The rain did not relent with morning's arrival. The dawn-hued sky was covered by clouds. The morning sun could not shine through the curtains of endless rain. The storm hung, like a spectre, over the mountains, the forests, and the plains beyond. Some whispered of it being the work of the Broken Cloud Sect, an attempt of Anri techniques to send out a storm that would strengthen into a hurricane when it arrived at the imperial capital. Others wondered if it was the spirits that lived in the deep mountains of the north, their angry rumblings creating the strong winds that now buffeted houses, shook at windows, screamed out songs of cold water.
It was, to Joseph Zheng, the perfect sort of morning. His soul crackled and popped like a campfire in his belly as he rose from bed and took his tea downstairs. Guo Liling was the only one up, this early in the morning, and the two of them watched the pouring rain from their places, Joseph at his table, Guo Liling at her bar. They traded few words, letting the chorus outside fill their conversation.
Breakfast was served, noodles with a bit of spice to them, a few dumplings to soak up the heat. A meal designed for cold weather, to warm the body and enrich the soul.
That was good, for Joseph rose from his seat after he was finished eating. Put the dishes away. Drained the last of his tea.
And picked up his walking stick.
“Right,” he said, “I'll be back.”
Liling's eyes widened. They darted to the open door, then back to him.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I'm going to Old Gate City, to make an update to the trading company,” Joseph said, making for the door, “I should be back by tonight.”
“Zheng Jo,” Liling said, “It is pouring rain.”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, shrugging, “But come rain or shine, right?”
He smiled at her. Winked. Liling looked aghast. Without another word, he stepped out through the door, into the icy rain. It pelted him immediately, drenched his long hair as he walked, dug into his shoulders. His boots quickly became muddy as he left the town and went down the winding trail out of the Opal Hills.
But he was a metahuman. His soul was cobalt and electric. The storm was a friend to him. Were his Nai Nai still around, it might have even been his family. As such, he had no trouble with the weather. He slicked down the mud roads, his footing sure, perhaps a hair overconfident. But he was prepared for his slip-ups. He was alone, and that meant he could manifest his soul to catch him. At one point, he slipped, and the eagle realized into the world, sharp claws digging into the earth to hold him fast. At another, he decided to forgo taking the winding road and instead climb his way down with azure talons.
It was a strange feeling for a metahuman to not use their abilities. Using them was euphoric.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Joseph wished it were closer. Lightning was a refresher to him. A way to heal.
Rosemary had taught him that.
The thought of talking to her made his heart thunder.
And he pressed on through the gale.
***
Tan Fa was the village's everyman. The secondborn of the once-illustrious Tan family, who had lived in the Opal Hills for hundreds of years, he and his brother, Tan Da, had been twin heads of a mischievous serpent. The family mine had given way to a family farm, and they had little to do after their tending to the fields save for causing trouble for the rest of the community. There had been a good-natured sigh upon the two brothers leaving the Opal Hills to join the army, ten years before. The entire town had gotten up, early in the morning, to see them off, despite them thinking they were sneaking away. Bittersweet laughter was had. Tan Xiaowen, their father, hid tears of pride and sorrow at their departure. For his unruly sons were finally going to grow up and find themselves in the world.
Tan Fa returned five years later with a knowledge of warfare and an emptied heart. Tan Da had been killed during the Red Sash Rebellion, a stray gale of Anri shearing away the upper half of his body completely. He had died suddenly. He had died without pain.
He had died in front of his brother, who screamed and cried at night, now.
The Tan farm had been bought out by Li Bai, for Tan Xiaowen had died before his son's return. Perhaps that was for the best.
It did mean, however, that Tan Fa was without a stable means of income. He did odd jobs around the town to make ends meet. He repaired leaking roofs, or ran food to workers out in the fields, occasionally filled in when a farmer that was sick needed their field tended to. He lived off of meager coin and handouts.
And he also did the odd job for Wang Ro the Elder. Tan Fa was in the clinic now, stroking his whispery goatee as the physician went over the particular job in mind.
“Old Gate City?” he said, “You want me to go down there?”
“Yes,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “As soon as possible.”
“To investigate Zheng Jo.”
“He is not who he says he is.”
“From my experience, very few travelers are,” Tan Fa stretched, grunting a bit as a phantom pain in his leg came back to haunt him. A stray arrow, during the Battle of Ruby Sealed City.
“All the same,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I want you to see if his story is verifiable. Find out if there is a Three Sons Trading Company in Old Gate City. If there is, see if there is a Zheng Jo who works there.”
“And if there is not?”
“Then return back to me.”
Tan Fa hesitated. In truth, he did not care for this Zheng Jo. He had not spoken to him, content to watch the traveler go about his day. He had more important work to do, such as repairing the widow Ban Lanfen's windows and making sure he had dinner for the night.
“Why is Pan Baihu not asking about this?” he asked, “You are a physician, not a leader. Not a warrior.”
“Fifteen silver pieces,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Fifteen more when you return.”
Tan Fa’s eyes widened, and he at once became more interested. The physician spoke the veteran's language.
“It will be dangerous going out in the rain,” he said.
“If you are injured, I will tend to you upon your return, free of charge,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “But I must know. Let me know when you return as soon as possible.”
“...Very well,” Tan Fa said. He rose. Picked up a walking stick.
And a second traveler left the Opal Hills. For Old Gate City.
***
The storm had arrived at the provincial capital, as well. It hung over the walled city, drenching it and the rice fields around it in an endless deluge. The road leading to Old Gate City's titular entrance was a muddy path flanked by two rice paddies, and Joseph found that he had to be sure with his footsteps, lest he trip and embarrass himself. The ancient ivory gate, bleached white and off-yellow by the sun and by time, yawned before him, open even with the storm. Naturally, there were few other fellow travelers going through, though the guards manning the gates only gave him a curt nod as he approached.
Much of the city was quiet. Like Joseph's Scuttleway, the rain tended to scare people indoors, where they would drink by the fire, or talk and swap stories. Joseph could hear them now, idle conversation behind closed doors.
Old Gate City sat atop a river. It had been founded by ancient warlords of the Elephant Walking Sect, masters of the earth, and they had formed the titular gate out of blessed ivory infused with Anri, becoming as strong as steel. It was considered one of the wonders of the world, along with the Rainbow Dragon River and the capital’s Ascendant Palace.
But it had been founded on a river. And it was because of the river that Old Gate City had grown to such an impressive size, was such a hub of trade and culture. And there was no better symbol of its riverborn roots as the great turtles that swam across its length. They were massive creatures, the largest being the size of a house, though it was said their cousins in the ocean were as moving islands. Anri was suffused across their being, so much that they had long ago become sapient – enough Anri, and even an ant could talk like a man.
The turtles of Old Gate City yearned for gold. For silver. For cold, hard cash. So they arranged for restaurants to be built on their backs. Inns and taverns. Manors, for the richest nobles, for the largest of turtles. And for a weekly sum they swam along the length of Old Gate City's river.
It was one of these traveling restaurants that Joseph sought out. He stepped onto a pier, waited for one of the turtles to arrive. One, after a few minutes, did, carrying atop his shell a teahouse. A lonely guzheng played from inside, and the smell of spices and burning leaves filled the air.
Joseph stepped into the teahouse. A moment later the place lurched as the turtle set out once more. Rain buffeted the rooftop, mixing with the guzheng, which was being played by an old woman in the corner, practiced fingers plucking at lonely strings. The teahouse was single-storied, open for only a few patrons. Were it not for the rain, Joseph surmised, he might not have been able to even get in at all.
As it was, the place was relatively empty, save for the old lady, another patron, and the teahouses's owner, a spry-looking older man who bowed and plastered on a smile as he spoke to Joseph.
“Welcome, young master,” he said, “Please, sit wherever.”
“Thanks,” Joseph said. He chose a place far away from the owner and the other patron, moving off to a corner. He ordered a plate of wonton noodles and, after eating that and warming up a bit, he requested for simple black tea. He paid the owner a bit extra as it was brought to the table, so he could remain undisturbed. The tea was sweet and fruity, and they had added a hint of pine.
The other patron left soon enough, an older man who seemed to be a regular, the way he waved to the owner. The guzheng continued playing.
And Joseph, realizing he was, at last, alone, pulled out the Silverfish.
He had come to Old Gate City for one reason, and one reason alone. He could get good food at the Opal Hills – Guo Liling and Guo Kenan were excellent cooks – and the music, while nice, wasn't his usual pick of electronic or hip-hop.
No, Old Gate City was close enough to the Traveling Point that the Silverfish would be able to connect to the rest of the Squall. It was time for him to make an update to his guildmates.
The Silverfish itself was small, easy enough to fit into a pack. It was one of the more advanced models, provided by Commodore Shelley, and was a simple metal disc with three jutting legs. The innards was where the magic happened – Meleko had once tried to explain the inner workings of a Silverfish to Joseph, and the metahuman had walked away from that conversation with a spinning head and a wish for life to be simpler. He clicked it on. Followed the instructions that Shelley had provided for sending out a signal to the multiverse.
And then he waited. Sipped his tea. Listened to the music. The sounds of the rain and of the city.
…
…
And, after almost ten minutes, he got a response. Rosemary's voice crackled through the Silverfish.
“Joe?” she said, “That you?”
“It is,” Joseph said.
The owner of the teahouse looked up, noted Joseph speaking. But the extra money in his pocket dissuaded him from bothering the metahuman. The old lady continued with her music.
“What's the password?” Rosemary asked.
“Dragon's Egg,” Joseph said. They had made the password together, a reference to their first job out together.
“You think it ever hatched, Joe?” Rosemary asked, “I mean, it's had to at this point.”
“Becenti told me once that Dragon eggs can take decades to develop,” Joseph said, “So it could still be an egg.”
“Still, whatcha think?” Rosemary said, “Little ol' Dragon Junior, flying around with their parent.”
“It's a good thought,” Joseph admitted, and he smiled in spite of himself.
They went quiet for a moment. Rosemary and Mallory were on a job on a nearby plane, specifically assigned so Joseph could get in contact with them while also getting other work done. Wakeling liked it when two birds could be killed with one stone. Joseph could imagine Rosemary now, with her red cloak and her curly blond hair that hid pointed ears, her rose sceptre that housed and fired off pure sunlight. Her piercing blue eyes that saw more than she would ever let on.
Joseph missed her.
“'Sup, Joe?” Rosemary said, “You calling me 'cause you miss me?”
“What? No,” Joseph said, “N-Not, well, it's-”
“Relax, I'm just fucking with you,” Rosemary said, and he heard her laugh. The metahuman rolled his eyes, tried not to think about how he had reddened.
“I'm here,” he said, “To make my report.”
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“Right,” Rosemary said, “Whatcha got for me?”
“I've made contact with the town near the Darwinist project,” Joseph said, “Been searching the surrounding area. I've got a few good ideas, nothing concrete yet. I'm safe now, though. The locals were... a bit suspicious, but I know a few of them seem to be fine with me being around.”
“That's good,” Rosemary said, “One sec. Mallory's calling me for something.”
“Alright,” Joseph said, nodding. He heard Rosemary rise from her seat, her voice sounding a bit distant as she had a muffled conversation with Mallory. He sipped his tea, noted he was getting a bit low. The teahouse's owner, taking notice, hurried over and refilled his cup. Joseph flipped him an extra few silver for his privacy.
“...Sorry about that,” Rosemary said, “We're helping keep guard at a miner's strike. The union heads just approached us to let us know we're moving out tomorrow to help mediate with the bosses.”
“Everything alright?” Joseph asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Rosemary said, “Most of the miners are alright people. Most of the trouble's come from the cops, but they're keeping their distance.”
“Good,” Joseph said, “Be careful.”
“Ha, you're sounding like Becenti. He's frazzled, whenever we mention what we're up to.”
“I don't think I've ever heard Becenti sound 'frazzled' before,” Joseph said, chuckling.
“Oh, he keeps up his professional air,” Rosemary said, “But you know him. Remember that prank Lazuli pulled on him? With the feathers?”
And Joseph started laughing harder. He heard Rosemary join him, and the two took a second to collect themselves.
“...Anyways,” Joseph said, “I'll probably be a bit longer. Going to keep searching. But thought I'd give you an update, let you know I'm not dead.”
“Glad to hear you're not dead, Joe.”
“Glad to hear that, too,” Joseph said, “I was a bit concerned.”
Rosemary snorted.
“Well, I'll pass the information along,” Rosemary said, “Keep, uh, doing what you're doing.”
“Ha, I will,” Joseph said.
“Anything else, Joe?”
“Nothing,” Joseph said, and then, “...Well...”
He paused, feeling a bit childish all of a sudden.
“Something up, Joe?”
“No, it's nothing,” Joseph said, “Forget it.”
“Come on,” Rosemary said, “What's up?”
“Well,” Joseph grimaced, “It... was, well, it was my birthday a week ago.”
“Well, Joseph Zheng!” Rosemary said, “Happy birthday! First birthday out in the multiverse?”
“Second, actually,” Joseph said, “I, ah, turned twenty-one while I was with Becenti at Death Valley.”
“And you didn't tell anyone?”
“I was in my own head a lot,” Joseph said, “Didn't even cross my mind until later. Besides, things were... busy.”
He said this with a light air, but he could not hide the tightness in his voice. He took a chance to sip the tea. Rosemary knew this, and she didn’t press him on it.
“Over a year and a half in the multiverse,” Joseph said.
“Why didn't you say anything before?” Rosemary said, “We could have done something before you left!”
“I felt weird about it!” Joseph said, “I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. Twenty-two isn't as big a milestone as twenty-one.”
“And twenty-one's a milestone?”
“Well, yeah,” Joseph said, “It's the legal drinking age, where I'm from.”
“Joseph, you told me that you first tried whiskey when you were thirteen.”
“...Alright,” the metahuman said, “Maybe it's not that big of a milestone, either.”
He heard Rosemary laugh.
“Any birthday's a milestone,” she said, “You're alive, aren't you?”
“...I guess so,” Joseph said.
“Well, let's drink to that, then,” Rosemary said. He heard her raise a glass.
“It's tea, nothing stronger,” Joseph said, but despite himself, he lifted it.
“Happy birthday, Joe,” Rosemary said, “When you get back, we'll do something fun. Go out for drinks. It's up to you.”
He smiled.
“I'd like that,” he said.
He heard Mallory speak up.
“Alright,” Rosemary said to her, then, “Look, Joe, we have to go. One of the union heads is asking for us. Apparently the cops are moving in.”
Joseph's blood ran cold.
“Right,” he said, “Be careful.”
“You know I will be,” Rosemary said, “...You too. Don't think that just because a few people out there like you, doesn't mean everyone does.”
“I know,” Joseph said.
“See you around, Joe.”
“Stay safe, Rosemary.”
And the Silverfish's line went dead. Joseph picked it up, inspected it for a few moments, his heart thumping despite the rainy slowness of the day. He packed it away. Sipped a bit more tea to calm himself down, and took his leave.
***
And while Joseph, or Zheng Jo, or just Joe, had his talk, Tan Fa explored Old Gate City. He arrived almost an hour after the Opal Hills newcomer, wearing a conical straw hat to protect his head from the rain. He walked across muddy streets, going into the various taverns set up around the city.
And asked his questions. Received his answers. Asked some more, received some more, a neverending, swirling pattern of ask and answer, giving and receiving, for Tan Fa was good at talking to people. Somehow, he was permitted to one of the mercantile libraries, where there was housed information on the various companies that used Old Gate City as their base of operations. He flipped through the records, unlooping the many scrolls held within the building, a mirror to Zheng Jo's own frenzied research at the Opal Hills only a few days before.
He did not find what he was looking for. No evidence of the Three Sons Trading Company.
But that, too, was an answer.
So satisfied, he made his bow, exited the building. Had a late lunch at the selfsame teahouse that Zheng Jo had visited to talk with his extraplanar contact.
He had missed Zheng Jo by mere hours.
And he, too, set back off for his home soon after. His legs ached from the travel. But he was used to it. The marches in the army had been far more rigorous.
***
Zheng Jo returned back to the Opal Hills near enough to sunset to make Guo Liling concerned. But he arrived, all the same, haggard from his journey. He also didn't seem to have anything to protect him from the rain, because he looked like he had been swimming, the way the water dripped from his cloak. Guo Kenan's eyes narrowed at him.
“Young master,” he said, “I must insist you dry yourself off before you eat at my table.”
Zheng Jo shrugged. Even smiled.
“That's fair,” he said, “I'll be upstairs.”
And he made his way up to change clothes. He returned a bit later in the night in a fresh set of robes, sitting down at a table and eating quietly. The usual crowd had come in tonight, Li Bai and Lo Qiu swapping their stories over frantic drink, Yin Biya and Han Deming playing their boardgame.
The rain continued, unabated, outside. It would probably continue on for another few days. In the absolute distance, they could hear Zi Shi Ying's call pierce through the clouds.
Li Bai took his leave, dragging a drooling Lo Qiu out of the inn. Yin Biya continued playing the game, waiting patiently for Han Deming to make his next move, entirely unaware that the old man had fallen to sleep.
Zheng Jo was almost finished, too, and was about to get up to go to bed when Guo Liling sat down across from him. The traveler looked weary.
Which was exactly what Guo Liling wanted him to be, for her line of questioning.
“How was Old Gate City?” she asked him.
Zheng Jo blinked. Rubbed his eyes.
“Oh, it was fine,” he said, “Nothing crazy. Just stopped by to make my report. That's all.”
“Odd, that you would go all the way out there to make your report. You could have sent a letter. We have the birds for it.”
“I wanted to walk,” Zheng Jo said, and his eyes were starting to narrow, “...What's this about?”
“I'm just,” Guo Liling cringed. She was being far too aggressive, now. At the bar, her father was busying himself wiping down the counter, but she could tell he was listening.
“It was just a report that I wanted to make in person,” Zheng Jo said, “That's it.”
Guo Liling faltered. Zheng Jo rose up from his seat.
“Well,” he said, “I'm going to bed. Have a good night.”
He flashed her a smile, though it was not entirely genuine. She was starting to see through Zheng Jo's facade, now, the cheery air he almost forced through, at times. She watched the traveler make for the stairs.
“Wait!” she said.
“Little Jasmine,” Guo Kenan warned.
But Zheng Jo had stopped.
She had to know.
She had to know.
The multiverse, it writhed.
“Zi Shi Ying,” she said, all at once breathless, “He... he said you were... you said you were...”
Zheng Jo still had not moved.
“A metahuman, Zheng Jo,” she said, “And he said it like it meant something. What does it mean?”
Zheng Jo made no reply.
But that, too, was an answer.
He was tense, his hand curling on the railing, fingers digging into the wood. When he turned to face Guo Liling, his eyes danced and sparked.
The air began to smell funny.
(It smelled of ozone.)
“...It doesn't mean anything,” he said.
“It...” Guo Liling hesitated, again, for she knew she was prodding at something Zheng Jo would rather remain hidden. It was not polite to pry into others' business, “It... the multiverse, Zheng Jo, you talked about the multiverse.”
He breathed in. Out. Looked much like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter. A cornered serpent in the paws of a cat.
Like a hawk in the snare.
Thunder roiled, like a wardrum, outside.
“Drop it,” he said. Simply.
Guo Kenan reared his head to consider Zheng Jo, his brow furrowed. Guo Liling started to speak again.
“But-”
“If you want to know about that, ask Zi Shi Ying,” Zheng Jo said, “I don't know what you're talking about. That's my final answer. Good night, Guo Liling.”
And he turned, and went upstairs. The scent in the air followed him. Guo Liling's heart hammered, as she turned to consider her father. Guo Kenan shook his head.
“What did you expect, Little Jasmine?” he said, “Travelers have their secrets. Just because you like him does not mean he will be forthright.”
“Baba,” Guo Liling said, “I...”
“If he wants to tell you, he will,” Guo Kenan said, “But you've upset our guest. Best to let him cool off. Come, let's finish cleaning up. It's almost time for bed.”
Guo Liling sighed. Pushed a few stray hairs from her face, tucked them back into her messy bob. Then joined her father in cleaning up the rest of the inn. They let Han Deming and Yin Biya stay the night, on account of the rain.
***
Tan Fa returned later in the night, having gotten lost partway up the mountain. While the worst of the storm had passed, the roads up to the Opal Hills were treacherous during stormy seasons. Tan Fa had to be sure his footing was sure with his each and every step, and the rain buffeted him like miniature knives the entire way up. His entire body stung as he finally arrived back in town. He shivered from the cold, wiping his nose with the back of a numb hand. He wanted all the world to go back to his little home, to make something quick for dinner, and to fall asleep by the fire. But Wang Ro the Elder had told him to notify him of his return as soon as possible.
And Tan Fa had made it his personal creed to follow through on his orders, to the letter. And as such, he made his way to Wang Ro the Elder's clinic. He knocked, noting how weak he had gotten in the rain. With the adrenaline of climbing the mountains gone, Tan Fa found himself utterly exhausted. He nearly collapsed right as the physician opened the door.
Wang Ro the Elder was still dressed in his hanfu – he hadn’t even prepared for bed yet. Warmth drifted from inside his home. The physician adjusted his glasses.
“I've been waiting,” he said, “Please, come in.”
He led Tan Fa inside, poured him a glass of tea, sat him down by the fire. Tan Fa took the cup with shivering hands. They waited for a few minutes for Tan Fa to warm up.
“That is good,” Tan Fa said, “What is the blend?”
“A type of leaf far from here,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Please, lower your voice. My son sleeps in the next room.”
“Ah. Forgive me,” Tan Fa said, bowing a bit, “This tea is most excellent.”
Wang Ro the Elder nodded. He sat down across from Tan Fa. There was a hardness to his eyes as he looked at the war veteran.
“...What did you find?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Tan Fa said, “I searched all over Old Gate City. Even got inside one of the merchant houses. There is no Three Sons Trading Company.”
Something glittered in Wang Ro the Elder's eyes. He nodded.
“And you asked about Zheng Jo?”
“I did. No one knew him. You would think a member of a trading company would be known.”
“Perhaps,” Wang Ro the Elder said, and he scratched his chin.
He rose.
“You may stay here for the night,” he said, “Please, do not disturb my son. I will not be gone long.”
“Where are you going?” Tan Fa asked.
“To the inn.”
“I will join you,” Tan Fa said, “I appreciate your hospitality, Wang Ro, but I don't want to disturb you any more than I have to.”
Wang Ro the Elder nodded. He crossed over to his desk, pulled out a sack of coin.
“Payment. For the trip. I will pay for your dinner as well.”
“I thank you.”
The two stepped out into the rain, Wang Ro the Elder took out an umbrella, holding it above his head as he walked a few steps ahead of Tan Fa. There was little light in town, save for a few lonely fires in a few of the buildings, including the inn itself. Guo Kenan was still tending to the counter, though he was starting to doze. Guo Liling was just coming downstairs, having taken Han Deming and Yin Biya to bed.
“Ah, Guo Kenan,” Wang Ro the Elder said.
The innkeeper looked up, his eyes opening in recognition.
“Wang Ro,” he said, “Tan Fa. Please, come in. What can I help you with?”
“A room for my companion,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “As well as food.”
“I will need to make something quick,” Guo Kenan said, “It might be a few minutes.”
“I can wait,” Tan Fa said.
The two of them moved to the bar. Sat down. Guo Kenan moved into the kitchen. Guo Liling poured them some rice wine. There was an uncharacteristic look on her face.
That of guilt.
“Is something the matter, Guo Liling?” Wang Ro the Elder asked.
“It is nothing,” Guo Liling said, a hair too quickly.
“And what brings you to the inn tonight, Wang Ro?” Guo Kenan said from the kitchen, “Tan Fa, you have your own home, do you not?”
“Tan Fa was doing a personal favor for me, down in Old Gate City,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I figured that I would give him somewhere better to sleep tonight than his usual abode.”
“Old Gate City?” Guo Liling said. And there was an edge in her voice. One that gave Wang Ro the Elder pause. She had become friends with Zheng Jo, hadn’t she? Or, at least, she had been serving him while he had been staying at the inn.
What did she know?
“Yes, Old Gate City,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I had a few errands that needed to be down there. Why do you ask? It is a simple journey.”
“Perhaps not, what with the rain,” Tan Fa said.
“Yes, only the most important journeys should be made, what with this weather,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Is that not right?”
Guo Liling hid her grimace well. But not well enough for the Darwinist.
“Tell me, Guo Liling,” he said, “Is something the matter?”
“It is nothing,” she said.
“...Would you like me to tell you about what I needed Tan Fa to do?”
Guo Liling looked up at him.
“It was to investigate Zheng Jo,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “It was to verify his story.”
He leaned in.
“Guo Liling, Zheng Jo is not who he says he is. I do not believe he is from here. I do not even believe he is from Old Gate City. The Three Sons Trading Company, it is not real. He invented it. He invented himself.”
Tan Fa raised an eyebrow.
“I believe he is a potential danger to us,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I saw him exhibit... abilities, shall we say, during our foray out of the town. Tell me, Guo Liling, has he said anything to you?”
“No,” Guo Liling said. She paused.
Thought of the look Zheng Jo had given her earlier that night.
The multiverse writhed in her mind.
Curiosity is neither good nor evil. It simply is. And, in some cases, it will use any tool it can to find the truth.
“He spoke of himself as... a metahuman,” she confessed.
Something flashed in Wang Ro the Elder's eyes. He adjusted his glasses. Took a deep breath. In. Then out. His hands shook, ever so slightly, not from the cold, as he clasped them together and all but glared at the innkeeper's daughter.
“Tell me everything,” he said.