The cries of the cicadas gradually faded into the distance.
Li Ping'an woke beneath a bridge, the evening breeze brushing his face with a hint of warmth.
Leading Old Ox, he had drunk plenty of strong liquor last night with the tael of silver the man had given him.
He had been unwilling to dispel his drunkenness.
Now it felt as though he were walking on cotton, floating a little.
He came to a vegetable market, where all sorts of smells filled the air.
The stallholders hawked their wares while coaxing out the aromas of their food.
Cries in all manner of accents mingled with the rank stink of chickens and ducks.
Li Ping'an sat down at a small stall.
There was only one other diner at the stall.
Before the diner sat a pot of wine, a small dish of food, and a bowl of Yangchun Noodles.
Before leaving, Zi Fang had left Li Ping'an some money.
It was enough to cover a few days' meals.
"Two bowls of Yangchun Noodles. No chopped scallions, no coriander. Just give me extra noodles."
Li Ping'an said.
The noodle vendor did not mind. Customers like this were no longer anything unusual.
He promptly served two large bowls brimming with noodles.
Without wine or side dishes, the noodles lost much of their flavor.
As Li Ping'an ate, he suddenly heard a voice behind him.
"Oh, Master Blind! What are you doing here? Hurry back with me."
The newcomer was a white paper fan from Flowing Prosperity Hall, "white paper fan" being a title used in Jianghu.
Someone with that title was essentially the brains and strategist at a gang leader's side.
"What happened?" Li Ping'an asked, puzzled.
The white paper fan said, "The assassination failed. That man died."
Li Ping'an remembered the man