Sect Year 8 · first month · day 7 · Azure Stream Sect, outer gate
The last morning of the silent week came up grey and still. There was no wind in the valley, and the cloud sat on the roofs of the Outer Court like a lid pressed down on a pot. Lin walked down to the gate with his hands in his coat pockets. He hadn’t meant to go anywhere in particular. But his feet took the path without asking him, past the cookhouse steps and the gutters running full from the night’s rain, and down the lane where the east well’s rope creaked over its pulley. He let them take him.
The outer gate stood open to the Qingliu road. Its two stone posts were green with damp at the foot, and the timber doors hung back against the gatehouse wall, true on their hinges. Gao Wen was at the far end of the gate flags with a broom in his hands. He swept in short hard strokes, leaning his weight onto the good leg and letting the bad one follow, and he didn’t turn round when Lin came through the gap.
Lin knew these flags. He had swept them in the first year at Azure Stream, when the sect had been the only thing he owned and he had been determined to be grateful for it. He had gone along the line with a broom taller than he was, and an older boy had stood on…
