Taotao lived in the cracks of the empire.
He drifted between market stalls, back alleys, and temple steps, surviving
on instinct and wit. He wasn't hungry for food — he was hungry for the
thrill, the chase, the moment before a pouch slipped from a belt.
One afternoon in the incense quarter, he reached for a wealthy merchant's
purse. He was good — too good to be noticed — but fate wasn't in his favor
that day.
He bumped into a city guard.
> "Thief!" the merchant bellowed.
Taotao blinked lazily and said, "Wrong pocket," before bolting down the
nearest alley.
He leapt over crates, twisted past crowds, ducked beneath a hanging scroll.
But this time, the guards were quicker.
A net caught his legs mid-sprint, and he hit the ground with a thud.
That night, in the city holding pens, Taotao sat cross-legged with a bruised
lip and a bored expression. The cell stank of sweat and mildew, but he
leaned back like it was a tea house.
Next to him, a wiry man with a black eye and three missing teeth groaned
dramatically.
> "You new? Don't get too comfortable — that bench bites back."
Taotao smirked. "It's nicer than the inns I'm used to. At least no one here
pretends to smile."
> "They already beat me once," the man sniffed. "Said I took a cabbage. A
cabbage! Not even a good one. Half-wilted."
Taotao raised a brow. "You risked your teeth for a sad cabbage?"
> "I was hungry!"
"Next time, steal a dumpling. If you're gonna lose teeth, at least taste
something decent."
The man chuckled, then winced. "Ow. Hurts to laugh. You're trouble, huh?"
"Me? I'm inspiration. Just poorly timed."
They both laughed — one bitterly, the other like a man used to broken
ceilings and close calls.
The magistrate stood before him, frowning deeply.
> "You've two days to repay the merchant. Or your hand pays the debt."
Taotao tilted his head. "Only two? You must be losing faith in me."
> "You think this is a joke?"
He grinned. "If I didn't laugh, I'd have to cry. And I'm not really the weepy
type."
The magistrate narrowed his eyes. "You're lucky Lord Wen vouched to delay
your punishment. But you'll be watched."
Taotao leaned forward slightly. "Well then. Let's hope I'm good at
performing under pressure."
He was silent a beat longer, then added in a softer voice:
> "If I pay, you forget the name. If I don't… I forget the hand. Seems fair."
He was released under watch, with guards tracking his every step.
As the moon rose, he wandered through the quieter quarters, restless.
Something stirred beneath the usual swagger — a sliver of unease.
He passed an apothecary shop. Without meaning to, he paused.
A jar of crushed bark glinted in the lantern light.
> "Fevergrass," he whispered, not knowing why.
He didn't enter. He didn't linger. But that night, he dreamed of a golden-blue
bird, wings stretched against a fire-lit sky, calling out in a voice too familiar
to be forgotten.
He woke before dawn, jaw tight.
> "Two days," he muttered. "Guess I better steal from someone important."