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... I wasn’t thinking about schemes, cultivation, or impending death. Just three fellows wandering through the night, each enjoying it in their own way.

Fan Shi gnawed on a skewered grasshopper, the kind of street food that looked like it had crawled off the stick on its own. She chewed with perfect indifference, while I made a point of looking anywhere but at her.

Jia Yun, on the other hand, was the picture of refinement, holding a stick of dango with the grace of a noble sipping te ...

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