The Righteous Dumpling Man of the Dawn Market

"That's the last of today's batch. We're not taking any more orders!"

Midafternoon—the Shen hour, somewhere between three and five.

I hung the plaque on the shop door and slid the wooden panels home.

Inside, all that remained of Moyong Hwiyeon's whirlwind was a tower of empty plates, and the pouch of gold coins she had forced into my hands before she left.

"Haa... they really cleaned me out."

I opened the pantry. It was bare. Pork, garlic chives, onions, scallions—there wasn't even a drop of pickled-radish brine left. Ingredients I had laid in for three days had vanished in a single lunch service.

"At this rate, I can't open tomorrow."

Come morning, Namgung Seol and Moyong Hwiyeon would be back, and with them a horde of starving trainees shambling in like the walking dead. Tell that lot the shop was closed for lack of ingredients, and the place might well be demolished down to the last beam.

"Time to go to market."

I shed my work clothes for a loose, comfortable robe. A clock... no. The water clock's marker pointed to the Yin hour, somewhere between three and five before dawn. Oryong Market, the largest provisions market anywhere near the Murim Alliance, would be stirring to life right about now.

Oryong Market at dawn was a world apart. Merchants up from every corner hauled their carts through the lanes and haggled as they went, while fish caught that very morning and freshly butchered meat spread across the stalls. The air was thick and lively with the reek of fish, the smell of soil still clinging to the vegetables, and the sweat of the crowd—the smell of living. Nothing like the Demonic Cult, where only the stink of blood ever hung in the air.

Right. Chives first.

I headed for the vegetable quarter. Garlic chives are the soul of a dumpling. Too tough, and they ruin the bite; too soft, and the fragrance dies. What I wanted was a bunch cut that very dawn, still beaded with dew—stems upright, scent bold.

"Auntie! Let me have a look at these chives!"

"Aigo, young man! You've got an eye on you! These came up from Gangdong just this morning!"

The market grandmother grinned and held out a bundle. I snapped a single stalk and brought it to my nose. A sharp, green fragrance stung the tip of it. Pass.

"They're good. I'll take everything you've got."

"Everything? There's ten bundles here."

"Yes. I'll use them all. And those scallions and onions over there—I'll take all of those, too."

"My, my, a big spender! You run a trading house or something?"

"No, ma'am. I keep a little dumpling shop in front of the Murim Alliance."

"Aigo, how admirable. A young fellow, and diligent besides."

She called it a bonus and laid an extra bundle of spinach on the pile. This was the warmth of a market. I paid in good spirits and loaded the lot onto my A-frame carrier.

Next, the butcher. Hind-leg pork and fatback, mixed seven parts to three. I was hurrying along, keen to claim the freshest meat, when it happened.

"Thief!"

A scream tore through the noise of the market. Every head turned at once.

Up ahead, a rat of a man was sprinting straight toward me, a worn money pouch swinging from his hand. Behind him, a grandmother who sold greens sat collapsed on the ground, wailing.

"My money! That's what I need for today's medicine! Somebody catch that man!"

No one dared step forward. The thief had yanked a cold-gleaming dagger from his belt and was swinging it as he ran.

"Out of the way! All of you! Block me and I'll run you through!"

Merchants and passersby flinched aside and cleared him a path. He came on toward me with a sneer.

Of all the places—right in front of me.

I let out a sigh. Should I pretend I hadn't seen? Catching him would mean using martial arts, and that would draw eyes. Maybe I ought to let him pass and simply report it to the magistrate.

But the old woman weeping on the ground snagged at me. And that pouch—listening to the thin clink of it, there were only a few coins of silver inside. Stealing an old woman's medicine money for a pittance like that?

I've still got the Heavenly Demon's pride. I don't abide two-bit trash like this.

I set the carrier down. Twenty paces lay between us. He took me for nothing but a dull passerby blocking the lane.

"I said move! You tired of living?"

He thrust the dagger at my face. A miserable stab. I could see a hundred openings to break it.

I didn't move. I only settled the faintest thread of internal energy into my toes—no more than an ant's tear.

Tok.

In the instant he brushed past, I eased a foot out. It was not a simple trip. I had measured his speed and the shift of his balance, and tapped the exact point where his ankle would lose it.

"Eh?"

His body lifted clean off the ground. He spun through the air in a ridiculous sprawl, as if he had run headlong into a wall no one could see, and came down on a fish stall with a splintering crash. Mackerel and hairtail leapt in every direction. He thrashed in the reeking pile and tried to rise, but my foot was already pressing, steady and unhurried, on the acupoint at the pit of his stomach.

"Ghk—!"

"Mister. Your running form is a mess. You ought to train that lower body."

I plucked the money pouch from his hand and kicked the dagger away into the distance.

"Y-you gonna let go? I'm Hao Sect! You know who's standing behind me?"

The Hao Sect again. In this neighborhood, everything was the Hao Sect.

"Sure, sure. I heard you. Save it for the magistrate's jail."

I picked up a coil of binding rope lying nearby and trussed him tight. Only then did the people who had been holding their breath ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠break into cheers.

"Waaah!"

"He got him! The young man got him!"

"Heavens—he caught a runner that fast with one trip of the foot?"

The merchants crowded in. The grandmother who had lost her pouch came hobbling up.

"Aigo, young man... thank you, truly. Without this, I can't have my husband's medicine made..."

She took my hand and wept. Embarrassed, I scratched the back of my head.

"It's nothing. You're not hurt anywhere?"

"No, no. Aigo, how am I supposed to repay a kindness like this?"

"It's all right. Only..."

I grinned and nodded at my carrier.

"Come by my shop sometime and have some dumplings. I'll give you plenty extra."

"Dumplings? You run a dumpling shop?"

"Yes. In front of the Murim Alliance—Murim Alliance King Mandu."

Just then the fishmonger held out a fine mackerel.

"Hey, young man! My stall's a wreck thanks to you, but catching that thief sure cleared my chest! Take this and grill it!"

"Aigo, I couldn't."

"Take it! I'll be hurt if you don't!"

And then the merchants around us started chiming in, one after another.

"Young man, take some of this tofu, too!"

"These bean sprouts are fresh!"

"Take a bundle of eggs!"

In a blink my carrier was full—no, overflowing, until it was almost too much to carry. Before I knew it, I was the hero of the market. A local attraction.

"Haha... thank you. We'll eat well."

Pleased with the free ingredients, I handed the trussed thief over to the magistrate's constables. As they hauled him off, they offered me a clasped-fist salute.

"A true gallant. You've saved us a good deal of trouble."

"Not at all. I'm just a dumpling peddler who happened to be passing by."

I waved them off, indifferent, and slipped out of the market. Praise followed at my back.

"Polite, for a young man these days."

"Fair-faced, too, and strong as an ox."

"They say the dumplings at his place are that good? I'll have to go sometime."

Heh. Word of mouth, and I didn't even have to try.

I had won the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠people's goodwill without meaning to. At this rate, the shop thriving was only a matter of time. I walked back with a light step.

By the time I reached the shop and set the ingredients in order, dawn was already breaking. I hummed as I trimmed the chives. Today of all days, they were the finest I had seen—the market grandmother had picked me only the good ones.

"Good. Today it's Chive Bomb Dumplings."

Chives, and plenty of them—no holding back. I would win on fragrance. I filled in a generous measure of the pork I had been cleaned out of yesterday, too, and folded dumplings straight through without once feeling how tired the sleepless night had left me.

The Chen hour, between seven and nine in the morning. Opening time at last.

Jingle—

The first customer came through the moment I opened the door. Namgung Seol, of course. Only today she was not alone. Moyong Hwiyeon followed her in, and behind her...

"Hey, young man!"

"Grandmother?"

It was the greens-seller from the market. And behind her the fishmonger, the tofu seller, the butcher—the merchants of the dawn market came pouring in.

"We came to taste the young man's dumplings!"

"Dumplings made by the hero of the market—how could we not try them?"

"He used vegetables from our stalls, so the flavor's guaranteed, isn't it?"

The tables filled in an instant. Namgung Seol and Moyong Hwiyeon watched the racket with bewildered faces.

"Shopkeeper. What is the meaning of this?"

"Ah. I picked up a bit of a reputation at the market this morning."

I grinned and opened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the steamer. White vapor rose, and the bright scent of chives filled the shop.

"Well, thank you all for coming! The first batch today is on me!"

"Waaah!"

The merchants cheered. Watching them, Namgung Seol wore a strange, faint smile.

"You performed a deed of chivalry."

"Pardon? No. I only caught a thief."

"That is precisely a deed of chivalry. They say the way of the martial world has fallen into the mud—and yet, to think I should witness righteousness in a dumpling shop."

She gave a small nod and took up a dumpling.

"Today's will taste ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finer still. They have been seasoned with justice."

No. They've been seasoned with the secret powder.

I didn't bother to correct her. If the customers ate happily, that was enough.

Watching them eat their dumplings in such contentment, I turned the thought over.

My body's worn to the bone, and I'm forever on edge that someone will see through me... but this life isn't so bad.

A life that smells of people, not of blood. Not Baek Wun the Heavenly Demon—Baek Wun, keeper of a dumpling shop.