Jinghe Year Fifteen, the twenty-sixth day of the second month.
At the beginning of spring, rain fell often in Suzhou. It had barely ceased before it drifted down again.
Outside the Suzhou relay station.
Shen Mingxuan stood below the steps, looking up at the second floor. The shutters were tightly closed.
The window paper was plain white, without shadow or sound behind it.
He had simply stood there for a long time.
So long that the station attendants had glanced at him several times, his boot soles were soaked through, and the chill had climbed from his feet to his knees.
He dared neither hurry them nor leave.
Such was the proper way for a merchant to seek an audience with an Imperial Envoy.
"Master Shen, my young master invites you upstairs."
Cui Fu leaned against the second-floor railing and looked down, though the man before him was one of Suzhou's wealthiest merchants.
At that moment, this idle fellow born of a concubine in the Cui Family felt no regret for the choice he had made years ago.
Hearing him, Shen Mingxuan shook out his clothes and adjusted his cap, straightened his collar again and again, then smoothed his cuffs until they lay flat.
He knew it served no purpose, yet he could not help himself.
Once a man reached this point, such things were all he could still hold on to.
Then he climbed the stairs, his footsteps heavy, pausing at every step.
The doorway on the second floor stood open.
Shen Mingxuan reached the threshold and checked his steps.
Inside, Wei Nisheng sat behind a desk.
A scarlet robe hung loosely over his shoulders, unfastened, offering glimpses of the plain white inner robe beneath.
He wore no cap. A silver hairpin loosely held his hair,