The implications of my contract with a Fatui Harbinger come into play when I get back to work. I’ve barely sat down at my desk, mug of tea in hand, before Director Hu comes into my office. The usual grin on her face is gone.
‘Childe’s got something for us,’ she says, voice low.
I follow her to the morgue, where Childe is waiting in front of a table, on top of which is a large black bag. I remember to take along my untouched tea, handing it to a surprised Childe upon entry.
‘Thought you wouldn’t want your nice mug near all the blood,’ he says, holding the mug like it’s something fragile.
‘I did promise you tea last time,’ I say. ‘I am not one for empty words.’
He raises an eyebrow and lifts the mug to his lips.
‘Oh, this is so good,’ he says as Hu Tao turns her attention to the body bag. ‘How do you make tea taste this good?’
I open my mouth, about to explain, but Hu Tao coughs, gesturing to the table in front of us. I tell Childe I will explain later.
‘Oh, about that.’ Childe shuffles in place, looking like he’d just been caught stealing from a candy jar. ‘I’m sorry I had to make you deal with him in that state.’
The reason for his apology becomes clear when I unzip the bag. Hu Tao makes a strangled noise and Childe looks away as if embarrassed.
I only see what is wrong when I turn the corpse over. The man’s left eye is gone, a bloody, gaping hole in its place. I unzip the bag further. The rest of his body is relatively intact, apart from the leg bent at an odd angle and a large stab wound near the stomach.
‘Messier than usual,’ says Childe. ‘I try to avoid it, but accidents happen.’
The director and I get to work. Identifying him is easy, though making up a story to explain to his family is something else. No ordinary accident could have caused this kind of injury, even if one were exceptionally careless.
The director suggests a particularly brutal car accident. A foolproof story, I say drily, if not for the fact that it is easily falsifiable through any online database. Childe suggests a wild animal attack, but we would have to explain how we even recovered that corpse in the first place. Hu Tao wonders if his only remaining family, a wayward son and his spouse, would believe that I went hunting in the woods on weekends.
The answer is a definite no, I say.
Eventually, we settle on tripping and landing on a stake in his garden to explain the wound going clean through his skull. The wounds in the stomach and knee will need some work to be hidden sufficiently, but most will not bother to investigate past a comfortable explanation.
And then it is up to us to wrap the body into the approximate shape of a human. I make sure the bandages above the eye are removable, in case identification is needed. Hu Tao straightens out his limbs, finally moving him out of the bag when his legs are secured. I hear her muttering about putting it on the pyre as dried blood flakes fall off her gloves.
All the while, Childe watches, occasionally sipping from his mug of tea. Hu Tao comments on his appetite in this situation, and he shrugs. ‘You don’t know what I eat in my free time.’
I look at him and he shrugs again, holding out his hands. ‘I’m joking.’
Hu Tao grins at that, and the faintest sense of shivers runs up my spine. I have to make sure these two never meet again if I want any peace of mind.
Childe finishes his tea. Perched on one of the autopsy tables, he swings his legs, looking at me with his head tilted. As I slide the body into one of the mortuary refrigerators, he breaks the silence. ‘You’re much braver than I give you credit for.’
I meet his gaze, fluttering from me to some other distant object. ‘This is my job.’
Hu Tao’s phone rings. Barely catching it as it flips out of her pocket, she winks at me and leaves the room to take her call. I turn my attention back to Childe, who is swinging his legs, hands tight around the mug he doesn’t want to put down.
‘It’s… argh, how do I say this.’ He rubs a gloved hand over his face. ‘It’s easier to… do what I do than deal with the fallout. Thinking about it, wishing them a peaceful end despite everything… it tends to set in, y’know. The guilt. Mortality. The fact that it might happen to you one day if you get unlucky.’
I slide the door of the refrigerator shut. The embalming will have to wait for the afternoon. ‘I did not take you for one to fear your own mortality.’
Childe stops swinging his feet. ‘No, I’m not scared. At least not for me. This job pays well, better than my father’s fishing, and if I’m gone before I—never mind. Anyway, it’s my family that will suffer. Especially my younger siblings.’
‘You can always take a safer job,’ I say to him. ‘I have some connections.’
I am half-joking, but he takes it completely seriously, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Thanks for offering. But I don’t think I could sit down in an office cubicle and type in the same data every day.’
‘Office jobs are not the only option.’ I think about Childe working in customer service. Probably not a good idea, but it is an option.
‘Nah.’ He gets down from his perch, landing with knees bent. ‘There’s the risk of dying, yes, but what’s life without it? Call me insane if you want, but—’ He hands his mug back to me. ‘ —the blood on my hands feels more real than anything else.’
‘Don’t tell anyone about that,’ he says. ‘What about I take you out for lunch? In exchange for your silence.’
‘My silence comes for free,’ I tell him. He laughs, a light, careless sound.
‘Then in exchange for that cup of tea. I’m not a tea drinker, but—’ He heads towards the door. ‘You may have successfully converted me.’
‘It is not that difficult, actually,’ I say, letting him lead the two of us out the exit of the funeral parlour. ‘To make a good cup of tea, all one needs is patience and attention to detail.’
‘And perfect temperature. And the right kind of tea leaf.’
‘And that,’ I say quietly.
The streets are relatively deserted at noon, so I suggest we go to Wanmin Restaurant. I can see Childe’s obvious sigh of relief when I say that it’s not a fancy establishment like last time. Still, I tell him, there is treasure to be found in the common. A diamond in the rough. He looks interested.
I keep his attention on the subway there, making sure he takes notes on the correct way to brew my favourite kind of tea. Pu’erh, he tries to say after me, smiling as he stumbles over the syllables.
~~~
Despite the accusations of airheadedness, I am not naive when it comes to the world. Meng was the first one to raise concerns when I mentioned the contract I had made with a member of the Fatui.
I am aware of their reputation, of course. The strange happenings in their homeland of Snezhnaya, the disappearing children, the political iron fist of their head the Tsaritsa. But if there is anything consistent within their operations, especially when it comes to matters of their banks, is their insistence on contracts.
Whether the motivator is greed, or cautiousness, or the desire for a clean reputation outside of their homeland, the result is the same. Besides, I have been drawing up contracts for longer than their young diplomat has known how to write. These waters are familiar enough to me that I will not drown in them.
This Childe, however. He is fascinating.
Though not free of the ruthlessness that is characteristic of all high-ranking Fatui members, he is… unusual in a way. It took me some time to pin it down, but condensed into a single word, it’s sincerity. Yes, a positive relationship with a business partner would benefit himself as well, but there is no reason for him to press me for details on the local food, on the construction of these ancient roads, on the upward-curving eaves of the older buildings. Things that do not matter in the grand scheme of things.
And there was no reason for him to pay in my stead.
I chanced upon an ornate pair of chopsticks from the antique store opposite the restaurant. Quality wood, carved with a dragon-and-phoenix pattern. Typically gifted to the bride and groom on a wedding day, a symbol of goodwill. I looked over to see Childe, still struggling with his chopsticks. He could use the practice with a pair of his own, I thought.
I went and purchased it, failing to check my pockets for my wallet. It’s always been a bad habit of mine, but for it to show up at this time…
To add to my embarrassment, Childe had noticed, strolling over with his hands in his pockets. After explaining the situation to him, he had laughed, the same bell-like sound I had heard just earlier that day. He laughed even more when I said I intended to give the chopsticks to him. A gift! He laughed. With his own money!
I told him I’d take an IOU, but he insisted. ‘You’re the type to forget about it the moment those chopsticks are out of sight,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to have to hunt you down for failing to repay the bank.’
And still laughing to the shopkeeper’s concerned look, he handed her his credit card, not even bothering to check the receipt when it came out.
We parted ways after that, myself back to my job, and him to take a nap. He’d been up all night last night, he said. They always choose to run at night.
There are other things I’ve heard about the Fatui. More otherworldly rumours, whispered over a glass of baijiu, at the time of day where the dawn and the night overlaps. Sailors to foreign lands, where the Fatui are more brazen, without the shadow of the Qixing and their far-reaching claws. They take children for their rituals, the sailors say. It’s like a cult. Their ultimate goal is to transcend this mortal plane, and spilt blood is a worthy price to pay. The world is broken, according to them. The gods cover their eyes and the powerful snap the necks of the weak. Their Tsaritsa, the sailors say, will reorder this rotted world according to her glacier will. Cold, dark, but gentle.
Childe… I do not judge by appearances, but he seems so anchored by contrast to his lofty colleagues. All of them faceless, all of them with strange powers and a reach beyond this world. And then there is this young man, in love with this life and all of its eccentricities.
I cannot imagine him wanting to leave his mortal life behind, for any reason.