The elderly gentleman’s attention was drawn to the commotion near the dumpling shop, where two tiny figures deftly avoided the greedy hands of adults. Steel flashed for a brief instant and vanished back into its sheath, frightening the beggars half to death. While they were still reeling, the girls dissolved into the crowd. The old man raised an eyebrow in surprise, and the corner of his lips twitched into a barely noticeable smile.

  “Ho-ho,” he chuckled softly. “Spirited little ones. I didn’t expect that…”

  “Did you see something amusing, sir?” asked the maid sitting opposite him, deeper inside the carriage.

  “Do you remember those two little fish sellers, Hei Xun?” he asked.

  “Yes, I remember them well,” she smiled.

  “I just saw those girls in the crowd. They flashed like two tiny diamonds in the mud and vanished just as quickly,” the old man continued.

  “They sold the freshest fish,” chimed in the boy sitting on the carriage bench beside the driver.

  “You hear everything, Yun Hao!” the maid scolded him playfully. “Watch the road! Master Ji Shen has already been shaken enough on the way here. Isn’t it your duty to look after your teacher?”

  “My apologies, Lady Hei Xun,” the boy said quickly.

  “You are too kind, sir,” the maid turned back to the old man. “Not every stray child can be saved. You’ve already done much for them.”

  “Perhaps,” he sighed. “But they reminded me of my daughter… She was just as spirited when she was little…”

  The old man leaned back against the seat, his expression darkening. He had seen not only the girls’ agility, but also the danger that came with it. The maid across from him fell silent, leaving him to his thoughts. The quiet sadness in her eyes showed she understood without words. The young driver flicked the reins, and the carriage swayed onward.

  Through the cold morning mist drifted the scent of wet straw, horse sweat, and manure. Clods of mud flung up by wagon wheels lay scattered across the stone road, and droplets of morning dew still clung to the grass, adding to the damp chill. Before the city gates stretched a long line of carts and pedestrians. Soldiers checked documents and recorded names in lists, while guards coldly drove away those who lacked the coin to pay the entry fee.

  Holding Minzhu’s hand, Xue carefully watched as people handed over copper coins, as guards counted them and marked wooden tablets, and as those who tried to slip past were dragged aside. No one resisted or argued, yet bloodstains were visible on the ground by the road.

  When their turn came, Xue placed several copper coins on the wooden table and kept her eyes on them until the guard took the money. Opening his palm, he shifted his gaze from the coins to the tiny girls with dirt-smeared faces and leaves tangled in their hair.

  “You’re alone?” the man asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Xue answered seriously. “We’re looking for our father. He should be here, in Puyang.”

  “Ahem…” the guard coughed, assessing them with an experienced eye.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The girls looked tired, like everyone else here, but not emaciated. Their eyes still held a spark of life, unlike the hollow gazes of the refugees. Their clothes weren’t worn to rags, though they were filthy from the long journey. At each of their waists hung a dagger of decent make, on such small frames, it looked more like a short sword.

  “Puyang isn’t the best place for searching these days. But… fine,” the guard said.

  “Sir,” Xue spoke again, “if we leave the city, will we have to pay again when we come back? Every time?”

  “Hm,” the guard coughed, raising an eyebrow in surprise, not every adult thought that far ahead.

  He picked up a wooden token tied with a red cord, wrote a few characters on it, and handed it to Xue. The girl watched his face intently, frowning her tiny brows in a very grown-up way, making the soldier barely suppress a smile. Behind her stood another, smaller girl, like a soaked kitten, warily hissing at passersby.

  “Here. With this document, if you leave the gates and return, you won’t need to pay again. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Xue nodded. “Thank you, sir,” she added, bowing.

  “Thank you,” Minzhu echoed after her sister.

  “What polite girls,” the soldier smiled, watching them go, then shouted toward the line, “Hey! Don’t crowd…”

  “Make way for the carriage! Move it!” another guard yelled.

  “Hup, go on,” the driver snapped the reins, and the clatter of hooves drowned out the voices.

  The sisters passed beneath the gate arch. Behind them, the stream of people split in all directions like a river flowing into the sea. Their ears filled with the din of a vast city; the smell of homes, smoke, and damp leaves tickled their noses. Architecturally, Puyang differed little from Baohe: the same narrow streets, shops beneath tiled roofs, red signboards with faded characters, only more guards and more people.

  “Out of the way!”

  A heavily loaded cart thundered past. The girls stopped gawking and quietly made their way along one of the side streets, Minzhu tugging her sister forward, open to every new sensation. A thin scent of food drifting from a snack stall or tea shop seemed to tug her by the nose. Their stomachs had been growling for a long time, pressed flat against their backs from hunger, yet they passed every establishment, searching for cheap street food or at least a market.

  “Watch where you’re going, runts,” muttered a gloomy man stepping out of a teahouse, having not noticed them at once.

  “There are so many people,” Minzhu said. “How are we going to find Father? Where do we start?”

  “We’ll ask anyone who might know,” her older sister replied.

  Even when the city had first appeared on the horizon beyond the river mist, Xue had already been thinking about how to begin their search. From her limited life experience, she remembered only two reliable sources of all gossip: small merchants and beggars.

  “Let’s go to the market,” she said confidently. “We can buy food there too.”

  “Right!” Minzhu agreed. “The market has everything!”

  Bustling trading areas differed little from one another, and finding them was never difficult. By following the densest flow of people, even a first-time visitor would inevitably end up at the market. Red signboards and hawkers’ cries acted like guiding threads, and soon the girls were swept up in the surging current, lost in the crowd like two tiny specks of dust.

  “How much for a flatbread, sir?” Minzhu asked. There were many tasty things on display, but she chose the cheapest food. “We want two!”

  “Two coins for one. Here you go, girls,” the vendor said. “The best flatbreads in the whole market.”

  “Ah!” cried a vagrant beside Minzhu, somehow he had appeared behind her. He stared at Xue in terror, clutching a wound on his arm.

  “Thief,” the girl pointed at him. “Were you trying to steal from my sister?”

  “What?” Minzhu felt as if she’d been doused with cold water; her hand immediately found the hilt of her dagger.

  “A-ah—” The vagrant didn’t wait to see how it would end and bolted.

  “Keep an eye on your pockets, kids,” the flatbread seller shook his head, then returned to his business. “Flatbreads! Fresh flatbreads!”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Xue addressed him again. Though her hands were still trembling, she gathered her courage. “How can I find the Zhao Clan?”

  “Huh? Why would you want that?” the vendor looked down at her.

  “We’re looking for our father. He’s a mercenary with the Zhao Clan…”

  Behind her, Minzhu stood in a guarded stance, vigilantly watching everyone who passed. At the mention of their father, her knitted brows twitched slightly.

  “Hm,” the man scratched his chin. “Try asking at the stables over there,” he said, pointing across the market.