Blue Eyes Under Fog Capital Bridge (1)

Thick fog coiled around the streets of the East End of London.

Gas lamps cast dim, yellowish halos that looked like water-soaked paper lanterns, illuminating only a few paces ahead.

Ye Yan tightened the collar of his wool coat.

This path through the Whitechapel District was the necessary route from Baker Street to the home of Detective Lestrade.

It was said that pickpockets were rampant in this area.

Ye Yan glanced around, the corners of his mouth twitching.

With its labyrinthine alleys and damp environment, he imagined that in bad weather, this place was not just a hotbed for pickpocketing, but an excellent spot for robbery.

A burst of hurried footsteps echoed from around the corner.

Ye Yan frowned and chose to take a detour without hesitation; he did not want to invite any trouble on his way.

"Let go of me!" a sharp, childish voice cried out.

Well.

He certainly did not want to invite any trouble, but it appeared a child was currently in trouble.

Ye Yan drew his revolver from his coat.

"Bang—"

He fired a shot into the air.

The commotion around the corner ceased abruptly, followed by the sound of several messy footsteps fleeing in a panic, leaving behind only the sound of rapid, trembling breathing.

Ye Yan slowly lowered the muzzle of his gun.

"Are you alright?" he asked, deliberately softening his voice. "I can help you call the police."

There was no response from the alley.

Ye Yan understood this; it was perfectly normal for a child to be wary of strangers.

Besides, regardless of whether those fleeing thugs were good or bad, they could at most resort to fists and kicks, whereas he, holding a revolver, could feed someone a bullet.

The level of intimidation between the two was not in the same league.

"I am leaving now; you should get out of here quickly."

Ye Yan tucked the gun back into his coat.

Just then, he heard the sound of light, rapid footsteps approaching him.

Ye Yan spun around, gun in hand.

A thin, small figure ran out from the mouth of the alley.

By the light of the lamps, he saw the person clearly: a boy of about ten, his face covered in coal dust and grime, wearing a tattered coat that was clearly several sizes too large, his Blue Eyes wide with terror and looking exceptionally bright.

"Sir, could you please take me out of here?"

The boy's voice trembled, his eyes darting toward the depths of the alley. "Please, I'm afraid they'll come back to grab me!"

"What is your name?" Ye Yan asked.

"Billy," the boy whispered. "Sir, are you going to call the police?"

Ye Yan did not answer immediately.

He noticed a fresh whip mark on Billy's right arm, extending from his ragged sleeve and appearing particularly jarring against his pale skin.

"Who hit you?"

Billy suddenly became nervous, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Sir, can't we leave here faster? I'm really scared."

Ye Yan narrowed his eyes.

He did not press the question, simply putting away his revolver and signaling for the boy to follow.

Along the way, the boy followed Ye Yan silently; a few times he seemed to want to quicken his pace to get closer, but ultimately kept a distance that was neither too near nor too far.

"Grumble—"

A protest from a stomach came from behind him.

Ye Yan sighed, turned around, and looked at the boy. "You wait here."

"Sir?"

The boy voiced his confusion.

"I am going to the commercial street," Ye Yan explained. "And you cannot go any further; the police are very likely to arrest you as a child vagrant."

The fate facing a homeless child was often more terrifying than starvation.

Because the England of this world also had the Poor Law and the Vagrancy Act, and they had not yet been abolished.

The doors of the workhouses were always open to the poor.

But the Poor Law implemented the "principle of less eligibility," which stipulated that the conditions of relief must be more severe than the life of the lowest-paid laborer, to ensure that the poor would not become dependent on relief.

Of course, you could choose to refuse this "merciful" relief and choose to run away.

Then congratulations to you.

From this moment on, you will bear the stigma of being a "vagrant."

According to the Vagrancy Act, anyone with "no fixed abode or visible means of subsistence" can be convicted, and the police have the authority to arrest so-called "suspicious persons" without trial.

The justice system of this era does not allow the poor to "lie flat."

Regardless of how bizarre its regulations may be, you only need to remember one sentence.

Poverty is the original sin.

Because those above believe this signifies that you are lazy, depraved, and likely to cause serious social problems.

The light punishment is forced labor; the heavy punishment is exile or imprisonment.

The concept of non-sympathy and the principle of inferior treatment are two mountains pressing down on the poor, forcing them to "voluntarily" enter more dangerous factory work or engage in crime.

And Ye Yan's dissuasion seemed to put the boy in a difficult position.

"But, I..." Billy bit his chapped lips, as if afraid of something.

"I will be back."

Ye Yan made a promise, then turned and left.

In reality, he had seen through it.

The boy named Billy was a pickpocket, and it was even possible he had joined some thieving gang.

But Ye Yan would not choose to call the police.

Because there was no need.

Calling the police would only drag this child out of one abyss, only to personally push him into another.

And soon, he returned.

The boy was still in the same spot. Ye Yan could see that the other was terrified, his body trembling involuntarily, yet his feet had not moved a single step.

Hearing footsteps, Billy looked up behind Ye Yan, only to find that the man had come alone.

A look of obvious confusion appeared on his face.

"Did you think I went to call the police?"

Ye Yan smiled and took a red apple from a fruit bag, handing it to him.

He had originally intended to buy some gifts to visit Detective Lestrade, and after much thought, he had finally chosen this apple, which could fill a stomach and was suitable as a gift.

"Is this for me?"

The boy looked up at him cautiously, his dirty face full of bewilderment.

"Yes, finish it here, then go home."

Billy took the apple in silence. He took a large bite, then wolfed the whole thing down, not even willing to throw away the core.

When he looked up, his eyes were already brimming with tears.

"Sir."

Billy's voice trembled violently in the thick fog.

"Actually, I am a criminal. The people chasing me in the alley just now were my accomplices..."

The boy's lips could not stop shivering.

"We... we were originally going to trick a kind-hearted person into coming in so we could rob them." At this point, he suddenly shook his head violently, his dirty blonde hair swaying in the gradually dissipating mist: "But this is truly the first time I've done something bad! Please believe me!"

Afterward, Billy tremblingly pulled a few warm coins from his pocket: "I was begging at London Bridge before, but today... today..."

The boy suddenly choked up and could not speak.

Large tears rolled down his cheeks, carving two clear tracks through the coal dust: "My sister is sick, and they said... said if I didn't hand over five shillings today... they would sell her to the chimney sweeps..."

Ye Yan watched silently as the boy opened his palm; those few pitiful coins were still stained with black grime.

In reality, he had tested the boy three times.

The first test occurred while they were walking together; the boy had tried to get close to his pocket several times but ultimately did not act.

The second test occurred when he left; the boy did not choose to run away, but instead waited for Ye Yan to return.

And the final test was just now; when Ye Yan showed kindness, the boy chose to confess everything.

Three tests, and all three times he made the right choice.

Even if Ye Yan did not want to meddle in other people's business, he could not turn a blind eye to a child crying out to him.

This child had been pushed to the edge of crime.

Ye Yan silently took a brand-new coin from his wallet and gently placed it into Billy's cold palm.

The coins made a crisp sound as they touched.

Billy looked up abruptly, his tear-blurred Blue Eyes filled with disbelief.

"Why?" he asked.

Ye Yan crouched down, bringing himself level with the boy.

"This is not charity."

His gaze fell upon the gruesome whip mark on Billy's arm, and he gently closed the boy's fingers, pressing the coin firmly into that small palm.

"It is a coin that brings good luck."

Billy seemed to have never encountered such kindness before, to the point that even his breathing became cautious.

Ye Yan stood up and patted the boy's thin shoulder: "Go back now, your sister will be fine."

"Thank you, sir."

Watching the boy's figure as he ran off while repeatedly bowing, a curve tugged at the corner of Ye Yan's mouth.

The money he gave the boy was, of course, a coin representing luck.

After all, it had already been marked by his Luck Compass; as long as the boy took it back, he would be able to follow the coordinates to find the criminal den that was forcing children to become pickpockets.

"That said, Detective Lestrade shouldn't mind... working a little overtime, right?"

Ye Yan blinked.

This case could be considered a performance bonus gifted to the detective.