Yan’s first step landed near the center of the chalk line. He moved at the same measured pace he had used in the practice run, letting his shoulders carry the tray through the first turn. The bowls trembled, but the water stayed beneath the rims.
He kept his eyes on the next stand, not on the water. The chalk marks came in a steady rhythm beneath his shoes. At the wide turn, he shortened his step. At the narrow one, he let his left shoulder lead and allowed the tray to follow. A small wave rose in the nearest bowl and sank before it reached the rim.
Qinghe called the split time as he reached the first stand. He set one bowl in its marked ring and continued. The next turn narrowed. He let the tray shift with his body rather than trying to hold it completely still. The second bowl touched its mark without spilling.
Wei followed the outer lane behind him. Yan heard the other tray rattle once, then settle.
Wei carried his weight differently. His steps were quicker through the open stretch, then measured at the turn. The tray scraped once against his sleeve, but he moved his arm away before the handle caught. Yan heard the soft click of ceramic against wood and kept his pace even.
