Because of its widespread reputation, all three tables had guests. At the innermost table sat a jianghu traveler, dressed in black with a bamboo hat, a long sword placed on the table. Only a slender back could be seen, appearing to be a woman, and quite tall.

Edward Clark glanced over and immediately sensed that the jianghu traveler was slightly tilting her head, alert. He didn’t look any further, took the wine gourd from his saddle, and said:

“A pot of wine, please.”

“Alright, the Three Talents, pour a pot of wine... Oh, young master, you have time to come by yourself today? What a rare guest! The same as before?”

“Mm.”

“Hehe... Young master, you really can hold your liquor. A jin of Duanyu Shao every day, never changing. Half of the wine brewed in this shop this year has gone into your belly...”

Mr. Harris, about sixty years old, with white hair and a kindly appearance, had been brewing wine all his life. His son had taken the official path and didn’t come home often, so he usually ran the wine shop alone. Because of his skill, many came to learn from him, and Mr. Harris never turned anyone away, only fearing that the family craft would die with him.

The apprentice in the shop, the Three Talents, must have been new—he hadn’t been seen before. He looked honest and simple, carefully opened a wine jar, filled a pot, and respectfully handed it over.

Edward Clark chuckled softly, took a silver ingot from his sleeve, tossed it to the Three Talents, then led his horse out of the wine shop. He had just walked a short distance when a voice sounded behind him:

“Boss, he gave too much.”

“That young master is always like that. If he gives you extra, just take it and save it well. Don’t go gambling again—your wife already left you because of it. If you lose everything, you’ll have to pay with your life...”

“I know my limits...”

Edward Clark frowned slightly and paused, thought for a moment, but in the end still led his horse out of the alley...

-------

In the The Harris Family shop, the Three Talents’s eyes sparkled as he bit the silver, then carefully tucked it into his chest.

Mr. Harris carried peanuts and cold dishes, placing them in front of the three tables of guests, still muttering to himself and occasionally chatting with the drinkers.

All kinds of people drank here. It was said that even the current emperor had once come in disguise, though no one could confirm it, so it was just considered a bit of elegant gossip.

The jianghu guest with her back to the alley now slightly lifted her bamboo hat, revealing delicate lips and chin, skin fairer than winter snow, lips as red as lacquer. Even with just half her face visible, one could sense her stunning beauty. She gracefully lifted her hand to take the wine bowl, her voice cool and clear:

“Boss, who was that just now?”

Mr. Harris had run a wine shop all his life and had seen beauties before. He placed the peanuts on the table and chuckled:

“I’m not sure, probably a young master from some family in the city. That fox-fur coat he wears isn’t cheap—he must be wealthy or noble. And he’s truly handsome. If you ask me, he’s no less attractive than you, miss...”

The woman curled her lips. “He looks pale and weak—probably hollowed out by wine and women...”

Mr. Harris was taken aback, thought for a moment, then shook his head. “That young master isn’t weak at all. He’s not like those playboys, and he’s a good person...”

“Heh...”

The woman didn’t reply, just continued eating on her own...

------

Elsewhere, in a tavern on the small street, the shop banner was already yellowed. Inside, it was noisy, with the sound of dice shaking. Many scruffy men crowded around, a brazier burning in the middle.

The female constable Martha Foster held a wine bowl slightly bigger than her face, frowning in worry.

After her parents disappeared, she joined the yamen as a constable, working hard for years before being transferred to Chang’an to become a Wolf Guard. She had hoped to get into the case archives to find out what happened back then, only to discover she wasn’t qualified at all.

Only by catching thieves and earning merit could she get promoted. She wanted to catch them, but Chang’an was so peaceful that people didn’t even lock their doors at night. Even in the most chaotic Yongning Ward, you’d be lucky to see a few petty thieves in a day, and she had to split them with two teammates. The road ahead seemed endlessly long and her future bleak.

At the wine table, a burly man built like a tower sat with one foot propped on a stool, his posture bold, and tried to comfort her:

“Martha, don’t worry. It usually takes ten years of hard work to get into the Tianzi Battalion. We know you want to find your uncle and aunt. George Miller and I will let you take more credit, that’s all.”

The tall, thin George Miller downed a mouthful of strong wine and smacked his lips. “Yeah, last time with the big case of smuggled salt at Fumanlou, even though most of the credit went to the Imperial Guards and our commander, you still got a major merit. Get two more and you’ll rise straight into the Tianzi Battalion. What’s the rush...”

Martha Foster took a small sip of yellow wine and snorted, “Where’s that kind of luck? If I hadn’t run into Heir Clark by chance last time, that case wouldn’t have been solved.”

“That’s true...”

As George Miller spoke, he glanced toward the street, suddenly his gaze sharpened, and he patted the burly man beside him. “John Thompson, look, there’s a fool.”

Martha Foster and John Thompson looked out the window and saw, on the street, an old man hobbling along with a cane, his steps labored, eyes dull and lifeless, occasionally pounding his old back with his hand.

Martha Foster recognized the old man—he often told stories at the teahouse on the back street. Today, the old man had a money pouch at his waist, bulging with the outline of silver. At a glance, it looked to be several dozen taels.