Chapter 1839: Li Hang

"Taichu, in your view, what flaws are there in the regulations Chancellor Li has submitted, and what else needs to be added?" In the Hall of Exalted Virtue of the Eastern Palace, Crown Prince Liu Yang finished flipping through the initial draft of the new tax code spearheaded by Li Fang, pondered for a long while, then raised his head to ask Li Hang, the Secretariat Drafter waiting below the dais.

Although Emperor Liu had told Liu Yang not to get involved in this matter,

"I am a failure, and I barely pay attention to whether the sunshine is brilliant or not, because I have no time.

"My parents couldn't provide me with support, and my education wasn't high either. I was alone in the city searching for a future.

"I looked for many jobs, but none of them hired me. Perhaps no one likes a person who isn't good at speaking, doesn't enjoy communicating, and hasn't shown enough ability.

"I went a full three days eating only two loaves of bread. Hunger kept me from sleeping at night. Fortunately, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could keep living in that dark basement without having to go outside and endure the abnormally cold winter wind.

"Finally, I found a job — keeping watch at a hospital at night, keeping watch at the morgue.

"The hospital at night was even colder than I had imagined. The wall lamps in the corridor weren't lit, and everywhere was dim. I could only rely on the faint light seeping out from the rooms to help me see where I was stepping.

"The smell there was awful. From time to time, the dead were brought in stuffed inside body bags, and we worked together to help carry them into the morgue.

"It wasn't a very good job, but at least it let me afford bread, and the free time at night could be used for studying. After all, not many people were willing to come to the morgue unless there was a corpse to deliver or take away for cremation. Of course, I still didn't have enough money to buy books, and for now I couldn't see any hope of saving up.

"I had to thank my predecessor. If he hadn't suddenly quit, I might not have been able to get even a job like this.

"I dreamed of being able to rotate onto the day shift. Right now I always sleep when the sun comes out and get up after night falls, which has made my body a bit weak, and my head occasionally throbs with pain.

"One day, the porters delivered a new corpse.

"From what others said, this was my predecessor who had suddenly quit.

"I was a bit curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the drawer, quietly opened the body bag.

"He was an old man, his face blue and pale, covered in wrinkles, looking quite frightening under the very dim light.

"He didn't have much hair, and most of it was white. All his clothes had been removed — not even a single scrap of cloth was left on him.

"I saw a strange mark on his chest, bluish-black. I couldn't describe exactly what it looked like — the lighting at the time was really too dim.

"I reached out and touched that mark. Nothing special.

"Looking at this predecessor of mine, I thought to myself, if I keep on like this, when I grow old, will I end up like him...

"I told him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium and personally bring his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so that the people in charge of these things wouldn't find it troublesome and just toss him into some river or abandoned wasteland.

"This would cost me a morning of sleep, but it was fine — Sunday was coming up soon, and I could make it up.

"After saying that, I fixed up the body bag and stuffed it back into the drawer.

"The light in the room seemed even dimmer...

"After that day, every time I slept, I would always dream of a thick fog.

"I had a premonition that something was going to happen soon, a premonition that sooner or later something that I didn't know whether it could be called human would come looking for me. But no one was willing to believe me. They thought that in that kind of environment, in that kind of job, my mind had gone a bit abnormal and I needed to see a doctor..."

A male customer sitting at the bar looked at the storyteller who had suddenly stopped:

"And then?"

This male customer was in his mid-thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and light yellow trousers, his hair pressed flat, with a shabby dark round bowler hat at his side.

He looked completely ordinary, like most people in the tavern — black hair, light blue eyes, neither handsome nor ugly, lacking any distinctive features.

The storyteller in his eyes was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, with a straight, tall figure and long, slender limbs. He also had short black hair and light blue eyes, but his features were deeply defined, striking enough to catch anyone's eye.

The young man looked at the empty wine glass before him, sighed, and said:

"And then?

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"And then I quit my job and returned to the countryside, and came here to shoot the breeze with you."

As he spoke, a smile spread across his face — a smile with a hint of mischief.

That male customer was taken aback for a moment:

"Everything you just said was made up?"

"Haha." A burst of laughter erupted around the bar.

As the laughter subsided slightly, a thin middle-aged man looked at the somewhat embarrassed customer and said:

"Outsider, you actually believed Lumian's stories. He tells something different every day. Yesterday he was an unlucky fellow whose fiancée broke off the engagement because he was poor, and today he's a corpse keeper!"

"Right, talking about thirty years on the east side of the Serenzo River, thirty years on the right side of the Serenzo River — just spouting nonsense!" Another regular at the tavern chimed in.

They were all farmers of Cordu, a large village, wearing short jackets in black, gray, or brown.

The black-haired young man called Lumian propped his hands on the bar, slowly stood up, and said with a grin:

"You all know, this isn't a story I made up. It was written by my sister. She loves writing stories the most — she's even a columnist for some *Fiction Weekly*."

After saying this, he turned sideways, spread his hands toward the outsider guest, and said with a brilliant smile:

"Looks like she really writes well.

"Sorry to have misled you."

The man in the brown tweed jacket with the ordinary appearance wasn't angry. He stood up as well and replied with a smile:

"An interesting story.

"What should I call you?"

"Isn't it common sense to introduce yourself before asking someone else's name?" Lumian laughed.

The guest from out of town nodded:

"My name is Ryankos.

"These two are my companions, Valentine and Lia."

The latter sentence referred to a man and a woman sitting right beside him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with yellow hair dusted with a bit of powder. His not-very-large eyes were a shade deeper than lake blue. He wore a white vest, a blue fine-woven jacket, and black trousers — clearly he had dressed up carefully before leaving the house.

His expression was rather aloof, and he didn't bother much with looking at the surrounding farmers and herdsmen.

The woman appeared younger than the two men. Her light gray hair was tied into an elaborate bun, wrapped with a white veil serving as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and the gaze she turned toward Lumian carried unconcealed amusement, as if she found everything that had just happened merely entertaining.

Under the gaslight of the tavern, this woman named Lya revealed a pert nose and gracefully curved lips—by the standards of a countryside place like Kord Village, she was definitely a beauty.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere fitted dress, paired with an off-white short jacket and a pair of Marshal boots. Small silver bells were tied to both her veil and her boots, and when she had walked into the tavern just now, they had jingled all the way, drawing plenty of attention and making quite a few men stare openly.

In their eyes, this was the kind of fashionable attire you'd only see in big cities like the provincial capital Bigor or the capital Trier.

Lumian nodded to the three outsiders:

"My name is Lumian Lee. You can just call me Lumian."

"Lee?" Lya blurted out.

"What's wrong? Is there a problem with my surname?" Lumian asked curiously.

Ryankos helped explain for Lya:

"That surname of yours is frightening. I almost couldn't control my own voice just now."

Seeing the farmers and herdsmen around them looking bewildered, he further explained:

"Anyone who's had contact with sailors or sea merchants knows that a saying circulates across the Five Seas:

"'Better to run into those pirate generals or even kings than to encounter a man named Frank Lee.

"That man's surname is also Lee."

"Is he very terrifying?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I'm not sure, but since such a legend exists, he can't be anything less than formidable."

He dropped the topic and said to Lumian:

"Thank you for your story—it's worth a drink. What would you like?"

"A glass of 'Green Fairy.'" Lumian wasn't the least bit polite as he sat back down.

Ryankos frowned slightly and said:

"'Green Fairy'... absinthe?

"I think I need to warn you—absinthe is harmful to the human body. This kind of liquor can cause mental derangement and give you hallucinations."

"I didn't expect Trier's fashion trends to have spread all the way here." Lya added with a smile from the side.

Lumian let out an "Oh":

"So people in Trier like drinking 'Green Fairy' too...

"For us, life is already hard enough—no need to fuss over a little extra harm. This liquor lets our minds relax even more."

"Alright." Ryan sat back in his seat and looked at the bartender. "One 'Green Fairy,' and give me a 'Burning Heart' as well."

"Burning Heart" was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not get me a 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who told you the truth just now, and I can also tell you everything about this kid from start to finish!" The thin, middle-aged man who had first exposed that Lumian told stories every day shouted discontentedly. "Outsiders, I can tell you still have doubts about whether that story is true or not!"

"Pierre, you'd do anything for a free drink!" Lumian called back loudly.

Before Ryan could make a decision, Lumian added:

"Why can't I tell it myself? That way I can drink another 'Green Fairy.'"

"Because they wouldn't know whether to believe what you say." The middle-aged man named Pierre grinned smugly. "The story your sister loves most to tell the children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'—someone who always lies is bound to lose all credibility."

"Fine." Lumian shrugged his shoulders and watched the bartender push a glass of pale green liquor in front of him.

Ryan looked at him and asked consultatively:

"Is that alright?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of these drinks." Lumian was completely unconcerned.

"Then one more 'Green Fairy.'" Ryan nodded.

Pierre's face immediately broke into a wide smile:

"Generous outsiders, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village—you should definitely stay far away from him.

"Five years ago, he was brought back to the village by his sister Aurore and has never left since. Think about it—before that, he was only thirteen. How could he have gone to a hospital to work as a corpse watcher? Mm, the nearest hospital to us is in Dallez at the foot of the mountain, a full afternoon's walk away."

"Brought back to the village?" Lya asked sharply.

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingling sound.

Pierre nodded:

"Then he took Aurore's surname 'Lee,' and even the name 'Lumian' was chosen by Aurore."

"I've forgotten what I was originally called." Lumian took a sip of absinthe and said with a grin.

Judging by appearances, he felt not the slightest bit of inferiority or shame about his past being exposed like this.