“Have you been alright here? Has anyone mistreated you?”

  “Someone did!” the younger one admitted immediately. “A bad man tried to take our money!”

  My first warning wasn’t enough, thought Zhang Min. Can’t let this slide, otherwise people’ll get too bold. Then the girls won’t ever have peace.

  “Describe him. Was he alone?”

  “Yes,” Xue and Minzhu answered at once, telling all they remembered of their offender.

  Doesn’t sound like a bandit. No weapon, not big. Should be no trouble, Zhang Min reflected. Likely one of the small-time thieves always blowing money on gambling and drink.

  “Do you know where to find him?”

  “Yes! He’s often at the ‘Drunken Bull’ tavern!”

  “The one by the market?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I understand.”

  The former Zhang Ming’s memories quickly supplied him of the tavern’s location, its schedule and even the drink prices. Like most such places, it opened in the late afternoon, when local drunks scraped together coins for a jug of wine, and regulars finish work at the docks.

  “We’ve got plenty of time. Today we rest, tomorrow we deal with him,” decided Zhang Min.

  “Yes!” Minzhu clenched her little fists tightly.

  The rest of the day and half of the next slipped by unnoticed. Zhang Ming rested after the campaign and stubbornly did nothing at all, eating and sleeping. The children hovered around him, coming and going. Whenever he was awake, little Minzhu would chatter away, mixing childish tales with bits of gossip. Unlike her older sister, she forgave their father rather quickly. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him, as though all those terrible years when he had taken out his anger on them had never happened.

  Toward evening, tired but happy, father and daughters returned to town. Zhang Min cooked meat with vegetables and ate heartily with Xue and Minzhu, who immediately after dinner fell fast asleep. He lay down for a few minutes too, but didn’t wake until an hour and a half later.

  By then all the drinking houses had opened their doors, welcoming guests, and from all corners people streamed into teahouses and taverns like beasts to the watering hole. Zhang Min, with his daughters, headed for the “Drunken Bull.” Lanterns glowed brightly in the streets though the sky had not yet darkened. Hawkers called out, bowing obsequiously to passersby. The city’s night life had begun.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  With Xue and Minzhu at his side, Zhang Min took a spot at the corner of a building from where he had a fine view of the tavern and its patrons. Watching the drinkers, a nearly forgotten desire to sip wine flickered in Zhang Min, as if an echo from the body’s old owner. To shake off the spell, he took off the bamboo flask from his belt, splashed water on his face as if exorcising a demon, then took a large gulp.

  “Which one is he?” he asked.

  “There! That beggar in black clothes,” pointed Xue with her finger.

  “Yes! The toothless beggar!” Minzhu puffed out her lips.

  “Don’t point, or he’ll notice us.”

  From a distance he studied the thief from head to toe. The girls’ description fit well. He didn’t look like a gang member, carried no weapon, didn’t look strong. Just a regular poor drunk, though the thieving glint in his eyes, slipping around pockets and belts of passersby, betrayed his real trade. In the crowd he kept cautious, talking only with a couple of others.

  “Hide here. I’ll go inside, get a closer look, and buy you something to nibble,” said Zhang Min.

  “Uh-huh,” Minzhu nodded.

  “He might recognize us!” guessed Xue, pulling her sister behind the corner.

  “Right,” acknowledged Zhang Min.

  A few moments later he entered the tavern, took a table, and, waiting for a servant, looked around calmly. Here were ordinary laborers, porters, just drunks; some seemed familiar, but none close. Luckily, no one recognized him, and he observed the thief unnoticed. He was seated among similar ragged men, but they didn’t seem especially friendly or strong. When the server arrived, Zhang Min ordered three portions of dumplings to go.

  “I heard nobleman Lu Bei got greedy for a peasant girl,” voices drifted to his ears among the patrons. “He even killed her mother.”

  “That sort of thing happens.”

  “The husband returned and killed him in return.”

  “An aristocrat? Bet his head’s been chopped off by now.”

  “No! He fled with other peasants.”

  “Ha! Should’ve run sooner. No life here anyway. Over-taxed. Tch.”

  “Don’t even mention it! The southern barbarians are fierce. The king lost six battles to them. What's next?”

  “More bandits on the roads! That's what!”

  After getting his order, packed in a basket, Zhang Min slipped out of the tavern quietly. From afar, the girls caught the scent of meat dumplings and, peering from behind the corner, kept their eyes fixed on the food approaching them. Minzhu didn’t even blink. She’d never eaten dumplings, but had heard much good about them, and the smell alone drove her wild. When the girl took her first bite she melted into the feeling; the fragrant broth filled her mouth, some drops dribbled from her chin.

  “Ah! How delicious,” she mumbled. “They didn’t lie about the dumplings!”

  “Mm-hmm,” agreed Xue.

  “Don’t rush. No one will take them. Eat in peace,” Zhang Min chuckled.

  Despite his words, the dumplings ran out fast. Only a couple remained at the bottom of the basket, and of course he gave them to the girls. He didn’t taste a single one himself. Slightly puzzled, Xue stared into his eyes as if she could not quite recognize in this man her father; then she shifted her gaze to the basket. With a silent nod she accepted the remnants, pulled from her bosom a grubby, worn scrap of cloth, and draped it over the precious food so flies would not descend. She resolved to save the leftovers for later. Watching her, Minzhu exhaled heavily, but submitted, though her eyes never left the basket.

  Damn you all! thought Zhang Min. Now I regret buying only three portions! How many dumplings could even fit in them? They’re so small!

  Though he had'nt even tasted one dumpling, the surroundings succeeded in sapping all appetite. The stench of horse sweat mingled with spilled wine. From the market came the foul scent of rotting vegetables and smoke. Here and there lay heaps of manure, cut by the wheels of carts and wagons.