On every rainy night along the road, Chen Lin is reminded of that day... Rain blurred the lamplight at the inn…
On every rainy night along the road, Chen Lin is reminded of that day...
Rain blurred the lamplight at the inn. Water dripped from the tip of the girl's closed umbrella as she quietly pushed a pouch of coins onto the table. He barely glanced at it. The pouch was smaller than the wine flask at his waist.
"Not enough," he said impatiently, lowering his head back to his ledgers... until a voice came from behind her.
"We'll make up the rest." He looked up. A crowd stood in the shadows, untouched by the light. In the dim glow, he caught the outlines of erhus and pipas, traces of stage paint still clinging to their faces. One by one, jeweled hairpins and pieces of silver were set upon the table, their soft clinks like raindrops falling into a pond.
"I don't get it," he muttered, eyeing the growing pile of silver. "Even the Emperor couldn't care less about the war up north. It's a thousand miles away from your little stage. Why stick your noses in?"
The girl met his gaze, her voice quiet but striking deep. "We know nothing of the court, only this: when all under heaven fell silent, it was General Wang and his men who stood firm in the north, showing the world what resolve truly means."
"That's no idle matter," the man beside her said in a low voice. "They are the pillars that hold us all up. If they fall, none of us will stand."
Chen Lin said nothing more. He reached out and closed the ledger filled with calculations.
"The money's there. I'll take the job."