By the fourth watch of the night, the back alley behind the apothecary in the west of the city reeked of damp mold.
Ah Mo curled into a corner, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It was the only way she could keep herself awake. She'd been crouched here for two full hours, waiting for the night watch apprentice to doze off.
Of course, she could've bought the herbs with silver or spirit stones in broad daylight, but what Xie Zhaolin wanted wasn't medicine—it was proof of her ability to steal.
So she could only lurk in the shadows, waiting for her chance.
Through the crack of the window, faint candlelight flickered. The night watch apprentice's head kept nodding lower and lower. Ah Mo reached out and brushed the window latch with her fingertip. It wasn't locked, but the rust would screech if she forced it.
She bit her lip, pulled a stub of candle from her waist, scraped some wax off with her nail, and carefully smeared it over the hinge. The wax seeped into the rust. When she pushed again, the noise was barely audible.
The window opened just enough for her to slip inside.
A bitter medicinal scent filled the shop. Rows of wooden medicine drawers loomed in the darkness. Ah Mo pressed close to the wall, her toes barely touching the ground as she moved without a sound. The list of herbs Xie Zhaolin wanted was tucked against her chest: Sichuan lovage, white peony root, roasted licorice. Common herbs, but the amounts were odd.
She slid open a drawer in the third row, quickly sifting through the herbs. Suddenly, a faint sound came from behind—the apprentice's snoring stopped.
Ah Mo instantly crouched, vanishing into the cabinet's shadow.
"Who's there?" The apprentice lifted his head, bleary-eyed. The oil lamp on the counter wavered.
A rat darted across the corner.
"Damn pest." He cursed, then dropped his head back down.
Ah Mo silently counted ten breaths. When the apothecary sank into dead quiet again, she packed the herbs, smoothed every trace she'd touched, and slid out along the wall.
"The first step, done."
But those herbs were only part of it. The real problem was the snakeheart vine kept in the gambling house. The Red Sleeve Gambling Den's backyard was guarded by three vicious hounds trained to protect the storeroom. Ah Mo knew Liu Balien got dead drunk every seventh day of the month, but tonight wasn't the seventh.
She stared at the iron-plated wooden side door three zhang away—the most inconspicuous entrance to the gambling house, and the only one without spell wards.
When the second patrol guard walked past, she finally heard the sound she'd been waiting for: the creak of hinges mixed with drunken humming.
Liu Balien's shadow swayed against the wall.
Ah Mo darted forward, wedging Zhang Laosan's brass dice into the closing door. The dice bounced inside with a clink. The drunkard cursed and bent over to pick it up.
"Now."
She slipped through the crack, but her hem snagged on an iron barb.
Rip—cloth tore, sharp in the silent night.
By the time Liu Balien's clouded eyes swung toward her, she'd already melted into the shadows beneath a shelf, clutching the stiff corpse of a dead rat she'd planted earlier.
"Fuck!" His boot ground the carcass into the dirt. "Filthy thing…" He kicked it aside, muttered curses, and staggered toward the latrine.
In the darkness, Ah Mo crouched and pulled out a small oilpaper packet—not knockout powder, but corpse grease scraped from bodies in the mortuary.
Those hounds had been trained to ignore raw meat, so common drugs were useless. But corpse stench was different. They recognized the aura of death, yet wouldn't bark at the smell of their own kind. She smeared the rancid oil over her hem.
Low whines rose instantly from the kennel. Ah Mo crawled forward, her clothes dragging a sticky, foul trail. The largest black dog's hot breath hit her neck, its fangs less than half an inch from her throat.
But after a sniff, it turned away, bored.
She didn't dare relax, inching forward until she reached the storeroom door.
The lock was nothing to her. With nimble fingers, she teased the pins, and after a few breaths, a faint click sounded. The door eased open. Inside, crates filled the space. She didn't dare light a lamp, relying only on moonlight through the cracks to grope her way.
Snakeheart vine wouldn't be left out in plain sight, but Zhang Laosan's ledger mentioned a hidden chamber beneath the gambling house where contraband was stored. Her fingers brushed against a loose brick.
"A hidden door."
Her breath quickened, but she pressed forward, easing the stone aside to reveal a narrow passage.
The secret room was damp and cold, thick with decay. She moved by touch. Snakeheart vine had a distinct smell—bitter with a trace of blood. Zhang Laosan's notes described it clearly: dark purple vines, black sap seeping from cut ends, a faint numbing sting to the skin.
Her hand found something cold.
"There."
Snakeheart vine.
Not just one piece, but a whole bundle. She tugged two stems free and slid them into her sleeve. Just as she turned to leave, footsteps echoed outside.
"Shit, why's the floor filthy?" Liu Balien's voice slurred closer.
Her blood ran cold. She slipped back behind the secret door, holding her breath. The steps drew near. Liu Balien cursed, kicked one of the dogs, and muttered, "Lazy bastards," before stumbling toward the storeroom.
Ah Mo's nails dug into her palm, cold sweat soaking her back. If he saw the tampered lock, she was finished. But just as his hand touched the door, noise erupted from the front hall.
"Boss Liu! Trouble up front!" a servant shouted.
Cursing, he turned away.
Ah Mo's knees nearly buckled, but she wasted no time. She darted out, reset the lock, and slipped over the wall.
"The second step, done."
By dawn, faint white lit the horizon. Ah Mo stood in the main hall.
When Xie Zhaolin entered, her gaze fell first on the bundle on the table, then on Ah Mo's throat. The bruises from last night's baleful qi still marked her skin.
"You're a quarter-hour early." Xie Zhaolin flicked open the cloth. The snakeheart vine curled like a coiled serpent, its cut ends dripping black liquid.
"Didn't want Immortal Master to wait."
"You weren't seen?"
"No," she whispered. "The apothecary apprentice noticed nothing. As for the dogs… they just thought I was a corpse crawling in."
Xie Zhaolin lifted a piece, black juice numbing her pale fingers. She suddenly smiled.
"Well done."
Ah Mo's shoulders eased, but the relief lasted only a breath. Fingers clamped her chin, forcing her head up. When the Immortal Master leaned closer, she noticed blood fresh on her sleeve embroidery. Clearly, she hadn't spent the night idle either.
"But next time," Xie Zhaolin murmured with icy softness, "if you dare decide how much to take on your own, I'll make you taste what happens when you overdose."
Ah Mo's pupils shrank, but almost instantly, her respectful mask returned.
"Yes, Immortal Master."
Xie Zhaolin let her go and turned back to her room. Only after the door closed did Ah Mo move again. Hidden inside her sleeve, a third stem of snakeheart vine lay against her arm, its cut sealed with candle wax long ago.