The moonlight bleached the guesthouse's gray walls white.
Ji Xiaosong lay on the hard plank bed, clutching the dagger Xu Weidong had given her. She feigned a snore so loud it could shake the heavens.
This was a special skill she'd learned from Widow Zhang back in the village: when faking sleep, the louder you snored, the more people assumed you were dead to the world.
When the window lattice made a CLICK, her snores didn't even pause, but her right hand felt for the scissors under her pillow.
She'd borrowed these scissors from the attendant during the day to cut a shoe pattern. Now, they would serve perfectly as a weapon.
"Xiaosong."
Xu Weidong's voice was quieter than a mosquito's buzz.
He was crouched by the bed, his black cloth shoes caked in mud. A single glance told her he'd traveled a long way in the dark.
Ji Xiaosong shot up, the scissors nearly poking Xu Weidong in the nose. "You scared me to death!"
