Wen San swaggered back, only to be stopped.
“Wen San! Who were you yapping with?”
Seeing the man, Wen San rolled his eyes. “Who else? The east building’s Xiangzi!”
Thumbing up, he boasted, “Xiangzi insisted on dragging to Cheap House for duck. Too bad I’m busy today, so we’ll push it back!”
“Say, Skinny Monkey, why aren’t you at Four Seas Gambling Den? Loitering at the gate for what?”
Skinny Monkey ignored the jab, asking, “Wen San, did Xiangzi say where he’s headed?”
“Ha! He’s helping Master Tang…” Wen San stopped, eyeing Skinny Monkey warily. “Why you asking?”
Skinny Monkey grinned slyly. “Just chatting. The yard says you two went out together—I didn’t buy it!”
“Now that Xiangzi’s a guard, you think you can still cozy up?”
Wen San bristled, hopping mad. “What’s that? Don’t believe ?”
“Didn’t even eat duck and don’t know where he’s going, yet you call him brother?” Skinny Monkey sneered.
Wen San’s neck stiffened. “Who says I don’t know? Xiangzi said he’s going to West City Pier!”
Skinny Monkey’s grin froze.
West City Pier?
That was the gateway to the embassy district.
Could it be?
His heart sank, recalling Xiangzi’s talk of ore counts.
This past month, Fourth Master had checked the ore route multiple tis, scaring Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey half to death.
Trouble!
Is soone sending Xiangzi to bypass the yard’s books and check the embassy district’s ledgers?
Can’t delay—gotta tell Brother Jin!
Skinny Monkey turned and bolted.
“Hey! We’re not done talking!” Wen San stood stunned, muttering to himself.
Skinny Monkey, Jin Fugui’s lapdog, was oddly fixated on Xiangzi today.
Asking where he’s going?
Wen San slung his towel over his shoulder, eyeing Skinny Monkey’s frantic back, and smirked.
I, Master Wen, ain’t no fool. I see through you, Skinny Monkey!
West City Pier? Go hunt all you want!
Xiangzi’s headed to East City!
Idiot, thinking you can pry info from ?
I’m Xiangzi’s Brother San—betray him? Never!
But when did Xiangzi cross Skinny Monkey? Gotta watch out in the yard and tip Xiangzi off later.
That guy and Jin Fugui are vicious—Xiangzi better not fall for their tricks.
Forty-Nine City, West City, Jincheng Lane.
Xiangzi hopped off a rickshaw, tossing the puller half a mao coin.
His first ti riding a rickshaw felt awful—his bones rattled.
If not for sparing the fare, he’d have pulled it himself.
Stretching, Xiangzi scanned the street.
The dim street held few figures—so in long robes hurrying by, others bare-chested dock laborers in loose gowns.
A deafening roar cut through as a massive shadow swept overhead.
Xiangzi looked up.
Two steam airships swayed past.
It was his first close look at these marvels.
Rusty iron keels glead faintly gold, supporting huge airbags.
The airbags, thick canvas woven with web-like ropes, had steaming leather tubes at the seams.
Steam-powered propeller cabins flanked the hulls.
Thick, gray-black smoke billowed from the masts.
West City folks, used to the sight, barely glanced up.
Xiangzi lowered his gaze, exhaling, and pulled his cap low, shadowing his face.
Jincheng Lane, near West City’s airship docks, had tight security. Xiangzi spotted several police checkpoints.
Better stay cautious.
When Wen San asked his destination, Xiangzi had lied, saying East City.
Not that he distrusted Wen San.
Old saying: caution sails a ship for ten thousand years.
He pulled out Liu Tang’s address and found a small shop with a triangular “dicine” flag.
Stepping in, a scar-faced, wiry man blocked him. “No barging in. Pharmacy’s by appointnt.”
Xiangzi clasped his fists. “Master Tang from Harmony sent .”
He handed over Liu Tang’s handwritten note.
The man scanned it, his scarred face breaking into a smile. “Oh, Liu Tang? Co in!”
Xiangzi followed, but his heart jolted when he noticed the man’s steps.
After a month of training, he had so eye for it—the man’s gait matched stance walking. Likely past the vitality barrier.
A small pharmacy with a martial artist guarding the door?
Xiangzi grew warier.
Passing the cluttered front counter, they entered the back courtyard.
The setup was simple, just a few counters.
Behind one sat an old man in tortoiseshell glasses, glancing at him. “What dicine?”
“Vitality broth.”
“How many doses?”
“One.”
The old man’s face soured at the small order, lazily pulling a kraft paper packet from behind. “Twenty silver dollars.”
Xiangzi blinked. “Sir, isn’t vitality broth fifteen dollars a dose?”
The old man sneered. “Fifteen for Liu Tang himself. You? Twenty.”
Xiangzi cursed inwardly. This shop fleeces strangers!
“Buy or not? Don’t waste my ti!” The old man rapped the counter, impatient.
“I’ll buy,” Xiangzi said quickly, reluctantly pulling out his sack and laying twenty silver dollars on the table.
No use delaying. He was eager to test the broth’s effects.
Though Liu Tang could’ve bought it for fifteen, owing a favor was costlier than five dollars.
“One honored guest, transaction complete!” the old man drawled.
Xiangzi tucked the packet away and left, heart aching—twenty dollars for this tiny package!
Down to ten dollars now!
Half his savings gone, he felt hollow.
Yet, a spark of anticipation flickered.
With my panel, will this vitality broth work even better?
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