【凯源】Mountains and Rivers [GCA2019X]

第七章 // Chapter 7

From child to adult, Yuan has never been a lucky person.

He had realised he was unlucky from the moment he managed the trick of remembering. When he was young, when he was still in the process of learning those painful-until-about-to-die trades, he had watched children his age running across the street, one hand tucked in an adult’s hand, one hand holding a lollipop, and he himself was still worrying about if he would manage to hit the red circle on the stupid multi-coloured target board fifty times, and whether he would be able to get dinner if he did.

Well, if he really was honest, he had actually learned that piece of information by complete accident, when he was kneeling on the gold floor of the temple, being punished for a mistake he had made that cost something he didn't know. It was in the middle of winter, a heavy storm was going on outside, and no one had remembered to close the door when they left him there. The wind blew in through the door, inviting rain to enter as well, and he was wearing a thin white shirt with short black pants that were torn at the hem. All he had for protection from the rain was a single piece of newspaper that they had left for him in case of the rain, and even that had to be flat underneath him so the blood on his scraped knees wouldn't stain the gold floor.

He bore through the pain of his stinging knees and the the numbness of his back, which was bearing the brunt of the rain, and gazed at the golden chair where deities were meant to sit and pass wisdom to the monks.

He prayed, and wisdom was passed down to him.

He kneeled there for very long, praying for another piece of wisdom, an assurance that he would meet someone who would take his flyers and pat his head and say “good boy, Yuan, you did well today”, so long that when they came to call him to stand up, his legs had already lost feeling and thus he learned, while both legs were numb, how to reduce his bone.

When he was young, Yuan hated winter, because it was bitterly cold, and he never had enough clothes to keep warm, even though they told him “learning to reduce your bone is easier to do in winter”. When others laughed and played in the snow, admiring the heavy cold powdery substance, he stayed at the side, watching all of this impassively. He only wanted to know when this wretched snow would end and the sun would warm things again.

Even though all these things were in his distant childhood, his luck hadn't changed all these years.

He must have met his natural enemy, for the first time he met Junkai, was the first time he had ever been injured during a mission, and for a few seconds he was sure he would die in that sea of red and orange heat.

The second time, he was forced to wear that despicable gown and hair, and they seemed to have forgotten his size, because his whole body, especially his joints, were in pain from that tight dress for a full two days, and his feet were also pinched into a red, sore bruise that was still there… and the worst was that he was discovered by the even-more despicable Wang Junkai.

This was the third time, and he had to keep this position as the pampered son of Ma Shunyuan, all while barely-knowing who he was acting as, and again he is seen through by a contemptible Wang Junkai.

See, his unlucky star.

When Siyuan’s plane landed at Incheon International Airport, Yuan was mixed into the crowd there, being pushed along by the waves of people, a cap firmly on his head, shadowing his face. The person he was supposed to assassinate today was a high-up official from Japan -- Sato something-and-other.

The explosion didn't disappear as fast as it had happened. Yuan depended on his slim figure and quick, nimble limbs to escape to a hiding spot and remain there until the detonation was over, successfully avoiding any major injuries. Some people weren't as lucky as him, giving up their lives as soon as the bomb exploded.

When the explosion had finished and the fire had somehow ebbed away, he dug through the charred remains of the dead, along with many families crying and screaming out loved ones names. The bomb had ruined his concentration on the target, and he had no idea where he was, let alone whether he was alive or dead.

Right when he was fully focused on finding the Japanese official, his concentration was broken again.

By someone's face.

At that moment, he felt that the world had never been more fake, never been more unreal to him. Cold sweat dripped down his neck, down his whole body, soaking his clothes in a moment.

— That was his own face.

At that moment, he began to doubt his existence. Perhaps he was a spirit, having died sometime during his cruel-but-necessary training. His hand found his ribcage, then a faint beating in the left part of his chest. Not a spirit then.

But he calmed down very fast, using only a few seconds to recuperate before crouching down and examining the person’s body, feeling for any item he might have that would confirm his identity, all thoughts of his Japanese official dropped at that point.

He found a wallet, deep in the inner pocket of his coat, and a ID card.

The deceased's name was Ma Siyuan.

His younger brother.

He stood there blankly. Suddenly, he felt that the world was a just a section of black and white, every single thing that could distract him in his surroundings had disappeared, and even the nose-irritating smell of gunpowder the explosion caused was gone.

This blank feeling lasted until he heard someone call him.

No, wait, that person wasn't calling for him. He was calling for Ma Siyuan, but the voice was definitely meant for him.

The Ma’s chauffeur stood outside the yellow-and-black striped line, waving frantically at him, obviously gesturing at him to go back to the mansion with him.

When he had sorted out the meaning of the scene in front of him, Kwanghee had originally planned to turn around and leave without a sound, but as he turned he suddenly struck on something: Ma Shunyuan was an under-table dealer in arms and ammunition, with thousands of connections to the Japanese, if… if he managed to enter the Ma family...

When he raised his head, he had already prepared an expression of excessive shock, the type where tears were shining at the corners of his eyes. He stumbled out, looking around his surroundings, panic-stricken. When he caught sight of the chauffeur, his eyes lit up and his expression was one of enormous relief.

The chauffeur guided him through the human traffic to the car: “Young Master, are you alright?”

Yuan just nodded once, a slight tilt of the head, his tears dropping, as if a great grievance had been burdened on him.

“So it was like this…”

“Everything was going smoothly, until you appeared.”

Yuan raised his head to look Junkai in the eye. His eyes reflected the green and blue hues, so it looked like he had the sea in his eyes, foam thin and slight on the tip of enormous waves, his nose sharp, not different that that of a steep, treacherous cliff, and his lips thin like a blade, the sharp cutting edge. It really is a face that would allow normal people to take one look at and faint away.

This person really is unexpected trouble.

When Junkai noticed Yuan's gaze lingering on his face for longer than usual, he couldn't resist asking, “You wouldn't want to kill me, would you?”

“Maybe I would.”

Junkai immediately raised a hand up, exhibiting a perfect image of someone in court swearing that he was speaking the truth. “Don't don't don't, I promise I won't say anything about you, who knows, I might even be of help to you.”

As Yuan was looking at him, a smile suddenly appeared on his face.

“Why are you smiling?”

Yuan used his index finger to point at his palm. “You look like a lucky cat.”