The Life and Times of Master Han Fei

Chapter Sixteen

"Eels are similar to snakes. Silkworms are similar to caterpillars. People are scared when they see snakes, and surprised when they see caterpillars. And yet, fishermen are willing to hold eels in their hands, and women are willing to pick up silkworms. So, when there is profit, people turn brave."

-Master Han Fei

The old farmer's government-provided place of residence reminded the prince of his old master Xunzi's abode, though the Confucian master philosopher's hut had never been so run down. "Welcome to my humble abode," announced the Queen's uncle bitterly, tugging his donkey along. "I'm afraid you'll have to share a room."

"A prince does not share rooms," yawned Han, puffing his chest out importantly. He saw a look of disgust flash dangerously across the farmer's face. "But I, Prince Han Fei, would gladly share!" he backtracked, smiling uneasily. "Whom will I share a room with? Some children, perhaps? Your wife, or maybe an attendant? Or you?"

"I do not have children. Nor do I have a wife. All I had were my plants, and even that has been taken away from me. No, you will have to share a room with the rats and cockroaches that have settled here. I would try to get rid of them, but I do not have the time nor do I care enough to. I barely make enough as it is to feed both my donkey and myself. I cannot waste time hunting down every pesky rodent and insect that decides to enjoy my generous hospitality."

Han chortled, though he quickly stopped soon after he caught a look of the annoyed scowl that spread across the elderly man's countenance as a result of his laughter.

"Come, I shall show you your room." The farmer walked into his hated home, making his way to the room he was going to allow the prince to stay in. He did not look to see if Han Fei would follow him.

The prince watched the back of the man with pity, sighing with disappointment. It was truly a shame that a man of dignity like him had to live in such cramped conditions. It was most definitely a disgrace, a stain on the kingdom's illustrious history that tarnished an already mediocre state of being.

He had always thought that the farmers of the world were the real aristocrats, the nobles of the dirt. They were the ones who knew the true glory of work, the value of toil, the priceless worth of their own mortal coils. These were the men who made the world work, the ones who were the lifeblood of kingdoms.

He followed the dirt-based hero, slowly finding his way through the cluttered living space, stepping over decaying cadavers of animals that had once been so full of life. Han could not tell if the scattered remains were bones left from past meals, or pests that had lived and died in this paradise so perfect for parasites.

"Where is the room?" called the prince, scanning the moss-covered walls.

"In here," came the man's emotionless reply. His voice came from a distant corner, and so Han made his way over to whence the sound had originated, swatting flies away from his person. He breathed deeply, immediately regretting this course of action, for noxious fumes wafting from small, thin mushrooms quickly punished his foolishness with an all-out assault on his sense of smell.

"Watch your step," the old farmer advised, but Han was too lost in his thoughts to hear. He stumbled over a shoot of bamboo growing in between two wooden planks, but the farmer thankfully caught him, leaving Han to fall into the man's uncomfortably warm embrace instead of onto the ground. The farmer smelled strongly of rice spirits, the stench of his breath so unpleasant it caused the prince to buckle at his knees, his enfeebled legs wobbling as they fought for purchase on the soft, damp ground.

"There you go," the man said, pointing at a stack of hay probably more suitable for a donkey than a human. "I'd be careful around my donkey tomorrow if I were you. He won't be happy with you. This is usually his spot."