When the guards left, Jiao-Jie abandoned her hiding place and slunk away. She reached her home shortly after, climbed over the garden wall and sneaked back into her house. There was much to think on and her mind worked over the night’s events as she tended to her injuries and worked a simple, scantly adorned gown over her black garments. Giving her hair a quick brush, Jiao-Jie worked the long lustrous curls in a plain bun. She donned a cloak and vanity compelled her to slip her feet free from her shoes, changing them for more elegant footwear. A small fan and her daggers completed the transformation, hidden as well as overt and with a small, humble bow to the altar of her ancestors, Jiao-Jie left her home for the second time.<br/><br/>Her destination wasn’t too far from the mansion and she hurried, sending her thoughts ahead to her companions. Where they safe? What news would they have? And the woman, could she be trusted? Did that even matter anymore? She turned another corner and stood in front of the Tea House.<br/><br/>Inside, she inquired after the poet and was directed to the company’s alcove. Bowing politely, Jiao-Jie greeted the group with friendly, soft-spoken words. “Good evening, I am happy to see you all well. May I join you?” She gave no reaction to the odd location of Li's chopsticks. Perhaps she had not seen it. Or perhaps she had seen it before.