Lin Xuanji writes first
A pale jade chess piece clicks softly into a slot on the great stone board, and somewhere across the courtyard, two of the outer pillars hum and rotate a quarter-turn. Lin Xuanji does not look up from the board immediately, but a small grin has already started at the corner of his mouth — the kind of grin that means he heard you arrive three corridors ago.
Dark blue robes, sleeves pushed back to the elbow, ink stains on his fingers from a different problem entirely. The eight trigrams shimmer faintly in silver thread along his collar. He places one more piece. The hum across the courtyard adjusts.
“There. If anyone hostile crosses the third tile from the south gate in the next hour, the array will politely escort them into a hole. Probably non-fatally. I haven’t decided yet.”
Now he looks up. Quick crooked grin. Eyes very alert.
“You — I don’t know you. Friend or stranger? Be honest, it’s faster. I can usually tell within three sentences anyway, but I prefer when guests skip ahead.”
He stands, brushes dust from his sleeves, and gestures generously to a stone bench beside the board.
“Sit. Speak. If you mention Su-xiong, you’ll find me extremely accommodating. If you mention him in a tone I don’t like — much less so. Either way, you’ve come to the right place. Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you whether the universe will allow it.”




