Chapter 1 unrevised

  The alleyway was cold as usual. the stone bricks beneath his feet radiated a cold that seemed to penetrate even deep into his bones.

  The sight in front of him that of a warm open market, with wooden stalls lining the streets, vendors selling their wares to a variety of people, and a bustling populace who didn't seem to have a care in the world. The area around the buildings full of dense tree's which seemed to crowd the area just outside of town, looming over the streets

  A boy stood in the empty dark alley, as the warm light from the street seemed to stream into the alley but not quite reaching him. The noises from the streaming crowds of people gave a muffled echo throughout the hallway. The boy had darkish grey hair, along with cold grey eyes. his expression blank and expressionless, as he stared at the streams of people that whistled by. The boy looked down at himself checking out his own appearance, his dark brown clothes although not in awful condition were dirty and ragged obviously something he had picked up from some random street. The blackened dirt definitely couldn't be played off as some sort of new fashion statement, not only that but he was dangerously thin the malnourishment obviously pointed out that he hadn't eaten in a decent bit. In face he was in fact so hungry that somewhere down the line his stomach stopped growling, which was a delightful surprise to him at the time since the noise had begun to bother him as if the hunger wasn't his own.

  he looked backup at the light up street and begun walking forward, the light from the street engulfing his body and the noises no longer muffled now clear as day. he took in the sight for a moment, the nice wooden stalls, the happy looking people, the nice warm lights that gave off a dim yet comforting color, and the densely packed trees that didn't even allow for any real space behind buildings. He slowly began to walk through the streets ignoring some of the awkward stares he was getting from people who seemed like they were uncomfortable with him in their line of sight, which was cruel but accurate. He was like a living reminder that this place wasn't perfect and that people still suffered no matter where they are or who lived in the city. he continued to walk past as people gawked at him as if he were some wild animal walking the streets before looking at a noodle shop he'd passed by several times before but never entered.

  The shop was a semi large wooden building that was much wider then it was tall, a short one story building with a large sign on top that read "Wudang Noodles". most likely a testament to where the owner originated. the windows were filled with the same warm light that filled the streets, and both the talkative customers and the shuffling of servers feet could be heard inside before he decided to enter the shop.

  He walked in front of the entrance to the door, pushing open the batten door's and taking a step inside, the warm light and air feeling foreign on his skin. He looked around with cold eye's studying the place before an older gentlemen around 40 years old approached him. he was slightly on the shorter side for an adult maybe 5'6 with a hunch in his posture, and the usual Hanfu that basically everyone which was brown with white highlights along the edges. he looked at the boy with a concerned and confused face "I'm sorry boy but can I help you? ...And where are your parents?"

  The boy just looked at him calmly for a moment deciding how to respond, staring into the mans eyes with no hesitation "...I'm just looking for a job"

  The man as obviously surprised and stood up slightly taller in confusion before giving the boy a judging yet cautious look "...kid how old are you"

  He responded calmly and evenly, in a tone that sounded strangely mature for someone his age "Eleven sir"

  The older gentlemen's shock only seemed to increase with that statement as his eyes widened slightly before he seemed to understand the situation a little better and looking down at the boy with a pitying gaze along with seeming slightly uncomfortable as he shifted his bodyweight, an obvious sign of anxious body language. He could already tell what would happen next and he was already sick of the same words being spitted back to him over and over again. The older man rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the child in front of him, studying his dirty worn clothes and frail appearance. "...I'm sorry kid, I hope you can understand but not only do I have people who rely on me but if I let you work here our reputation will plummet.... maybe if you had better clothes or something"

  The man looked away from him, obviously not comfortable with telling a child with such a grim situation bad news. Not that he didn't understand what the man was saying, after all he was right. he had people to feed and people who relied on him to play the bills how could he let the entire business and everyone else suffer just to help one child. Still though he couldn't help but think of the man in front of him as weak, after all he couldn't even look him in the eyes even the boy was just a frail child.

  The boy nodded "...I understand" he said with a surprisingly even tone and an expression of cool indifference which didn't seem to fit the situation he was in at all. The older man flinched a little confused at the boys attitude. At least that much was obvious to him, after all what eleven year old just takes hard times in strides like this. he didn't even let the old man get another word out, which he seemed to be going to say something which was most likely something that would try to repair his wounded pride for abandoning a child. He didn't really care for such shallow words or fleeting things like sustaining someone's pride

  he quickly turned away and begun to walk out of the establishment, leaving behind and ignoring some gawking adults who couldn't seem to peel their eyes away from him. As he stepped outside the cool air rushed across his face swaying his air around his face. The market still bustling around even at this time at night even as the sun had set which part of him wondered if every small city was like that. he walked off into the street, casually walking with the crowd of people and ignoring some people who were obviously looking at him which was getting old quickly at this point. he walked through the night air, the soft glow of the lanterns hung about by the vendors made a soft light envelope the streets as the streets changed around him as he walked.

  A small jewelry stand had caught his eye, normally he wouldn't bother but the vendor was asleep and he wasn't planning to steal anything so just looking should've been fine. he slowly approached the small stand and looked at the different pieces of jewelry that lay strewn about on something that resembled silk but he wasn't sure it was since this was a cheap merchants stall he was looking at. He calmly prosed the items one after another, earrings made of things like jade and emerald, amethyst and sapphire, rare stones and pearls. Of course he was almost certain they were all fake because if they were real he wouldn't be asleep like this with all his valuables on display like that. A small bracelet had caught his eye though, it appeared to be silver with an intricate wavy pattern that ran through the middle along with some leaves seemed to be etched onto the surface of the bracelet. Surprisingly it seemed to be made of real silver and not something the merchant vendor made from a rusty bent pan, he gently picked it up to study the bracelet before he heard a voice all out to him

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "you seem to have a good eye" it was a voice of a old man, who sounded to be at least in his 60's

  He turned around to see who was talking to him hopeful that whoever it was wouldn't accuse him of attempting to steal. Behind him was a old man, much taller then the noodle vendor, standing at a approximate 5'11 with a white scruffy beard and a much nicer Hanfu then what people usually wore, his blue eyes studying the boy carefully. The boy stared back with even expression, his mind racing with possible scenarios "....can I help you sir?"

  The old man stared back at him, raising an eyebrow at his cool demeanor before chuckling "...your an interesting one huh. Not even flinching in front of an adult"

  The boy just stares back "Why are you planning to do something that I should be worried about?" The old mans eyes widens and he bursts into laughter "Haha, wow kid that's something else huh" he wipes a tear from his eye with his hand, which the boy watched carefully "....does this martial artist need something from me?" he asked calmly which made the old man stop laughing and look at him slightly perplexed "And why do you say I'm a martial artist?" His voice holding a sense of curiosity "...your hands aren't shaking. someone of your age who lived and worked here would have shaky hands from the many years of labor. Which means you aren't from around here, and the only people who come to visit this town are merchants and martial artists passing through. And from the way you act I can't see you being the merchant type, also your clothes help....no offence". The old man was now looking at the boy with a strange expression, as if looking at the boy seriously. There was a silence between them for a few moment before the man smiled "...you really just keep getting more and more interesting huh." he paused for a moment looking down at him, amusement evident in his eyes "...how about I take you in"

  Chapter 1 revised:

  The alleyway was cold as usual. The stone bricks beneath his feet radiated a chill that seemed to seep deep into his bones.

  In front of him lay a warm, open market with wooden stalls lining the streets, vendors selling their wares to a variety of people, and a bustling populace who didn't seem to have a care in the world. Dense trees surrounded the outskirts of the town looming just beyond the buildings and crowding the streets.

  A boy stood in the empty, dark alley. The warm light from the street streamed toward him but never quite reached where he stood. The noise of the crowd echoed faintly into the alley, muffled and distant. He had dark grey hair and cold grey eyes. His expression was blank and unreadable as he stared at the people passing by.

  He glanced down at himself—his dark brown clothes, though not entirely ruined, were dirty and ragged, clearly scavenged from somewhere. The blackened dirt on his sleeves couldn't be mistaken for a fashion statement. More worryingly, he was dangerously thin. His frail frame told of long hunger. He hadn’t eaten in some time—so long, in fact, that his stomach had stopped growling, which had come as a relief. The sound had begun to bother him as if the hunger weren’t his own.

  He looked back toward the street and stepped forward. The warm light engulfed his body, and the noise of the market sharpened around him. He paused for a moment to take in the scene, the tidy wooden stalls, the content faces of the people, the comforting glow of lanterns, and the trees packed so tightly that there was no real space between buildings.

  He walked through the street, ignoring the awkward glances and uncomfortable expressions directed his way. People didn’t want him in their line of sight. He understood. He was a reminder that the world wasn’t perfect,that suffering still existed, an unwanted truth in a well-kept illusion.

  He continued walking, past judgmental eyes, until he stopped in front of a noodle shop he'd passed by many times but never entered.

  The shop was a modest wooden building wide but low to the ground. A single story, with a large sign overhead that read "Wudang Noodles" likely a reference to the owner's origins. Its windows glowed with the same warm light as the street, and the muffled sounds of chatter and shuffling feet could be heard within.

  He stepped in front of the doorway, pushed open the batten doors, and took a hesitant step inside. The warm air clung to his skin almost foreign. He looked around with cool eyes, surveying the space.

  An older man,maybe in his forties approached him. He was slightly short for an adult, with a slight hunch and the common brown Hanfu trimmed in white. He looked the boy up and down with a concerned and confused expression.

  "I'm sorry, boy, but can I help you? ...And where are your parents?"

  The boy stared into the man's eyes without hesitation. "...I'm just looking for a job."

  The man blinked, visibly surprised. He straightened up slightly, studying the boy with cautious judgment. "...Kid, how old are you?"

  "Eleven, sir," the boy replied. His tone was calm—strangely mature for someone his age.

  The man's eyes widened. Slowly, he seemed to grasp the situation. He looked down at the boy, at his worn clothes and frail body with an expression that hovered between pity and discomfort.

  He shifted his weight, clearly uneasy. "...I'm sorry, kid. I hope you understand, but I have people who rely on me. If I let you work here, our reputation would plummet. Maybe if you had better clothes or something..."

  He looked away, clearly uncomfortable. And the boy understood. The man was right. He had mouths to feed and bills to pay. One child wasn’t worth risking it all. Still, he found the man weak. He couldn’t even look a starving child in the eye.

  The boy nodded. "...I understand," he said, voice even and detached. The man flinched slightly at the tone, it didn’t match the situation. No child should be that calm.

  The boy didn’t wait for the man to finish the sentence forming in his mouth, no doubt some half-hearted apology to preserve his own pride. He didn’t care for such things.

  He turned away and left, ignoring the curious stares from adults who couldn't seem to stop watching him. Outside, the cool air swept across his face, rustling his hair. The market was still alive despite the fading light. Lanterns lit the street with a soft glow.

  He walked with the flow of the crowd, ignoring the lingering eyes. A jewelry stall caught his attention. The vendor was asleep—he wasn’t planning to steal anything anyway, so there was no harm in looking.

  He approached the stall and eyed the jewelry displayed on cheap silk. Earrings of jade, sapphire, amethyst, and pearls. Most were probably fake. If they were real, no merchant would sleep beside them.

  A small bracelet caught his eye—silver, with an intricate wave pattern running through the center, and etched leaves curling around the surface. Surprisingly, it looked real—and not something that had been made and polished from a rusty bent old pan.

  He reached out to examine it.

  "You’ve got a good eye," said a voice—gravelly, old, at least in his sixties.

  He turned, instantly alert and bracing for an accusation.

  Behind him stood a tall old man much taller than the noodle vendor. Perhaps 5'11, with a white scruffy beard and a well-kept blue Hanfu that stood out against the crowd. His pale blue eyes studied the boy carefully.

  The boy stared back, calculating. "...Can I help you, sir?"

  The old man raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "You're an interesting one. Not even flinching."

  "Why? Are you planning to do something that I should be worried about?"

  The old man laughed—genuinely, loudly. "Haha! That’s something else, kid." He wiped a tear from his eye as the boy watched him closely.

  "...Does this martial artist need something from me?" the boy asked.

  The old man stopped laughing. "And why do you say I'm a martial artist?"

  "Your hands aren't shaking. Someone your age who worked here would have tremors in their hands from years of labor. That means you’re not local. The only people who pass through here are merchants and martial artists. You're clearly not a merchant—the way you carry yourself makes that obvious. No offense."

  The old man was silent for a beat, looking at him seriously.

  "You just keep getting more interesting."

  He paused, then smiled again. "How about we go grab a bite—my treat."