"Eh? It's not time yet? But I want to know now!" Jing Lei protested, looking up at his mother.
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you now. Now, go and return the rabbit to the place where you found it," the woman said.
"Han Yu… please accompany Jing Lei."
She turned toward the teenage attendant who was always by Jing Lei's side.
"Yes, Madam."
Han Yu bowed slightly before taking Jing Lei's hand and leading him away.
One hand held Han Yu's, while the other held the rabbit. Since he could only use one hand to carry it, Jing Lei couldn't hold the little creature properly. Its feet almost brushed against the floor, as Jing Lei was still too small to carry it comfortably.
After walking through the entire Jing residence, Jing Lei finally released the rabbit outside the residence gates.
"Bye-bye, Snowie," he said, his lips forming a small pout. the rabbit hopping fast as if run away from Jing Lei.
"Snowie? Is that what you've named the rabbit?" Han Yu asked.
"Mm-hmm… That way, the rabbit will remember me, the person who gave it a name."
"That's a lovely name. Snowie has probably returned home to its family by now," Han Yu said, trying to cheer him up.
Just then, a crowd of people hurried past the Jing residence.
"Hey, hey! That fighter has already reached thirty consecutive victories! If we hurry, we can catch his thirty-first match. Come on!" a young man exclaimed to the youth beside him before rushing down the long alley.
He wasn't the only one. Several other people were talking excitedly about the same fight, all heading toward the same destination.
"Han Yu, Han Yu! What fight are they talking about?" Jing Lei asked curiously, tugging at his attendant's sleeve.
"Ah, it's a tournament. Well, not exactly a small one. It's a place where people can challenge one another to fights. Apparently, someone has managed to achieve thirty consecutive victories this time," Han Yu explained.
"Han Yu! Han Yu! Let's go see! I want to see!"
Jing Lei tugged at his sleeve even harder.
"It's dangerous, Young Master. It's not a playground, and it's certainly not somewhere a child should be watching fights."
But Jing Lei's pout only grew more pronounced.
"Take me there! Take me there!"
He had begun making a scene, leaving Han Yu at a loss for what to do. After attracting quite a bit of attention from the passersby, Han Yu finally gave in. He picked Jing Lei up and carried him toward the arena.
After walking for a while, they finally arrived at Red Lotus Hall.
It was a spacious building normally used for various occasions. Today, however, the entire hall had been transformed into a fighting arena. A massive crowd surrounded the central platform, their cheers and shouts filling the air. The second floor was just as crowded as the first, with people leaning over the railings to catch a glimpse of the match.
Jing Lei was too small to see anything from where he stood. He pouted in disappointment, unable to see past the crowd.
Noticing this, Han Yu lifted him onto his shoulders.
At last, Jing Lei could see the arena. His eyes immediately lit up.
Standing at its center was a man who appeared to be in his thirties. His muscles and veins were clearly defined, and he was bare-chested. A thin beard framed his face, while his wavy hair fell loosely around his shoulders. Sweat covered his body, evidence of the countless battles he had endured.
This was undoubtedly the fighter everyone had been talking about.
The man was breathing heavily, looking as though he had already pushed himself to his absolute limit.
Suddenly, another burly man stepped into the arena. He had a similar build to the first fighter, but unlike the man with wavy hair, he showed no signs of exhaustion. That was hardly surprising, considering he hadn't been forced to fight one opponent after another without rest.
"Han Yu… isn't that unfair? The man with wavy hair has to keep fighting without any rest, while his opponents keep changing," Jing Lei asked innocently.
"Young Master… the adult world is complicated." Han Yu's expression turned somewhat solemn as he explained. "Red Lotus Gambling House has a reward system. If one of their fighters manages to achieve a hundred consecutive victories, they're promised an enormous sum of money. Perhaps that man desperately needs the money, so he's willing to keep fighting even beyond his limits."
"...Can he win? He's already exhausted," Jing Lei asked, his eyes fixed on the fighter.
Han Yu looked toward the arena before answering.
"Young Master, as long as a person has something they wish to reach, or someone they wish to return to, even the most impossible journey is worth taking."
Just as Han Yu finished speaking, the match began.
The two men exchanged blows in the center of the arena. Despite his exhaustion, the fighter with wavy hair refused to give in. His legs trembled beneath him, yet he continued to raise his fists. His vision had grown hazy, but his focus never wavered.
Several times, he was knocked down onto the arena floor. Yet each time, he struggled back to his feet.
At that moment, Jing Lei's eyes began to sparkle.
It was as though an entirely new world had opened before him.
As the only son of a wealthy merchant, Jing Lei had never witnessed such a struggle in his life. He had grown up surrounded by comfort, rarely having to worry about anything. But what he was witnessing now revealed an entirely different side of human nature—one that could endure hardship, push beyond its limits, and refuse to surrender even when victory seemed impossible.
His eyes never left the arena. A smile of pure admiration slowly formed on his face.
"Han Yu… I want to become as strong as him."
His voice was filled with excitement, his sparkling eyes still fixed on the fighter below.
Han Yu glanced at the little boy sitting on his shoulders, momentarily lost in thought.
After what felt like an eternity, the fight finally came to an end.
The man with wavy hair remained standing. His breathing was heavy, and his body was clearly exhausted, yet he stood tall without showing the slightest hint of surrender.
"...I want to become unbeatable, just like him," Jing Lei suddenly declared.
After his thirty-first victory, the matches were suspended for the day. The next round of consecutive fights would likely take place tomorrow or the day after, depending on the Red Lotus Gambling House's decision.
As Jing Lei and Han Yu walked home hand in hand, the smile never left the little boy's face. He even began humming a tune as they made their way through the streets.
"Is the Young Master happy?" Han Yu asked.
"Mm! I have someone new to look up to now!" Jing Lei answered with a bright smile.
It seemed that the fight had left a deep impression on him.
As they approached the Jing residence, they noticed several caravans parked outside the gates. Jing Lei's expression immediately brightened. He released Han Yu's hand and ran toward the man standing near the entrance.
"Dad!"
The man turned toward the familiar voice. His gentle eyes softened, and a bright smile spread across his face.
"Lei'er."
He bent down and picked up his son.
"Dad! I saw something amazing today!"
Jing Lei immediately began telling him about the fight at Red Lotus Hall. Seeing how happy his son was, the man didn't interrupt him even once. He simply smiled and listened to every word.
Carrying Jing Lei in his arms, he made his way inside the residence while his son excitedly continued recounting the events of the day.
Elsewhere...
Inside a small brick house stood a single window. Its wooden door was old and worn, creaking whenever someone opened it.
A child lay motionless on a shabby bed. He looked no older than nine. His black hair spread across the hard pillow like an ink spill. He couldn't move his body, nor could he leave the room. To him, those four walls were practically his entire world.
His face was flushed, burning with an unbearable heat that seemed to come from within. Even when he managed to open his eyes, his vision remained hazy and unfocused.
A woman sat beside his bed.
Her expression was filled with worry. She wanted to cry, but it seemed she had already shed all the tears she had. Only the pain and anxiety remained, never once leaving her face.
"Mom…"
The boy called out to her. His voice was so weak that it was barely audible.
"I'm here, my child. Do you need something?" the woman replied, doing her best to keep her voice steady.
"It's hot… It hurts…"
"I'll fetch some fresh cold water for you."
The woman stood up, intending to draw another basin of water from the well.
Just then, the door creaked open.
A man entered, breathing heavily. His body was covered in wounds, and his wavy hair was disheveled. He looked utterly exhausted.
It was the same man who had been fighting in the arena earlier.
"Dear… this is the money I earned today."
He handed the woman a small pouch. It was disappointingly light.
"Dear… you're hurt." Her voice trembled slightly. "Can't you just stop fighting? I don't want to see you get hurt anymore."
"...I can't stop. Our child is suffering." The man spoke with a pained expression. "The gambling house promised me an enormous reward if I achieved a hundred consecutive victories. That money would be enough to keep our little one healthy for several years."
"...Get some rest. I'll prepare something for you to eat."
The woman spoke weakly.
The man turned to leave the room, but not before casting one last glance at his son, who lay helplessly on the bed. Then, he quietly stepped outside.
The woman clutched the little pouch tightly, as though it were the last thread of hope keeping their family together. She then went to fetch water from the well.
After a while, she returned and placed the basin beside the bed. She soaked a cloth in the cold water before gently laying it across her son's forehead.
The little boy was suffering from a strange illness—a seemingly endless fever that made his body burn from within. Even the simplest movement, such as standing up, was enough to cause him immense discomfort.
The boy slowly opened his eyes again, looking at his mother's worried expression.
He cursed himself silently, but no sound escaped his lips. His body was simply too weak.
I hate myself.
He hated being so helpless in front of his family. This strange illness felt like a curse hanging over his existence. No physician had been able to cure him, nor could anyone identify what kind of illness it was. It was almost as though he had been born with it.
Eventually, the boy closed his eyes again.
The woman gently stroked his hair. A tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, almost like a prayer.
"...Zhen."