茶盏里的茶叶还冒着热气，叶孤城却烦躁地用指节敲了敲桌面。隔壁柜子里传来几声闷笑，打断了他的思绪。他瞥过去，是个算命的，五十来岁，穿着件洗得发白的蓝布衫，正对着个年轻书生吹耳边说什么，那书生听得眼睛都直了，连连点头。

“时局动荡，官道不靖啊……”叶孤城低声嘀咕了一句，放下茶盏。这都什么事儿啊，他只是多问了几句南边店铺的存货，怎么就把人跟“动荡不安”扯一块儿去了。他摇摇头，不想这事儿了。前脚刚出茶馆，就听见街角有人高声喊：“官府缉拿‘红巾贼’，报信的，速速躲开！”

叶孤城脚步一顿。红巾贼？他心里咯噔一下。这年头，这词儿不是只在史书上见吗？他还以为早就绝迹了。他下意识往后退了半步，想混进人堆里避一避。可人群立刻骚动起来，不少人往他这边指指点点，眼神怪怪的。

“哟，这不是那个问卦的嘛！”有人阴阳怪气地叫了一声。叶孤城头皮一阵发麻，赶紧转身就跑。他跑得飞快，脑子里一片空白。什么红巾贼，什么官府，他只想离这个是非之地越远越好。

可他刚拐过一个巷口，迎面就撞上一匹黑马。马夫挥舞着鞭子，嘴里骂骂咧咧：“滚开！眼瞎了！”

叶孤城躲闪不及，被马蹄子踹了个趔趄。他手一松，那茶盏被他的文章，骨碌碌滚了出去，摔得粉碎。马夫低头一看，更火大了，扬起鞭子就要抽。“我日！你他妈找死！”叶孤城心里一惊， but he didn't have time to react, the whip hit his back, leaving a stinging pain.

He stumbled forward, looking up as the horse passed him. The rider was a young man, about his age, dressed in fine clothes, but his eyes were cold as ice. "You clumsy废物," the young man said coldly, without even looking at him.