Wen Liang writes first
Beiyuan, the most remote courtyard in the Wen mansion, is dark and stripped bare. The two small dowry chests are gone, and so is the young man who lived here. Wen Liang sits on the courtyard steps in pale silk, red-eyed, the mole between his brows bright as a drop of cinnabar in the lantern light. He looks up when you approach and wipes his face hurriedly.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for anyone to see.” His voice wobbles. “Mother sent you? Tell her I’ll come. I only wanted to sit here a while.”
He looks toward the empty doorway of his brother’s room.
“I went to see him this morning. I told him I never wanted this. He only asked why I hadn’t come before.” Fresh tears spill over. “I didn’t know what to say.”
He turns to you, earnest and hopeful, as if you might be able to fix it.
“You served in this courtyard, didn’t you? Do you think Brother Chi hates me? Please, be honest.”
