Silent Crown Chapter 6

"No thanks, I'd like to get it myself." He lightly reached one hand and picked up Martin's wallet. "Unfortunately, this money is not enough. You'll have to pay a little interest."

Victor crouched down. He looked at Martin's fearful expression and could not help but smile. Then he reached out and grabbed Martin's wrist, looking at his palm. "Your hand looks so nice. So slender, flexible, and so white. I heard that in order to help you become a musician, your father hired music teachers to train you starting at a very young age. Every day you also had various hand treatments. So such beautiful hands must be very valuable, right?"

Martin was stunned and his face suddenly turned pale white as he finally understood what Victor wanted to do.

"You're crazy! If you dare do that, my dad will not let go of you!" He screamed and struggled, "I swear that you will regret it!"

Victor sighed, "In fact, half an hour ago, I began to regret it already."

Crunch!

With a crisp, crunching sound, Martin's screams scratched the silence. In Victor's hands, Martin's pinky finger was turned abnormally up to the back of his hand, broken.

"Last time, my decision to let you go was my fault."

Crunch! Crunch!

"I will not repeat the same mistake a second time."

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

With the series of cracking sounds, Martin screamed at such a high pitch, he almost awakened the people in the far away viliage.

Victor gently loosened his hand and got up from the ground.

"In another half hour, your hand will not go back to its original state, even if it is put together again." He looked down at Martin and sighed softly, "What a pity! So even if you do go to the holy city, your hope of becoming a musician is slim, right?"

Hearing Martin's cries, he clapped his hands and turned away.

In the dark, he looked back from a distance at Martin, who was rolling on the ground, scratching his head helplessly.

"Oh, no. I forgot this fatty's father is an officer in the town of Lute. It seems that I can't stay in that town anymore." He sighed quietly, "Is it too late for me to run away now?"

In silence, he turned around and saw a golden haired dog in the distance. He waved with a grin, "Can't sleep, Old Phil?"

Old Phil squatted on the ground, silently watching him. He tilted his head and licked his dirty hair. It looked like he could not fall asleep, so he came out for a walk.

Old Phil held back his sharp teeth quietly, no longer finding smells in the wind. Even its violent eyes had eased up.

"Sorry, I have to run away now." Victor squatted down, looking at this old dog, and scratched his head helplessly. "From now on, you will be the only friend of that guy. But since you cannot even talk, he will be bored to death!"

Old Phil seemed to understand him, rolling his eyes and smacking his tail in Victor's face.

"Aha, sorry. I forgot that you can understand me. You are much better than Yezi, who only pretends not to understand!" Victor gently patted Old Phil's back and his tone became softer. "But that guy has always been like that, right? He never talked to anyone, even when he was bullied. Only trying to fight against the others by himself. His ferocious demeanor didn't let people see his fear inside. Obviously, he didn't have any talent, but still wanted to be a musician. As he was daydreaming, he felt as if he would die if he was not able to become a musician. Even I can't see any hope in him to be the one. What on earth was he thinking?"

He was talking endlessly while Old Phil listened quietly.

After a long time, he clapped his hands with a bitter smile and turned away.

After a few steps, he turned back and saw Old Phil still looking at him. He laughed and waved goodbye. "Go back, Old Phil, I am leaving now."

He paused then walked into the dark. "As long as you accompany him, he will not be so lonely."

Not knowing why, Ye Qingxuan dreamt of the past, of things that had happened a long time ago--things that were thought to be forgotten already.

At that time, he was walking alone in the dark. And in the dark, someone was calling his name. There were noises--the sounds of knocking at the door, footsteps, screams, and porcelain shattering.

"Little Yezi, little Yezi, do not be afraid." There was a woman holding him hard, but she was warm and familiar, like the sun. She pushed Ye Qingxuan into the cupboard, holding his cheek, and looked at him. Her pupils were like jade, but with tears. "Stay here. Do not make a sound and do not be afraid."

The door of the cupboard was closed. Ye Qingxuan was standing in the dark at a loss. He heard the noises--the door and the footsteps. His mother was screaming and questioning someone angrily. Someone rushed into the hall and crashed into the Oriental porcelain, white shards falling into the mud.

He vaguely heard someone shouting, "Ye Lanzhou, who escaped from the felony of killing six royal musicians, was ordered by the House of Lords to be included in the wanted list. All his properties will be cleaned and confiscated to compensate the State."

He huddled in the cupboard and closed his eyes in fear. The darkness hit again.

Feeling dizzy, he heard his mother crying and her tears fell on his face. He tried hard to open his eyes, but could only to see darkness. He felt so cold, as if he was falling into an ice pit.

"Sir, please save him. This child has a high fever. He is dying."

Mother's hug made him feel so warm, but he still could not help but feel cold. She was no longer elegant, no longer a fine lady, but a mad woman, kneeling down in the square, forcing herself to tug at every person's trousers, but being kicked away.

"Get out of my way, dead beggar."

It was so cold under the snow. Very cold, very cold. Ye Qingxuan closed his eyes and heard his mother crying. In the dark, he covered his ears, but the sound was still in his mind.

"Little Yezi, run! Little Yezi, do not be afraid."

"Little Yezi, from now on you will just be by yourself."

He felt his mother stroking his cheek, her last chance to touch him. She smiled through tears, "I cannot hold on any longer."

Ye Qingxuan gazed at her sluggishly. She was so beautiful. Even if she looked like a beggar now, her eyes were still gentle and kind, bearing the torture from this world with a smile. Now, her torture had finally ended, so why did he feel so sad?

She exhausted the last of her strength to wrap a slender string around the child's finger, one circle after the other, as if it were a ring on his finger. "This is the only thing your father left behind. Take it and you will not be afraid."

She tried hard to embrace her own child and repeated over and over again, "Do not be afraid! Do not be afraid."

Until Ye Qingxuan was no longer afraid, until her final breath.

She was gone.

Ye Qingxuan opened his eyes and found himself still laying in the room.

It was morning, but the sun was not up yet.

The windows were open. It was raining outside. The moonlight and the sound of rain came from the window. Through the window, a black carriage indistinctly passed by on the street.

The rain fell from the edge of the window, splashing on the ground. The splatter of raindrops woke him up. There was residual water near his eye area.

He got up from bed and watched the rain fall outside the window, rubbing the ring on his index finger with his thumb silently.

"Ye Qingxuan, you have been here for five years."

He heard a voice in his heart whisper, "Are you still scared?"

In this sudden rainstorm of a night, everything was silent.

A black carriage came from afar, and quietly stopped in front of the church. The driver was knocking at the door over and over again. After a long time, the door finally opened.

Father Bann walked out holding a candlestick. He seemed to not have slept for the night, looking at the driver coldly, "You are late."

Looking up at Father Bann, the driver was stunned. He wanted to explain.

"Father Bann, please do not care about him, as he is just an ordinary coachman." A tired voice rose from inside the carriage, "It would be better if you could care about me. I think I got into trouble."

Father Bann frowned, vaguely smelling a sweet scent. When he opened the carriage door, a heavy, bloody smell emerged. The light of the candle illuminated the dark carriage and the face of a young man.

The man in the carriage was in his twenties. He wore a black, collared trench coat and leaned on the inside of the carriage. He looked so pale in the candlelight. He was trying very hard to breathe, as if he could not inhale after every exhale.

In the scrutiny of Father Bann, he squeezed out a smile, as if he were trying to be brave. "I am sorry to come late; I got into some troubles on the road."

After he spoke, he stopped holding his waist--it was full of blood.

The blood penetrated from his waist, dying his black coat. The blood fell on the ground beside his pants, forming a pool of blood. The pool of blood spread along the gap of the door into the rainwater, trickling outside, where it gradually dissipated into the red track.

"It was not easy to grab a carriage in the middle of the night. Can you pay the poor driver for me?"

The young man painfully twitched his face, forcibly laughing, "You see, it's not easy for me to get the money now."

"You are the so-called 'Wolf Flute' in the letter?" Father Bann asked the young man while holding up the candlestick. At this moment, he was so cold and judgmental, it seemed like he would not give up until he saw evidence.

Wolf Flute lowered his head and sighed helplessly, "You are as the rumors say."

While speaking, he raised his arm with a struggle. The wound was agitated by muscles stretching, which brought a burst of intense pain. He pulled a necklace out of his collar, and exposed the end of the decoration.

Made of iron with a wolf head on it, it was engraved with his number.

Father Bann stared at it and nodded lightly until Wolf Flute was on the verge of death, throwing something to the carriage driver.

"Follow me."

The driver looked down at the thing in his hand, stunned.

It was only a gold coin but its material was used in the church bank as "Precious Metal Reserves" and must be credit guaranteed. The currency issued by Kingdom Bilei was even more rare as it was rarely circulated in the market. This little coin was enough for him to buy a carriage again!

"Thank you, thank you, Sir!" He bowed to Father Bann inexplicably and incoherently.

"Come on, can you hurry?"

Following behind, Wolf Flute was saying, "I'm really dying."

Chapter end