In October, frost had just begun to form in the Capital.
The Qinhuai's waters receded, its silvergrass blossoms white as snow.
As Bai Juyi's poem said: "Maple leaves and silvergrass blossoms, autumn's rustling chill."
By mid-October, autumn in the Capital was no longer autumn, but winter's opening notes.
The river dwindled, exposing stones along both banks.
An official vessel lay moored at the wharf, its sails neatly furled, figures shifting through the morning mist.
On the thirteenth day of October, Jinghe Year Fifteen, at the wharf outside Tongji Gate.
Wei Nisheng and Wang Kan stood on the bank. They had already been waiting for an hour.
Wang Kan pulled his collar tighter and said irritably, "Zi'an, exactly when is his ship supposed to arrive?"
"Soon," Wei Nisheng said.
"You said that an hour ago."
"If you're in a hurry, Zhanzheng, you can go back first."
"Who said I was in a hurry?" Wang Kan stiffened his neck.
"I'm a Censor. Occasionally inspecting river defenses and grain transport is part of my duty!"
"Inspecting river defenses without a sedan chair or ceremonial escort, standing on the wharf in the wind..." Wei Nisheng gave him a bland glance.
"You certainly conduct your inspections simply, Censor Zhanzheng."
Wang Kan snorted. "None of your business."
Before his words had faded, a boatman's chant rang out from deep within the morning mist.
An official vessel slowly broke through the fog. A man stood at its bow, dressed in a blue gown, its hem snapping in the river wind.
While the ship was still several yards from shore, he sprang from the bow and landed firmly on the bank, sending up a spray of water.
"Zi'an! Brother Wang!"
Zhang Zai had returned.
After nearly half a year apart, he was much darker and much thinner,