Outside the Northland Bank, Nadia stood ramrod straight at her post. Far from home, the Snezhnayan girl glanced up at the dim moon; the light in her eyes dimmed to match.
She thought of family an ocean away, then lowered her gaze to Liyue Harbor's river of carts and voices. The louder the bustle, the lonelier an outsider felt.
Maybe… write big brother a letter? Surely the branch manager wouldn't scold her for sending one tiny envelope?
She had just tucked a finished letter into its sleeve when a black-haired youth took the steps up toward the bank. Nadia snapped back into duty.
"Sir, are you here to deposit or withdraw?"
Ji Ming blinked, reading the Snezhnayan name on her badge—Nadia. This guard's manners were leagues better than that nostril-breathing Vlad.
He drew out the already-prepared Fatui mask and held it out. "Recognize this?"
Nadia took it, puzzled—then went pale, bowing so fast her hat nearly slipped. "My lord Harbinger, forgive me for letting my mind wander!"
"Harbinger? You misunderstand. I'm not one of them. I'm a partner of the Fatui. That's a token from a Harbinger I work with."
"Eh?"
Ji Ming waved and slid the mask into the cloth sash at his waist. "Where do you keep the intel you collect? Take me to it."
"Eh—?!"
Now she was really panicking. She was just a front-door guard! In her world, the Bank shuffled money. Since when did it hoard intelligence? If she learned a secret, did that mean… they'd have to silence her?
Dead. She was dead.
Her eyes welled. Ji Ming stared. He didn't look that scary. Was Snezhnayan taste truly that different from Liyue's?
Forget it. Bank guards were all a little touched. He'd help himself.
He stepped toward the doors—only for Nadia to grab his sleeve, eyes swimming. "My lord, if I'm doomed for knowing too much… please—please mail this letter to my brother when you can!"
She shoved the envelope into his hands.
Ji Ming's face was the picture of innocence. Why did every Snezhnayan love writing operas in their heads? He hadn't said a word and she'd become a crybaby.
"Handle your own business. If it needs mailing, mail it yourself. Don't trouble others."
He pushed the letter back and headed inside—leaving a radiant Nadia behind, newly convinced she would live. If the lord told her to mail it herself, surely no debt-collectors were coming to cut her throat… right?
Leaving the fantasies to Nadia, Ji Ming cut across the marble and went straight for the grand counter, flashing the mask at his belt. "Where's the intel the Bank has gathered?"
He'd mooched a meal here with Childe recently; the Fatui attendant recognized him at once. Polite greetings, a discreet gesture, a hallway—Intelligence Office.
There was a receptionist here too—but this one served only Fatui personnel. Several strangely dressed agents were already waiting.
Ji Ming, Liyue's five-star model citizen, of course didn't cut the line. He queued and tapped the shoulder of the man ahead. "Brother, you here to pull intel too?"
"Nope. We're picking up assignments. Gotta clean out a few Liyue merchants who've owed us for ages."
"Mm. Gotta be done. Deadbeats who don't repay are the worst." Ji Ming nodded gravely, entirely unaware he also owed the Fatui a small Jade Chamber.
The collector squinted at him. "You a local? If you're a collector, why no uniform? Where's your pride?"
"Local, yes. Collector, no."
"Not a collector? Then you're one of the Hearth's local orphans—the ones they send back to do intel."
Ji Ming: "…" He leaned in, voice flat. "Lord Childe has requested you for sparring. Tomorrow, no weapons, no armor. Go to the spot and wait. Don't disappoint him."
"W—what?!"
Face like a week-old brick, Ji Ming let the matter drop and waited his turn. When the last team filed out with orders, he stepped up and made his ask.
"Got files on Liyue's gangs?"
"We do. Eighteen in total. Aside from the one behind you—Old Nine Gates—the rest are kennel-fed by local magnates."
Ji Ming mulled it over. "Do the Li clan keep any on a leash?"
"Three. Rumor says the Li granaries hold details on all three."
"Great. I want a key to the Li ancestral manor gate. Can you get one?"
The clerk smiled and raised three fingers. "Of course. That will be three million mora. Thank you for your patronage."
Heavens hang the capitalists from the lampposts.
Ji Ming's grin didn't reach his eyes. "I can pay a small part. The rest—wave it for Lord Childe's sake?"
"Mm… I'm not under Lord Childe. His face carries no weight here."
"Then forget it. Keep your key."
He turned on his heel. He'd wanted to enter legally, but if a single key cost three million, he'd find another way.
If no opening appeared, well—on a moonless night he'd slip over the outer wall like a shadow and be done.
The talk in the streets said only Keqing in the Li clan held a Vision—and to prove her strength she'd been living on Yujing Terrace for years, rarely returning to the country manor.
Ji Ming had learned plenty from his elder brothers: stealth and survival, honed to a razor. Without a Vision on the scene, he could handle many as one.
They thought he roamed the jianghu on mouth alone?
So: a Li estate without Keqing was Ji Ming's back garden. Come when he wished, leave when he pleased.
He would see what secrets warranted three leashed gangs. And since thieves don't leave empty-handed—in for a coin, in for a chest—it would be rude not to collect a few banknotes and baubles on the way out.
As for Keqing's fury?
Apologies.
No one was taking a vote.
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