Autumn had painted the leaves in crimson and gold, and a sharp, clammy chill lingered in the air. A bone-piercing wind rustled the trees along the road, stirred waves on the river, drove boats forward, and slammed headlong into passersby, forcing them to huddle closer and pull their clothes tight. Even in such weather, the docks beside the great city buzzed with unceasing activity.

  The area rang with overlapping voices, mingled with the neighing of horses, the rumble of carts, and the occasional cry of livestock. A ragged stream of people flowed along the wide road toward the majestic gates in the distance, like an insatiable beast swallowing one person after another.

  A boat docked at a small pier that smelled of fish and silt. Two tiny figures climbed out, glancing around warily at the unfamiliar place. On the open pier, the cold wind immediately burned their cheeks.

  “This is Puyang!” the fisherman gestured broadly at the surroundings.

  “It looks like our hometown, doesn’t it?” the younger girl breathed, eyes wide.

  “Mhm,” the older one agreed.

  “I’ve kept my promise,” the man said, shifting his nets in the boat. “Brought you where you needed to go. Now I’ll be on my way.”

  “Yes! Thank you very much, sir,” Xue bowed. A sudden gust of wind tousled her hair, covering her face, and she pressed it down with her hands.

  “Heh, I’m no sir. Just a simple fisherman,” the man chuckled. “You’ll manage on your own?”

  “Mhm,” Xue nodded.

  “Then that’s that. Take care of yourselves, little ones.”

  “Goodbye!” Minzhu echoed her sister and bowed politely in farewell.

  The fisherman pushed off from the pier. The sails flapped as they unfurled, and his boat headed upstream toward another, busier dock near the fish market. He would have liked to take the girls there, but he feared trouble. The number of refugees fleeing war-torn provinces had been growing. Vagrants, bandits, and homeless children were everywhere, and the authorities had tightened inspections. Everyone entering the city was registered at the gates, even children.

  The sisters watched the fisherman go, then continued to look around. Puyang lay closer to the provincial border, and the tide of refugees was far more noticeable here. The difference from their home city of Baohe was immediately apparent, even though the walls rose just as high. Snatches of rough voices from vagrants and refugees reached their ears.

  “I’m selling a boy! Healthy, can work!”

  “Auntie, please don’t! I’ll eat less! Don’t sell me!”

  “Shut up! I’m doing this for your own good, you fool! You don’t understand anything!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I’ll work for food!”

  “Alms, sir!”

  Weary people with hollow eyes passed by. Some carried bundles of belongings on their backs; others dragged themselves along the muddy road. Along this path of despair, beggars in rags sat hopelessly, stretching out empty bowls toward passing carts, wagons, and palanquins. Near the city walls in the distance stood a jumble of crude shacks and tents, where those denied entry had gathered.

  The air was thick with the smell of horse sweat, smoke, and fish. It felt as though a heavy, oppressive cloud hung over the place, pressing down on everyone beneath it.

  “No… this isn’t like Baohe. It’s worse here,” Xue frowned.

  If not for the search for their father, she would have taken her sister and fled without looking back. But it was through this place that Zhang Ming had passed with the caravan. A faint hope still burned within her—that he might be alive.

  “I’m hungry,” Minzhu said, noticing a small dumpling shop by the road.

  Several men with sticks were driving beggars away from it, mercilessly bringing their heavy blows down on anyone who dared come too close. Holding her sister’s hand, Xue approached the entrance, never taking her eyes off the guard. At the sight of the two filthy, dirt-smeared girls, he twisted his face in disgust.

  “Get lost. Go on,” he waved them away. “I won’t care that you’re brats! I’ll beat you with a stick like the rest of the beggars.”

  “We’re not beggars!” Minzhu snapped back.

  “We have money,” Xue added quietly, staring straight at him, but a few nearby vagrants still heard her and pricked up their ears.

  “Tch,” the guard sneered. “Show me.”

  “Let’s go, Minzhu,” Xue tugged her sister’s hand. “We’ll eat somewhere else.”

  No sooner had they left the dumpling shop than a pair of beggars followed them. One couldn’t restrain himself and reached for the younger one, the smaller of the two. His hand was already stretching out when a dagger blade whistled through the air. It traced a warning arc and vanished back into its sheath. The girl who had been facing away only a heartbeat ago now stared straight at him—fearless, with the fury of a tiny tiger cub.

  The beggar froze, eyes bulging. Part of his sleeve fell to the ground, sliced cleanly as if by a razor. He noticed that the second girl was already at his side, weapon in hand. A chill ran down his spine. Everything had happened too fast. Neither he nor his companion had time to react; they could only watch as the children vanished into the crowd.

  “Murder!” the beggar croaked weakly as he came to his senses. “Murder! Robbery!”

  “Shut the hell up!” passersby shouted back.

  “Just die already!”

  “You bastards! Die yourselves! There’s not a shred of kindness in any of you!” He had fully recovered now and began hurling curses at those around him.

  Meanwhile, the girls deftly crossed the crowd, reaching the other side of the road, far from any pestering vagrants or beggars. Their escape from Baohe had been long and exhausting—not only physically, but in spirit. The forest, the riverbank, the fishing village, cold nights with empty stomachs, brief sleep at the bottom of a boat. They had remained constantly alert, like a bowstring drawn tight, yet the world refused to leave them in peace.

  “So… where to now?” Minzhu sighed, casting a lingering glance back at the dumpling shop.

  “Um…” Xue looked from the city to the nearby forest, weighing whether to buy food or obtain it themselves.

  “Should we catch some squirrels?”

  “Look at the crowd. They’ve probably already caught them all. And I don’t really want to go back into the forest just yet.”

  “Okay. Let’s go into the city,” Minzhu said without losing heart. “Maybe we’ll find Father right away.”

  “Let’s go.”

  At that moment, a simple covered Ma-che carriage rolled along the road, bouncing lightly over the ruts. Its worn wooden body and time-darkened cloth looked plain, yet sturdy. Through a curtain drawn back by half a palm’s width, an elderly gentleman observed the street with a calm expression. His noble features bore the marks of a difficult past—scars and deep wrinkles. Where his right arm should have been, an empty sleeve hung at his side, lending his figure a stern dignity. By habit, he thoughtfully stroked his beard.