Chapter 13

Bo Li was awakened by Eric pushing her.
Still half-asleep, she opened her eyes and assumed he wanted a hug again. She reached out, looped her arms around his waist, buried her head against his chest, and tried to fall back asleep.
He seemed to pause for a fraction of a second—then he grabbed her arm and yanked her off him.
It was the first time he’d refused her embrace.
Bo Li was instantly wide awake.
She didn’t know how long they’d slept. The sky was already a dim, pale gray.
Morning fog drifted through the trees. It must have rained lightly last night; moss, rotting leaves, and mud had all been soaked, turning the forest floor a dark, filthy green.
Just looking at mud gave Bo Li a headache.
Even after all this time, she still couldn’t adapt to how brutal the outdoors was.
No bed. No clean water. Mud ready to swallow your pant legs and soak your shoes at any moment.
Even if she lived like this for ten more years, she doubted she’d ever get used to it.
While she hesitated, Eric stood and left the tent.
Bo Li pulled on her shoes and was about to go after him when hoofbeats sounded outside—followed by the squeak of wheels turning.
No wonder Eric had torn himself away and left early.
He hated being watched by strangers. He rarely appeared in front of people.
And as a predator, he didn’t need to be in front of people. Shadows were better for launching an attack.
The wagon seemed to stop right in front of the tent. A door opened, someone jumped down from the carriage, and footsteps came toward her.
Bo Li reacted fast. She rushed to the edge of the tent, showing only her profile, one hand hidden behind her back as if gripping a gun.
“—Who’s there?”
A warm, enthusiastic voice answered, “Thank God you’re here. I thought that freak killed you!”
The man sounded like he knew her—far too familiar—but she had no idea who he was.
Bo Li’s heart tightened.
From his tone, he seemed to know Eric existed—and he seemed to know what had happened in the circus.
She’d assumed that with the manager dead, the circus nightmare was over, that she’d finally shaken them off.
But now it seemed the circus’s shadow was still over her.
Someone had even followed them all the way here.
Bo Li said coldly, “I don’t know you.”
“But I know you.” The man removed his hat and bowed to her, the gesture so humble it was almost ridiculous. “You’re Polly Clément from the circus, aren’t you?”
“And if I say I’m not?”
The man smiled. “Then I’ll say you’re a dishonest child—do you know Emily?”
Bo Li’s voice went tight. “She’s not with me.”
“I know,” the man said. “Because she’s with me. To show sincerity, Mr. Clément, let me introduce myself first. My name is Tricky Terry. I’m an honest, friendly middleman. I don’t use knives or guns. You can come out and talk.”
Bo Li didn’t know what he was after. After thinking for a moment, she stepped out slowly.
It’s fine, she told herself. Eric is watching from the shadows.
She didn’t realize how unhealthy that reliance was.
The moment she saw Tricky Terry’s face, her whole body jolted.
She knew this lanky man. On the morning of her second day here—and again at the party that night—he’d been standing beside Emily, laughing and talking with the manager.
—Emily’s “brother.”
She’d been right. The lanky man wasn’t Emily’s brother at all.
He called himself a “middleman,” but a middleman for what? And why had he followed them?
Bo Li didn’t know, and didn’t dare think too far ahead.
“I don’t think I’m worth a middleman’s time,” she said slowly, word by word.
“You’re cautious. That’s good.” Tricky Terry pulled out a matchbook, then slipped a cigarette from his case. “The world isn’t safe. Bad people everywhere. The police don’t care, and the Pinkerton Detective Agency only works for the rich—people like us, even if we die, no one gives a damn.”
Bo Li said coldly, “Are you saying that if I die here, nobody will care?”
“God is my witness!” Tricky Terry held up a hand with the cigarette between his lips, looking sincerely offended. “I’m talking about the people in the woods—your former employer, Mr. Dawes.”
Dawes was the manager’s surname. The circus was called Mr. Dawes’s Circus.
Bo Li said, “Whether Mr. Dawes is alive or dead is none of my business.”
“So cold,” Tricky Terry sighed, taking a drag. “But understandable. Dawes really wasn’t a good man—swindler, blackmailer, rotten to the bone. I’ll be honest with you: I’m not Emily’s brother.”
Bo Li raised her brows as if surprised.
“Dawes had her travel with me because he wanted her to ‘serve science’—you know, she has four legs. A lot of scientists are very curious whether she has two sets of organs, and if she does, how they function during pregnancy.”
Tricky Terry continued, “I’m a persuader Dawes hired. He wanted me to convince Emily to accept euthanasia and ‘donate’ her body to those curious scientists.”
Bo Li finally understood what ‘the art of language’ looked like.
Human trafficking and blood money, dressed up as “serving science.”
Bo Li mocked, “So you’re here to persuade me to ‘serve science’ too?”
Tricky Terry smiled. “My dear, besides Emily, no one needs to serve science.”
He exhaled smoke, eyes narrowing. “I came here to recruit your companion—Eric.”
So that was it. He was finally getting to the point.
Bo Li’s heart skipped. Her thoughts raced as she tried to bait information out of him with a jealous tone. “Eric? What’s there to recruit? He’s just a thief with quick hands!”
“If you’d seen how the manager died, you wouldn’t say that.”
Bo Li answered righteously, “I didn’t see it. My horse got spooked.” Which was true.
Seeing that she knew nothing, Tricky Terry’s expression turned impatient. The friendliness he’d started with vanished.
“Enough small talk, kid,” he said, even the way he addressed her changing. “Tell me where Eric is and I’ll give you a fortune—enough to keep you fed and clothed for the rest of your life. You don’t want to spend your whole life wallowing in mud, do you?”
The way Tricky Terry looked at her was like she was an idiot sitting on treasure without realizing it.
But he had no idea: if she handed over that “treasure,” she would die.
Besides, Eric was that powerful—almost unstoppable. Everyone would want him to work for them.
So why would she ever give him up?
Still…
Bo Li glanced at Tricky Terry’s carriage.
There was no question it was an expensive private coach.
The bodywork was lacquered, silk curtains hung in the windows, and there were even fine paintings on the panels. The wheels had been carefully maintained too—solid and easy‑rolling.
Tricky Terry had money—and he’d offended Eric.
Eric hadn’t gone far. He might be nearby right now, listening.
With a hint of malice, Bo Li thought: could she persuade Eric to rob Tricky Terry?
That way, she wouldn’t have to “wallow in mud” for the rest of her life.
Seeing she stayed silent, Tricky Terry seemed to realize his tone had been too hard. He forced himself back into a mild, humble politeness.
“I’m not looking for him to do harm. Truly.” He gave her a practiced smile. “I only want to talk business—you have no idea how incredible his magic is. He can conjure a flame out of thin air. It’s like sorcery! The last magician who shocked me like this was Robert‑Houdin.”
In the original story, “Robert‑Houdin” was used too, to describe Eric’s almost supernatural skill.
Robert‑Houdin was the father of modern magic.
Without him, magic might still have been nothing but street tricks—not a stage art enjoyed by all classes.
Bo Li had never seen Eric perform magic. She couldn’t help feeling curious. Was it really that good?
After thinking for a moment, she decided to commit to her jealous, petty persona. “So what? There’s an Indian guy in the circus who can breathe fire.”
“That’s not the same thing.” Tricky Terry shot to his feet, furious. “Anyone can breathe fire—just hold a mouthful of liquor and a torch. A three‑year‑old could do it—”
He sucked in a breath, forcing himself not to explode.
Then he handed Bo Li a business card.
“This is my card. My address is on it. Next week I’m hosting a banquet there. Gentlemen and ladies from high society will attend.”
“If you have news about Eric, you’d best tell me before then—or on the day. I guarantee I’ll reward you generously.”
The card carried a faint fragrance—his cologne. It actually smelled pleasant.
Bo Li couldn’t help lifting it to her nose and taking a small sniff.
She had to admit: though the man had his own agenda, he’d solved her biggest problems right now—money and connections.
It was like a pillow handed to her the moment she started dozing off.
If she wanted to gain a foothold in this era, the wallet from the manager wouldn’t be enough.
And going back to the circus camp to loot valuables wasn’t realistic either. Not everyone had joined the hunt for them—there would definitely still be people staying behind.
With the manager not returning, the people at camp would either come looking for him…or split up the property and scatter.
If she could persuade Eric to let her attend Tricky Terry’s banquet, she could meet some new people.
If she got lucky, she might even attract investment for a circus of her own.
Mainly, though—new people.
Bo Li wanted to talk to someone more than anything.
She wasn’t naturally outgoing. She was even a little shy. Outside of necessary social events, she usually stayed home playing games.
Hiking had been something her friends dragged her into. She’d stuffed two three‑pound hot pot tins into her pack and gotten teased for it for ages.
After crossing over, she hadn’t dared to meet anyone’s eyes, hadn’t dared to talk, hadn’t dared to speak about what she felt.
It was terrifying.
Like being isolated from the entire world.
So much so that later, even hugging someone who might kill her at any moment had brought her a bit of comfort.
Eric was that dangerous.
What they had wasn’t “friend and friend.”
It was predator and prey.
Even so, she preferred it to a reality that was cold and lonely.
She craved human connection too much.
If she couldn’t have connection, then at least let her smell the warmth of people.
Like Eric, she wanted a hug.
Any hug would do.
Just something that proved she was still alive.
By the time she came back to herself, Tricky Terry had already climbed into his carriage and left.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Eric was back.