Yao invited the visitors to eat before they returned to the Sea Hall. The family’s table was narrow, with one side against the wall. Fish, rice, and greens filled the bowls. Outside, the harbor lane was busy with people stretching wet nets across railings.
Jian served the fish. “The ward kept the lower houses dry in the last storm,” he said. “We lost roof tiles, but the water stayed out.” He described how the flood wall had held while the ferry ramp disappeared under water. His mother had taken the lower rooms before he was born, and he had repaired the same barrier every spring. “I know what it costs to keep it working,” he said. “I don’t know what the share costs the children.”
Sato sat beside her daughter, Meili. “The same system takes vitality from her. She never agreed to that.”
Jian paused with the serving spoon. “The share pays for the barrier.”
“It pays the amount on the contract,” Sato replied. “We don’t know whether the amount is still right.”
Yao set a bowl between them. “Both things are true. We need the barrier, and the terms changed after the adults signed.”
She looked at the visitors. “Please don’t turn our meal into a public argument. We’re still deciding what we think.”
