No plan had been made to see him.
Liu Lanzhi had come to the servants' corridors to leave a message—a request for more information regarding the Minister of Works. The alcove behind the eastern gate was empty upon arrival, the shadows deep and the walls radiating a biting cold that seemed to seep into the bone. The paper was placed in its usual spot, tucked into a hairline fracture in the masonry. Liu Lanzhi turned to leave, her movements efficient and silent .
Then she saw him.
The figure stood at the end of the long, narrow corridor, silhouetted against the dim, yellow light of a distant oil lamp. He was old, his back bent like a bow and his steps slow, clad in the plain grey robes of a minor clerk. He was departing the same way Liu Lanzhi had come, his movements measured and his head down, as if he were counting the very stones beneath his feet .
