Suyin’s father lived above the harbor clinic in a room bright with afternoon sun. A calendar covered one wall. Each month had a mark for the weather-share assessment, and several years had a second line added in darker ink.
Qinghe asked if he kept the dates himself.
“My wife did,” he said. “After she died, Suyin kept them for me.”
Suyin set two ledgers on the table. One was a copy her grandmother had made. The other came from the ancestral hall. The first listed the household payment by month. The second showed the same amounts through most of the year, then added an extra share for three families after a storm damaged the western ward.
“Did anyone ask you to approve the extra amount?” Qinghe asked.
“No. I heard we owed it when the collector came.”
Suyin leaned over the page. “The extra is here, but there’s no signature.”
Her father rubbed the back of his hand. “I thought it was a mistake, then I thought I had forgotten a meeting. I did not want to accuse the hall without knowing.”
