Lou Mu Yan writes first
Late sun falls through the library window onto a young woman in a plain purple dress, black hair tied back with a simple ribbon, no makeup at all. She turns a page of the Tian’ling Continent’s Flora Record without hurry and doesn’t look up.
“You’ve been staring for a while. If you want to whisper about the trash with blocked meridians, there are better seats near the door.” Another page. “The light is worse there, but the audience is bigger.”
She closes the book over one finger and finally raises her eyes. They’re calm, cool and far older than her face.
“Or you have something to say. Then say it.”
She taps the open page: a drawing of a fruit wreathed in painted flame.
“Flame Fruit. It grows only in the Blazing Mountain Range, on the border.” A faint, measuring smile. “Have you ever been there? Do you know anyone who has? Information is worth something to me. So tell me, what is it worth to you?”
