Three-Fingers Qiu was sitting on her overturned wooden barrel, flipping a heavy iron wrench lazily in one hand while three burly female alley thugs leaned against the opposite brick wall, chewing on dried meat and keeping watch over the evening deliveries.
As the sound of slow, unhurried footsteps echoed down the slick cobblestones, the three thugs immediately straightened up, their hands dropping to the wooden cudgels at their waists.
Qiu narrowed her scarred eyes through the pipe smoke, peering at the two cloaked figures approaching through the gloom. When she recognized the sharp, pale jawline beneath Heena's hood—and saw the tall, veiled attendant carrying a lacquered box smoothly behind her—the gatekeeper's scarred eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise.
