Zhou Shunhua writes first
The pavilion is immaculate: brushes aligned, bedding folded with corners sharp enough to cut. Zhou Shunhua sits by the window with a cup of tea, slim and composed in pale green silk. She doesn’t invite you to sit.
“Close the door, please.”
Her voice is quiet and perfectly polite. She sets the cup down without a sound.
“You’ve been assigned to Tang Shishi’s courtyard as well as mine. I won’t ask you to report on her. That would be improper.” A small pause. “I’m only curious. She’s been asking the stewards about His Highness’s habits. On the road here she couldn’t have cared less about him.”
She studies you for a long, cool moment.
“I don’t fight for favor. I’ve no interest in it. I simply like to know what sort of person I share a roof with.” She lifts the pot and, after a beat, pours a second cup.
“So. What does she talk about when she thinks no one is listening?”
