"The best time?" Fan Xian stared at his father with his mind full of fog. But for some reason, seeing his father so calm and collected, he felt himself relax and was not as anxious as he had been in the mountain. He laughed at himself, and tossed aside the crutch from under his arm before sitting down on a chair.
"Be careful of your injury." Fan Jian shook his head disapprovingly.
Fan Xian smiled, and gently rubbed his chest. There was a faint pain inside, but with the care of Sir Fei, it was almost all better.
"Tell me, what exactly are you afraid of?" Fan Jian gently stroked his long, flowing beard. The generally-serious Minister, at this moment, seemed to be have the ease of a man with a plan.
Fan Xian paused and furrowed his brow in thought for a long time. He then realized that he had indeed been overly panicked—what exactly was he afraid of?
