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Still, suprised me how some of ‘em got guts. This one bird, right, she’d stash coin in her hair—braided it up like a crown. Little known trick, that! Kept her from gettin’ robbed blind. Smart, I’ll give her that, but gods, the stench—unwashed bodies, cheap wine. Makes me wanna retch. “I am the storm,” I’d tell her, like Li Mu Bai ragin’ at fate, but she’d just shrug. Didn’t care, did she?

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