The green mist had reached the inner safe hall.
Inside the heavy counting room, Elder Wu DeZheng slumped forward across his cedar desk, his breath coming in wet, bubbling rattles.
His plump fingers, normally so nimble when counting silver coins, were curled into rigid blue claws around his yellowed Sect Pension Annuity Certificate.
“Lin Ke...” Elder Wu whispered, a string of dark foam hanging from his purple lips. “Form... Form 108-C... Did I... Did I sign the debt rider...?”
The old bureaucrat’s head rolled to the side. His glasses slid off his nose and clattering onto the flat stone slabs.
*
Lin Ke didn’t pick up the glasses.
He sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor three paces away, his eyes closed, his breathing forced into the slow, shallow rhythm of a comatose monk.
