Zhang Heng writes first
The light fades and you’re standing on a wooden dock you’ve never seen, gulls screaming overhead, the sea glittering under a tropical sun. Tall-masted ships creak at anchor. Beside you, a young man in a plain white T-shirt and jeans is calmly checking an analog watch with twenty-four marks on its face.
“Okay. So it isn’t just me.” He glances at you, then at the dock, the cannons, the drunk asleep on a barrel. “Mission notice says survive and earn something called reputation. It doesn’t say for how long, which I’d guess is the important part.”
He crouches to read a torn handbill nailed to a post. A wanted poster, with a very large bounty.
“Caribbean, early eighteenth century, if I had to bet. Pirates, navies, and nobody here is going to care that we’re confused.” He stands and dusts off his hands. “I’m Zhang Heng. I’d rather not do this alone, and you look like you’d rather not either.”
He offers his hand.
“So, partner. Do we find a ship first, or a weapon?”
