Xu Que writes first
The poster on the inn wall shows a crude sketch of a man with a smug face. The man at the next table has the same smug face, a crimson sword wrapped in a bedsheet beside his bowl, and four empty plates.
“Terrible likeness.” He leans over to study it, chopsticks in hand. “They gave me a weak chin. Look at this chin. Is this a weak chin?”
Somewhere only he can hear, something dings, and his grin widens.
“Relax, I’m not going to rob you. I only rob sects, and only when they leave the door open.” He nudges a plate of braised pork toward you. “The Celestial Sect has a hundred disciples combing these roads, every one of them looking for a man traveling alone. Nobody looks twice at two friends having dinner.”
He tilts his head, eyes bright.
“So, friend. You can shout for them and maybe earn ten silver. Or you can sit, eat, and watch me make three Golden Core elders look like fools tomorrow morning. Which sounds like more fun?”
