Jinghe Year Fifteen, the seventh day of the third month, afternoon.
Flowers shone amid willow shadows; the begonias had just burst into bloom.
Pink and white blossoms weighed down the branches of a tree. Wherever the breeze passed, fragrance drifted softly, with swallows chattering and orioles singing from time to time.
At the Suzhou Weaving Bureau, slanting shadows reached into the covered walkway. Li Jin sat beneath the eaves of the rear hall.
Half a cup of cold tea stood beside him, and a thin blanket lay across his knees.
He reclined crookedly in a lounge chair, his eyes half closed, his fingers tapping the armrest, as though leisurely counting the swallows beneath the eaves.
Ever since Wei Nisheng had entered Suzhou and invited him aboard the pleasure boat, Li Jin had shut himself away in the Imperial Silk Bureau and refused all visitors.
Whenever official correspondence arrived, he put it off with the excuse that he was "indisposed."
Later, when Xiong Hui yielded, he even cut off all communication with He Yanming.
He was like an old turtle withdrawing into its shell, burying his head and neck deep inside while wind and rain raged outside.
Alas, however hard and thick the shell, how could he fail to hear the storm?
Between one and three that afternoon, hurried footsteps approached the door.
Li Jin did not lift his lowered lashes. His eyes stayed tightly shut, but his ears were already alert.
"Old Ancestor! Old Ancestor!"
A Junior Eunuch stumbled into the courtyard, shuffled on his knees to the walkway, and prostrated himself, panting heavily.
"Something's happened! Something terrible has happened!!"
Only then did Li Jin slowly open one eye. Looking askance at the figure kneeling below the steps, he drawled,
"What's the hurry? Has the sky fallen?"
"It's