Chang Heng’s parents left the room. As he stared at the closed door, he could still feel their warmth.

  He walked to the lone window, his bare feet enjoying the soft carpet. As he breathed in, the medicinal herbs’ smells from the day before were still in the air.

  Opening the curtains, he could see the whole of Green Leaves City. His room was on one of the upper floors of the inside of the Colosseo, he realised. He had no idea there even were any.

  The night city was mostly dark, but some patches of light could be found:

  Festivities held in a distant neighbourhood, with a huge bonfire visible even from there, just like the night of his birthday;

  The yellow lights in one of the richer districts, with the unique design of the marble mansions made visible to anyone even at that time;

  The Red Light district. A place he had never visited or heard of before, its name mentioned by the boys and their fathers or uncles, who wanted to celebrate their victories in the tournament;

  The tall building that housed the City Lord, and where his functions were done, a tall pagoda of far too many floors, the lowest clearly more aged, older and consumed by time, all illuminated with lanterns of golden colours with designs of dragons on them.

  In a way, it scared him to be that far high, just a thin sheet of glass separating him from the stony ground of sampietrini, but that new sight was also… beautiful. In the light or in the dark, life kept going. Families slept, or partied, or simply spent their time together in calm. Couples walked in the few illuminated districts, enjoying the intimacy of the night. Friends had their fun, bars were filled with laughter. From up there, he could see it all.

  It was new for him, something he never even thought about before. There were people who could see all that, and much more, every night. People like the City Lord in his pagoda, like the old Xie San, in the stony building belonging to her Sect, far in the distance, like Elder Rong…

  The same Elder Rong who… who, despite being able to see all the beauty of life…

  He wanted to stop his mind from showing him the last image he had of Xie Shun, and so, he turned to Old Man Ling. He walked up to him, close enough to touch the shining motes of Qi that always accompanied him in the darkness.

  Before he could say a word, the old man spoke.

  “I heard it. The conversation you had with your parents.”

  “Oh. Do you think… I handled it well?”

  Chang Heng hated how helpless his voice sounded in that moment.

  “I don’t know.” The man replied with his usual flat tone. “I don’t really understand these things. I was wondering if I should have said something that could have helped your case.”

  “Like what? This is a story that has been going on in my whole life, the question of how much I can take from them without giving anything back.” There was no hiding of the self-pity and guilt in his voice.

  “... I see this is a complicated matter. All that I know is that things should resolve well, and that maybe I should have shared it earlier.”

  “Thank you for the trust, but I… I don’t know. That second fight was so bad, I doubt I can go much further. I am not as confident as I tried to show them.”

  “People say that you actually have a good shot now. And even if you lose, they’ll let you stay in the Clan with your family, I think.”

  The boy felt a ray of hope rising within himself, the first actual one in a while.

  “W- who says that? Why?!”

  “My great-grandson, Guang, and Little Jian, at first believed Xie Mo to be one of the few valid fighters this year. Not the only one, but one of the best, if not the best. They expected you to go against him much later than you actually did, and your victory, your show of determination, the fact that you humiliated their biggest economic rival… some leniency will be shown, if everything goes well, or close to it.”

  His thoughts raced faster, much faster than his mouth, and incoherent noises were all that came out for a few moments.

  “I- You- I mean- What… Oh, Heavens!” He marched to sit on his bed and forced himself to take deep breaths. “How do you know all that? And why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

  “I can give one answer for both questions. I listen. I listen a lot more than you people think, and talk a lot less than they do. I don’t… hate company, as everyone tends to believe. I just… I don’t understand “people”. I do not know what to say to them. What reaction it will have. Why they stare into my eyes so much. What is the right thing to say. The things that they leave unsaid that still matter, how to deal with emotions… but I do want to connect with them. So I listen, and only speak about things that I’m sure I’m right about.”

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  Chang Heng could see the small changes in Old Man Ling’s expression. They were subtle, but he had come to learn them. To see a man more than two centuries old like that… he looked down, at his knees.

  “You’re very different from that Elder. When she spoke, she had no doubt. She had no trouble commanding, demanding, speaking to the crowd or making innuendos. She had no trouble doing… what she did to that other boy. He was pretty much as old as me. To me, you’re both so strong, and powerful, and have lived and will live for so long… but you’re very different.” I want to be more like you, if I get the chance to, but also, not so… alone, he didn’t say out loud.

  “Her behaviour… I believe it’s normal, for people who have gone so far in their path of Cultivation like us. It’s normal, and I still don’t get it.” The sound of a stifled laugh was barely let through his teeth. “That demand of “respect”, it makes no sense to me. And she pushed it so far, to the point of being able to kill for it. Around me, no one mentioned it or even batted an eye.”

  The boy, up to a point, understood her actions. People had their honour to protect, and being shown the proper amount of respect was an essential aspect of it. He himself had been guided by it many times, and would act in its defence whenever he could. Just, not to that extreme. Or at least, he hoped he would never.

  He is the weird one for not caring about it. He may be a genius, a scholar like none other, but he has his blind spots, too. Caring for my honour is the normal and right thing to do. The image of a headless body flashed again. The only thing to understand is how far one should push for it.

  He didn’t voice any of those thoughts, again.

  “I really don’t know, Old Man Ling. I can’t say I know what goes on in the head of someone like her.”

  “Hm. Me neither. Is there something else you’d like to discuss, now?”

  “Not really, no. I have a lot to think over, though. But right now, since you are here… I’ve had a few inspirations, can we work on improving my Cultivation Technique?”

  “Of course. I’ve had some ideas, too, these days, while you did your own thing.”

  The light of curiosity was alight again in both of them, as they started working on Chang Heng’s foundation for the umpteenth time in that month as a Cultivator.

  …

  The hours passed, and the Sun rose. Three more were spent working after that, until a man wearing elegant but inconspicuous clothes, with a notably square chin and weird eyes, opened the door.

  The man, one of the many working as a servant to the City Lord, found the duo sprawled on the floor. Far too many pieces of paper were thrown across a room where the cheapest piece of furniture cost more than a year’s salary. Much more. Many pieces of said furniture had drops of ink strewn across them, most notably the covers of the rich canopy bed, which were hanging from its topside, symbols that made his head hurt painted on them.

  He coughed. They didn’t move an inch, as they kept talking with incomprehensible words mixed with anecdotes about a healer, or vitality with a capital V, and the description of feelings that were clearly too personal to be understood by him. Not that he wanted. The sensation of having broken ribs was not something he’d like to learn.

  He coughed again, this time stronger. The old… gentleman didn’t react, and neither did the… young one. He had been told they were of the Chang Clan, which meant that, while not noble, they were probably quite rich. Despite their weirdness, he’d have to give them the best service, it appeared.

  After coughing a third time, strong enough to actually make him need to cough, he was finally noticed. The kid rushed to his feet and started apologising for the mess they had made, clearly panicking. The old man took his time instead, and didn’t say a single word.

  The kid’s reaction surprised him, in a way. That was not the kind of place that people who apologise visited; if anything, they were in the Colosseo because they did not apologise, or worry about money. Apparently, the kid was not one of them. Another confusing fact was that there was a kid there at all, but it only helped him to show his calmness to the customer. He didn’t dislike kids as much as he disliked adults.

  After he tranquillised him, he finally took a good look.

  The kid was probably a fighter in the tournament, which was a new sight there; with that taken into account, it meant he was most likely around fourteen years old, and a bit on the shorter side for his age. His hair was the usual copper red of the Chang clan, kept short, so he was either unimportant in the clan or simply didn’t look good with longer hair. He hoped for the first, so that he wouldn’t have to give too good, and thus tiring a service. The face was unremarkable, with a slender neck, but his skin was clear. Just like expected of some rich family’s kid.

  In that short second, he had judged him as low-priority.

  The old man finished rising, and he could see why it took him so long. Opposite to the other, he was far too tall, even his head shape seemed to want to go higher, and his skin was, well, old and rough, hairless, pale, but covered in black and brown dots. The eyes of the kid were still getting over the panic, but those of the man… the sunken eyes looked cold, almost empty, surrounded by nearly black skin.

  He was probably the reason why the couple spent the night in the infirmary, as tournament fighters were protected by the City Lord from major harm. And if he was important enough to have the best doctor in the Colosseo accept to work for him, even just one night, he must have been a bigshot. Whelp, I’ll have to suck up to a dusty old man. Never a nice-looking woman. So lucky…

  He held back a sigh, and opened his usual introductory speech about the hidden part of the Colosseo, at times embellishing it, especially whenever he had a chance to make himself sound more important than he actually was. If, by chance, he was going to be offered a new job by one of them, he wanted it to be a good offer. More money was never something to complain about.

  The old man just kept staring at him, and he could feel the pressure growing. He was being judged. Evaluated. In the middle of the speech, when he made a rhetorical question, the man put one of his huge hands on the kid's back and pushed him closer.

  “Heng, you answer”, he said, and received a simple “Old Man Ling, the question was rhetorical, it doesn’t need an answer.” What did I just see? He thought as the man, Chang Ling apparently, nodded. He continued the speech to his companion, trying to remember the names.

  When he was finally done, he guided them to the dining room, where a rich breakfast waited for them, warning them not to eat until the City Lord came. The fatso would like to have it all instead of you, he did not say out loud.

  This man was not spiteful toward the rich and powerful. Not at all.