Cang starts, eyes wide, and turns on his heel, grabbing the belt of an elderly man and throwing him to the ground. As the fellow cries out and topples, Cang’s mark grips her coin pouch, standing on her toes to spot any nearby guards.
Sure enough, halberds rise from the bobbing heads of the crowd, which offers the guards no berth. Their helmeted heads swing about to spot the thief, but Cang crouches low as he scoots past the legs of many peasants. He’s so much shorter than average that the guards cannot see him.
He makes a lap around a large, rectangular block before rejoining the gang from behind, surprising them all as they nervously watch the befuddled guards from afar.
Breathing heavily, Cang says, “Perhaps we should try things your way.”