The rope cut clean grooves in his wrists by the time Yizhen tested the knot for the third time with a lazy flex that looked like a twitch.
He kept his mouth slanted into that half-smile men mistook for surrender.
Across from him, Xinying was leaning against a post, her lashes low, and her posture untidy in a way only a very tidy woman could make look natural.
They had decided without words to let the net close.
He could still taste the powder they'd blown across the lanterns. It was sweet at first, then warm, then the little stutter at the heart that told him the mix had been made by someone who'd watched too many throats drop open.
It was effective, if you were catching merchants.
Definitely not enough if you wanted monsters.
The warehouse smelled of salt and mule hair.
Crates stacked to the rafters made crooked alleys. Four crossbows sat on a beam like fat birds; men below pretended they offered certainty.
