Sect Year 3 · eighth month · day 19, morning · Azure Stream spring, Shen Mo’s grave
Morning light came into the spring-house low over the alders and laid a long bar across the table. Lin had set the table himself before the bell. He had wiped the boards with a wet cloth, then wiped them again when the first cloth left streaks, and he had laid the grey cloth on the wood where the light fell brightest. He couldn’t have said why he wanted it there. A thing done in plain light seemed harder to do in secret, and he hadn’t yet decided whether he wanted this one to be secret.
Through the open door he could see the flat stone and the spring running under it, clear and quick over the gap in the rock. Down the slope the guards were lashing the tin case to the porter’s pole. Jiang sat on the bench outside the door with the black book open on her knees and her pen in her hand. She didn’t write anything while he watched her.
Lin unwrapped the jade with his right hand. His left hand lay on the table beside it, fingers half closed, and it wouldn’t open any further. He had stopped asking it to. The two halves came free of the cloth one at a time.
