Liberi Reader

Our tale begins in a modest teahouse, its building hardly tall enough for the two floors it's split into.

The interior is simply furnished, the space neither cramped nor bare. Ten wooden tables, meticulously laid out, seat six each. The tea stains have been scrubbed as much as they'll permit. It all speaks to a diligent owner.

The teahouse's server casts ladles of water across the floor, as he mops each and every tile to a mirror sheen.

It seems a while since this teahouse last welcomed a guest. One wonders what sort of customer could warrant such a conscientious welcome.

And with perfect timing, they come in.

The boor of a man's temper flares, and he throws a hefty palm across the server's face that sends him crashing to the floor.

But the server does not anger in kind. He calmly picks himself up, and stands up again, like none of that just happened.

And in short order, the proclaimed plus-one arrives.

Scarcely has the girl stepped inside to look around when the tip of a crossbow bolt nestles against her back, and the point of a machete to her throat.

He says, making a subtle show of his machete again.

To which the girl can only shake her head and sigh. She pulls out a small parcel from her travel bag. Its rectangular dimensions are those of a book, no doubt.

She says, gesturing a '7' in the air.

The man can hardly process the sight of his machete dropping to the ground.

His unwavering grip has never betrayed him throughout his grueling years in the jianghu.

Yet now he can't even hold his own blade.

Producing a hemp rope from out of nowhere, the server silently busies himself. In a flash, the three incapacitated guests are bound up like zongzi on the plate, and deposited neatly in the corner.

Catching sight of the elusive boy, Hu Jun grips his dagger tight, but following a moment of thought, he lets go again.

That morning...

Before she knows it, Lin Qingyan has set foot into this strange town.

It's a rustic one, low buildings littered about. Few wander the streets. The scene here is a still and peaceful one.

Gaze fixed on the ground, a young woman walks headfirst into Lin Qingyan and promptly tumbles straight to the ground, where something falls out of her clothes.

Lin Qingyan immediately checks her over, then turns to look back, only to find the old man with the pancakes is nowhere to be seen.

The girl hurriedly takes her umbrella, then with difficulty stuffs the letter back in her sleeve.

Lin Qingyan looks to the clear blue sky.

Far across the alley, Lin Qingyan spots the umbrella the girl was sporting.

She hurries over, intending to return the lost letter, but as she draws near it becomes obvious—

The umbrella lies forlorn on the ground, the girl unaccounted for.

The scent of the green tea is positively pungent. Lin Qingyan reaches a hand, but stops.

Brain working in overtime, Hu Jun promptly flips the table up, cutting off Lin Qingyan's line of sight to him. It's just long enough for him to scramble like mad to the upper floor.

Lin Qingyan glances over again. There's two bandits bound up like fowl, but all that lies next to them is a pile of severed hemp rope.

Lin Qingyan hurries out into the street, where a good few townsfolk are milling around to see what the commotion is.

She hears the single sharp strike. She sees someone crash through the upper floor window and fall to the road hard, right in front of the teahouse's entranceway.

She fully expects to see someone injured. Possibly even a corpse. But all that greets her eyes...

Is a pile of shattered teapot shards.