I completely forgot about this story for waaay too long! Here's a short chapter to tide you over. Hopefully, I can work on it some more this next week. Stay tuned and enjoy!

The simian hadn't missed that look in Fu's eyes. He refused to cower beneath the stare, no matter how much it made his heart quiver. The steely glint, thinly veiled behind a smile that would curdle milk, was locked on him alone. The simian stood there in the midst of the Serpent Gang, satchel in hand, wearing his old uniform, which was a bit snug, but he didn't dare to show up in his common dress from the Jade Palace.

Fu shifted forward, baring his teeth in what might have been considered a smile. His blue eyes roved over the satchel and its owner. The crocodile circled him slowly as if considering what to say to their runaway. If he had been caught by somebody in the gang, the monkey knew he would be punished severely. But he hadn't been caught. He'd come on his own, and he bore gifts. If they were good enough, he would be accepted back into his gang with lavish praise, and perhaps a veiled threat to make sure he got back in line.

After circling him, looking for a weak point, Fu stopped in front of him and crossed his arms. "What have you brought, Cong?"

The monkey gritted his teeth, but he opened the satchel and picked up a chest. He slammed it into the ground, spilling golden coins over the ground in front of the gang. There was a snort from Fu, who looked ready to slap him. Cong didn't give him the chance to strike. He reached back into the satchel and produced a giant ruby, which he set down in the midst of the gold. Fu lost a bit of his hostility, and he picked it up, gazing appreciatively at the flawless cut.

When he looked back at Cong, the monkey dipped his hand back into the satchel and pulled out a jade statue of a lion, which he handed over to the croc. The fact that Fu took it from his hands was a good sign; he was gaining respect from his gang leader. Fu nodded, handing off the statue to his second, Xiu. He was a burly ox, a bodyguard if Fu ever needed one. He rarely did; the threat was enough to keep most people at bay.

Fu smiled, a little warmer but just as terrifying, but before he could speak, Cong held up one finger and reached again into the satchel. The entire gang was silent as the monkey gingerly pulled out a Fabergé egg. It was as delicate as a real bird's egg, shimmering with gems and the purest gold. And it was worth a small fortune. Fu threw his head back and laughed.

"It is very good to see you again, Cong!" he crowed, holding out his claws for the treasure.

"Welcome back," Xiu said, slapping his back. "Gotten the wild donkey out of your system, eh?"

Cong felt his heart constrict, but he spoke primly and emotionlessly. "I have returned to where I belong. I was a fool to run away, and I've brought gifts fit for a king to say that I am sorry. Am I forgiven, Master?" He bowed to the ground, groveling in front of the croc. He hated himself, but he wanted to be forgiven, to go back to not having to feel guilty about his thefts.

Fu traced the delicate egg then nodded, his blue eyes shining with malicious glee. "You are forgiven, little simian. No more antics? No more running?"

"Never again, Master," Cong said, pushing himself onto his knees. "My wild days are now behind me, and I have come home to stay. Forgive me for my stupidity."

"You have asked, so it is granted," Fu said, handing off the egg. "You have proved you are still a great thief, but you must earn your place as the Head of Thieves again! Gold is much too simple for somebody with your skill, but there is a golden idol from India that we have our eyes on. You may come along with us, and if you're successful, you will be one step closer to your rightful place."

And just like that, his grand reentrance was done. The gang disappeared back into their hideout. There were many new faces amongst the old, and murmurs followed him as he made his way back to the thieves' quarters. He didn't say a word as he grabbed a hammock and tied it up with secure knots in the worst place in the room. It was his lot to work his way up to an actual bed, and he knew if he started at the bottom, Fu would be pleased by his humility and was more likely to promote him.

It was daylight, and a thief's work was done best in darkness, so he crawled into the hammock and turned toward the wall. The smell of sewage was strong because he was near the pits, but he didn't dare complain. He wanted his status again. He needed it. But until he proved himself again, he would be humble and contrite, grovel and serve until he was recognized again. That was the way the gang was run. If the higher-ups noticed you, it was good. But if you tried to move up before your time, humiliation and punishment often followed.

Cong rested from his long journey from the Valley of Peace. He had left in the night, made sure to leave no tracks, and traveled only by night. He had made sure to be nothing more than a breeze, leaving the knowledge of his presence only after he'd swept in the storm of thievery. In and out. Travel alone. Be silent, swift, and merciless. Steal the most valued items.

He'd swiped the chest of coins from a carriage's trunk in the rear, keeping everything else intact. The ruby was stolen from a powerful family in the Hmong province. The jade statue was swiped off of its base two nights before, and the Fabergé egg was stolen from a Russian family traveling back home. The only thing he'd left behind was his old symbol. It had scared him how easily his fingers had remembered how to carve out his signature, the proof that they had been robbed by somebody of influence. As far as he knew, nobody but the Serpent Gang leaders knew whose symbol it was.

Cong lay still, eyes closed and breathing slow and even. His conscience screamed at him for his thefts, but he knew it would shrivel and die with each item stolen, with each word of praise that his superiors gave to him. He knew it would hurt, but the pain would dull, and in time he would forget that he was ever Master Monkey, somebody to look up to, somebody who would protect and help those in need. But that wasn't him. It never was.

Tears prickled his eyes, but he pushed them back, trying to make the truth that shouted inside his mind. You're pathetic! You should be able to beat this! You're just giving in?! Loser! Loser! LOSER!

Cong bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste helping him to focus on replying. He wanted to explain things to himself, but all he could think was one thing.

This is who I was, who I am, and who I will always be.

And it hurt.