A bald, middle-aged man leaned forward, his rough knuckles gripped a stack of coins, he placed them on the table.
"Ten coins," he declared, the corners of his mouth curling up with a smug smile.
"Ten!" echoed an old man with a full, gray beard, adding his own coins to the bald man's pile, his fingers shaking slightly with each drop.
"Alright, my ten coins!" A man in his thirties chimed in, wearing his hair in a single, tightly knotted bun atop his head.
They sat in a cramped room, packed with gamblers. Shadows from the dim lanterns flickered over them.
The tables were low and square, with coins glinting in the faint light. Not a single chair in sight—just men crouching or sitting.
With the others' coins on the table, all eyes turned to the last player. He kept his head lowered, fingers drumming against a small, leather purse resting on his lap.
"What's the matter, kid? Afraid of losing?" the bald man sneered. He chuckled. "It's your first time? You might get lucky."
The young man—hair pulled into a plain bun secured with a wooden hairpin—lifted his gaze, a cool look settling in his eyes.
Wordlessly, he placed his purse on the table and calmly laid out his own ten coins.
"I'm not a kid," he said, his tone cut through the air like the edge of a blade.
"Alright, let's start," the bald man announced.
He grabbed a set of slim bamboo cards. He shuffled with a practiced ease, the click of cards against his fingers. His gaze gleamed with a cocky confidence as he passed two cards to each player, keeping two.
The men huddled in silence, their eyes flitting between their cards and each other. The air grew thick with unspoken thoughts.
"Show your hand," the bald man commanded. He leaned back, casting a sidelong with a smug glance at his own cards.
The bearded elder went first, slapping his cards down with a grunt, "Silkworm," he muttered, bitterness lacing his tone.
The man with the bun snickered, laying down his cards with a lazy confidence. "Phoenix,"
He glanced between the bald man and the young player, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Looks like one of you has to have the fish—or the dragon."
"Dragon!" The bald man barked, flipping his cards with a self-satisfied grin.
His fingers inched toward the pile of coins as if they were already his. He let his gaze settle on each man at the table, enjoying their reactions.
"What the hurry,"
The others turned, confusion flashing in their eyes, as the young man placed his cards delicately atop the bald man's.
They peered closer, brows furrowing as they took in the symbols. Shock on their faces.
"Dragon?" The bald man's voice dropped in disbelief. "How is that possible? There should be only one dragon!"
"Unless... you tricked" the young man replied, his gaze unflinching as he held the bald man's stunned stare.
The elder rose, his bony hands trembling as he reached over to grab the bald man by the collar, "You cheated us? My wife's money was in that!"
As they struggled, the young man quietly slipped the coins into his purse, his movements quick and subtle.
He turned to leave, hoping to melt into the shadows of the crowded room, but a rough hand clamped him back with a fierce tug.
"Agh!" he cried out, his head jerking as the bald man's hand twisted viciously into his hair.
"Trying to run after fooling us, are you?" the bald man spat. "He's the cheat!"
At his words, the other two men's eyes turned steely, in confusion.
Pain shot through his scalp, and his heartbeat quickened. Desperation fueled him as he reached up, fingers closing around the handle of his hairpin. With a swift yank, he freed it and drove it toward the bald man's arm in one swift.
The bald man let out a yelp and backed off. The young man slipped free, his long black hair spilling down as he scrambled back.
"She's a woman—a girl!" the man with the bun exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in her appearance.
She used the moment to leap onto the next table, legs coiling with agility.
"Catch her!" the bald man roared, stumbling to his feet.
She darted between the tables, slipping past the stunned faces of gamblers as if they were little more than shadows in her way. Her feet barely touched the ground as she passed through the chaos.
"Officers are coming!" A voice boomed from the doorway, "Officer Kexin is on his way!"
The name Kexin had an almost magical effect—the room froze for a split second before erupting into chaos, men tumbling over one another in a scramble for the exits, some even flinging themselves through the narrow windows in their desperation.
The girl took advantage of the madness, slipping outside.
Tossing her purse in the air, she caught it with a triumphant grin. "Might get luck... fools!" She laughed, the "I know just what to do with this."
The next morning, a relentless noise slammed into her senses. Each shout and bark cut through her skull as Vendors called out to buyers.
She stretched, wincing at the dull ache that lingered from the night before, her temples pounding in unison with her hangover.
She squinted against the early morning sun, realizing she had slept against the cold wall of a restaurant, right in the middle of the bustling market.
Passersby moved around her without so much as a second glance, her dishevelled form blending seamlessly into the vibrant crowd.
She pushed herself up, preparing to slip away unnoticed, but something caught her eye—scattered papers fluttering on the ground.
She picked one up, her brows knitting together as she read the bold words printed across the top: The King is Dead.
Her lips parted slightly. The king's death? She hadn't heard a word of it. Then her eyes landed on a round symbol printed in the corner of the page, a mark so distinct it jolted her fully awake.
With a new urgency, she rushed back inside the restaurant. "Chicken soup, now!"
She didn't intend to stay long, but the pounding in her head demanded relief, and she knew her hangover would only worsen without a hot meal.
Just as she was settling down, a man entered, his figure tall and imposing under the round bamboo hat.
He moved with a presence that seeped into the room, instantly stilling the chatter. Customers exchanged uneasy glances, some quickly averting their eyes.
She glanced his way, sensing his aura's pressing against her. But she quickly looked away, tapping her fingers in annoyance, her eyes glued to the empty space in front of her.
When the server hurried past her, heading straight for the man, her brow furrowed.
She banged her fist on the table, rattling the spoon beside her. "Is it that hard to get a simple bowl of soup around here?" she muttered with impatience, watching as the man took his seat with unhurried elegance.
Her eyes flickered back to him with curiosity. His indifferent to the eyes upon him.
"Fine, take it all, why don't you!" she said with a huff, rising abruptly and marching outside.
Once outside, her gaze fell on a magnificent brown horse tied near the restaurant entrance. It stood tall and powerful, muscles clearly well-kept.
Her eyes darted back to the door. Judging by its grandeur, it had to belong to one of the restaurant's wealthier customers.
"Sorry, but I'm in a bit of a rush," she murmured.
She swung herself up onto the horse's back, clutching the reins with a grin.
The horse reared instantly, letting out a loud neigh of protest. "Come on, calm down," she grumbled, tightening her grip, trying to steady the animal.
A shadow moved in front of her. She froze, looking up to see the man with the bamboo hat standing directly in her path, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of a sword at his waist.
He stepped forward, lifting his face slightly to reveal calm, penetrating eyes and a strikingly composed expression.
Caught in the act, she forced a laugh. "Just borrowing it. Promise I'll give it back... eventually."
The man approached without a word. He lifted his hand, patting the horse twice. Instantly, it quieted, standing perfectly still.
Realizing she'd been caught, she reached her purse and tossing it his way.
The purse landed in his hand with a soft thud. She took one last look at him, his unfazed gaze—before urging the horse into motion, her laughter ringing out as she galloped away.