Xiao En heard Fan Xian's confident words and began coughing violently, unable to stop for a long time. It was the middle of the night, and they sat on a precipice, unsure whether the Brocade Guards searching below would hear. Fan Xian was rather worried. He took out a needle and thrust it into Xiao En's neck, helping to ease the tension in his veins.
Fan Xian's gently felt Xiao En's neck, where there was a slight sticky dampness. He sniffed, picking up a faint scent of blood. He knew that Xiao En had begun coughing up blood, and though his face remained expressionless, he felt somewhat emotional.
"It was a fairy." The dying man stubbornly confirmed the judgment he'd made 30 years before.
Fan Xian didn't want to argue with him on that point. "How could a four-year-old girl carry a chest? Who carried it then?" he asked.
"What chest?" Xiao En's was asked in a genuine tone of voice. He didn't sound like he was lying.
