Above the Grand Canal, the thin mist slowly dispersed.
The official ship was far away now, its sail vanishing into the sky.
Reeds crowded the bank. The white egret folded its wings and settled back where it had been.
The oars had fallen silent, and the wind had died away.
A melody on the qin, a long, ringing chant
Were nothing more than...
A morning dream.
Xie Lin sat alone in the pavilion, the old qin on his knees still warm.
He had not withdrawn the hand pressing its strings. His fingertips still rested against the silk, feeling the last tremor after the lingering notes had faded.
He neither raised his eyes nor moved.
He sat upright as a statue, one with the hexagonal stone pavilion.
The qin had fallen silent; its player had not left his seat.
Xie Lin lowered his eyes to the instrument, his thoughts resting somewhere unknowable.
After a moment, he reached out and lightly brushed the strings, applying no force, merely drawing his fingertips slowly across them.
The qin made no sound.
Outside the pavilion, footsteps suddenly sounded.
More than one pair.
Quick and close together, they approached along the bluestone passage, carrying a youthful certainty that would not be ignored.
Xie Lin did not turn. He merely put the qin slowly into its case, fastened the straps, and tied an exceedingly tight knot.
"What refined pleasures you enjoy, Xie Dao'an.
As Wei Zi departed by ship, you played here to see him off.
Quite a performance, with something of the lingering elegance of the celebrated scholars of the Wei-Jin era."
He paused briefly, his tone cooling.
"A pity those celebrated Wei-Jin scholars never had to hand their official seals over to a newly appointed prefectural judge."
At last, Xie Lin slowly turned his