The Faith and Salt

The newly arrived Chinese man, or at least, he appeared young to David.

He had been staring at him for a long time.

Despite his youthful appearance, the man’s expression carried a hardness.

His nose bridge was noticeably higher than that of the other locals, and his skin was unnaturally smooth.

Thick black brows framed his eyes, one of them a piercing red.

Those eyes remained locked on David, heavy with an undisguised interest.

The raw ambiguity of the stare made David restless.

He broke eye contact several times, shifting awkwardly, but the man refused to look away.

David was highly sensitive to this.

He could always tell when someone was attracted to him, often before they even realized it.

It was a sharp instinct, honed by years of navigating the hypocritical circles of London society.

This so-called warrior Xiao Yan wore his hair long, per local custom, but gathered it atop his head in a metal cuff.

The coiled bun resembled the trendy updos favored by women in London.

He saw nothing in his appearance that resembled a warrior. Except for a blade he carried.

Unlike the other guests in their pristine silk robes, this man’s clothes were filthy and frayed. Yet he clearly commanded respect.

He walked with a confident swagger, openly carrying a short sword at his waist. As he passed, the surrounding people actually offered him subtle, deferential nods.

David was completely baffled. His mind buzzed with questions.

Close behind Xiao Yan came a teenager. And he walked straight over to a man in dark patterned silk and, completely ignoring the crowd, began openly flirting with him.

But they are all males.

David glanced around in sudden panic.

He half-expected an Inquisitor to leap out from the bamboo thickets and drag them all before an ecclesiastical court.

Old Archie clearly noticed this outrageous display as well, shooting David a wide-eyed look.

This place is incredible, David thought.

He should have applied for the China mission years ago.

Stolen novel; please report.

In fact, the Chinese ought to send their own missionaries to Britain, just so the Isles could finally adopt such excellent customs.

At least this explained why Xiao Yan had dared to lock eyes with him so boldly in broad daylight.

Public morals here were entirely different from those in Great Britain.

Men like Bishop Broadbelt would undoubtedly scream that this was pure barbarism—a literal den of the devil.

Yet for David, it was the first genuinely pleasant surprise he had encountered since setting foot in this country.

Clearly, there was nothing to hide here.

Just below the stage, the two men were now practically groping each other. It was so brazen that even David found it hard to watch.

The rest of the audience kept their eyes glued to the performance, acting as if nothing else mattered.

Except for Xiao Yan.

The young man’s gaze never wavered. He kept staring, his eyes burning with a heat that felt like he wanted to swallow David alive.

This raw, naked invitation made David flush. Frowning, he shifted restlessly in his seat.

This heavy, sticky tension only broke when the opera finally ended, and the crowd erupted into loud shouts of praise.

David noticed the crowd here rarely clapped. Instead, they constantly cheered, tossed coins onto the stage, and shouted a syllable that sounded like "Hao."

The timing was entirely different from what Westerners were used to. The shouts happened right in the middle of the performance.

Loud, unified bursts precisely between a singer's lines or at the tail end of a physical movement.

It acted like the crash of cymbals in a symphony, practically a part of the play itself.

Hearing the cheers, the actors visibly put more energy into their performance.

Wanting to join in, David let out a shout of his own.

He dragged out the syllable, yelling a long, drawn-out "Haooooo," assuming the extra length meant higher praise.

The guard leader finally snapped. He spun around and threw his hands up in furious disbelief.

"He says yer insultin' us," Archie said.

It struck David as completely absurd that this Scottish fraud had somehow become his personal translator.

"What?" David asked.

"My friend Peng says yer insultin' us," Archie repeated, looking at the guard leader for validation. "Right?"

Unbelievably, the convoy leader seemed to understand.

He nodded and let out a heavy "Pou Gai"—a sound David didn't need translated to recognize as pure, exhausted disappointment.

Just then, the host walked over with a polite smile.

This elegant, middle-aged man had to be Wei Yuan. His English was nowhere near as fluent as Liang Fa's, though they shared the same measured tone.

"To make a long 'Hao' is a criticism," Wei Yuan said. "You are David?"

"I am, sir," David replied, standing up to greet him.

"I understand your road is very far," Wei Yuan said in slow, stilted English. "Please, go to the side room to rest first. I must chat with an old friend. I will meet you very soon."

Wei Yuan's English was still preferable to relying on Archie.

A maid led the two men into the quiet side parlor.

Yet, the sheer shock of the performance still lingered heavily between them. They sat in silence for a moment, trying to process what they had just seen.

"Fuck me," Archie muttered, shaking his head. "This place is insane!"

David simply swallowed hard and nodded. "Completely."

Now, they were left alone in a dimly lit room that smelled faintly of dry tea leaves and old dust.

Slumped in a stiff hardwood armchair, David tried to relax, but his mind kept replaying that stare.

That burning, naked stare. He thought about the man's unnaturally smooth skin, a stark contrast to his filth…

He remembered the lean, tight muscle shifting beneath those ruined clothes with every slow breath.

The memory made a sudden heat pool in David's gut.

In his mind, he let his gaze drop back down to those long, capable fingers resting so casually against the sword hilt.

He imagined tracing the sharp, unforgiving line of the man's throat, dragging his attention over that hard jawline, and finally settling on his lips.

His chest tightened just thinking about it.

He certainly had not expected such a bonus on this trip.

An opportunity tobed such an appetizing man.