The midday sun, like melting gold foil, scorched the bluestone slabs of Suzaku Street. Walking barefoot, you could feel the heat through your soles. The candied haws frosting smeared across the fortune teller's left cheek gradually melted in the heat, the glistening sugar threads clinging to his graying beard, forming spider-thin golden threads in the sunlight. They trembled slightly with his sharp breathing, like a torn spiderweb. Veins popped from his knuckles gripping the iron rod, and the age spots on the back of his hand darkened dark brown from the force. As he roared and hurled himself at Su Jinli, the wind whipped by the rod swept across her temples like a sharp blade. A silver-foiled gardenia hairpin tinkled into the cracks in the stone slabs, its pearl tassels streaking through the dust, like the grievances of her past life.

Jiang Yan's long arms protected his wife behind him, his moon-white gown rustling in the wind. The bamboo patterns embroidered on the sleeves brushed against the ends of Su Jinli's hair. The jujube wood stool leg in his hand cut a sharp arc, a sound of breaking air echoing through the air, and struck the nerves on the inside of the other's wrist with precision. With a loud clang, the black iron rod flew out of his hand, rolling three feet before hitting the Hu pancake oven, cracking the clay in the oven wall and sending sparks flying. Sparks from the oven landed on the fortune teller's cloth shoes, leaving several charred holes. The old man selling Hu pancakes jumped in fright, and the half-kneaded dough in his hand flew out in a parabola, landing at the fortune teller's feet with a plop. There were still a few sesame seeds on the dough, which looked very much like the pockmarks on his face.

"You're looking for death!" the gentleman roared, clutching his swollen wrist. His sleeves were ripped open by the violent movement, revealing a hideous scar on the inside of his wrist. The scar was a twisted "S" shape, its edges raised like centipede feet, an old wound that had glowed an eerie red in the heat. Seeing this, the two henchmen behind him simultaneously threw off their loads. The bamboo basket fell to the ground and broke, revealing the dagger wrapped in oilcloth inside. The blade sliced ​​through the air with a teeth-grinding "hissing" sound as it was unsheathed. The blurred skull pattern on the blade flickered in the sunlight, and the low-quality obsidian embedded in the eye sockets gleamed with a deadly light, exuding a chilling aura that was completely out of place in the bustling city.

Su Jinli picked up Si Yan's dropped abacus. The jujube wood beads burned in her palm, scorching as if they could burn through her flesh. She thought of the New Year's money her son had saved for three months—copper coins earned from singing nursery rhymes in Yangzhou, small change from his grandfather in Hangzhou, sewn layer upon layer into a brocade purse, its embroidered golden toad eyes made of real gold foil. The rage rising in her chest lashed her wrist, and she swung the abacus like a meteor at the tall attendant. The beads clattered, some lodging themselves in his hair and knocking his felt hat askew, revealing the lice eggs hidden within. The attendant screamed and stumbled back, overturning the tea table. The boiling water from the copper kettle splashed onto the fortune teller's feet, drawing even more shrill cries.

"Mom! Hit him on the left cheek!" Si Yan shouted, hiding behind Jiang Yan. The abacus at her waist made a crisp sound as she moved, as if keeping time with her mother's attacks. "The doctor said the compensation for the left cheek injury was 30% less!" The eight-year-old's eyes were wide open, his face full of serious calculation. The tip of his nose was still stained with the icing sugar that had fallen, sparkling in the sunlight. He clenched his fist, and between his fingers was half a half-eaten Hu pancake that the old pancake seller had given him.

Nian Li, clutching her sugar painting, jumped up and down in cheers, the sugar threads swishing against the hem of Jiang Yan's gown, leaving sticky marks on the moon-white fabric. "Spank him! Grandfather said spankings don't hurt!" Before she could finish her words, the old man selling Hu pancakes rushed over, waving a rolling pin still stained with dough. The yeast on the dough was still slightly expanding, emitting a sour aroma. Seeing this, the surrounding vendors selling tea and rouge picked up their shoulder poles and bamboo baskets and joined the cavalcade of people chasing them away, shouting throughout the street: "Shoot the thieves! The thieves who stole our money! Don't let them get away!"

Amidst the chaos, Su Jinli caught a glimpse of a dark green jade pendant dangling from her teacher's waist. It was carved with a ferocious dragon, but one claw was missing—an exact replica of the description she'd overheard at the Hangzhou government office when she was twelve. Memories flooded back: the accountant her stepmother had brought with her as a dowry had been robbed by the canal. She'd huddled behind a screen and heard the constable's whispered words: "The bandit leader has a scar on his left cheek and wears a dragon-shaped jade pendant with a missing claw. The government is offering a reward of 500 taels..." At the time, she'd been secretly learning to do accounting when she dropped an abacus bead and was punished by her stepmother to kneel all night.

"You're the third in command of Black Wind Village!" Su Jinli roared, her voice drowning out the surrounding clamor and silencing the cicadas in the locust trees. "You have a scar on your face and a dragon-shaped jade pendant around your waist! You're a bandit with a five-hundred-tael reward for your life!" Her voice trembled, not with fear but with anger—for her past life, a life that couldn't even afford salt, and for her son, who had been nearly deceived in this life.

The gentleman's pupils suddenly constricted, like a venomous snake pricked by a needle. His face instantly turned pale as paper, even his lips drained of color. His cloudy eyes were filled with terror, as if he had seen a ghost. Jiang Yan seized the opportunity, raised his darkly embroidered black boots, and kicked him in the stomach. The cloud pattern on the soles of the boots stepped on his fat belly with a dull "puff" sound. The gentleman stumbled and knocked over the fortune-telling stall behind him. The green cloth cover "puffed" over his head, and the bamboo sticks in the stick holder scattering to the ground. Several of them were stuck in his collar, like a bunch of spirit-calling banners. "It's a thief!" Jiang Yan's quick eyes and hands snatched the short knife dropped by the henchman. The blade's back gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and he struck another henchman on the back of the neck as he tried to escape. The man fell to the ground like a straw, blood oozing from his mouth and nose.

Just then, the sound of hurried horse hooves echoed in the distance. The Jinwu Guards galloped towards them, their red-tasseled spear tips flashing coldly in the sunlight. Their passage raised clouds of dust mingled with the smell of horse manure. The fortune teller frantically threw back the curtains and tried to escape, but felt his legs sink. Siyan clung to his calf like a koala, her tiny teeth gnawing at his trouser legs. Her saliva soaked the coarse fabric as she spoke. "Give me back three taels of silver! At a daily interest rate of one cent, I owe you three taels, two hundred and fourteen wen! If you refuse to pay again, I'll add penalty interest!"

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