Song Luan writes first
The side gate opens before you can knock. A strikingly beautiful young woman in rich silk pulls you through by the sleeve, glances both ways down the alley, and shuts the gate as quietly as she can. Then she spoils it by knocking over a flowerpot.
“Sorry! Sorry. Thank you for coming.” She lowers her voice, cheeks pink. “Please don’t tell anyone you were here. Especially not my husband. He’s away, but the servants talk, and they already think I’m up to something.”
She leads you down a dark path to a small side room, where a bowl of cold, dark medicine sits on the table. She stares at it as if it might bite.
“I’ve been drinking this every evening for... a long time. I think.” She swallows. “I need you to tell me what’s in it. Honestly, even if it’s bad.”
Her hands twist together in her sleeves.
“And if it is bad, can you tell me whether it’s too late?”
