The night had grown deeper by the time Tao and Jian stepped into the narrow streets of the northern quarter. The activated tokens shimmered faintly beneath their robes, threads of spiritual light curled around their figures like mist, blurring their outlines just enough to fool a passing glance. The city looked different under this concealment, as if the very air around them resisted sharp definition.

  The market was quieter now. Most stalls had shuttered for the evening, leaving only the stubborn and the secretive to ply their trade. The faint scent of roasting meat clung to the wind, carried from a few food vendors who worked late to serve weary mortals, cultivators and travelling merchants. Paper lanterns hung low, their glow dancing across cobbled stone, soft and uneven.

  They moved with purpose, cutting across the uneven flow of people with practiced ease. Jian said nothing, but Tao knew his eyes were busy. They both understood that this task was no longer just about delivery. It was a test of awareness, of instinct. Ming Yao had not given them a box. She had handed them a question and was waiting to see what answer they gave.

  Halfway through a narrow passage between shuttered shops, Tao slowed his steps. His gaze flicked to a polished windowpane reflecting the alley behind them. A figure lingered far too long at the corner, head down, face obscured by a loose hood.

  “Behind us,” Tao murmured without turning his head.

  Jian did not respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted the drape of his robe, eyes on the road ahead. “One?”

  Tao nodded slightly. “At least. Not close yet, but tracking. Might be trying to keep us in sight until the handoff.”

  “Then we shake them now.”

  They turned off the main path into an older side street, where the cobbles were cracked and narrow gutters ran with rainwater and leaf sludge. Tao cut left into an alley so thin they had to move single file.

  At the end, they turned again, entering the courtyard of a closed shrine. Stone lanterns lined the perimeter, their braziers cold, the prayer ribbons overhead limp with moisture. Tao paused behind the main structure, scanning the edge of the alley they had exited moments before. Jian knelt near the shrine’s side steps, using a rock to scatter dried leaves across the path they had just taken.

  Then they climbed. Tao gripped the low eave, swung himself onto the roof, and crossed it in a crouch. Jian followed without a sound. On the opposite side, they dropped down behind a row of hedges tangled with ivy, keeping low as they waited.

  The figure appeared moments later.

  A young man in a green cloak stepped cautiously into the alley, pausing near the bend. His head tilted slightly, scanning the darkness ahead. He hesitated, clearly expecting to see someone emerging at the far end. But the alley was still. No footfalls echoed. No silhouettes moved.

  He stepped further, frowning.

  From the shadows, Tao watched the way the man’s hand hovered close to his waist, where the folds of his cloak concealed something. Not a skilled tail, but bold enough to try.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Jian leaned close, his voice barely audible. “He’s too slow. Watching his own footsteps like he just learned how to tail someone. Probably an amateur.”

  Tao nodded once. “Let him lose us.”

  After another moment of silent waiting, the figure moved on, walking past the alley and out of sight.

  Jian’s voice was barely a whisper. “He is not working alone. That cloak is too clean. Someone gave him this job.”

  “Not our concern,” Tao replied. “Not tonight.”

  They circled back, using the cover of a quiet herb market to blend in again. From there, they followed the smell of lotus root and charred oil until they found the stall.

  The vendor was older, his posture sagged like a man who had forgotten what standing tall felt like. His eyes nearly hidden beneath drooping lids. He did not speak. He barely looked at them.

  Tao stepped forward and withdrew one of the ghost face tokens deactivating it at the same time. He placed it on the edge of the counter without a word. Jian remained just behind him, watching the flow of bodies moving around the market. None of them stopped. None of them stared.

  The vendor’s gaze flicked to the token, then to Tao. He nodded once and turned back to the grill without a word. A moment later, he set a wooden plate on the counter. On it lay a skewer of grilled lotus root, lightly charred and steaming. Beneath the skewer, tucked between two folded napkins, was a thin black slip sealed with wax and pressed with the faint impression of a crescent moon.

  Tao retrieved the token and re-activated it, then picked up the plate with both hands, his movements slow and deliberate. He offered a slight bow, then turned. Jian followed without a word.

  No words had been exchanged. No names had been spoken.

  As they slipped through the streets again, they avoided the direct route back to the Evernight Pavilion. Instead, they moved southward first, weaving through a series of alleys where the buildings leaned close, and the windows were shuttered. A dog barked once, then fell silent. A drunkard murmured to himself near the mouth of a side lane. No one else stirred. Along the way, Tao retrieved the black slip and quietly disposed of the plate and skewer, leaving no trace behind.

  By the time they reached the Pavilion, the city had settled into the hush due to the lateness of the hour. The lantern above the door still burned, its soft glow unchanging.

  Inside, the attendant was waiting. He did not speak, only gestured toward the same private booth where the night had begun.

  Ming Yao appeared minutes later; her presence as composed as before. She glanced once at the black slip Tao placed on the table.

  “You were followed,” she said.

  Tao inclined his head. “Briefly.”

  “You lost them,” she added. “That matters more.”

  She reached out, took the slip, and held it between two fingers. With a flick, the wax seal burned away in a clean line of red flame, then vanished entirely.

  “You delivered what was asked. You returned what was required. You made no mess.” Her gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. “You’ll do.”

  “Three nights from now. South Wall quarter. Midnight. Tell the guards at the warehouse gate that you’re here to see Ghosthand Yue. Show them your tokens, those are the key to entering the market.”

  Tao nodded once. “Understood.”

  Ming Yao gave no farewell. She simply turned and stepped through the curtain.

  The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. Just final.

  Outside, the streets had emptied almost entirely. As they walked through the night, Tao felt the weight of the de-activated token in his hand and the echo of Ming Yao’s words lingering at the edge of his thoughts.

  The Evernight Pavilion had closed its doors behind them. Ahead lay something new. A threshold crossed.

  They did not speak as they made their way to the city gate.