~HAN ZHENG~
The best morning of Zheng's life started with packing up to leave the monastery. Enough was enough, the flower-riddled hallowed grounds could no longer contain him. He had a barge to catch, and life was glorious. He dropped his hands to the pistols' handles, so smooth and more welcoming of his touch than a woman. They practically vibrated with energy, making him buoyant with anticipation of something glorious.
Zheng marched out of the gates, and his guards followed him in silence for once. The sun warmed his face, and that warmth spread to the very core of his being. He crossed the putrid Thrice-Blessed Landing and was almost at the docks when the pounding footfalls and vulgar screams came from the side-lane.
"You! You bloody pillock! Stop! Answer me!"
Zheng's heart did not lurch as usual at the profanity. It beat faster instead, welcoming the brewing conflict. He now had the marvelous weapons. And, yes, of course, he had the guards too. He kept on walking, hoping it would engulf him.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and whirled him around.
He came face to face with an incensed man clad in silks but tanned like a peasant. His salt and pepper hair was pulled back and carelessly tied up with a strip of leather hang with a single jacinth pendant. And his spittle, Zheng had found out, smelled really sour. This could only be the long-awaited Zhenshi.
Zheng winced at the brightest flower of the Shantong's nobility. "Good morning Lord Zhenshi! You will find the silver deposited with the faeries for the distribution to the suffering citizens of Shantong." Save for the generous amount the faery had provided him with for a comfortable journey home. An understanding lot, those faeries.
Zhenshi, by contrast, was not at all accommodating. He held onto Zheng's shoulder like a vice and now added a violent shake. Zheng pushed off his hand with a stifled growl. "My many condolences on the misfortunes that had befallen your lovely land."
"Shove your condolences up your ass, you imbecile!" The provincial potentate snapped. "The money was meant to be distributed in the name and by the hand of the Zhenshi family. You've lost my father a great deal of prestige!"
The laughter bubbled up in Zheng's middle, Zhenshi's prestige? He cared more for the pig droppings he'd just stepped in than for their prestige! The world was turning russet, and something sharp, like a lady's hairpin, drilled into Zheng's temples. "The Zhenshi lost face by fornicating with oxen while letting a Han wait on their pleasure!"
I will show this swine his place, he thought, and I will prove my worth to my father! They did offend him too when they offended me! The world will see!
Zhenshi searched his face with burning eyes. "Were you so afraid of falling sick that you've forgotten your honor and your duty?!"
"Afraid?!" Zheng screamed before that hidden laughter finally burst out of him. He was not afraid of falling sick anymore, he was not afraid of anything! Life was glorious and he was going to live forever!
Zhenshi tried to slap him, and Zheng blocked the blow. He did not know how he'd done it, only that he could. He'd never taken interest in martial training, but the new Zheng grew very, very angry.
Show him what the true nobility stands for! You are a Han! Challenge him! Your legend begins now! a seductive voice whispered in his ears.
My voice, he realized. It's my own blessed voice! I am glorious!
"You will answer for your slander, Zhenshi," Zheng snarled.
True, it felt a bit odd to pick a deadly quarrel with the very man he had so patiently waited for, but he had no time for reflections. He wanted to fight, he wanted to kill for the insult. Yes, kill. And he was not afraid at all. He now understood that this was what his father wanted of him, the vaunted 'becoming a man' transformation.
"I thought you'd never ask," Zhenshi said coldly. He turned to grim-faced men who had joined him. "Someone, lend the pretty boy a sword!"
"How quaint," Zheng said. "But I have had enough of the country air, and provincial vulgarity. Settle it like a gentleman, or not at all."
He took the pistols out of his belt, extending one to Zhenshi.
The Lord frowned. "They are demons' toys and an affront to the Celebrated Emperor. But your hands look like they are too small to grasp the hilt of a sword. Let's do it your way."
They poured the black powder in and stuffed the bullets into the muzzles. Thirty paces were measured out, and when they met in the middle, Zhenshi smirked at him. "I was shooting a bow while you were still swaddled."
"Oh, no! I am shaking in my boots!" Despite having no clue as to what he was doing, Zheng was thrilled. A duel to the death, nothing could be better than that!
The voice rambled on in his head elatedly, telling him how he'd kill the stupid provincial, and would be free and glorious. The prospect of murdering this man did not scare him at all, because he should have known better, should have understood that challenging Zheng was like challenging the sun.
By the time Zheng took his position, the voice was busy advising that he should shoot as soon as the countdown was done. What madness! a part of him argued, it is impossible to hit a target at this distance! It makes sense, the voice insisted, Zenshi would never expect that!
I will do it, I will do it, Zheng cried up, as he turned on his heels to face Zhenshi, today is not the day for caution! Today is glorious!
It was a magnificent feeling, staring death in the face. Alas, it only lasted a heartbeat, then he shot... his being lept with the bullet, he somehow flew with it, Zhenshi's enraged face looming larger and larger at him. They hit!
Zhenshi's throat turned into a bloody ruin. That ought to shut him up! The man's head rolled back funnily as he fell, tumbled to the ground in deafening silence. Zheng broke away and rolled back on his heels nearly losing his balance. The weight of the pistol jerked his arm down. He took in a shuddering breath, as his lungs were completely empty for some reason.
His guards and Zhenshi's retinue stared at him blankly. The inbred wretches thought he'd be the one watering the dust with his blood. Ha!
Ancestors, he was never so happy in his life, as he was after killing his first man.
Lord Han Yun would know now that his seventh son was not to be trifled with, and that he would rise to glory like a shooting star... except in reverse, because the shooting stars fell, and he, Zheng, would rise!
Trembling with excitement, Zheng stooped to pluck the still loaded, precious pistol from Zhenshi's dead hands. Ah, he would have to shoot it soon, why waste the charge? Maybe a demon would accost him on the way back? A shiver of excitement ran through him. Yes, he would love to shoot a demon, a demon would do very nicely!
"Well, gentlemen," Zheng told Zhenshi's retinue, staffing both pistols back behind his belt. "This was fair and square. You should find the selection of funerary services and goods at the Thrice-Blessed Landing to be more than adequate."
He whistled as he boarded his barge, the new tune drumming inside his temples, Life is glorious! Life is glorious! Life is glorious!