Morning in the city did not arrive cleanly.
It seeped in through cracks and sound. Through shutters rattling as vendors dragged carts into place. Through voices already hoarse from bargaining before the sun cleared the rooftops. The bathhouse below them exhaled steam that smelled of soap and old wood, carrying heat up through the floorboards until the room felt damp even before they moved.
Zhou Wei woke sitting up.
He had not meant to fall asleep that way. Back against the wall, eyes closed, awareness stretched thin across the alley outside. The warmth inside him was quiet, tuned outward rather than inward, as if the city itself had taken hold of its attention.
Mei Lin lay on the bed, one arm flung over her eyes, hair spread across the pillow. She breathed deeply, evenly. No nightmares. No sudden jolts awake. That alone told Zhou Wei how much the sect had weighed on her.
He stood slowly, joints protesting just enough to feel real, and crossed to the window. Below, the alley was already busy. A woman dumped a bucket of gray water without looking. A man cursed when it splashed his boots. Someone laughed. Someone else shoved him.
Life without permission.
Zhou Wei liked that it did not pretend to be kind.
Mei Lin stirred behind him. "If you keep staring like that, the city might stare back."
He turned. "It already is."
She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, then paused. "You didn't sleep."
"I slept enough."
She accepted that without comment and swung her legs over the side of the bed. For a moment she just sat there, bare feet on rough wood, shoulders relaxed in a way Zhou Wei had never seen inside the sect.
"This place doesn't feel safe," she said.
"No," Zhou Wei replied. "But it feels honest."
She considered that, then nodded. "I think I prefer honest."
They washed quickly with water drawn up from the bathhouse and ate the last of their dried rations. When they stepped outside, the city swallowed them whole.
The east market announced itself with color and noise. Canvas awnings flapped overhead. Crates stacked into uneven towers. Merchants shouted prices that meant nothing until someone argued them down. Zhou Wei let himself be jostled, posture loose, eyes alert without being sharp.
Mei Lin stayed close but not dependent. She watched hands and faces and distance, learning the rhythm of a place where no one waited their turn.
They did not ask for Chen Yue immediately.
They watched first.
She was easy to find once Zhou Wei knew what to look for. Not a stall. Not a sign. Just a knot of activity that shifted when she passed through it. A silk merchant deferred to her without being asked. A courier leaned in close to whisper something she acknowledged with a nod that cost him nothing and earned him relief.
Chen Yue stood beneath a faded awning, inspecting a bolt of cloth with the same expression she had worn the night before. Focused. Appraising. Calm.
She noticed them without looking up.
"You came," she said.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied.
She turned then, eyes flicking from him to Mei Lin and back. "Good. That means you either need coin or answers."
"Both," Zhou Wei said.
Chen Yue smiled slightly. "Everyone does."
She gestured them closer with two fingers, then waved the merchant away. "Later," she said to him. "Your dye bleeds."
The man flushed and retreated without argument.
Chen Yue leaned against the stall and folded her arms. "Before we talk work, we talk terms."
Mei Lin's posture tightened a fraction. Zhou Wei felt it and stepped half a pace closer without touching.
"Terms," Zhou Wei said.
"Yes," Chen Yue replied. "Because I don't do charity, and I don't do surprises."
She met Mei Lin's gaze directly. "You first. You're not decoration. That tells me you matter."
Mei Lin did not flinch. "I decide for myself."
Chen Yue nodded. "Good. That makes things simpler."
She turned back to Zhou Wei. "I trade information and access. Sometimes protection. Sometimes leverage. I don't ask where people came from unless their past will chase me."
"And will it," Zhou Wei asked.
"Eventually," Chen Yue said lightly. "Everything does. The question is how fast."
Zhou Wei answered honestly. "Not fast enough to reach you if we are careful."
Chen Yue studied him for a long moment. The market noise pressed in around them, loud and intimate.
"You're lying by omission," she said. "Which means you're practiced."
"I learned," Zhou Wei replied.
"That usually means pain."
"Yes."
Chen Yue's expression did not soften. It sharpened. Interest replacing caution.
"All right," she said. "Here are my terms. You work for me on a trial basis. No names beyond what you've already given. No loyalty oaths. You take jobs I offer. You refuse ones you don't want. But if you accept, you finish."
"And payment," Zhou Wei asked.
"Coin," Chen Yue replied. "And access. Information when it's useful. Silence when it's not."
Mei Lin spoke. "And boundaries."
Chen Yue looked at her again. "Explain."
"No being used as bait without consent," Mei Lin said. "No forcing situations to test reactions."
Chen Yue laughed softly. "You've been around men who do that."
"Yes," Mei Lin said. "And they're dead or worse."
The laughter stopped.
Chen Yue's gaze sharpened again, calculating. "Fair. I don't like unstable assets."
She pushed off the stall and straightened. "Trial job is simple. A merchant is skimming his partners and hiding it badly. I want proof before he disappears. No violence. No exposure yet. Just confirmation."
Zhou Wei nodded. "When."
"Now," Chen Yue said. "While he thinks he's safe."
She turned and walked without checking if they followed.
They did.
The merchant's warehouse sat three streets over, tucked between a tannery and a noodle shop that smelled aggressively of garlic. Chen Yue stopped in the alley beside it and gestured at the door.
"Inside is routine greed," she said. "Outside is routine blindness. Go."
Zhou Wei closed his eyes briefly and let his awareness stretch. Desire curled thick inside the building. Not hunger. Not lust. Greed. Fear layered under it, thin but constant.
"He's alone," Zhou Wei said. "And nervous."
Mei Lin glanced at him. "You're doing that thing again."
"Yes."
"Does it bother you."
"No," Zhou Wei replied. "It reminds me where power actually comes from."
They slipped inside through a side door Zhou Wei found with practiced ease. The warehouse smelled of dust and old grain. Footsteps echoed too loudly. The merchant sat at a desk surrounded by ledgers, muttering to himself.
Zhou Wei did not approach him.
He approached the ledgers.
Minutes passed. Pages turned. Numbers revealed themselves without needing interpretation. Discrepancies piled up quickly.
Mei Lin watched the door, posture relaxed but ready. When the merchant shifted, she met his eyes calmly.
"Don't," she said.
The word carried weight.
The merchant froze.
Zhou Wei finished, closed the ledger, and stepped back. "Done."
They left without another word.
Outside, Chen Yue waited.
"Well," she asked.
"He's bleeding partners dry," Zhou Wei said. "And planning to run."
Chen Yue smiled. "Good."
She tossed Zhou Wei a small pouch. It was heavier than it looked. "That's coin. More comes if you keep breathing."
Mei Lin caught Chen Yue's gaze. "And now."
"And now," Chen Yue said, "you decide if you want to stay small."
She turned and walked away again, already done with the conversation.
Zhou Wei watched her disappear into the crowd.
Mei Lin exhaled slowly. "She's dangerous."
"Yes," Zhou Wei said.
"And honest."
"Yes."
They stood there for a moment longer, the city moving around them, loud and indifferent.
Zhou Wei felt the warmth inside him settle into a new shape. Not flaring. Not feeding.
Positioning.
The sect had taught him how to survive under rules.
The city would teach him how to move without them.
And somewhere ahead, desires waited that would not be satisfied by patience alone.