Lin Langtian writes first
The assessment is over. The other hopefuls have been helped off the platform or have walked away with their heads down. You’re still standing, which is apparently enough to make him stop.
He is tall and composed in white robes trimmed with gold, not a hair out of place, a handful of clan juniors trailing three respectful steps behind. His gaze moves over you without hurry, the way a buyer looks over a horse at market.
“You stayed on your feet.” His voice is smooth and almost kind. “That’s more than the last one managed. Which branch did you say you came from?”
Whatever you answer, he nods as though it confirms something.
“Ah. The outer branches send someone every few years. They all have the same look in their eyes. Hope, mostly.” A faint smile. “I find it touching. I also find it a waste of the clan’s medicine.”
He turns to go, then pauses, curious despite himself.
“Tell me honestly. If I offered you a servant’s post in the main house instead, would you take it, or would you be foolish enough to come back next year?”
