Abacus City at the End of the Nine Rivers

The three men who rushed into the tea stall were not selling tea, but "miancha."

It was a kind of flour tea.

"Gaoliang" or "Xiaomi" was ground into fine powder, then mixed with warm osmanthus sugar water into a paste. Boiling water from a large copper kettle was poured over it to make a thick gruel, and red and white sugar was sprinkled on top. It was eaten by slowly scooping it up with a small shovel.

It was fragrant, sweet, delicious, and rich in flavor.

Even the kettle used to pour the water was particular. It was a specially made large copper kettle with a dragon's-mouth spout, built like a hotpot. Iron-wire dragon whiskers, threaded with bright red balls, curled upward from both sides of the dragon's head.

A copper steam whistle sat atop the kettle. Once the water boiled, it began to wail.

The stuff was cheap. Paired with steamed cakes or sesame flatbreads filled with red bean paste, it was enough to fill one's stomach.

Of course, they sold tea as well, but it was all poor-quality tea, barely enough to give the water some color.

There were therefore many such little stalls along the docks.

The tea stall was crude too. A few rough wooden poles supported several sheets of oiled cloth, while inside stood several lame-legged wooden tables, blackened long ago by the sweat of dock laborers and the grease from their meals.

The three men had just staggered inside when the shopkeeper's copper kettle trembled in fright.

"Get the hell out of here, all of you!"

The scar-faced leader kicked over a bench, hitched up his clothes, and revealed the blue-scaled waist token at his belt.

Fine scales were carved into the token. It was unmistakably the Jinghai Gang's token.

The few porters in