Chapter 15: Ruthless

Yanfan crouched beside the woodpile, splitting logs. Each crack sounded unusually clear in the evening courtyard. Repetitive physical work helped suppress the thoughts turning over in his head.

Sun Da had been wandering the estate for four days. Yanfan had watched him at least twenty times. His steps were too light for a man who carried heavy loads; an ordinary laborer’s feet would not land that way. Whenever he spoke to someone, he avoided looking them in the eye, watching the surroundings from the corners of his own instead.

The day before yesterday, Song had sent him to move spiritual materials in the storeroom. Yanfan had deliberately passed by to watch. Sun Da bent naturally enough to lift a load, but the way his knees and core worked as he rose was wrong. A laborer relied on his back to bear the weight; Sun Da sank his breath to his lower abdomen. Only a trained man did that.

A fighter who had infiltrated the Yu Estate as a servant could mean one of two things: a thief after the family’s business, or someone tracking Yanfan. Either way, he did not intend to let Sun Da stay.

His axe split the last log. He wiped his sweat and bent to gather the wood. Footsteps sounded behind him.

“Brother Chen, chopping wood?”

Sun Da stood there in his faded gray jacket, smiling warmly, an empty sack in his hand. He looked like a man taking a breather after work at the storeroom.

Yanfan answered without looking up and kept gathering wood.

“That’s hard work. How many baskets do you chop each day?” Sun Da leaned against the pile, undeterred. “I’ve seen you at it every day since I arrived. This household burns through wood fast.”

Yanfan stacked the last piece, straightened, and brushed shavings from his hands. His glance at Sun Da was as calm as any he gave another servant.

Inwardly, he was already planning his route that night. The way from the west courtyard to Sun Da’s room passed the kitchen’s back door. Two boning knives lay by the stove, sharpened and put in the same place by Old Zhang each evening.

A knife was risky, though. Blood would be hard to clean, and Song would notice in the morning. Better to break the man’s neck quietly and remove the body before dawn. Two streets east of the back gate was the moat; weighted with stones, the body might go undiscovered for three to five days.

If Sun Da was a thief, killing him would remove a danger to the family. If he was a tracker, there was even more reason to kill him. Yanfan would have to leave immediately afterward, and his peaceful life at the estate would be over.

The thought displeased him. He had spent two years here. It was a humiliating life in some ways, but food and lodging were provided, wages arrived on time, and for all Song’s scolding, he had never let Yanfan go hungry. There was the young miss, too. She had been unexpected, but not an unpleasant surprise.

Whatever Sun Da was, Yanfan would kill him tonight.

Sun Da didn’t seem bothered by the silence. His smile deepened. Folding the empty sack under his arm, he changed the subject casually. “Brother Chen, that young miss of yours…” He looked toward the main courtyard, eyes narrowing. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Such a slender waist, such a pretty face, and a voice soft as cotton. Wouldn’t you say?”

He smiled, showing teeth yellowed by cheap tobacco.

Yanfan said nothing. His hands hung at his sides; the axe rested against the woodpile less than a foot away. But the thought of killing Sun Da that night became a decision. And he changed his mind about the method. Breaking his neck would be too easy.

Unaware that he was already a dead man, Sun Da patted Yanfan’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it. Back to the storeroom for me.” He sauntered away toward the west courtyard.

Yanfan watched him disappear beyond the moon gate, then picked up the axe and finished the last basket of wood. He stacked the pieces more carefully than usual, aligning every one.