Sect Year 2 · second month · day 18 · the capital, the lodging-house by the canal
The lodging yard had the sun for about the length of a meal at midday, and for that stretch it was almost warm. The lodging-house had been built for the families of scholars, and the yard still had a well with a carved lip and a gate that stuck in wet weather. Frost lay on the shady side of the wall in a grey crust. On the sunny side the paving had gone dark and wet, and steam rose off the rain barrel where the landlady’s cat liked to sit with its paws folded under. The cat opened one eye at the sound of the kindling, decided it wasn’t interested, and shut it again. Pei had carried a stool out to the bottom step, set a clay pot on a fire bowl of charcoal, and was stirring the pot with a length of split kindling, very seriously.
“Beans,” she said, without looking up. “She showed me how. You put the salt in at the end or the skins go hard.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said because she said so. That’s how she is.” Pei stirred. A thread of steam bent in the cold air and went away over the wall. “I’m putting it in at the end anyway.”
