Honestly—how did Ganyu end up with a law-breaking junior like this?
Had the adepti lost their judgment? Even if they didn't understand Liyue's gang culture, surely they could read a man's heart. Or did they truly believe Mr. Ji Ming was pure of nature?
"Ninth Granddad" on the street, and a blade hidden at his waist—this one was no soft herb.
The great Lady Yuheng, the Li clan's twenty-six-year-old jewel still unwed; the most diligent, most people-minded of the Liyue Qixing across generations; the veiled proprietress of Li Family Beef Offal…
Wearing all those titles, Keqing propped her cheek in one palm and studied the black-haired youth across from her before speaking:
"Mr. Ji Ming, let's start with the blade you're carrying. Care to explain why you're illegally concealing a weapon?"
Ji Ming's smile was airy.
"What blade? Carrying a weapon without registry is a crime. How would I dare break the law?"
Keqing sighed, done with circling. She rose, leaned in, and reached for his waist—only for her hand to be caught in an instant.
"Lady Yuheng," he drawled, "molesting a man in public? You do know a man's waist isn't to be touched casually."
"First, it's a woman's waist that isn't to be touched casually. Second, this isn't 'molesting.' It's a lawful search."
"Where's the lawful warrant?"
"I am the Yuheng of the Qixing."
Silence. Ji Ming released her soft, cool hand, drew the short mountain cleaver from his waistband, and laid it on the table.
Some powers you didn't poke—especially when the Yuheng had the Li family at her back. Best to yield the edge for now.
Keqing examined the knife, then set it down with a sigh.
"Why carry a rusted short blade, Mr. Ji Ming? And why did that street rat call you 'Ninth Granddad'? Are you with one of Liyue Harbor's gangs?"
"If I said I wasn't, would you believe me?"
"No."
"There you go. Tch—should've checked the sign first. What kind of Qixing runs a stall by the road?"
Resigned, Ji Ming tossed back the bowl of water and spread his hands.
"Lady Yuheng, could you not tell my senior sister?"
Keqing crossed her arms, chin lifted, pale neck lit like jade.
"That depends on how honest you are."
He hid his Fatui ties and simply laid out how he'd raised the money to bail his brothers out—on his own, without outside help. Through it all, Keqing's expression did not change.
Her first impression of him had never been great. Learning he was gang-affiliated soured it further.
This wasn't an ordinary citizen. This required a heavy hand.
He had two good hands and two feet—why not use them for honest work? Instead he lived by his tongue, duping people for coin, and in the early years even killed out in the wild. Lawless. Treating Liyue's statutes like paper.
Did he think he was some great champion "purging evil for the people"?
Keqing's gaze sharpened, anger pushing through.
"I've long proposed abolishing the bail system. It will ruin Liyue. Gangs like your Old Nine Gates are termites eating the beams."
Too bad Ningguang vetoed it at the Qixing assembly—"legitimate revenue" for the Harbor, she'd said. The Tianquan was obsessed with profit. Keqing and she rarely saw eye to eye.
"Really?" Ji Ming's voice went quiet. "I founded the Nine Gates at ten. By sixteen, my brothers were imprisoned one by one. Those six years were when the Nine Gates were most active."
Keqing arched a brow.
"What are you trying to prove? The duration of your gang—or its list of sins?"
"Neither. If Lady Yuheng has ever reviewed the General Affairs case files, you'll reach a conclusion."
"What conclusion?"
Truth be told, Keqing focused on infrastructure more than criminal dockets. That was more the Tianquan's purview. Still, she listened.
Ji Ming didn't tease it out. He sat back, arms folded loosely at his middle, utterly relaxed.
"In those six years, cases involving gangs in the Harbor were virtually nonexistent. I'm eighteen now—two years since my brothers went in. In those two years, gang cases—big and small—spiked."
The meaning was obvious: while the Nine Gates operated, no gang dared stick its head up—not even those reared by noble families. If one did, the Nine Gates erased it.
After the Nine Gates fell, syndicates sprouted like mushrooms; citizens suffered—robberies, murders, whole families wiped out—nearly all with gang ties.
And the authorities? For two years, hands off—because those gangs belonged to someone. Nepotism bound by "the way things are done" kept the officials from swinging hard.
Keqing fell silent. Even without the files, she'd heard the talk: this gang struck again; that official's relative shook down another street for "fees."
Undeniable facts. Even she couldn't swear the Li clan had never kept a gang. She wasn't clan head; there were doors she couldn't open.
But she would not simply swallow a gangster's words either. As if he had never pushed the innocent?
Ji Ming saw the doubt in her eyes and gave a thin smile.
"What, in your mind, all gangsters must oppress the people? Commit every evil there is?"
He picked up the cleaver again before she could reply.
"Yes, the Nine Gates are a jianghu gang. Maybe we've done wrong—killed, even destroyed whole households. But we have never laid a hand on Liyue's common folk."
"Empty boasts. Are you all 'heroes,' then?"
"Far from it. We're a band of villains. When we swore brotherhood—in a blizzard—care to guess whose blood we used?"
"Whose… whose?"
"A Liyue tycoon's. He jacked up grain prices on purpose. His chain shops bought low, sold obscenely high. In that winter, eight migrant workers starved to death."
Keqing had never heard of it; the Yuheng seat was vacant then, and she had been buried in the Qixing selection. The world beyond her window had blurred.
The breezy mask fell from Ji Ming's face. The memory still hurt—if not for his brothers, he might have been the ninth body in the snow.
Fate with the number nine. He didn't become the ninth corpse—he became Old Nine.
"We grabbed him where no one watched and dragged him to the Copper Sparrow Shrine outside the city. We didn't have mora for an Rex Lapis statue—spent it all on knives and bowls—so we made do."
"The nine of us—eldest to me, the ninth—each cut once. Mixed that dog's blood with water and wine, and drank it before the shrine."
"That blood oath is why, to this day, the Nine Gates have never wronged the people of Liyue."
'We kill the ruthless rich, drink the blood of grand officials, wipe out noble houses, and tread upon Jade Terrace and Heavenly Streets.'
By now Keqing's thoughts were a tangle. She hadn't expected a street gang this mad—ambition and bloodlust both vast enough to chill bone.
Yet the youth before her remained casual on the surface. Hard to imagine such will and killing intent under that easy smile. If he ever truly rose, he might overturn the way Liyue worked.
Ji Ming sheathed the cleaver and let the lazy grin return.
"Lady Yuheng—don't tell my senior sister. As for the rest, do as you please."
Among the Qixing, he acknowledged only Tianquan Ningguang—a self-made giant he half admired. Shame she'd forgotten the small people once she rose.
As for the Yuheng and the Li clan behind her—they'd once crushed the Nine Gates. He hadn't forgotten. His first impression of Keqing was equally poor:
A naïve rich girl. Leaning—whether she knew it or not—on family power, convinced it was all her own strength. (To be fair, her own strength was not small.)
In short: no use talking in circles. So long as Keqing kept quiet around Ganyu, Ji Ming couldn't be bothered to quarrel. He stood and left on his own.
Next time they met, they could pass as strangers.
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