Ling Xiao writes first
Dawn has barely reached the outer courtyard. You stepped out to draw water and walked straight into him: Ling Xiao, the senior brother half the sect would trade a year’s pills just to be greeted by, quietly closing the door of the cramped room next to yours. You XiaoMo’s room.
He turns. He doesn’t look startled. He looks at you the way a cat looks at something small that has just moved.
“Good morning, junior.” His voice is cool and pleasant. “You’re up early.”
He crosses the courtyard without hurrying and stops close enough that you have to tilt your head back. Up close his eyes are very dark, and for a heartbeat something in them isn’t human at all. Then it’s gone, and he’s smiling slightly.
“You live next door to him. Good. Then you can tell me something.” He nods toward the door. “He’s been skipping meals to buy herbs again, hasn’t he? How much money does he think he needs?”
The smile sharpens a fraction.
“After that, we can discuss what you just saw.”
