A project by Elbowsnapper

The first day had been something like what he’d expected a deep cover infiltration to feel like, waking up in a strange bed, in a strange house, with strange people who were all looking at him like he was someone they’d known forever—and then forcing himself to go along with it to buy enough time to figure out what was actually going on.

At first, Rylin had genuinely thought that he had been abducted and that his continued safety relied on complying with some unsettling roleplay for what might well have been a pair of serial killers. That had lasted all of five minutes until he’d shredded enough of the panic to get a mental grip on the situation.

He was no longer approaching six feet tall; he was no longer an adult at all. So unless these two were magical serial killers—at which point he had very little chance of outwitting them—then something else was going on.

A toddler—who was potentially someone who’d been kidnapped the old-fashioned way—had screamed himself awake already and woken up the entire household in the process. An oddly terrifying alarm bell, considering it had signaled the change of just about all of the normal expectations Rylin had come to expect from the world.

The dark-haired stranger who had swept the little boy up into her arms looked about half as frazzled by her abrupt awakening as Rylin felt from the entire situation. A few minutes of listening to her negotiate with the boy, names, words, and coo’s intermingling were enough for him to learn both of their names—Shen Lan, the mother, and Shen Shu, the toddler.

The man had been the last to appear, but it might have only been because he’d taken the time to get properly dressed. It was around this point that they seemed to remember that there was another person in their home, and Rylin had finally learned the name of the boy he was inhabiting.

Shen Yimin.

He’d gone along with everything the man had said without complaint, dressing himself in unfamiliar clothing—in material, size and style—and then leaving with him when asked. Rylin had spent the entire first hour just waiting for them to shatter the veil. Waiting for the man to turn to him and ask why he hadn’t said anything about his new circumstance yet, and did he have any questions about the transition—but at no point had that come to pass.

So he’d silently followed the actor who was playing the role of his ‘father’ throughout the rest of the day while Rylin himself played the role of a stubbornly quiet, unnervingly watchful but overall dutiful son. The far-shortened strides of his now much smaller legs bothered him more than he’d ever had admitted out loud.

Throughout their time together—chopping lumber, for the most part—he’d weathered the numerous variations of ‘you’re quiet today, my son,’ and ‘are you sure you’re feeling well?’ that came his way every so often with a sort of determined non-interaction, intent on drawing in as much information before committing any kind of action that might well end with the man’s axe buried in his head.

Stolen novel; please report.

It wasn’t until three hours into his deep cover, on the return trip back from an arm-destroying day of chopping wood, that he actually heard the man’s name for the first time.

“Shen Hu,” A voice called, “A message for you—it’s two days later than I promised, but I’m only a man.”

Rylin turned, checked to make sure that his ‘father’ had actually reacted to the name, and then turned back to the man in question, still in the process of waving around the scroll as he approached. Shen Hu stepped forward, brow furrowed—either at the mishandled scroll or at the man himself, Rylin couldn’t tell.

“Duan Ren,” Shen Hu spoke, “You’re back, I see.”

Duan Ren brandished the scroll at him, breathing a bit heavily as if he’d run the two of them down in order to hand it over. Shen Hu took it from him, and the man straightened up, managing to catch his breath.

“One week—enough time to pack up my wagon and have plenty of time to go sniffing around,” Duan Ren said, pleased. “I’ve heard already that we’ve had several travellers coming through, big names, or so the rumour goes.”

Rylin noted the odd reluctance Shen Hu seemed to have about being in Duan Ren’s presence, but the scroll seemed to have taken his attention wholesale, the thin ribbon already coming free with a few short plucks.

“Big names is one way of putting it,” Shen Hu said, unfurling the parchment. “I’d avoid putting your nose anywhere near them—if you seek to keep it attached.”

“Shen Yimin, you’ve gotten taller since I last saw you, if only just,” Duan Ren said, raising an eyebrow. “You aren’t stuffing your boots with cloth again, are you?”

Rylin wondered if that was something the boy whose body he’d stolen had really done or if the man was simply taking a jab at a young boy’s expense—he cleared his throat to speak for what might have been the first time since he’d arrived, if only because the man seemed pretty expectant of some kind of answer.

“I’m simply following your example,” Rylin said.

Duan Ren snorted at the words before planting his hands at his hip and leaning back as if to make himself appear even taller—Shen Hu seemed to roll his eyes at the exchange, but he did send a fleeting look of muted surprise down in his direction. Perhaps Shen Yimin hadn’t been one for joking, or maybe it was the confidence by which he’d spoken that had triggered something in the man’s hindbrain.

Either way, the moment was lost as Shen Hu actually took in the contents of the scroll for the first time, and something in the way he was standing changed entirely—Duan Ren seemed to notice it as well, resetting his stance to something that seemed a few shades more wary.

“My nephew has failed his examination,” Shen Hu said, a bit unsettled. “My brother is coming in three weeks—he is now seeking a suitable replacement to fill the spot that Shen Bolin could not.”

Rylin considered the words, for which he had not enough context to latch onto—that the boy he had suddenly become must have had a cousin, that was clear enough, and that an examination had taken place as well. Some kind of school, or an application for a license, perhaps? The lack of technology, real roads, and electricity made him think the idea was strange. It was possible that he’d arrived in a relatively normal world, albeit at a rare village that lacked the staples of society he’d come to expect—it just didn’t seem very likely.

The real unnerving part of it was the look both men were giving him now and the words from the letter that, while long since faded, still lingered in his mind—he is now seeking a suitable replacement to fill the spot that Shen Bolin could not.

What exactly had he just become the replacement for?