Shao Qing raised an eyebrow. “You’ll help?”
“I’d like to see you get out of this scrape. I’ll be waiting for a good story by the end of it,” Yao whispered to him. “If you survive.”
Shao Qing figured the thief lord must be in one of his playful moods. He was always in better spirits sober than drunk.
Then, Yao turned to Zhi Lan. “Magistrate Li is in Yun City. You’ll have to head east to the intercity gates. It’s unlikely you’ll make it before curfew today. The gates close at dusk. Do you have your papers?”
Zhi Lan made a noise. “I left them behind.”
“Not a problem. A thief should never cross city gates with genuine papers. We’ll forge them,” Yao said.
She looked slightly ill at this.
“Once you make it to Yun City, you’ll be able to find your way to Magistrate Li’s manor easily enough. The homes of the wealthy are not difficult to spot and every civilian knows where the magistrate is located. As for the stealing part...well, let Shao Qing handle that. He finds sadistic joy in last-minute heists.”
Yao then drew up a crude layout of Magistrate Li’s manor. It was similar to many of the aristocratic courtyard houses, with one main wing, an east and west wing, and the front gates.
“There’s a pond behind the main wing that connects to a river. You can make your escape that way, if things become dire.”
Shao Qing had never been on a heist that took him to Yun City, even though it was right next door. According to Yao, Magistrate Li ran a tighter ship than Magistrate Bu did. Yun City’s guards were always suspicious and Shao Qing’s light eyes made him too recognizable. But the prospect of going somewhere new was enticing. And he wanted to see Zhi Lan squirm at the idea of becoming a thief, if only to entertain himself.
“Give me an hour to forge your papers,” Yao said. “An Qin will prepare some food for the road.”
Zhi Lan stood and bowed. “Thank you for your help. I...wasn’t expecting generosity when I came here,” she admitted.
Yao waved his hand. “Well, a friend of Shao Qing is a friend of mine. Hedidsave my life. The least I can do is assist him from time to time.”
A pretty lie for Zhi Lan. Shao Qing was sure the only reason Yao was doing this was because he was starved of entertainment, though he was surprised by the amount of effort the thief lord was willing to put in to attain it.
Shao Qing saw Zhi Lan shoot him a bewildered look at his periphery. “You saved his life?”
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he said.
Shao Qing had first come across Yao three years ago, lying unconscious in a muddy ditch. He had dragged him up to see if the older man had anything worth stealing in his pockets, but Yao had woken up and punched him in the face.
“So you see, if he hadn’t pulled me out to steal from me, I would’ve been eaten by a leash of foxes. The animals were running rampant that time of year. Quite feral. My body would’ve been unrecognizable,” Yao said.
“Ah. How...fortunate,” Zhi Lan said faintly.
Although Shao Qing hadn’t meant to do it, saving Yao’s life turned out to be beneficial. He had been stealing on his own before then, but only petty street thefts for mere survival—nothing on a grand scale.
Once he joined Yao’s gang, Shao Qing never went a day without a roof over his head and food in his belly. They stole silk scrolls and prized vases and bronze sculptures from manors of the wealthy. The thrill of each heist stole the air from his lungs and brought vibrant color to the corners of his vision.
But lately, this lifestyle had grown too routine, the excitement long since dulled.
Shao Qing wondered if this excursion could rekindle that excitement.
