By day, the sun still blazed fiercely, but the moment it slanted westward, the temperature dropped and a chill crept in.
The rat-driving business had long since dried up. He wanted somewhere to watch a show and relieve his boredom, but after all this fuss, not a single drop of rain had fallen. The worshippers at the Dragon King Temple had all dispersed, with no one left to burn incense and offer prayers. There was no show to watch.
These last few days, he had nothing to do and was growing restless with idleness.
With a cloth bag slung over his shoulder, he wandered the streets, drifting from the eastern alleys to the western ones, looking at the desolation and decay where prosperity had once flourished.
Now and then, he paused on a stone bridge to look at the white mussel shells in the dry riverbed below.
Before he knew it, he had reached the temporary barracks. With no fighting underway, there were fewer men in camp, and only a scattering of banners stood upright. As he ambled along, he suddenly heard vigorous shouts from within, mingled with the clear ring of clashing weapons.
With a flicker of movement, he slipped through the crumbling earthen wall. He surveyed his surroundings, gently set his cloth bag in a corner, then concealed himself and sauntered toward the gathering. The soldiers had formed a circle, shouting and cheering at the tops of their lungs.
No one noticed the tiny figure. Jin Si stood atop a broken flagpole, watching the commotion.
In truth, this camp belonged neither to the government nor to the rebels. It answered only to a few powerful families in the city. He had seen plenty of such things over the centuries and thought little of it. What interested him was