Despite the early hour, the Leaky Kettle was already lively, voices raised in boisterous laughter echoing from inside. Lin hesitated near the entrance, shooting Jiang a look that said quite plainly she thought this was a terrible idea. He ignored it, pushed open the door, and immediately spotted Wei Ren and Jin seated in a corner, engaged in animated conversation over bowls of suspiciously murky stew.

"Well, well, look who finally showed up!" Wei Ren called, a teasing smirk on his face. "Knocked on your door this morning, but you were already gone. Had a little late-night meet-up?"

The innuendo in his voice was thick enough to choke on. Typically, Jiang would have just ignored it, but unfortunately, the earlier misunderstanding with Lin was still on his mind, and he flushed red. Wei's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Jiang cleared his throat, trying desperately—and unsuccessfully—to hide his embarrassment. "That's not… never mind." He could already tell any explanation he tried to offer would be ignored. "I'm looking for Han, don't suppose you know where he might be?" Jiang pushed through as best he could.

Wei Ren grinned widely, clearly delighted at having struck a nerve. "Maaaybe," he drew the word out, "but then, my memory is pretty spotty. Maybe you could help jog it by sharing a story of your own?"

Beside him, Jin rolled his eyes slightly, shooting Jiang a look of faint sympathy. "Ignore him. He's been insufferable since sunrise."

"Since sunrise?" Jiang echoed, relaxing a little at Jin's calm interjection. "What happened?"

"He woke up," Jin replied dryly.

Wei Ren pouted, though amusement still danced in his eyes. "You lot just don't appreciate me," he faux-grumbled.

"Han's at the Golden Carp, just off Market Street," Jin supplied, clearly unwilling to prolong Wei Ren's antics any longer. "He prefers a decent bed and food that doesn't come with surprise ingredients."

Wei Ren scowled down into his stew, prodding it suspiciously. "Hey, a few mystery chunks build character. Han's getting soft."

Jiang glanced around the Leaky Kettle, noticing the rough tables and battered furniture properly for the first time. Functional, yes. Comfortable… not really.

"Thanks," Jiang said, already stepping back toward the door. "I'll head over there now."

"Good luck," Jin replied mildly. Wei Ren shot Jiang a mischievous grin, clearly about to say something else, but Jin nudged him sharply with an elbow.

Jiang took the chance to slip out quickly, before Wei Ren could subject him to further teasing. He stepped back into the chill of the street, breathing a small sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind him and ignoring Lin's curious look.

"We're looking for the Golden Carp," he told her. "Apparently it's just off Market Street?"

Lin raised an eyebrow at him. "I know the place, sure," she said, turning to stride off confidently down the street. Jiang hurried to follow. At least she wasn't the type to waste time. "Hope your friend is expecting you, though," she called over her shoulder at him. "Golden Carp is nice enough that people like us will struggle to even get through the door."

— — —

The Golden Carp was exactly the sort of place that looked like it belonged on a busy street near the market—clean, brightly painted, and clearly frequented by those who could afford at least moderate comfort. There was nothing flashy about it, exactly, but compared to the Leaky Kettle, it might as well have been a palace.

Lin hesitated as they approached, eyes flicking warily across the polished wooden doorway and neatly painted sign. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and shook her head firmly, stepping back.

"Not happening," she said shortly. "If someone like me walks in there, I'll be lucky if they just call the guard instead of dragging me out themselves."

Jiang frowned, glancing between her and the inn's inviting entrance. "Are you sure? I thought you said you knew this place."

Lin gave him a pointed, exasperated look. "Yeah, I know it because I know exactly which doors not to walk through if I like all my teeth where they are." She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Also, you know, some of the better marks stay in places like this. Tend to be easier to target, cause they aren't on guard as much, and they usually have money."

Jiang winced a little at the reminder that his guide was an unrepentant criminal, but considering how they'd met, he didn't exactly have any freedom of speech. He nodded reluctantly, stepping inside alone.

He'd assumed Lin was exaggerating—she did seem to have a flair for the dramatic—but the instant the door swung shut behind him, Jiang knew she hadn't been joking. The innkeeper, a sharp-faced older man with an impressively groomed moustache, glanced up from a ledger he'd been studying and immediately scowled.

"No beggars," the man snapped, pointing back at the door without even waiting for Jiang to speak, looking back down at his ledger. "Leave at once, or I'll have the guard drag you out."

Jiang blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sheer hostility. "I'm not a beggar," he said, aiming for polite. "I'm here to talk to Han Shu. I was told he was staying here?"

"Hah," the man scoffed, "Trust me, boy, the day one of our honourable customers wishes to speak with a street rat like you is the day pigs fly."

The innkeeper gestured towards Jiang, and it wasn't until he heard someone standing up that he realised there had been a guard sitting by the door behind him.

"Come on, kid, get out of here," the guard said, not unkindly. "Don't make me ask twice."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Frustration, exacerbated by his lack of sleep, prickled at Jiang's temper, pushing away the hesitation. One look at the innkeeper's expression told him explanations were a waste of time. His mind was already made up, and he wasn't interested in changing it.

Fine. If this man wasn't going to be reasonable, Jiang saw no reason to play nice.

Drawing up a swift current of Qi – his practice overnight had been useful after all – he let it surge to his fingertips, shadows rippling visibly across his knuckles like ink spreading through clear water. He took two quick steps over to the counter the innkeeper was standing behind, and slammed his hand down, letting the writhing shadows spill out onto the surface, acting more like heavy smoke than actual shadow.

The innkeeper froze, mouth open in mid-threat, eyes widening in instant, fearful recognition. His face paled so abruptly that Jiang wondered briefly if the man might faint.

"Y-you're—" the innkeeper stammered, all traces of arrogance immediately replaced by sheer panic as he dropped into a deep bow. "A-A thousand apologies, honourable cultivator. I—I didn't realise—"

Jiang let the Qi dissipate, careful to keep his expression cold and indifferent – partially to maintain the sort of bearing people expected from a cultivator, but also to hide how much that little show had taken out of him. His Qi reserves had already been a little low from his overnight practice, and he hadn't been in the frame of mind required to cultivate and refill them. Honestly, at this point, if for whatever reason the guard got aggressive, Jiang would be hard-pressed to use his reinforcement technique for longer than a few seconds.

"I'm here to speak with Han Shu," Jiang stated flatly, voice steady and detached. "I trust there's no problem with that?"

"N-no, no problem at all," the innkeeper stammered quickly, still not daring to look up.

Jiang waited for a moment.

"Well, what room is he in?" he snapped impatiently.

Judging by the fear on the innkeeper's face, he may as well have drawn his sword and threatened to lop the man's head off.

"O-of course, this lowly one apologises!" the man all but yelped. "Master Han is upstairs, third door on the left. Please, forgive my rudeness."

Jiang gave a curt nod and moved past without another word, making for the stairs and doing his best to ignore the awkward guilt nagging at the back of his mind. It felt too much like something those arrogant disciples at the Azure Sky Sect would do, flaunting their status simply to bully those weaker than themselves.

Still, he reasoned silently, as unpleasant as it felt, his status as a cultivator was just another tool. Refusing to use it would be stupid, wasteful even. That didn't mean he wanted to grow used to throwing his new social weight around – or worse, start believing that being a cultivator made him inherently superior. He'd seen far too much of that attitude already.

Jiang let out a slow breath, pushing away the lingering discomfort as he reached the landing. What he really wanted right now was to hand the jade comb over to the Broker, obtain the information on the Hollow Fangs, then sleep for at least twelve hours. Only the thought that the information that could lead to his family was genuinely almost in his grasp was motivating enough for him to deal with all this running around right now.

He paused in front of the third door on the left, briefly composing himself before knocking sharply. There was a pause, then quick footsteps. Han opened the door, eyebrows arched in surprise as he stared at Jiang standing awkwardly in the hallway. "Well," Han said after a brief silence, voice laced with bemusement, "you're about the last person I expected to find knocking at my door this early. How in the heavens did you manage to get past that prickly innkeeper?"

Jiang shifted slightly, feeling the awkwardness crawl back up his spine. "He… wasn't that bad," he lied awkwardly.

Han squinted for a moment. "Ah. You did some cultivator stuff, didn't you?"

Clearly, Jiang wasn't that good at lying. He nodded.

Han visibly winced, glancing past Jiang down the hall, as though half-expecting to see panicked faces peering around the corners. "Ah. I suppose that would do it. I don't suppose nobody else saw it? Something like that is enough to keep half of Qinghe buzzing for a week."

"Just the guard," Jiang assured him. Truth be told, he hadn't considered how his actions could have affected Han, only himself. Something to keep in mind for next time.

Han sighed good-naturedly, stepping back to wave Jiang inside. "Well, could be worse, I suppose. It's not like I haven't dealt with gossip before. And truth be told, I probably deserved it—staying in a place like this, people are bound to think I'm getting above myself. Still…" he shot Jiang an amused glance, "next time you want to visit, maybe send word ahead, alright? I could have let the innkeeper know to expect you, saved the trouble."

Jiang huffed softly, unwilling to admit that Han had a point. "It wouldn't have been a problem if the guy had just listened to what I had to say instead of jumping right to the insults."

Han barked a quick laugh. "I'm afraid you're in the wrong city for that, especially when you're dressed like…" he trailed off. "Well, anyway. Perks of being a cultivator – I suppose no one can really tell you how to handle things."

He gestured Jiang to a chair as he moved to sit opposite. "Speaking of handling things," Han said casually, leaning back and steepling his fingers, "where exactly did you manage to pick up a street rat guide?"

Jiang's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "How do you know about Lin?"

Han chuckled, nodding towards the open window overlooking the street below. "Nothing too mysterious, just saw you coming."

Jiang just grunted in response. If Han had known he was coming, why was he surprised to see Jiang when he opened the door? Was it an act, or had Han simply not expected him to get past the innkeeper? He had to remember that, for all that Han was a friendly person and had helped Jiang out on the trip to Qinghe, he worked for the Broker first and foremost. Still, there was little point in confronting him about it.

"I see," Jiang said a little belatedly, deciding to cut straight to why he was here. "Anyway, I finished the job. Got the comb last night. Now I need to know how I'm supposed to get in touch with the Broker again."

Han sat up slightly, clearly reading the shift in mood. "Already? You work quickly – I'll give you that. Don't suppose this has anything to do with the city watch getting all fussy about something last night?" He raised his hand before Jiang could respond. "Never mind, actually. None of my business, really – and the less I know about things, the less I have to lie. Now then, as to getting hold of the Broker. You remember the tavern his office is hidden under?"

Jiang nodded impatiently. "Yes. But I… don't remember where it actually was, not to mention it didn't have a name or anything."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Han corrected, clearly enjoying Jiang's confusion. "It's got a name—everyone just calls it 'The Bar'. Clever, right?" He grinned at Jiang's unimpressed expression before continuing. "Anyway, when the Broker's in and available, the barkeep will place a certain bottle of very expensive liquor – a spirit from the southern coast, clear bottle with a fancy gold label – right on the corner of the top shelf. Subtle enough to overlook if you're not paying attention, but once you know, it's obvious."

Subtle enough to be missed by anyone who didn't know about it, but obvious at a glance to those who did. Better than Jiang had expected, to be honest – he'd half been dreading having to simply ask the barkeep every time or something.

"I happen to know that he'll be in his office in an hour or two," Han added helpfully. "So if you're wanting to turn that comb in and get whatever information you're looking for, could be a good time to get it done. Before I forget, too – good thinking on getting a local guide, but watch yourself around her. Street rats tend to vanish if you don't keep an eye on them, and most of the time they take your coin pouch when they go."

"Thanks," Jiang muttered, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.

Han waved casually, already relaxing back into his chair. "Oh, and Jiang?" he called, just before Jiang left. "Next time you need to visit, try the back door, hm? I'd rather not have to explain to half of Qinghe that I haven't committed any capital offences."

Jiang grumbled something vaguely agreeable as he closed the door behind him, already feeling exhaustion creep back in. The sooner he handed this comb to the Broker and got his information, the sooner he could rest.

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