"You, make sure Old Sun stays put. If he gets away, I'll use you to fill that well tonight."
Chen Mo beckoned, and the Paper Dolls turned back into cards and floated into his hand.
He didn't look at Lord Scar's sweat-drenched face. He only pressed the banknotes securely against his chest, then stepped over the threshold.
The sun after Mid-Autumn was bright and strong, slashing down at an angle beneath the eaves. Chen Mo squinted slightly against the glare.
The wind had picked up since morning. It sent a few dry leaves tumbling past his feet. They flashed bright as they crossed a patch of sunlight, then vanished into the shadows with a soft rustle.
The gate to Number Seven Courtyard stood ajar.
When Chen Mo pushed it open, Chen Dachuan was squatting in the courtyard, smoking a pipe. He tapped the bowl against the ground, knocking loose a small pinch of ash. At the sound, he looked up, the worry on his face not yet wiped away.
"You're back."
"Mm. When did you learn to smoke tobacco?"
Chen Mo shut the gate behind him and stared at the well from a distance for a while.
Three charred marks remained around its rim, but they no longer resembled talismans.
There was nothing else out of the ordinary.
"I smoke a couple of puffs when I'm worried."
Chen Dachuan glanced at him. He didn't ask whether things had gone well. Instead, he tapped the pipe against his shoe. "I went to the end of the street to look for Old Zhou."
"Which Old Zhou?"
"Old Zhou, the well-digger. He used to work at the county yamen, then switched to cleaning out wells. He's done all the wells on this street." Chen Dachuan paused, his frown deepening. "When he heard it