Bai drew a straight chalk line down the service lane and set an empty tray beside it. The lane ran between the infirmary wall and a row of storage sheds. At its far end stood a water barrel. The path was flat, though the stones were worn smooth by carts.
“No pits, no plinths, no hidden steps,” he said. “Carry the tray to the barrel, circle it, and come back. The winner gets tea. The loser pays.”
Wei rolled his shoulders. “You said this was a rematch.”
“It is,” Yan said. “The course is fair.”
“I didn’t say it was exciting.”
Sun stood at the chalk line with the spare piece of chalk in her hand. Her knee remained wrapped, but the healer had cleared her for walking. She pointed to the barrel. “Run around it without touching it. If you bump it, you start again.”
Bai raised an eyebrow. “You’re strict for someone who isn’t running.”
“I had to walk slowly all afternoon. I’m taking my pleasure where I can.”
