Sect Year 1 · eighth month · day 15 · Shen Mo’s residence, above the spring
Hou Meng’s permission had come down from the Deacon’s house at the morning bell, two lines in his careful brush. The Outer Court might search what remained of the residence, and might bring away whatever could be accounted for in the sect’s books. At the foot, in a smaller hand, the Deacon had added that he didn’t wish to hear about it afterward. Su folded it once at the door and put it in her sleeve.
“He has never liked anything he didn’t have to sign,” said Lin.
“He signed this.”
“Yes. That’s why he wrote the rest.”
The house had the stillness of a place that had been sealed, opened and sealed again. Dust lay thick on the sills. Across the middle of the floor ran a line of footprints that were neither Su’s nor his, heavy boot prints that had turned. Then it turned back, and gone out through the door the way they had come.
The shelves stood bare where they had always stood. The drawers hung open in their frames. Lin stood in the doorway and let his eyes go over the room once, slowly, the way he would look over a field after a storm before deciding where to put his feet.
