Kiu Man was an adventurer at his core. After Lin Nan sacrificed his life to save him, Kiu Man had braved countless hazardous terrains across the globe entirely on his own. Because of this, awakening in a foreign world did not rattle his composure for long.
Uncle Wah examined him again. Once satisfied that the boy had truly cheated death, the old practitioner let out a relieved breath, though astonishment still lingered in his eyes.
"His pulse is flowing far smoother now," Uncle Wah remarked, stroking his thin goatee. "I will brew another pot of medicinal herbs. Ah Ho, pour Ah Man some warm water, then run out and grab a portion of minced chicken congee. He needs food in his belly to anchor his soul back to the living."
"Right away!" Ah Ho blurted. Scrambling in a flurry of limbs, he sloppily poured a cup of warm water and shoved it toward Kiu Man’s mouth.
Whether the boy was naturally clumsy or simply terrified out of his wits, half the water sloshed down Kiu Man’s collar. Having no strength to resist, Kiu Man could only endure the clumsy feeding with resigned patience.
Water truly was the source of life.
After downing half the cup, the unbearable tightness in his dry chest finally eased.
Tears of relief welled in Ah Ho’s eyes. Seeing Kiu Man drink so eagerly, he jumped up with renewed vigor, ready to sprint out for hot food.
Before he could dash away, a pale, bony hand clamped onto his wrist. "Wait."
Kiu Man had not realized how thoroughly depleted this body was; the single motion nearly stole his breath, leaving his voice faint and rasping.
"What is it, Ah Man?" Ah Ho asked in a panic. "You have been unconscious for days without a single bite of food. Let me grab the congee first to fill your stomach!"
Unconscious for days without food. Kiu Man understood immediately. Even if the original owner had not succumbed to disease, starvation would have finished him off.
He drew a shallow breath and asked, "Where is Ka Nam?"
"Uncle Wah said your illness might be cured at an upscale Western hospital," Ah Ho replied. "We were short on cash, so Brother Nam went out to raise money for your treatment."
Having inherited the original youth's memories and read the novel's backstory, Kiu Man knew exactly what was unfolding.
The young boy standing before him was named Chan Siu Ho -- Chan Ka Nam’s cousin and future right-hand man. While not the sharpest tool in the shed and somewhat cowardly by nature, he was fiercely loyal, treating his elder cousin with absolute devotion.
Hearing his answer, Kiu Man knew his suspicions were confirmed. Chan Ka Nam had gone to execute a hit contract to pay for these medical bills. Ah Ho was clearly kept in the dark, believing his cousin was simply collecting money through ordinary means.
Kiu Man had absorbed the original owner’s memories and understood his character well.
Though born into the squalid underbelly of the slums, the sickly youth had possessed a gentle, upright heart. He had always adamantly opposed Chan Ka Nam joining the triads. In his recollections, though Chan Ka Nam was hot-headed and prone to brawling, he was not inherently wicked; on the contrary, he possessed a sharp sense of justice.
If the sickly youth knew that his sworn brother had traded a life for his medical fees -- setting himself on a bloody path that would eventually end under a hail of gunfire -- he would have been heartbroken.
Kiu Man thought quietly to himself: Since I have taken over this body, the least I can do is rewrite his fate.
The butterfly effect was already in motion. His arrival had pulled this body back from the grave; it stood to reason that the tragic destinies of those around him could be altered as well.
Besides, Kiu Man had never been one to bow to fate.
The immediate problem was his physical state. Forget stopping Chan Ka Nam -- stepping outside this back-alley clinic was a trial in itself.
He had to eat first.
Releasing Ah Ho’s wrist, Kiu Man instructed faintly, "Go get the congee. Bring back two bowls, and be quick."
Ah Ho had spent the past few days nursing Kiu Man alongside his cousin. At first, Kiu Man could stomach a few spoonfuls, but over the last two days, even water would not go down. Uncle Wah had warned that once a patient could no longer swallow water, death was imminent, urging them to transfer him to a Western hospital as a desperate, last-ditch effort to keep him alive.
Yet Western clinics demanded hefty deposits upfront before admitting patients -- funds two slum youths could never scrape together. Chan Ka Nam had promised he would secure the money tonight, instructing Ah Ho to watch the bedside closely. When Kiu Man’s breath had stopped earlier, Ah Ho had nearly lost his mind with grief.
He had no idea how his friend had returned from the dead, but seeing him breathing was all that mattered.
Rubbing his tear-stained face in confusion, Ah Ho scrambled out the door.
Kiu Man rested against the headboard, conserving his meager energy.
Ah Ho might lack finesse in bedside care, but he was swift on his feet. Within minutes, he returned balancing two steaming containers of congee. "Ah Man, eat while it is hot! Uncle Wah said as long as you can eat, you will pull through!"
Overjoyed by the miracle, the seventeen-year-old boy looked ready to pour both bowls down Kiu Man’s throat in a single go.
Kiu Man managed half a bowl before taking the spoon into his own trembling hands, preferring to feed himself rather than endure another chaotic dousing.
He could not identify whatever illness had plagued this vessel; perhaps his soul's arrival had dispelled the ailment, leaving behind only profound weakness and ravenous hunger. He hardly registered the taste of the chicken congee, swallowing greedily until both containers were scraped clean.
The warmth settled in his stomach, gradually coaxing a faint trace of color back into his porcelain-pale cheeks. The dim, lifeless look in his dark eyes cleared, replaced by sharp focus.
He had officially anchored himself back in the mortal realm.
Ah Ho was not particularly clever, but he was observant. Having grown up alongside Kiu Man, he knew his friend was always as fragile as porcelain -- a sickly breeze away from shattering. Yet right now, despite the lingering pallor, the look in Kiu Man's eyes was entirely unfamiliar.
Ah Ho could not pinpoint the difference. Staring wide-eyed, he racked his uneducated brain until a horrifying concept struck him. With a startled yelp, he collapsed onto the floor, stammering in terror, "Ah Man... you... you are not experiencing a terminal surge of vitality before dying, are you?!"
Kiu Man was speechless. The book was right -- this kid really is a fool.
Before he could answer, Uncle Wah stepped through the partition curtain and smacked Ah Ho upside the head. "Brat! Stop wailing like a mourner!" Glancing at the empty containers, the old doctor scoffed, "A dying man does not clean out two bowls of congee. Stop terrifying yourself."
Ah Ho rubbed his head, sniffling sheepishly as he scrambled back to his feet.
With food restoring his vigor, Kiu Man turned his focus back to the immediate crisis.
He surveyed the room until his eyes landed on a tarnished wall clock mounted against the peeling yellow paint. The hands pointed straight to five in the afternoon.
According to the novel, the murder occurred while the merchant and his young son were having evening tea at the teahouse -- meaning Chan Ka Nam would not make his move until seven or eight tonight.
There was still time.
With that thought, Kiu Man swung his legs over the side of the cot.
Panicking, Ah Ho rushed forward to steady him. "Ah Man, what are you doing? Just tell me what you need! You just woke up -- lie back down and rest!"
The moment Kiu Man's feet touched the cold concrete floor, his knees buckled. Darkness swarmed his vision, and he had to lean heavily on Ah Ho to keep from collapsing.
He stood panting for several moments until the dizzy spell passed.
This body is absurdly weak, he noted wryly. He was accustomed to an athletic, peak-condition physique in his previous life; being trapped in such a frail shell was an unsettling shock to the system.
Still, he recognized that much of the vertigo stemmed from prolonged bed rest.
After resting on the edge of the cot to steady his breathing, Kiu Man tried standing once more. His legs shook, but he managed to bear his own weight.
Seeing him head toward the door, Ah Ho panicked again. "Ah Man, please do not push yourself! If something happens to you, Brother Nam will skin me alive when he gets back!"
Kiu Man offered a reassuring smile. "I am fine. Lying down for days has stiffened my joints. I just need some fresh air and movement."
From the front room, Uncle Wah called out, "He is right. Gentle movement gets the qi and blood circulating again. It will aid his recovery."
Ah Ho sniffled, finally relenting. "Fine, but let me support you."
Kiu Man did not decline. Leaning on the boy's shoulder, he pushed through the cloth curtain into the front room. Uncle Wah sat behind a cluttered wooden counter, taking the pulse of an elderly woman. Hearing them approach, the old doctor cast a glance over his glasses. "Do not wander far. Come back soon for your herbal brew."
"Understood, Uncle Wah."
As they stepped toward the threshold, Kiu Man caught sight of a grime-smeared mirror hanging on the wall and paused.
In the original novel, this body existed only in memories, lacking any detailed description beyond being a sickly youth raised on bitter medicine.
Wiping away the grime, Kiu Man examined his reflection. Despite the hollow cheeks and sickly pallor, the bone structure beneath was undeniable: deep-set, expressive eyes beneath defined brows, a high bridge, and pale lips naturally curved at the corners -- a delicate, refined beauty wrapped in unmistakable fragility.
Suppressing a quiet sigh, Kiu Man let Ah Ho guide him through the doorway.
A wave of humid heat and the pungent stench of decay struck him instantly. As far as the eye could see, leaning, dilapidated tenement towers blocked out the sky, crisscrossed by tangled webs of illicit power lines. Below lay a labyrinth of cramped, wet alleys teeming with forgotten souls.
Though the sun still hung in the sky outside, barely a sliver of natural light pierced this subterranean concrete jungle.
This was the famous slum where Chan Ka Nam and Kiu Man had grown up -- a lawless monolith rising from the heart of the metropolis, cast entirely in shadow.