A Door Slammed in His Face

Mo Yunsong rose from the official granary, his knees cracking twice.

He dusted off his hands and walked outside. The sunlight made him squint.

People came and went along the street, some in padded jackets, some in heavy cloaks. Others carried hot buns, biting into them as they walked, oil running between their fingers.

He stood there a while, then stopped a woman selling tofu.

"Sorry to trouble you, but which household on this street is the richest?"

The woman looked him over.

An old Taoist, with toes poking through his cloth shoes.

She tipped her chin down the street. "That lane up ahead is full of grand houses. Half of them have stone lions by the door."

Then she lowered her voice. "Squire Wang's household owns half the shops in town. And Master Li—I hear his grain stores reach the rafters..."

Mo Yunsong thanked her and went the way she had pointed.

That lane really was different.

Its bluestone paving was much wider than elsewhere, and vermilion gates stood between high walls on either side. The stone steps before them had been laid neat and straight.

Stone lions did indeed crouch below the steps, baring their teeth and claws, fearsome to behold.

The Old Daoist stopped before the first house, drew a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock on the door ring.

The door opened a crack. A man who looked like a servant poked his head out and, seeing an Old Taoist, asked impatiently:

"What do you want?"

Mo Yunsong put on a smile and bowed low, his voice soft and humble.

"This humble Taoist comes from Empty Mountain Ridge in Tongzhou. Passing through your town, I saw the refugees outside the walls, hungry and freezing, and could not bear it. I've heard your household has