My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 74: Bring It Again on the Twelfth

The two left the inn at the tail end of the Mao hour. The sky was not yet fully light, but the street had already begun its morning: water carriers hauling their loads, shopkeepers lifting door panels from their frames, someone squatting by a wall kindling a stove. Xu Yan carried the account book against his chest, the land deed folded between two of its pages. It took them a quarter of an hour to reach the branch office lane. A wooden plaque hung beside the courtyard gate, the words ”Dongzhou Branch” bleached pale by rain.

The branchʼs public office sat at the eastern end of the compound, its door facing west. The threshold was a single slab of blue stone, raised half a foot above the surrounding ground, forcing anyone entering to lift their foot. The breakfast stall at the laneʼs mouth was at its busiest, and cooking fumes drifted down the lane toward the compound, only to dissipate at that threshold.

Inside the door stood a small desk where a clerk kept watch, an open register spread across its surface. The ink in the inkstone had dried to a ring. He was bent over, re-moistening it, and at the sound of footsteps his brush tip lifted.

”Which sect.”

”Qingya Sect.”

The brush tip paused over the paper, then came down. ”Name. Reason for visit.”

”Xu Yan. A weir has been built at the spring on the ridge. The water is being diverted east. The spirit fields below the mountain have lost their water.”

The clerk wrote it down, then looked up at the man behind him. ”The one accompanying you registers too.”

Qi Qi stepped forward and gave his name. The clerk added a stroke, then pointed toward the room with the shaft of his brush. ”The Sect Master goes in to speak. The companion stands inside the door, to that side. Donʼt touch the desk.”

Someone inside was just then coming out carrying two rolls of paper. He turned sideways at the threshold to let them pass, said nothing, and walked off down the veranda. The office was a shade darker than the outside. Blue brick paved the floor, old dust settled into the cracks between. A long desk sat just inside the door, and behind it sat Wen Su. On the desk lay a seal paste box, a brush, and a ledger opened halfway, held down by a paperweight, with a wood-finished hand rest worn smooth at one corner. Against the wall behind her stood a row of wooden shelves, box after box lined up shoulder to shoulder, each with a paper tally pasted across its mouth. The ink on those tallies was old and yellowed, some corners curling; beneath the shelves were stacked several piles of loose old papers that had never been boxed. Another clerk passed along the veranda outside, ledger in his arms, his footsteps fading across the brick.

She did not look up immediately. She finished the line she was writing, set the brush down on the brush rest, then closed the ledger.

”The petition.”

Xu Yan drew the paper from his chest, then pulled the land deed from between the account bookʼs pages and placed both over the deskʼs edge with both hands. The petition had ridden against his chest all night; its corners had gone soft.

Wen Su did not read it at once. She smoothed the petition flat against the desk, then worked her way down it line by line. When she finished, she read it again from the beginning.

”Which side of the boundary stele is the weir on.”

”East of the stele. On Chixiaoʼs side.”

”What do you want.”

”Twelve mu of fields. A winterʼs water.”

Wen Su set the paper down. ”According to this stele, that land is Chixiaoʼs.”

By the door, Qi Qi shifted half a step.

Xu Yan said, ”The deed says to follow the Dongzhou Boundary Map from the First Year of the Alliance. I ask the Rank Evaluator to retrieve that map.”

She did not answer that point directly. She asked something else first. ”When did the water stop.”

”The twenty-second of the Ninth Month. The tenant farmer brought rent rice up the mountain on the twenty-third and reported it to me.”

”When did you go up to see it yourself.”

”The twenty-fourth. Me, him, and one other disciple. Three people.”

Wen Su lifted her eyes toward the door. ”The one who came with you. Tell it yourself.”

Qi Qi stepped forward half a pace and spoke in a rush, laying out the day, the hour, everything he had seen: on the twenty-fourth, at the Snake hour, he reached the spring. A new weir had been built below the stone hollow. The stones were freshly cut, the breaks white, the mud in the seams still wet. A channel had been dug from the weirʼs eastern end, and the water spilled over the weir and ran east. Not a drop remained in the creek bed to the west. Three men in red robes sat on the weir. One of them had stood up and said, the boundary stele is right there; the spring is within Chixiao territory.

”Did anyone raise a hand,” Wen Su asked.

”No,” Qi Qi answered. ”The three of us went up. The three of them sat on the weir.”

”What was the man on the weir called.”

Qi Qi glanced at Xu Yanʼs back. ”He said his name was Cao Hu.”

Wen Suʼs gaze dropped back to the desk.

”The petition only accuses over the weir.”

”Yes.”

”Why not accuse over the stele.”

Xu Yan stood before the desk, feet still. ”On the twenty-fourth of the Ninth Month, I went up and saw that stele standing west of the spring. Whether it had been moved or not, I donʼt know.”

”Donʼt know.” She repeated the phrase once, not loudly. ”Then write ʼdonʼt know.ʼ”

She pushed the ledger aside to clear a space. She unfolded the Qingya land deed—the paper bore two old creases, the top one beginning to fray—and ran her finger down through the four boundaries, stopping at the final clause: follow the Dongzhou Boundary Map of the First Year of the Alliance. She held there for a while, lips still, her finger pressing down beneath the words ”Dongzhou Boundary Map,” before finally raising her eyes.

”This deed,” she said, ”is the one I handed back on the day of the Autumn Evaluation.”

”Yes. The Rank Evaluator handed it over in front of me.”

”This passage after the four boundaries—you copied it into the petition too.”

”Not a word changed.”

”Did you keep a record of this passage on the mountain.”

”One copy, in the Accounts Room. Whatever is on the paper can be seen by anyone on the mountain.”

”And how many people on the mountain know of this sentence.”

”Thirteen. All of them are waiting to see whether it holds.”

Wen Su turned the deed over and studied the back for a while, then turned it back and pressed her finger over the word ”follow,” glancing once at the row of boxes behind her.

”Land deeds for mountain gates in Dongzhou are in my keeping,” she said. ”The map is in the file copies.”

”Can it be brought out.”

She did not say whether it could or could not. She only gave a date. ”The twelfth, at the Snake hour. Here. A confrontation hearing. Chixiao brings their deed.”

She pushed the deed forward and tapped the corner of the paper once. ”Bring it again on the twelfth.”

Xu Yan took it back, folding it along the two original creases, adding no new marks. The deed went between the account bookʼs pages, and the account book went back against his chest.

Wen Su had already turned to the clerk. ”Send notice to Chixiao. Twelfth day, Snake hour, Dongzhou Branch public office. A Chixiao steward to bring the mountain gate deed. Confrontation hearing over the weir at the ridge spring.”

The clerk dipped his brush. ”Just the weir?”

”Just the weir. The stele is not in the notice.”

When the clerk finished writing, he took the petition, folded it in thirds, and tucked it into a thin wooden box on the corner of the desk. He pulled out a paper tally, wrote a date on it, and slid the box back under the shelf.

Xu Yan did not leave. ”The petition has been accepted. Is there any receipt.”

”Itʼs entered in the register.” The clerk pointed at the registration book by the door. ”Come on the twelfth. Your entry will be in the register.”

”When does the notice reach Chixiao.”

”One day by fast horse. Whether they accept it or not, it goes out the same. A copy stays on file.”

”Sect Master Xu.” Wen Su called him back once more. ”Donʼt be late on the twelfth.”

”I wonʼt.”

”The Branch governs deeds and steles. Whichever side the deed names, the water follows.” She laid her hand flat on the desk. ”Once the ruling comes down, there will be a statement on the weir.”

Xu Yan stood where he was. ”Then on the twelfth, lay the deed and the stele side by side.”

”Side by side.” She opened the ledger and pressed her finger onto a spot.

Xu Yan waited. She said nothing further; her brush was already in her hand. He cupped his fists, stepped over the blue stone threshold, and left.

By the time they came out, the sun had climbed to the eaves across the street. The bench under the veranda was empty. Qi Qi drew up beside him, voice low. ”She said according to this stele, the weir is on Chixiao land.”

”She said that.”

”Then what are we even suing over.”

”The petition was accepted.”

”And what does that matter.”

Xu Yan headed for the laneʼs mouth. ”Twelfth day. We come back.”

At noon the two left the city for the carriage yard. The guard at the city gate was leaning against the wall, dozing, and the road out was full of mule carts heading south. Three mules stood tethered under the carriage yardʼs awning, heads down, chewing hay. A wooden sign hung from one of the awning posts, listing two routes: Linchuan and Luoxia. The yard manager held a stick of charcoal. ”When are you leaving.”

”Mao hour on the fourth. Two people. Return to Luoxia Town.”

”The fare was paid on the second. Round trip.”

”Correct. Mao hour on the fourth.”

The charcoal stick made two marks on the back of the sign, then added a small dot at the edge. ”At the Mao hour, the cart doesnʼt wait.”

The two ate a pair of coarse grain cakes at the base of the city wall and bought a bowl of hot water from a stall.

That night they stayed in the same room. Xu Yan trimmed the lamp wick higher and opened the account book to the dayʼs date. He wrote: one petition, left at the Branch; twelfth day, Snake hour, confrontation hearing at the public office. On a new line: inn, two nights, four stones; settle on departure. Then in a blank space he worked out the cost of the twelfth-day trip: cart fare, four stones; inn two nights, four stones; eight total.

Qi Qi turned over on the other plank bed. ”She took the petition. Does that mean itʼs accepted.”

”It means itʼs accepted. Whether it amounts to anything—weʼll see on the twelfth.”

”Sheʼs seen the map. We havenʼt.”

”She hasnʼt either. The mapʼs in a box at the Branch. Itʼs not a line someone drew yesterday.”

Qi Qi was quiet in the dark for a moment. ”Then whatʼs she going to rule by.”

”By whatʼs written on the paper.”

Before dawn on the fourth, the innkeeper downstairs turned up the wick of his lamp, counted four low-grade spirit stones into his cash box, struck a line through the register, and pulled back the door bolt. The two left the city. At the carriage yard the cart had already been turned around, and the driver was coiling rope on the shaft.

Fog still hung over the official road. The wheels bumped over stones polished bright by years of traffic. Qi Qi split half the coarse grain cakes from his bundle, and they ate with cold water. On the second cake he looked up. ”Weʼll have to come back on the twelfth.”

”We will.”

”Another four stones.”

”Weʼll book the cart at the market on the tenth.”

”Iʼll book it,” Qi Qi said. ”Iʼm the one who booked it on the thirtieth. The driver knows me.”

”Mm.”

Qi Qi swept the crumbs into his palm and shoved them into his mouth. ”What if the map shows the same thing as that stele?”

”Then we follow the map.”

The fog cleared after noon. In the harvested fields along the roadside only short stubble remained. A few haystacks were weighted down with stones, and when the wind passed, bits of chaff blew into the wheels. The mule cart passed a line of grain wagons, the driver yelling for the road. At the Monkey hour the cart stopped in Luoxia Town, and the two climbed down and headed north.

Ten li of mountain road. By the time the sun pressed down onto the western slope, the steps of the Mountain Gate stood before them. A lamp already burned over by the kitchen, its light falling across the threshold. A few dry leaves lay in the cracks of the stone steps. Jiang Wan sat on the top step, her sword across her knees. At the sound of footsteps she shifted the sword half a foot aside.

”Accepted?”

”Accepted. Twelfth, Snake hour. Confrontation hearing at the public office. Sheʼll retrieve the map.”

”Who does she believe.”

”The map.”

Jiang Wan looked down the road off the mountain. ”When she sees the map, sheʼll believe the map?”

”She believes whatʼs written on paper.”

”Nothing happened on the mountain these three days. The Medicine Hallʼs stove has burned the whole time. Qian Duoduo made too many flatbreads—two hard ones left over.” She rested her hand on the scabbard, paused a moment. ”What if the stele on that map is drawn on the west side?”

”Then the water belongs to Chixiao.”

She tapped the scabbard once against the step. She asked nothing more.