THE LAST LORD OF THE WASTELAND

The Lord Everyone Hates

The moment Shen Rui stepped into the street, a woman spat at his feet and hissed, "Shen dog."

He didn't flinch. The mud-splattered cloak he wore was old and torn, pulled low over his face. The hat he had stolen from the servant quarters sat heavy on his head, its wide brim casting shadows across his features. But it wasn't enough. He could feel eyes on him as he moved through the narrow alley that led toward the market square. The city was watching.

"Keep your head down," Lady Qiao had warned him that morning. "If anyone recognizes you, they won't wait for the imperial soldiers. They'll tear you apart themselves."

Shen Rui had nodded. He understood the danger. But he also understood that hiding in the manor while the city starved would solve nothing. He needed to see the truth for himself.

The truth was worse than he imagined.

Blackstone City was dying in slow motion. The streets were a sewer of mud and refuse. Buildings sagged against each other like old men too tired to stand. Everywhere he looked, he saw hollow faces and sunken eyes, children with bellies swollen from hunger, old men crouched in doorways with their hands stretched out in silent pleading.

At the corner of the spice market, a merchant was selling rice at a price so high it made Shen Rui stop and stare.

"Fifty copper for a single jin!" a woman screamed at the merchant. "Are you insane?"

The merchant shrugged. "Take it or leave it. The granary's empty. Soon there won't be any rice at all."

"It's not empty!" another woman shouted from the crowd. "I heard the lord's been hoarding it. Selling it to the northern traders while we starve!"

Shen Rui's blood ran cold. The lie was spreading faster than hunger. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, but the words died in his throat. What could he say? That he had just woken up in a dead man's body? That the original Shen Rui had been a thief and a coward? That he was different?

No one would believe him. And if they recognized him, they would kill him before he could explain.

He moved deeper into the crowd, keeping his head down. The market was a maze of desperate faces and angry voices. He passed a butcher's stall with empty hooks and a fishmonger selling rotten eels at triple price. A group of refugees huddled near the city well, their clothes so thin he could see their bones through the fabric.

"Please," a voice whispered from his left.

Shen Rui turned.

A woman was crouched against a wall, her arms wrapped around a child who looked barely alive. The woman's face was gaunt, her lips cracked and bleeding. She looked up at him with eyes that had long stopped hoping.

"Please," she repeated. "Just a little rice. Just enough to feed my daughter. We haven't eaten in four days."

Shen Rui opened his mouth. He had nothing. No rice. No coin. No power to help.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I have nothing."

The woman's eyes narrowed. She studied his face, her gaze lingering on his jaw, his nose, the shape of his mouth beneath the hat's brim.

"You look like him," she said slowly. "The young lord. The one who let us starve."

Shen Rui's heart slammed against his ribs. "You're mistaken."

"Am I?" She pushed herself up, still clutching her child. "The Shen family has that look. That soft, useless look. Like they've never worked a day in their lives." Her voice rose, drawing attention. "Tell me, stranger, are you a servant of that cursed house?"

"No."

"Then why do you hide your face?"

The crowd was turning now. Faces in the shadows. Eyes narrowing. Shen Rui could feel the danger closing in like a noose.

"I don't hide," he said carefully. "I'm just passing through."

The woman laughed, a bitter sound that ended in a cough. "Passing through. Everyone's passing through Blackstone. The refugees pass through. The soldiers pass through. The grain passes through. But we stay. We starve. We die."

She stepped closer. Her breath was sour with hunger.

"The Shen family did this," she said. "The old lord and his spoiled son. They sold our grain, pocketed the silver, and left us to rot. And now the young lord is dead, executed for his crimes. Good. I hope he suffered."

The child in her arms whimpered. The woman looked down, and for a moment, her anger crumbled into despair.

"I just want to feed my daughter," she whispered. "Is that too much to ask?"

Shen Rui's throat tightened. He wanted to promise her that things would change. That he would change them. But the words felt empty, even to him.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

The woman's eyes flashed. "Sorry doesn't fill an empty belly. Sorry doesn't bring back the dead. You're no different from the Shen family. You stand there with your fine words and your hidden face, and you do nothing while we die."

She turned away, carrying her child back into the shadows.

Shen Rui stood there, rooted to the spot. Her accusation burned in his chest like a brand. She was right. He had done nothing. He had inherited this body, this family, this city, and all he had done so far was hide and count grain sacks.

A hand grabbed his arm.

He spun, ready to fight.

It was a boy, no older than twelve, with dirt-smeared cheeks and eyes that held a terrible understanding.

"Don't stare," the boy whispered. "They'll know."

"Know what?"

The boy looked around, then pulled Shen Rui into a narrow alley between two collapsed buildings.

"You're the young lord," the boy said quietly. "The one they think is dead. I saw you last year at the spring festival. You rode through the streets on a white horse, throwing coins. But you only threw them to the pretty girls. I remember."

Shen Rui's blood turned to ice. "You're wrong."

"I'm not." The boy shook his head. "My father used to work in the stables. He pointed you out. Told me to stay away from the Shen family." He paused. "Why are you alive? The soldiers said they executed you."

Shen Rui didn't know how to answer. He could lie. He could threaten the boy. But something in the child's eyes stopped him.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But I'm trying to understand."

The boy studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"You're different," the boy said. "The old you would have called the guards by now."

"The old me is dead."

The boy smiled for the first time. It was a strange, sad expression on a child's face.

"The city hates you," he said. "They'll kill you if they find out."

"I know."

"Then why did you come out here?"

Shen Rui looked toward the market. Toward the starving mother and her dying child. Toward the collapsed buildings and the empty stalls.

"Because I needed to see what I'm responsible for," he said.

The boy grabbed his arm again, his grip surprisingly strong.

"Look," he hissed.

Shen Rui followed his gaze. At the far end of the market, near the city gate, a line of grain carts was moving. Heavy carts, loaded with sacks, guarded by armed men who wore no uniforms. They were heading out of the city.

"That's the third one today," the boy whispered. "They say the merchants are moving their stock to the northern provinces. Selling it at triple price."

"While the granary is empty."

"Empty? Who told you that?"

Shen Rui turned to the boy. "What do you mean?"

The boy's eyes were wide. "The granary isn't empty. It's full. I saw it myself last night. The merchants have been storing their grain there, paying off the guards to keep it secret. They're selling it to the north while we starve."

Shen Rui's mind raced. The servant had said the granary was empty. But the boy claimed it was full. Which was true?

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

The boy shrugged. "Because you're the only one who can do something about it. If you're really different, like you say."

Shen Rui opened his mouth to respond. But before he could speak, a shout rang out from the crowd.

"Look! Over there! That man in the hat!"

Shen Rui froze. The crowd was turning toward him. Faces filled with suspicion and rage.

A child pointed directly at him, her small finger trembling.

"That's the lord's face!" she screamed. "That's the Shen family mark! He's alive!"

The world seemed to stop.

Shen Rui saw the crowd surge forward. He saw the boy's eyes widen in terror. He saw the grain carts disappear through the gate, taking the city's food with them.

And then he ran.

The crowd chased him through the streets, their voices rising in a roar of fury. He dodged through alleys, knocked over barrels, slipped through a broken wall. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs screamed.

When he finally stopped, he was back at the manor's hidden entrance. The boy was gone. The crowd was far behind.

But their voices still echoed in his ears, chasing him long after he slammed the door shut.

They knew he was alive.

And soon, everyone would know.

Shen Rui leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, his heart pounding with terror.

The city hated him.

And now they had a reason to come for him.