Jin Xuanzi

Early morning.

Jiang Yan sat on a three-legged stool. He wolfed down the buns on the tray, then raised the bowl and drained the soy milk. After leaving a few copper coins behind, he walked away like any ordinary person.

Lost in the crowd, he couldn't help rubbing his brow and silently sighing.

He hadn't pinned all his hopes of finding people on Wuyuanjia. All night, Jiang Yan had searched for people from the Yehuai outpost, starting in the north of the city.

But he'd failed.

There wasn't a single mark belonging to the White Crane Merchant Association anywhere in the entire northern district.

Jiang Yan slipped his right hand into his pocket and took out a new message talisman. He examined it carefully, then put it away again.

The message talisman showed no response, which meant Wuyuanjia had come up empty, too.

Jiang Yan pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head.

Creak.

Yang Lan opened the window and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Turning to Zhao Cheng, who was boiling water, she asked:

"Has Uncle Wang still not come back?"

Zhao Cheng crouched beside the fire, tending the coals. At her question, he shook his head and answered expressionlessly:

"No. He hasn't come back at all."

Yang Lan tipped her head back, her expression suddenly growing complicated.

Uncle Wang wasn't much use at gathering information, but with his weathered face and ragged clothes, he had found his place among the group fleeing their pursuers.

On the streets, he could beg for food.

But after Uncle Wang went out yesterday, he hadn't come back.

"Woo, woo, woo..." The kettle, stained with grime, gave a hoarse, muffled whistle as white steam billowed from it. Zhao Cheng hurriedly put out the fire and poured the boiling water