There was something very stunningly beautiful about the city at night. Over all the sloping roofs you could see the landscape of mountains far in the distance, black blotches on a gray backdrop, floating gold lanterns dancing in the midst of the celebration. Down below me people were crowded in the streets, selling silks and jewels, ethnic items brought back from all corners of the world, this world, my world. Yet I was stuck here, basically chained, unable to travel like I really wanted to.

Whenever I would talk about leaving the country to visit other places my mother would just smile at me, my two brothers would laugh, and my poor guard got an increase of panic that I forced him to deal with. Not on purpose, I never really mean to give him heart attacks, he just takes everything too seriously.

For instance, all I was doing was sitting on the roof of one of the houses in town while my brothers perused the venders, one hundred percent safe, yet I could see my guard on the street with anxiety clear on his face. Did he really expect me to just sit around and follow my brothers when so much was happening? If he did, then he didn’t know me at all.

His dark hair was pulled back into a short ponytail at the back of his head, held in place with a strap of leather wound and tied at the base, messy bangs sweeping to the side, his green eyes panning over the area, pushing people to the side as he searched for me among the crowd. His sword was strapped against his right hip, leather gloves on his hands, he was dressed up in his usual guard’s clothing, kind of menacing, but he refused to go anywhere if he didn’t have a way to protect me.

I didn’t exactly blame him, he knew how reckless I could be, but he was always overthinking everything. Renshu was his name, a few years older than me and a former slave. None of us knew where he came from before my father bought him, but judging by the darker color of his skin, his muddy red hair and his green eyes, and the sharp accent he spoke with, it was obvious he wasn’t a native of the land. Renshu wasn’t even his real name. When my father bought him he refused to talk, the slave traders hadn’t even addressed him as more than livestock, so we had to improvise.

My older brother Yat-Sen was the one who came up with the name Renshu, and he never complained about it, so it ended up sticking. Noted, he wasn’t even supposed to be my body guard. Originally my father had bought him as an extra yard hand, but I’d taken a liking to him, my brothers took a liking to him, and my mother took a liking to him, so he was unintentionally raised from being a slave to being an irreplaceable part of my family.

Not everything from his past could be erased though. There was still a brand burned into his back that the slave traders had scarred him with, a mocking sign saying he would never be free of shackles and chains. Although he was free now, that mark was still there, people would see it and treat him differently, treat him like garbage, and sometimes he would get a faraway look on his face like he was remembering the past, remembering when he was a slave.

Still, he was a part of our family, even if I drove him crazy with my antics. He seemed to be on the verge of a major panic attack, and I could see my brothers behind him with similar expressions. Well, my oldest brother Guiren looked upset, but Yat-Sen didn’t seem very worried.

Then again not much bothered Sen. He kind of just took everything in stride and never let it get to him. His hair was the color of ash, pulled up out of his face and held up with leather bands and silver hair ornaments (he didn’t like people to see his hair down). Guiren on the other hand was a constant worrier. His hair was dark brown like mine and cut short, his dark eyes moving frantically around much like Renshu’s were doing. Being the oldest of the three of us, he took it upon himself to be our guardian, always trying to take care of us and protect us like we were helpless when we weren’t.

Guiren had a big heart, seeing him side by side with our father sometimes confused me, because they were both so starkly different. While my father was a cruel and vindictive man, Guiren was sweet and humble and self-sacrificing, wanting to protect everyone and sometimes forgetting about himself. Luckily his partner was a self-taught yīshēng.

They were going to be looking for me for a while now, there wasn’t much use in me hanging around and watching them self-implode. So, I slid down the roof and dropped down into an alley between two buildings, easing towards the back with the intention of taking a walk through the town.

Sneaking around was the only way I could do anything on my own when we left the walls of the property. I blamed my mother. She always worried about us, terrified we’d get cut down by assassins or rogues, but what was the use of training in the arts of sword fighting and hand combat if I never got to leave the walls of my own home?

Some would call me selfish for wanting more than I had. As the youngest son of a wealthy Lord, I always got the best of everything. The food served to us was always spectacular, perfectly blended so I got the best of the food groups and remained healthy in my diet, my teachers had to be scholars brought here from all over the world so I only got the best education. There were specially trained monks and soldiers there to teach me skills with weapons and my own body, personal tailors to provide silk robes and pants, as well as armor should I ever need it.

I was living the high life, I never needed anything more than what I always had. Along with the money and the massive house, all the material items, I also had the undying love of a wonderful mother who was as kind as she was beautiful, two older brothers I idolized, and the honor of having my best friend by my side as my personal guard. All the servants were kind to me, and I repaid them with as much as I could give, and yet there was something missing.

I started noticing it when I turned sixteen and my mother gave me a new sword. Holding it just had me staring at it, wondering why I didn’t feel as excited as I used to feel when I got presents. When I was younger, everything I got made me feel elated, whether it was a sword for my collection or a bracelet made of twine and colored string that one of the servants made me, but after I turned sixteen, nothing seemed to fill that hole.

At first I thought maybe it was a longing to be closer to my father, but quickly set that consideration aside. Lord Zhihao was not a kind man, didn’t care for his sons, and the only time he showed himself to us was to make sure we were studying, claiming that there was no way he would ever leave his property to sons who couldn’t even run it correctly, so we had better work harder. Nothing we did was good enough for him, and Guiren usually got the brunt of it.

Being older left more pressure on him than for Sen and I, so much pressure that he was basically forced into having relations with a woman that Zhihao had chosen, just so there would be someone to take the property after Guiren. Imagine his disgust when that woman gave birth to a baby girl instead of a boy. That was the purpose for this celebration, to give thanks that Guiren’s daughter had been born.

Unfortunately for my father, Guiren had no wish to try for a boy instead. He was already married, and had been for years now, but his partner was a former slave, a male for that matter, which my father absolutely hated. The only reason Guiren accepted sleeping with that woman for an heir was because he was afraid of what Zhihao might do to his beloved.

Already there was tension, Guiren was constantly worried about leaving his husband alone in the house because of our father’s temper, and now it was worse. Instead of a boy, there was a girl in line to inherit all Zhihao’s property. No doubt he was aghast in fury. His only hope, in his words, were for Sen or me to marry off and have children.

This put quite a bit of pressure on the both of us, although Sen had it worse than I did. His health wasn’t the best, and our father knew it, so often when Zhihao spoke of marrying us off, he would pass over Sen with this cold look, claiming he would likely die before any woman agreed to share his bed. It always left my brother with this horrid look on his face, like he’d tasted something sour but was struggling to swallow it down with a smile. I hated it. Guiren hated it.

No, the emptiness I felt was not caused by my father. I was yet to find what exactly I was lacking in my life, but still I searched, looking for something that could spark my passion, a sword or a scroll of history, the thought of travelling or even the prospect of marriage and children. Personally, the idea of children wasn’t the most appealing, and every time my father brought up marriage I had to stick my tongue out the moment he turned his back.

I was young, barely in my twentieth year, Guiren didn’t tie down until he was twenty-three, and although many married young in these parts, I wanted to wait for the right person. I wanted to marry for love like Guiren did, I didn’t want to be a miserable wreck like my mother, who was forced into her marriage for political assurance.

My feet took me further and further away from the main roads and onto darker streets where I noticed people lounging outside dressed in less than modest clothing. It took me a moment or two to realize I’d wandered into the red district. It was all brothels and host homes, men and women living in the lowest of the slums, forced to sell their bodies just for a few coins so they could eat another night or provide for their families.

Renshu warned me many times not to come near here, considering I was so obviously a noble, and a handsome one at that my brother assured me (my mother thinks all three of us are stunning and is quite proud of the fact she was the one to give her genes to make us).

I wasn’t too put off by the area, until I felt something tugging at the bottom of my shirt and looked down to see a little girl, quite beautiful, standing next to me. Her hair was black and feathery, her skin a lovely eggshell color and her eyes dark and glittering. She wore rags, but it was easy to tell she’d tried hard to make herself look presentable.

Carefully I crouched down to be closer to her, frowning seriously, “Hello miss,” I greeted, “How can I help you?”

She twisted her hands and looked over her shoulder, and I followed her gaze to see a woman standing around the corner, waving a hand at the little girl to hurry up and do whatever it is she came over to me for. When she turned back to me there was an echo in her eyes, like she was letting a piece of herself go.

“Would you like a night, sir?” she asked in a whisper, and my eyes widened in shock at the realization of what she’d said.

“How old are you?”

“Ten,” she replied, eyes going wide, “but I know what I’m doing, sir, I promise!”

Pain hit me like a dart, all I was thinking of was my little niece in the same position as this precious child, and I shook my head, “Are you short on money, sweetheart?” I asked, and her pale face seemed to grow whiter in color.

“Any coin will suffice, sir,” she said, reaching to the bottom of her dress and slowly pulling the skirts up, “Anything you want, sir.”