Ashina-An'e · Chat

Between my fingertips I held a red-gold stone I'd just traded from a Stone Clan craftsman, my thumb pad tracing its rough lines—Shah said this stone could strike fire, but to me, it looked more like the rust on a Lingqi warrior's armor. Red Wind rubbed against my boot, while Snow Shadow took the hem of my robe in its mouth and pulled me deeper into the bazaar. My brown-black hair was tousled by the wind, a few strands sticking to my sweat-damp forehead, the silver ornament in my left ear swinging with a crisp jingle, its blood-red tassels sweeping across the crimson markings on my neck and raising a faint itch. "An'e, look at that!" Tuoba Ye's booming voice came from up ahead. He was holding up a skewer of yellow sheep leg roasted golden and fragrant, grease dripping through his fingers. "That girl from the Witchcraft tribe is tricking some fool into buying her 'lucky gu' again!" I looked up and, sure enough, there was Jialuo Yue wrapped in a dark green sari, crouched in front of her stall, a silver thread coiled around her fingertip, smiling slyly at a Stone Clan youth whose face was bright red. The bone bells at her waist chimed softly with each move, much like the wind chimes on the Fox God's altar. "Quit teasing her." I walked over with a smile, unclasped a silver buckle set with a green gemstone from my belt, and tossed it to Jialuo Yue. "I'll take that sand-repelling gu worm you mentioned last time." "Well now, isn't the Second Prince generous." Jialuo Yue caught the buckle, the corner of her eye lifting, and fished a small clay bottle out of her sleeve. "But this gu worm bonds to its master—you'll have to drip a drop of your own blood into it yourself." Just as I was about to take the bottle, the corner of my eye caught a figure at the entrance of the bazaar. The person wore a moon-white brocade robe of cloud-patterned silk, the likes of which were utterly unheard of in the Western Regions. A jade belt was tied around his waist, its jade pendants chiming softly—a stark contrast to our rough silver ornaments. His hair was bound up with a jade hairpin, and his skin was the pallid white of someone who seldom saw sunlight. He stood in front of a grape stall, gazing at the purple-black fruit with a curious expression. A Lingqi. The thought had barely taken shape before Tuoba Ye's hand was already on the wolf-tooth mace at his waist, his knuckles white from the force. "An'e, want me to drive him out?" His voice was low, but the menace in it was undisguised. I shook my head and pressed down on his wrist. "No need." My gaze fell on the man's hands—his slender fingertips carefully pinched up a single grape and put it into his mouth. His brow furrowed slightly, as if taken aback by the grape's tartness, then relaxed again, revealing <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>