"What are you thinking about?"
The two servant girls were serving the dishes. The little girl, who sat to Fan Xian's right, pouted. The little girl's skin was a little dark, and she was a little thin. Sitting next to Fan Xian, who was as pretty as a girl, she looked particularly pitiful.
Fan Xian reached out and ruffled the little girl's yellow hair. "I was thinking about what you usually eat in the capital."
This little girl, who was even younger than Fan Xian, was Count Sinan's daughter. She was his half-sister, and her name was Ruoruo.
Because she had been sickly since childhood, and the Countess loved her dearly, she had been brought to Danzhou a year ago to recuperate. But after nearly a year, there had been no improvement. Her hair was still rather sparse. Naturally, the family of an official would not lack food and clothing, so she could not be malnourished. She was probably born with a weak constitution.
Fan Xian and the little girl hit it off very well. Although he dealt with the little girl with the mentality of an uncle, it was only because he felt sorry for her that he often took her out to play and told her stories. In the eyes of others, however, it became evidence of their deep sibling love.
Fan Xian's identity was a little awkward. After all, an illegitimate child could not be compared to a legitimate daughter, so the servant girls deliberately avoided mentioning the Count's estate in the capital.
Hearing her brother's question, the little girl very seriously began to count with her fingers what she usually ate in the capital. But no matter how she counted, the three-year-old girl could not remember anything. She could only repeatedly say tanghulu and dough figurines.
By the time they finished eating, it was already late. The sun was halfway down the other side of the land, and a thick twilight enveloped the entire courtyard.
"Ruoruo, you really are weak."
"Big brother bullies me."
"Well, what do you want to hear today?"
"Snow White."
Fan Xian suddenly laughed. Fortunately, there was no one else around, or they would have been shocked to see the strange smile on the face of a four-year-old boy.
"Big brother will tell you a ghost story, okay?"
"No!" Fan Ruoruo was startled. She shook her head vigorously, and two clear streams of tears rolled down her tanned cheeks. It was clear that she had been tormented by many ghost stories in the past year.
...
…
Bullying little girls was just one of Fan Xian's vices. He was best at bullying servant girls. He often told them ghost stories, which would scare the youthful girls into screaming non-stop. They would all huddle together on the bed, shivering.
Although it was impossible for Fan Xian to tease them verbally in order to hide himself, he could still enjoy a fragrant embrace at this time.
He comforted himself that he was still a child and was still in the stage where he needed to be touched. This was not considered shameless, but a very normal need.
Every time the maids were curious about how a young man like him could know so many terrible stories, Fan Xian would blame it on the teacher.
Therefore, the maids were now looking at the teacher with a somewhat unfriendly gaze. They thought to themselves, "Lord Count spent a lot of money to hire you to teach the young master, but you actually told him a ghost story. Not only did you scare the child, but you also scared us flowers. You've committed a great sin!"
As usual, after the ghost story was over, the two maids looked shocked but still satisfied. They helped the little fellow wash up and then closed the door to let him sleep.
It seemed to be another ordinary night.
Fan Xian put the hard porcelain pillow under his head to one side, and went to the wardrobe to take out a winter robe. He tidied it into a square, and it became a pillow.
He leaned against the pillow, but his eyes were open, shining in the dark. He did not fall asleep for a long time.
Although he had accepted the fact that he had been reincarnated into this world, he could not necessarily get used to it. It was probably around nine o 'clock at night, and it was very uncomfortable to have to sleep.
Moreover, he had slept in bed for a long time in his previous life.
He touched the surface of the bed and found that the secret compartment he had made could not be seen by others. He relaxed a little, and very naturally, the zhenqi in his body began to flow slowly, and he could enter the state of meditation at any time.
The moment before he entered the state of emptiness, Fan Xian thought about how he should live in this world. How should he live for the next few decades?
Before he had time to enter the vegetative state and fantasize about his future wives and concubines, he was awakened by an uninvited guest.
…
…
"Are you Fan Xian?"
A person suddenly appeared in front of his bed. The person's eyes were a cold color, and there was an unusual brown in his pupils. It was obvious at a glance that this person did not love life very much.
It was a very polite question, but if it came from the mouth of someone who sneaked into your bedroom in the middle of the night, covered his face, holding a knife in his hand, and carrying a few small bags on his waist, it would undoubtedly be very frightening.
Fortunately, Fan Xian was not a real four-year-old boy. Otherwise, when he saw this strange uncle, he would certainly have cried out at the first moment.
Even if he thought about it with his toes, he could tell that a person who could quietly enter the Count's manor at night was certainly a powerful and ruthless fellow. If he cried out, he would certainly be killed.
Thinking of this, Fan Xian could not help but feel proud of his ability to remain calm in the face of danger. He coughed twice and suppressed the incomparable nervousness in his heart. Pretending to be the most adorable child, he threw himself forward!
…
…
"Dad, you're finally back!"
A four-year-old boy threw himself into the arms of an assassin, his eyes brimming with tears. His hands were tightly wrapped around the assassin's waist, but the child's hands were too short to wrap around the assassin's waist. All he could do was grab at the assassin's clothes, as if afraid that the assassin would run away.
Perhaps because he grabbed too hard, the boy tore a piece of the assassin's clothes with a tearing sound.
The nightwalker frowned. He didn't seem to move, but he pulled himself out of Fan Xian's embrace. He stood there in a daze, as if wondering why the illegitimate son of Count Sinan would call him "father".
At the same time, he was puzzled. His clothes were of the finest quality, and even a knife would not be able to easily cut them. How could this child tear them with his bare hands?
He was puzzled, and Fan Xian was even more puzzled. When there was no one around, Fan Xian would often use rocks from the rockery to test the power of his nameless zhenqi. When he discovered that his slender little fingers could, with some difficulty, crush the soft stones, he had a certain degree of confidence in his ability to defend himself.
With great difficulty, Fan Xian had used the four-year-old boy's crying trick to make the assassin lower his guard. Then he had gathered all his zhenqi into his fingers, thinking that he would be able to subdue the assassin. Who knew that he would only be able to tear off a few pieces of cloth?
It seemed that something was about to happen.
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