives taken away.

But he heard a drawn-out sigh in the air; someone was saying, An eye for an eye—

Sharp pain spiked in his chest as he startled awake and sat up.

With excruciating motions, he bent forward and clutched at his chest, teeth gritted to reign in the pained noises. His fingers gripped a corner of the blanket tightly, knuckles white; his hair wild, entire appearance miserable. Amidst the organ-crushing agony, he dazedly thought, Look, Zhou Zishu you damning bastard, you’re going to die as well.

Tonight, sleep denied Zhou Zishu, Wen Kexing and Ye Baiyi.

Wen Kexing, instead of going outside, sat facing the window in silence. Gu Xiang stood beside him, solemnity graced her usually ingenuous countenance. She looked out to see a gloomy night sky that had never been any different from the past, the stillness making her look like an obscure lantern.

The open window let the chilly wind in, and Gu Xiang’s clothes and hair fluttered. The erotic book on the table was also turned a few pages under the wind, creating rustling sounds. Wen Kexing allowed a slow smile to spread over his face and spoke softly, “I have waited for this for twenty years.”