Down in the shadows of the Colosseum service alley, two shivering figures hid behind a dumpster.
Liu Yan pulled her thin silk shawl tightly around her bony shoulders. Her expensive Jiangcheng designer heels were scuffed and broken at the soles. Her makeup was streaked with dust and dried tears.
Beside her, Zhao Kai crouched on a damp cardboard box, clutching his empty stomach as it let out a loud, rumbling groan. His once-pristine golden hair was matted with grease, and his designer jacket smelled strongly of koi pond water.
Ever since Sect Master Cang Yan was dragged away by Vault #2’s debt enforcers, their luxurious life as high-status personal servants had vanished overnight.
They had spent the last three days hiding in storage closets, eating discarded cabbage leaves and stale bread rolls thrown out by the colosseum vendors.
“Kai,” Liu Yan whispered, her voice trembling with hunger. “Did you manage to steal them?”
Zhao Kai reached into his torn jacket and pulled out two crumpled pieces of pink cloth.
They were two official Taichu volunteer aprons, slightly stained with tea, stolen from an unattended laundry cart twenty minutes ago.
