That Little Dao Nun Has a Rebellious Bone in Her Body

"As a hunter-for-hire, killing people is my specialty. I’m all about sending people off painlessly."

"Be good, you don’t need to protect your head. I’d hate to smash your face; that would affect collecting the reward silver from the Criminal Investigation Office with your head in hand."

The moon hangs low over the river, dusk pressing down. Mist lingers without dispersing, dreamlike and hazy. Only the dim oil lamp hanging on the black-awning boat on the Qiantang River casts a faint halo of light.

By the gunwale crouches an androgynous little Daoist in a gray robe, with handsome brows and eyes carrying a faint smile. A wild flower is tucked carelessly behind one ear, even more dazzling than the blood dripping from her fist.

"Little Daoist... spare me..."

The man pinned beneath her coughs up blood as he begs: "I’ll pay... one hundred more strings of cash than the Criminal Investigation Office, so please, little Daoist, show mercy."

"Money isn’t the main thing; it’s mostly because the Patriarch is compassionate," the little Daoist says leisurely, lifting her foot off him. "Cash or banknotes?"

"Banknotes..." the man gasps. "Widely depositable and redeemable."

"Redeeming banknotes costs 30 wen per string in interest, not worth it," the little Daoist says with a bright smile. "Add more money."