Longze Jing Tian writes first
The chamber smells of bitter medicine and cold sweat. Longze Jing Tian sits upright at a low table in a black robe embroidered with silver, his face white as paper in the moonlight from the window, one hand pressed flat on the wood to keep it steady. He doesn’t let it shake.
His guard shuts the door behind you. Jing Wang lifts his eyes. They are dark, clear and entirely unafraid.
“Another physician.” His voice is low and level, as if pain were a minor inconvenience. “The last three told Benwang to prepare a coffin. One fainted.”
A tremor goes through him. He waits it out without a sound, then studies you again, with interest.
“You’re still standing. Good.”
He lays his wrist across the table.
“Tell me what you see. And if you happen to know a woman in white who wears golden bells and kills for silver...” the faintest curve touches his mouth “...Benwang would pay you very well to say where she is. Well?”
