“Looking for a charm to help ace your studies, shuaige?” she asked, chewing her toothpick. “Or something that will get your crush’s attention? Auntie Lian has everything you want.” She fanned a bunch of charms in front of Yiran and plucked one out. “This one’s popular. Sold it to an office girl last week and she got asked out on a date right away. I’ll sell it to you for half-price—you can’t get it this cheap anywhere else. Here, take it!” She grabbed Yiran’s hand and pressed the intricately folded red paper into his palm. “Burn it and drop the ashes into a drink of your choice. Coffee, plain water, juice, anything is fine. Stand in front of the cute girl you like when she’s drinking it, and she’ll think you’re the handsomest boy in the world.”
“I’m not here for that, auntie,” Yiran said, dropping the red paper onto her table.
“Works on cute boys, too,” Auntie Lian said with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t be shy, go after what your heart desires.”
“Maybe some other time. I’m here for something else.”
“Oh?” Auntie Lian peered up at him over her glasses, taking in his clothes and person. “What exactly are you looking for, my dear?”
Yiran flashed a charming smile. “The secret menu.”
To his chagrin, she burst out laughing. “Where do you think you are? A fast-food restaurant?” She pointed at the line of stalls. “Have your pick, all the street food you want is there in the open. We don’t have a secret menu, or any secrets here.”
“That’s not what I mean, you know that. I’m looking for actual magic.” When the woman gestured at her charms, Yiran scoffed. “No offense, auntie, but I don’t need help pulling anyone—him, her, or them. This face card never declines.”
He had dated enough people to know this was a fact. But the dates had been casual, lacking in some way, physically attractive people Yiran knew he was supposed to be drawn to, but who somehow left him feeling lonelier. Deciding that the void inside him could not be filled by a person, he stopped bothering a year ago. He used discretion as an excuse, silence as implication, and everyone assumed he was scoring anyway.
His friends, on the other hand, had no issue sharing their exploits openly, but Yiran couldn’t grasp the concept of treating another human being as a trophy. This difference and his disinterest made him wonder ifhewas the problem, if his lack of magic wasn’t his only defect.
Auntie Lian’s salesperson face shuttered. She made a sucking sound through her teeth and spat out her toothpick. “No offense taken, young man. Like I said, there’s no secret menu in the Night Market. Whatever kind ofmagicyou think you’re looking for, it’s all in these charms and amulets.”
Yiran pointed at the shophouse behind the stall. “How about the mage inside? Can they help me? I can be generous.” He pulled his sleeve back to reveal Nick Cheng’s watch.
Auntie Lian’s eyes bulged. “How generous?”
“Whatever it takes.” He glanced down the line of stalls. “I can also take my business elsewhere. I’m sure there’re other mages around—I’m not picky.”
He started to walk away.
“Wait.” Auntie Lian lowered her voice. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“A spell to capture something.”
“What kind of something?”
“Something valuable. It would be a feat that will make me famous in some circles,” Yiran said, pulse racing.
He thought Auntie Lian would tell him to get lost, but she popped another toothpick into her mouth and made a gesture with her hand. From the shadows, a barrel-chested man appeared.
“Show him in,” Auntie Lian said.
The man led Yiran to the front doors of the shophouse.
Yiran stepped across the threshold, unsure of what to expect. He found himself in a large empty parlor with a single wooden table in the middle. It was old and rickety, with two chairs beside it that were just as old and rickety.
The barrel-chested man grunted.
Yiran sat down.
Seconds later, an older gentleman in a white mandarin-collared tunic and black flowing pants appeared. His bald head was tattooed with symbols that reminded Yiran of birds in flight.
He sat down across from Yiran, a genial smile on his lined face. “How may I help you?”
“I wish to purchase a spell.”
“Can you cast a spell?”
Could the mage not sense that Yiran was a normie? Yiran watched as the mage’s eyes traveled to the small white scars on his fingertips. He retracted his hands from the tabletop quickly, keeping them out of sight on his lap. He felt silly for doing so, but something about the mage’sexpression puzzled him. The mage wasn’t just curious about Yiran’s scars, he wasdisturbedby them.
