Doctor Mo kept his countenance utterly without expression, his two eyes half open, half shut, while one hand lay fast upon Han Li's wrist. All the sum of his mind was bent upon the estate of the true qi within Han Li's body, and for a long while he spoke not a word. It was not until the space of a cup of tea had gone by that he let out a long, deep breath, as though he would expel the whole of his chagrin upon the air, and his eyes snapped wide open, and from those turbid orbs there shot forth a certain gleam of keen light, so that no man dared to meet his gaze.
His face was dark and brooding, and it was plain that he was ill content with Han Li; yet still no word of rebuke passed his lips. Coldly he waved his hand, bidding Han Li follow him. Han Li, obedient and discreet, fell in behind him, and though he was greatly drawn to the mysterious stranger by their side, he knew full well that this was not the hour for him to put idle questions.
When they were come within the house, Doctor Mo sank wearily into the high armchair, his back pressed close against its rest, half sitting, half reclining. The keen light had faded from his eyes, and he was once more the worn man long beset by sickness. The stranger followed hard upon his heels, never one step behind, and when the doctor was seated he took his station behind the chair and stood there, bolt upright, unmoving. Han Li knew that Doctor Mo's temper was not of the best, and had no wish to speak first and draw the master's wrath upon his own head; so, fashioning himself upon the stranger, he walked to the very center of the room, and there, facing Doctor Mo, bowed his head and held himself still and circumspect, waiting for the doctor to open his mouth.
A great while passed, and still no man spoke. Han Li, growing a little perplexed and losing patience, desired to lift up his head and steal a glance at Doctor Mo.
"If you would look, then look, and not go at it by stealth," came Doctor Mo's cold and biting voice, the instant Han Li had raised his neck but half-way. Han Li's frame gave a start, and then, obedient, he lifted up his head, ran his eyes once or twice over the doctor's face, and quickly drew them back again. The look upon Han Li's own face had not changed at all, yet within his breast his thoughts were tossed as a boiling sea.
How had Doctor Mo's countenance grown so uncanny in a breath? Over that ashen face there hung now, dimly, a thin cloud of black vapor; and this black vapor seemed to be a living thing, thrusting forth countless slender feelers, tossing and writhing over his visage as though mouthing and clawing at the air. What amazed Han Li even more was that Doctor Mo, so unlike his wonted stony manner, now wore an expression of the utmost ruthlessness and resolve, and was eyeing Han Li with a look of no goodwill, while at the corner of his lips there lingered a faint and jeering sneer.
Han Li felt that all was not as it should be, and a certain unease coiled about his heart, while a breath of peril began to spread through the room. Warily, watchfully, he slipped back half a pace, and hid his hand within his sleeve to close it fast upon the iron cylinder there, and so loosened the tautness of his nerves a little; and even as he did so, a low, mocking murmur from Doctor Mo came stealing to his ear.
"Is so paltry a ruse as that to be put before me as a wonder?"
Doctor Mo stirred himself, and with a strange grace turned from his half-reclining pose to a standing one; then, with a faint and sinister smile, he shifted his form a hair's breadth, and lo, he was at Han Li's side in the twinkling of an eye, like a very ghost, staring down at him with a cold and quiet laugh. Han Li's face changed color, and he knew that all was lost, and made haste to raise his arm; but at once a numbness swept over his body, and he could not stir so much as a finger. It was then that he saw the doctor draw his finger back from the point upon Han Li's breast that the man had sealed. It had been done so swiftly that Han Li had not had the least inkling of his hand.
"Elder Mo, what mean you by this?" said Han Li, whose steadfast composure was now beyond his power to keep, forcing a smile upon his lips. "If this disciple has done any wrong, you have but to say the word. For what need is there to seal up my acupoints?" Doctor Mo answered nothing, but only beat once or twice at his own back with one hand, and coughed a little, wearing all the air of a frail and failing ancient at the very end of his strength. Yet Han Li had seen him but a moment before seize and still him with such untold swiftness, so he dared not take him for any common sick old man, and this feigned weakness of his only made Han Li heed him all the more.
"Doctor Mo," Han Li went on, "what manner of man is Your Eminence, that you should stoop to bandy words with a mere disciple? Loose my acupoints, and whatever penance you see fit, this disciple will bear it every whit." And so he poured out a string of fair and flattering speeches. But Doctor Mo heeded him not at all, but reached into Han Li's sleeve and drew forth the iron cylinder, taking it in his hand, and watched the boy's performance with a look of open mockery and disdain.
At the sight of it, Han Li's heart sank to the very depths, and the hope, which he had nursed, of moving the doctor with words was utterly dashed. Plainly the man meant to leave him not the least cranny for escape. And so Han Li fell little by little silent, and the look upon his face grew still and mild, and he turned his eyes upon Doctor Mo with no shadow of feeling at all in them. And in that instant all things within the room seemed to grow still, so hushed and motionless that they were like the dead calm that gathers before a tempest.
"Good! Good! Good!" The three words, like a verdict, came suddenly from Doctor Mo's lips. "You have not proved unworthy of the man I, Mo Juren, singled out. Even now your face does not change color, and you keep your head in the teeth of danger; it was no mis-spent price that I laid such treasure upon you." And of a sudden he fell to praising Han Li, though there was little love in the praise.
"And what, then, do you mean to do with me?" asked Han Li, taking no hold of the doctor's words, but putting his own question instead.
"Ha! And what shall I do with you?" Doctor Mo repeated the question, neither granting nor denying aught. "What shall I do with you? That must rest upon how you carry yourself."
"What is your meaning?" said Han Li, marking his brow a little, and guessing dimly at some part of the doctor's design.
"If I say not, yet with such quickness of wit as yours, you should be able to make out more than a little on your own account."
"Only a small part do I guess," Han Li confessed, not denying it, and made answer with most candid ears. "But the whole chain of the matter, its causes and its consequences, I do not yet understand."
"Very good. That is just as it should be done. Whatever question you have, ask it of me directly, and do not keep it locked up forever in your breast." And Doctor Mo smiled a sinister little smile, and the black vapor about his face seemed to thicken by two more folds, making his countenance all the more grisly to look upon. "I know well that you have kept your guard against me, and have never truly taken me for your master. But that is of no matter, for neither have I truly taken you for my disciple." And Doctor Mo gave a light snort as he spoke.