Han Sheng

"My lord." Han Sheng's voice was low and careful. "Young Mistress is still up. I saw Xiaojun bringing a tray of snacks to her room."

That was all, but the words were heavy with meaning. His eyes, dark brown and single-lidded, met Sir Mao's significantly before he looked down, bending his head deferentially.

Mao Yuan sighed. He knew very well what Han Sheng meant, but he was annoyed at him for bringing it up.

The bodyguard was a quiet person who seldom spoke when he was outside. He was always watching; watching Sir Mao's face to preempt his next command, watching others warily to see if they could be trusted, watching the surroundings to scan for danger. He was a tall man, with a soft tread like a cat's, that hinted at his training as an assassin. If he had smiled more, he would have been handsome. As it was, his face often carried a brooding expression that had an ominous look to it; but even if he had known, he would not have cared.

Han Sheng's life was simple. He did not know his birthday, or how old he was. He did not even have a name at first. Or rather, he did not know what his real name was.

He had been a beggar child on the streets after his parents had died unexpectedly from sickness, leaving him an orphan. All he knew was that one day the vagrant life of shivering in the cold, fighting for scraps with other beggar children, and being chased away by guards, had come to an end, and his life had changed because Sir Mao had seen potential in him.

Mao Yuan had been drinking in the upper storey of an inn. From the window, he had seen a small commotion outside on the streets; a group of amused men were placing bets on the two fighting beggar boys. One of them--a grubby youngster with callused knuckles and bright, desperate eyes gleaming from his dirt-smudged face like a little rat's--had been Han Sheng.

That was before Mao Yuan had gotten his title. He had been turning over in his mind the last step in his scheme for the position, and wondering whether he had been right to trust the man he had hired. The little scene caught his attention and he let himself get distracted, entertained by the seriousness with which the two children sparred. He noted the smaller one's determination and the way he took blows without flinching, without even a sound. Even though his opponent was taller, and more heavyset, he did not look at all intimidated. A silver coin was in the other boy's hand--it had been thrown from a carriage by a rich lady and the two boys had sprang on it like wolves before it had even hit the ground.

"I'll bet on the big one," shouted one of the men watching, chewing energetically on a straw in his excitement. "He's better fed. The small fellow won't be able to hit back so hard, he clearly hasn't eaten in days."

"If he had more meat on his bones I'd bet on him," agreed another. "But he looks fierce enough. Ah, look at that!"

There was a chorus of excited whoops from the men as the smaller boy's fist flashed through the air and hit into his opponent's nose with a crisp crunching sound. There was a scream of pain from the bigger boy, who clutched his bleeding nose. The smaller boy seized the chance to pry the silver coin from his hand, even though his head was buffeted with blows.

Managing to snatch the coin, he sank his teeth swiftly into his enemy's hand and broke free with a hard kick, clutching the prize and gasping.

There was a chorus of disappointment and a show of glum faces, as some of the men realized they had lost their bets. The one man who had bet on the small boy was overjoyed. With blood streaming down his face, the bigger boy's face flushed red with shame and fury as he saw the men looking disgustedly at him. Humiliated, he clawed his way up, glaring at the back of his opponent.

One of the men stealthily stuck out his foot as the small boy ran past him. The child took a sprawling fall and the coin rolled out of his hand. Before he could get up the older boy had landed on his back and was punching him viciously. Snatching the silver coin from the ground, he got up triumphantly and walked off, leaving his rival gasping in the dirt.

The men cheered, relieved that they hadn't lost the bet after all, and slapped their crestfallen friend on the back. "Ah, I told you so, the little one would be no good!"

A sudden silence fell on them as they saw Mao Yuan come up to them, and they stepped back respectfully.

Mao Yuan crouched down besides the boy on the ground, who stared defiantly up at him, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You've got spirit," he said pleasantly. "I could do with a boy like you. You will get much more than a paltry silver coin with me."

Reaching into his purse, he held out a gold coin that sparkled brightly in the air. The men gasped and goggled.

Incredulously, the small boy looked at it, then back to the well-dressed man smiling coolly at him. Mao Yuan stood up and gestured to him. "Come along. If you're a smart boy you'll know what's good for you. I will give you a future, and make a man of you."

The men had backed away, whispering, as the grubby boy crawled to his feet, still breathless. Warily, like a hungry stray tempted by some food, the child hesitated, then followed the gentleman beckoning to him.

That had been the beginning of his life as he knew it now. He had had clothes to wear, a place to sleep, and good food every day. He had even been given a name. Sir Mao had him trained intensively in martial arts, making him practice hours every day. When he was older, he had been made Sir Mao's personal bodyguard--a position of great trust. Mao Yuan was a suspicious man. Knowing that Han Sheng had been brought up by him, and owed his life to him, he trusted him more than he did his other hired men. Only Han Sheng knew the most about his schemes, and so far the man had showed impeccable loyalty to him.

For a moment, Mao Yuan toyed with the idea of having Han Sheng assassinate Lord Yang. How easy that would be. The man had been agreeable at first, but now he was starting to make trouble whenever Mao Yuan asked him to do anything. He knew that Lord Yang could not be trusted, but right now he needed his help.

He shook his head grimly. No, it could not be helped. He would have to give in to Lord Yang this time.