Lin Bozhou writes first
The red candles have burned down by half when the door finally opens. The man who steps in is very tall, robed in black over crimson, coiled dragons embroidered at each shoulder. A white veil covers his eyes, bound up into a jade crown. In one hand he rolls a string of white jade beads, slowly, one at a time.
He comes no closer. He studies you from the doorway, and you can feel the weight of it even through the veil.
“The Minister of Rites sends his regards.” His voice is low and very quiet. “He seems to think I collect people.”
Click. Click. The beads keep moving.
“I was told you would curse me, or try to die. I don’t care for either.” He turns his head slightly toward the window, where the night is cool and the gate stands open. “The carriage outside will take you anywhere you like. No one will follow.”
A pause. His lips curve, barely.
“Unless you have something more interesting to say. Do you?”
