Damn that hurt. It really really hurt.
You tenderly touch your eyelid, feeling the already swollen skin. Whoever that guy was, he had one hell of an arm. A solid throw, with impeccable aim. As much as you respect the stranger's apple core-chucking talents, you are also incredibly angry. That is definitely gonna leave a mark. What if it leaves a black eye? No no no, that's no good. What kind of customer is going to want to buy your products? A vendor with a mean-looking black eye isn't exactly the approachable sort. Wait, the apple probably touched the ground. Middle ring aside, there are still germs on the ground. You could contract pink eye, ew.
Well shit. Your face is done for.
Okay, pull it together. You still have a job to do, and your face will just have to wait.
Even slower than the last time, you peek over the edge, ready to deflect any projectile. Only this time, nothing is hurled at you. You squint into the shadows with your one and a half eyes, just to see an empty alley. Whoever your victim/attacker was, he's definitely gone now. With a long sigh, you curse at yourself about your carelessness. Now you'll have to work with subpar vision. In your line of work, having your senses sharp is crucial.
With a long sigh, you retrieve your bag and pull out your red mask. It was strangely beautiful under the moonlight, the glow of the night softly illuminating the golden trim, giving it a ghostly gleam. You begin to appreciate your fitting title: The Red Spirit. You put it to your face carefully, not wanting to aggravate the dull pain in your left eye. Once the mask is secure, you shrug your basically empty bag back onto your shoulders, and prep yourself for the night ahead of you.
With a running start, you hop over the rooftops with practiced agility. However, as you land on the roof of the marked shop, you stumble a bit. If it weren't for that damn eye injury, you would have fallen as graceful as a falling feather. Why did that stupid guy with his stupid aim have to hit you with your own stupid apple core! Urgh, there's no time for self-pity now. You find your chosen entrance, a window with a loose wooden frame, and infiltrate the shop.
You take a quick look around, and you're instantly let down. Where's all the fine china? The intricate clay creations carved with delicate designs? The only things displayed upon the rows of shelves are everyday, cast iron teapots. True to the earth bender way, they're easy to maintain, traditional, and very heavy. Screw the teapots. Instead, you walk towards the back of the store, thinking to take a few silvers from behind the counter to compensate for this bust of a job, when you smell it.
Yes, you smell it.
Tea leaves. You follow your nose towards the wafting aroma until you find the source. Before you is a line of wooden barrels, each full of a different herb with a unique smell. Sniffing each one, you take in the all the sweet and spice and savour of each container. Singling out the one that smells the best to you, you glance at the barrel to read the tea name. 'White Jade'. The wooden container holding this tea is colored differently from the rest. Specialty tea maybe? You gently crack the seal on the barrel and grab handfuls of the herbs. They smell earthy, yet florally. Spicy yet sweet. You can't quite describe it with words, but you know it smells DELICIOUS. You look around, and eye some paper bags on a shelf. It's quite likely that storing tea is their main purpose. On you're way out, you snag a handful of paper bags. Those will come in handy on at the market.
After 'obtaining' a satisfying amount of tea, you climb back through the broken window. You only have so many hours left before daylight.
Many, many stops later, your eye still throbbed. That's definitely a black eye, you didn't need mirror to tell. You acquired quite a bit of goods, but your bag still felt lighter than average. But uh, it did have tremendous amount of loose tea contained within it. By the time you climb onto your favourite roof in the middle ring, the baby birds had already begun to chirp. Though it was still dark, you knew you had cut it close tonight. Your eye injury had made you a bit slower than usual, and you hated it. You crawl over to your regular nap spot, bag in hand, and curled up around your hard work, letting the exhaustion take over.
The sun was beating down overhead when you woke up, almost entirely centered in the clear sky. With a stretch, you let out a small yawn before rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Ah! You had forgotten about your black eye and had rubbed a little too hard. You stand up, lugging your bag onto your back. Climbing down skillfully into an alley, you re-emerge into the bustling city life of Ba Sing Se's suburban wonderland: the middle ring. Confidently striding in the direction of the monorail station, you start on your journey home.
—
Thinking maybe your taste buds have changed, you try to brew your own batch of white jade tea in the comfort of your own home. The smell of tea leaves followed you home the whole trip, and they smelled very nice. Brewing tea can't be that hard, right? You've never been so wrong. For comparison purposes, you somehow made it taste like what you assume the dirtiest parts of the Ba Sing Se Zoo would taste like. The tea was more than just bitter, it was disgusting. How did you turn such lovely smelling herbs into such a nasty concoction?
Giving up on your little tea party, you grab today's wares and set out to the market square. Once there, you set up last night's bounty on the table in front of you; mostly jewelry and ornate decorations, anything small and pricey looking that would be easily missed. Even with your big black shiner, the usual amount of customers stopped by your stall, dropping their silvers and coppers into your pocket. Now that was a good feeling, you reflect.
"Ah, hello again Miss." You snap out of your reverie and find yourself face to face with the bearded tea lover, a warm smile on his face. "Good afternoon, Sir," you reply with a genuine grin and respectful head nod. This man was beginning to grow on you, and you couldn't help but feel at ease with his presence.
"Thank you for the teapot. It is a charming piece and makes a great pot of jasmine tea. Did you enjoy your drink at the Pao Family Tea House?" he inquires. That sneaky old man, he really did notice you that day.
"Yes, I did! It tasted ten times better than tea I make myself" you reply, cringing internally as you remember the garbage-tasting tea from earlier. The senior man semi-suppresses a chuckle.
"You sound sound like my nephew. Why don't you visit us again at the teashop sometime? Speaking of my nephew, allow me to introduce you. Nephew? Lee! Come here, nephew!" He raises his voice to catch the attention of a younger man across the road. The teen reluctantly strolls over. You try to hide your surprise when you realize who the man's nephew is.
"This is Lee, my nephew." He gestures to none only but golden-eyes.
"Say hello to the pretty lady, Lee." Lee shuffles awkwardly, meeting your gaze for only a split second.
"Uh, hello," he speaks. He's now looking past you, probably at something in the distance.
"Hi," you reply. The old man, who had also followed his nephew's gaze, went wide-eyed.
"You'll have to excuse me, but I've spied something interesting that I need to attend to." With that, the bearded man scurries off at a shockingly quick pace, considering his age.
That left you and Lee, standing stiffly at your vending table. After he angrily mumbles something about 'Pai Sho" in the direction of his uncle, both of you are silent, staring at each other. Up close, you have a clear and unobstructed view of the flaming red scar that ran across the side of his face.
"How did you get that scar?" you finally inquire, but at the exact same time he asks, "What's on your face?"
You're suddenly more aware of the subdued ache of your left eye. You turn your head slightly, embarrassed about the events attached to the bruise. A tale that you are never going to tell another living soul. You peer at the teen across from you and see he is also avoiding eye contact. You conclude that neither of you were prepared to spill their story any time soon. You cough nervously, fidgeting with the merchandise on your table.
That's when Lee's uncle returns. Suddenly remembering your new product, you smile widely at the old man, "Oh, you'll never guess what I have for you today, sir." He tilts his head curiously as you open your backpack and pull out a paper bag.
You toss it to the tea maker, watching his expression transform from one of confusion to one of excitement as he smells the bag. "Is this White Jade?" he asks incredulously. You simply nod, feeling pretty proud of yourself now. You cleverly notice his great excitement and assume that this White Jade tea is the expensive sort.
"I would normally charge five gold pieces for a bundle, but for you, I'll cut a deal." you tell him.
The old man eagerly digs through his pocket, pulling out gold pieces for the purchase. He purchases five bundles of tea leaves at your discounted price. He laughs loudly and hugs you suddenly, taking you by surprise.
"What a deal for such a rare product! Stop by the tea house anytime!" he says gleefully. At the sound of the word rare, a few people begin to gather around your stall. Everybody wants a piece of your goods, and you couldn't be happier. That is, until some street punk decides to swipe a jewel-encrusted necklace from your inventory right in front of you!
You're on him instantly. "Thief!" you yell, catching everyone's attention. The old man from before is close by, and he gives you a wink.
"I'll watch your belongings," he states, and you take it as your cue to chase down the bastard who thinks he can steal your (already once stolen) wares.
Footsteps pound on the dirt road as you chase the looter down the street, dodging people left and right as you dash faster and faster. He turns down an alley in an attempt to lose you, but you're too quick, making the sharp right like a pro. To the culprit's dismay, he picked a dead end path. He turns around, only to have you blocking his way.
Staring each other down, you take a few steps closer. "Just hand over the necklace," you demand. Looking defeated, the thief extends his arm, the jewelry hanging from his grimy little fingers. You reach out to grab it, only for the criminal to charge at you, sending you both into the ground with a loud thud.
Air escapes your lungs as you hit the solid ground.