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Fate's Attendant 1.25
🕑 Added 2025-09-10 19:41:42 +0000 UTCIf gray numbers required the removal of nodes from the web, then might yellow be the color of adding them? Hong Fei considered the idea that it involved matching people to a thing they were meant to do or a person they were meant to meet.
After escorting Lin Yan back to her shop with Little River Stick in tow—Hong Fei learned the place was called Local Bounty of Treasure Carvings—he was tempted to head straight to his courtyard to ask Auntie Ling. What he did instead was search through the city for more numbers. He was, after all, only a 1 away from obtaining the new card. With it in hand, he would hopefully get a more comprehensive answer.
Complete coverage of the city was impossible, so he focused on the areas where people gathered in large crowds. Ironically, he followed a route similar to the one he’d used to escort Auntie Ling to the Yu estate. He hadn’t seen a number then—not counting the one above Little Ruyun—and he didn’t find one now.
What he ought to do, he thought, was to return during the night market hours. The whole of Ruby Swift City supposedly came out for it. He would do that, he decided, and then continued searching. Hong Fei refused give up on the chance he might stumble across a number 1 in his wandering.
By the fourth bell, he’d worn himself out and chided himself for doing so. He had a busy evening ahead of him, including an operation to continue investigating Ma Mo. He would’ve been better served by using the time to rest.
He stopped at the mid-city side of the Wing Span bridge to buy a bowl of porridge and stewed pork with bamboo shoots. The seats at the food stall were all occupied, so he leaned against the bridge’s abutment while he ate. His eyes roved across the crowds looking for numbers; he couldn’t seem to help it.
Disgusted with himself, Hong Fei turned his back on the crowds to gaze down into the gorge. Rope bridges crossed between the two sides. They shook and wavered as people crossed over them. He looked for numbers, then forced himself to look past the ropeways.
Farther down, the low city bunched around the Tistkil River. There were residences and shops that opened directly onto the water, as did some of the streets and alleys. A city injunction outlawed the disposal of garbage into the river, so people fished or drew water from those places.
A flicker of red caught Hong Fei’s eyes. A figure had stepped from a thin gap between buildings. They came right to the water’s edge and stood there. Who they were and what they were doing was impossible to make out, but somehow the red number 3 above their head was clear.
Hong Fei set down the bowl with a clatter and headed for the low city.
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The shops and residences at the water’s edge piled up one on top of the other. Unless there was a street with dedicated access to the river, the gaps between them were either nonexistent or incredibly narrow. Those gaps were, however, wide enough to cause the wind to howl. The sound rose and fell like it came from a living beast.
Hong Fei breathed heavily as he examined the buildings. He compared them to what he’d seen from above until he came to a gap that he recognized. It wasn’t even three chi across and required him to go in sideways to shuffle through it.
The wind blew strongly, ruffling his hair and clothes. It also brought the scent of someone grilling fish.
Ahead was a small landing overlooking the water. The space was only wide enough for a single person to stand, and it was currently empty. Hong Fei had taken too long to run down to the low city; the target of his interest had already gone.
Sighing, he stood on the landing and looked at the nearby buildings situated on the river’s bank. Many had balconies, some occupied, but none with a number 3. There also didn’t seem to be a fuss downstream, so it was unlikely his quarry had fallen into the water.
Smoke blew down from a balcony two floors above him.
“Ho there!” Hong Fei yelled out. “The one at the grill!”
A man looked over the side. His hair was nearly all gone except for a ragged half-circle at the back. A gray towel hung around his neck, which he used to wipe his face. “The fish isn’t for sale,” the man yelled down. “That’s my lunch.”
“Too bad, too bad,” Hong Fei yelled. “The smell is great.”
The man laughed and said, “You have a good nose.” Then he disappeared from view, only to reappear a breath later with a basket.
“What’s this?” Hong Fei asked.
“Hold on, hold on,” the man replied, lowering the basket with a rope. Inside was a small wooden plate with a portion of grilled fish. “Go ahead. I was lucky this morning, and good fortune deserves to be shared.”
Hong Fei looked up at the man, puzzled. “I thought you said it wasn’t for sale?”
“What can’t be sold can still be given away!” the man replied, laughing.
“Then don’t mind me for being impolite,” Hong Fei said, taking the plate from the basket. Steam still rose from the fish, so he needed to wait to taste it. “I wonder if I can ask a question.”
The man tied the rope so that the basket stayed in place, then put his arms on the balcony railing, as if getting ready to chat with a neighbor for a while. “Wondering’s free,” he replied.
“I was across the way earlier and thought I saw an old customer of mine standing right here. The thing is, my memory isn’t the same as it was and I don’t remember their name!”
The man took a closer look at Hong Fei. “You’re too young to be forgetting things and need to eat more fish. Look at me, I’m fifty-six this year, and my memory is as good as ever.”
“That’s great,” Hong Fei said, nodding. “Then you’d remember the person who was standing here.”
“Of course,” the man replied. “Though I can’t imagine that boy buying anything. What kind of goods you sell?”
“I work at shop for wood statues and figurines,” Hong Fei answered. “Maybe I have the wrong person. Who is this boy and why do you think he’s not my customer?”
“He goes by Rock Head, which should tell you something about his smarts.” He left the railing briefly, then returned with a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. His mouth was full of rice and fish as he continued: “He’s one of the shiftless ones—working at the quarry when he can, living here and there. There’s supposedly a sick father, too, but no one’s seen the man. My thinking is that the boy tells the story to wring pity from people listening.”
Hong Fei picked up the still-hot fish with his fingers and blew on it. The taste was oily, salty, and with just the right amount of char. “This is good,” he yelled, mouth full.
“I know!” the man answered cheerfully.
“So you don’t know where this Rock Head lives?” Hong Fei asked. “I’m just curious; it seems like a tough life.”
The man shrugged. “Every life is tough; it’s what you fish out of it that matters.” He paused to think, then shook his head. “No, the only time I see him is when he comes here to fish. He’s seen me eating and scrounged up a hook and line that he drops in the water. Not that he has any luck.”
There was no path down to the water. Hong Fei would have to wait until later to wash his hands. Seeing him finished, the man untied the rope and reeled the basket back up to the balcony.
He gave Hong Fei a considering look before saying, “The boy’s not in any trouble, is he?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Hong Fei replied.
“That’s good, then,” the man said.
“You give him some of your fish, don’t you?” Hong Fei asked.
The man looked away, and his voice turned meek. “Whether there’s a sick father or not, it doesn’t mean nothing to me. I just do what I want, is all.”
Hong Fei did his best not to smile at the man’s embarrassment. “What’s your name, friend?”
The man chuckled. “They call me Uncle Fish Head.”
“So the one head is taking care of the other?” Hong Fei asked, laughing.
Uncle Fish Head laughed in return. “I suppose so!” Then he turned serious and said, “But only sometimes. Folk need to learn how to catch their own fish.”
“Maybe I can help with that. If you see young Rock Head again, tell him to go to a shop called Local Bounty of Treasure Carvings.”
“For a job?” Uncle Fish Head asked.
“Maybe,” Hong Fei replied. “I won’t know until I meet him.”
The man nodded. “Sometimes that’s all you get, a chance at a bite. I hope he makes the best of it.”
###
Hong Fei stopped by Local Bounty of Treasure Carvings on the way back to the Yu estate. Lin Yan wasn’t there, but he left a message for her requesting a favor. Then he trudged the rest of the way home, almost as tired as the days from before he’d been healed.
Approaching the Yu’s family gate, Hong Fei straightened his back and strode forward as if his energy were inexhaustible. He maintained his posture through public spaces, the connecting corridors, and the private gardens until he passed through the doors to his own courtyard, whereupon he sighed in relief and walked directly to the most comfortable chair in the salon to fall into it.
Little Ruyun peeked her head out from the kitchen. “Would you like tea?”
Hong Fei nodded tiredly.
A short while later, the young girl placed the tray on the table beside his chair. He’d dozed off.
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Characters Mentioned in this Chapter:
Auntie Ling, a summons
Lin Yan, a shopkeeper specializing in wooden statuary and figurines
Little River Stick, a poor wood carver
Kang Ruyun, daughter to Kang Lian, servant to Hong Fei
Ma Mo, a Yu soldier, Ma Zhi’s cousin
