Days later, another incident occurred. A group of thieves had snatched the jewelry of a noblewoman's maidservant and were sprinting through the marketplace. Before the crowd could even cry out, a calm figure blocked their path.
Feng Li stood there, fan resting lazily on his shoulder.
"You've run enough," he said softly.
The thieves sneered. "Move aside, pretty scholar boy, before you die—"
CRACK!
The next moment, they were rolling on the ground, clutching ribs, ankles, and shoulders in agony. Feng Li shook his fan, dusted off his sleeves, and bent to pick up the jewelry box.
"Return this to your mistress," he said kindly to the maid.
The poor servant was so overwhelmed that she dropped to her knees, kowtowing. "Young master, how can this servant thank you—"
But before she could finish, she fainted dead away.
The crowd gasped. "Another fainting! God help us!"
Somewhere in the throng, a group of noble ladies exchanged excited whispers, their cheeks pink. One clutched her handkerchief dramatically.
"I heard… yesterday a girl fainted three times just because Feng Li picked up her handkerchief!"
"Yes! First when he picked it up, second when he handed it back, third when he smiled!"
"Ah! If he so much as touched my handkerchief, I'd faint a hundred times!"
The ladies swooned together, earning exasperated looks from their maids.
Feng Li, unaware of the chaos his every gesture caused, simply continued walking. Beneath the perfect disguise of a scholarly hero was none other than Hua Lian, hidden daughter of the late physician, now living under another mask.
Injustice angered her, yes—but these rescues also allowed her to search for whispers of corruption, clues about the murder of her parents, and leads on the officials who betrayed her family.
But the city's admiration only grew, threatening to draw eyes she could not afford.
That evening, in the teahouse where storytellers recited tales of heroes, the crowd cheered:
"Tell us again about Gentleman Feng Li! How he shattered the thief's ribs with a mere tap of his fan!"
The storyteller raised his arms. "They say he's like jade—refined, untouchable! But also like lightning—merciless to villains! Maidens faint thrice at his smile, and villains tremble thrice at his steps!"
The room erupted in laughter and applause.
In a shadowed corner, however, a pair of sharp eyes narrowed. A man cloaked in dark robes sipped his tea, lips curling.
"So… another hero rises in the capital."
His gaze gleamed dangerously. "A pity… heroes rarely live long."