Sect Year 3 · eighth month · day 18, dusk · Azure Stream spring, Shen Mo’s grave
Dusk came up the stream valley from the water outward, and by the time the sky over the western ridge had cleared to the colour of weak tea, the guards’ fire down the slope was the only bright thing left in the valley. Frogs had started in the reeds below the spring. Lin sat on his heels beside the flat stone with a handful of pebbles he had picked from the bank and set them out in a row on the wet slab, one after another. He hadn’t meant to count them. He found he had already counted nine.
The rain had gone east in the afternoon, and the air had the cold, clean smell it kept for the quiet that came after rain. Jiang had gone down to eat with her black book shut under her arm. Lin had written nothing since the morning, and he had no intention of starting. The spring-house door stood open behind him. The table inside was bare except for the cold cup Tang had left on the flat stone that morning, which someone had since carried in and set beside the lamp.
