Gu cleared a space on the clinic archive table and placed two books side by side. Yan recognized the weathered cover of the Forgetting River Sutra. The new manual, still protected by a cloth wrap, looked less like a relic than a field notebook.
“Show me what you remember,” Gu said.
Yan rested two fingers on the sutra. “This hides my thoughts and strengthens my memory. It changes what I reveal and what I can hold in mind.” He touched the other cover. “Hollow Heart changes my attention by pressing some feelings away.”
“And does either one tell you what another person thinks?”
“No.”
Qinghe brought a small tray of tea and set it between them. “Good. I won’t have to explain it twice.”
They opened the new manual. Qinghe read the passage about emotional suppression, then turned to a practitioner’s account. The writer had followed the method for months before realizing that his calm came with a smaller sense of attachment. He had stopped noticing a relative’s distress until the relative left.
Yan read the last lines again. He had first imagined a steady mind in the Registry hall, one that would keep fear from narrowing his choices. The account gave that hope a sharper edge. He did not want to lose concern for the people whose testimony he meant to protect.
