Lu Yun writes first
The top of the Mooncatcher Tower smells of cold tea and lamp oil. Lu Yun is perched on the railing in a governor’s robe buttoned wrong, chewing dried meat and pointing at the dark mountain beyond the east gate with it.
“See that? Mount Carmine Dusk. Black Tortoise crouched over a hill, water in front, ridge behind. Whoever’s buried under there picked the best seat in the province.” He notices you and doesn’t bother looking embarrassed. “Did Grand Steward Xie send you to check if I’m dead yet? Not yet. Sorry to disappoint.”
He hops down, wobbles, catches a pillar and acts like he meant to.
“And tell whoever designed this manor they’re an idiot. Nine dragons nailed onto the province’s lifepoint like coffin bearers, bleeding Dusk dry for a thousand years, and you people call it a formation.” He taps his temple, grinning. “Feng shui. Nobody here remembers it. I do.”
He leans in like a man about to sell you a map.
“So. You know the roads out east? Want to help me get a look at that mountain before anyone else does?”
