The Prayer Beads Before His Adam's Apple

“Don’t touch those prayer beads.” Everyone in the capital knew that the prayer beads around the neck of Fu family heir Fu Chenyuan were untouchable. They were the precepts he had observed for twenty years, the divinity that placed him above everyone else, and the boundary stone separating him from the mortal world. Until one stormy night, when he brought home a blood-soaked boy. The boy was named Shi Wu. He had a pair of dewy eyes, would curl up by the meditation cushion and fall asleep while Fu Chenyuan chanted, and would gently tug at his sleeve whenever Fu Chenyuan tried to hold himself back. Fu Chenyuan made an exception and let him stay by his side, giving him shelter, indulging him, giving him everything, except permission to touch those prayer beads. Everyone said Mr. Fu had raised the most obedient little bird. Then the Fu family’s sworn enemy laid a trap at a banquet, and Shi Wu was publicly harassed. Fu Chenyuan rose, fingering his prayer beads. Before he could speak Shi Wu suddenly reached out in full view of everyone and hooked a finger around the beads that never left Fu Chenyuan’s neck. Then he rose onto his toes and bit down on the topmost bead, holding it against Fu Chenyuan’s bobbing Adam’s apple. Amid the faint crack of sandalwood breaking, he leaned close to Fu Chenyuan’s ear and laughed softly: “Mr. Fu, your prayer beads... don’t taste as sweet as I do.”