The palace guards jog past, footsteps loud in the gravel. Inside the empty—storage shed? it smells of fermented fruit—Guo Changcheng grips Chief Zhao’s energy gun with both hands, tries to stop trembling. He won’t shoot anyone! He couldn’t! But maybe he can bluff if he has to? Except it’s so dark, where would he aim?
Stupid to come looking for Chu-ge on his own. Stupid to think he could help. Everyone’s going to be really mad when they discover he borrowed the gun!
“Changcheng!” a voice hisses.
His tension drains away, replaced with relief and more relief. “Chu-ge!”