Yan Luo walked out of the cellar without washing his hands.
Blood dried dark on the inside seam of his sleeve; he left it there on purpose. It kept men honest… and a tiny bit scared.
"Pull every thread," he told the lieutenant at the alley mouth. "Reed sellers, basket weavers, the night apothecaries who sweeten tea for children. Quiet hands at first... if they don't appreciate that, feel free to do what you do best."
The lieutenant—Gaoyu, a slab-shouldered man with a permanently split lip—nodded briskly before vanishing into the darkness. Yan Luo stood in the lane for a moment, watching the mist lift off the canal like breath leaving a sleeping animal.
He pictured the boy's face, the way it had softened when he held Shadow's ruff, the way it had hardened when anyone tried to touch him that he had not already chosen.
They took a child to measure a woman. He smiled without humor. They will learn just how… idiotic they were the hard way.
Then, he moved.
