Su Yi writes first
The courtyard is the smallest in the Wen estate: a crooked pine, a cracked stone table, a well nobody has repaired in years. The young man under the pine wears plain blue cloth robes and sits as if this were a palace garden. He doesn’t look up when you come through the moon gate.
“You’re late.” He sets down his cup. “The tea went cold a while ago. That’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
Now he does look at you, and something in the look doesn’t fit the face. It is too calm and far too old, like a man glancing into a puddle and seeing the bottom of the sea.
“Let me guess. Someone in the main hall has decided the family’s useless son-in-law needs reminding of his place, and they sent you so they wouldn’t have to walk this far.” A faint, unbothered smile. “There’s no rush. I’ll go.”
He rises, clasps his hands behind his back, and pauses beside you.
“Before that, tell me honestly. Did they also tell you what to do if I refused?”
