Han Yu sent Driver Yun out first.
The old driver disguised himself effortlessly, slipping into the flow of the town with the practiced ease of someone who had once lived here. His posture bent slightly, his expression dull, his steps too casual to attract notice.
Within minutes, he vanished into the crowd with all the presence of a grain of sand amid a beach.
Han Yu watched him go, noting the way Qing Luan's eyes followed Old Yun with an anxious glimmer. She was nervous about everything now, about every stray sound, every corner of the street. Her fear had fused with hatred, making her sharpened awareness almost painful.
Han Yu placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back toward the courtyard.
"Stay inside. All of you. You have money. Buy food, buy what you need. But do not leave this house unless I say."
Qing Luan nodded. "Yes. Honored disciple."
