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Back in town, every thug who recognized Li Yuan and Snow dove into doorways. Those still clueless were yanked into alleys by their friends.
Snow sauntered past with head high, a predatory gleam in her eyes.
They stepped into a cobbler’s shop. She goggled at the rows of footwear as if they were treasure. After trying a pair embroidered with peonies, she paraded happily around the room, murmuring, “So pretty…so pretty…”
“How much?” Li Yuan asked.
“50 coppers,” the middle-aged shopkeeper said. Seeing him hesitate, she added eagerly, “Look at the workmanship, just the peony stitching alone is worth it. And they’re so lovely on your young lady’s feet—”
“I’m not his lady,” Snow cut in. “We only sort of know each other.”
The shopkeeper...
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