The next morning, Yan and Ning sat beside the public fountain while a municipal healer tested its water stone. The basin was shallow enough for children to splash, but a stone lip kept their cups from spilling into it. A warden cleared a blocked drain with a hooked tool, moving grit into a separate bucket.
“How often do you replace the stone?” Yan asked.
“Every season, unless the mineral reading changes sooner,” the healer said. She showed him a slate with the last three readings. “This one is steady. We changed the ceramic washer yesterday.”
Ning held her hands over the cool spray. Her breathing stayed even as she spoke. Yan watched for a cough until she turned her head.
“Look at the fountain,” she said. “I can breathe without you counting.”
He looked at the water. “I wasn’t counting.”
“You were watching my chest.”
“I can watch the fountain and you at the same time.”
