The old lady beckoned her to lean close. Ting-Yan, already standing, came over and crouched beside Granny Kwok where she sat. Smoke from the still-smouldering spirit papers filled Ting-Yan’s nostrils and mingled with the scent of joss sticks that thickly filled the air. She coughed, but repressed the urge to spit again. The old lady whispered something into her ear, so softly that Ting-Yan didn’t hear.

“What?” she said.

Granny Kwok scowled.

“I didn’t hear you,” Ting-Yan said. “Would you mind repeating?”

Granny Kwok leaned close and whispered again, even softer than before.

Ting-Yan still didn’t hear, but her eyes glazed over for a brief moment, and then her mouth spread into a wide, toothy grin. Then the glazing passed as clouds moving over the sun do. Her mouth returned to its normal, serious demeanour. She didn’t know what she’d received, but she’d received it. Before she stood again, she pressed an extra coin into the old woman’s hand. “Thank you, Granny Kwok. You are kind to me.”

Also wandering the district at that same hour was Selby Hancock, though for him it was the end of a long night rather than the start of an early morning. He’d been moving from establishment to establishment over the last twelve hours, sampling beer, gin, and a wide range of cocktails made from very different spirits than the kind than Granny Kwok conjured. Now, he was looking for a flower girl, going up and down along the waterfront whistling and catcalling the girls who worked the flower boats. He shouted to them in a manner so annoying and embarrassing that the sailors attempting to enjoy the pleasures of those boats shouted back at him to shut the hell up you stupid fool. Selby responded that the girls were dirty and diseased, and three sailors coming up the dock having had their fun punched him the eye, threw him to the ground, and gave him several good kicks in the ribs. Too drunk to feel the pain yet, Selby wobbled farther into the district.