My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 77: The One Place That Doesnʼt Add Up

Ge Song pulled the deed from the edge of the table and set it on the map, his hand flat as he released it—the paper settled without a sound.

Xu Yan took Qingyaʼs deed from inside his robe. It had been folded twice; the edges were worn and frayed. He laid it down beside the Chixiao deed, then moved Ge Songʼs written rebuttal over and lined it up along the bottom edges of both deeds. All three sheets pressed against the border of the map, one right next to the other.

The table was full now: the map in the center, the ridge cutting diagonally across it; one deed west of the ridge, one east of it; the rebuttal laid across the bottom, its fold lines still visible.

”Like this,” he said.

The clerk holding the register lifted his brush and looked at Wen Su. Ink beaded at the tip, about to drip, and he scraped it against the edge of the inkstone.

”The rebuttal stays on the table,” Wen Su said. ”The deeds stay too. They stay there until this is settled.”

Xu Yan shifted half a step to the left and aligned the eastern edges of the two deeds. The line on Qingyaʼs deed that read ”east to the boundary stele on the ridge” now lay directly over Chixiaoʼs ”west to the boundary stele on the ridge,” the two rows less than a fingerʼs width apart. The two mentions of ”boundary stele” stacked one on the other, and just beside them, a corner of the map showed through—the little square marking the stele.

Ge Songʼs brow twitched. ”Sect Master Xu, arranging paper. Youʼve arranged it to the last inch.”

”Iʼll arrange it until it fits,” Xu Yan said.

There was a low stool against the wall beside the table, meant for the parties during a confrontation. Xu Yan stepped back and sat down, opened the account book on his knee, and from between two pages drew out the thinner volume, spreading it open.

No one in the room looked his way. The clerk was waiting for Wen Su to speak. Ge Song studied the map with his head down. Qi Qi stood by the door, both hands hanging at his sides.

The paper in the ledger had yellowed to a brownish tint, one corner curling up. Characters surfaced line by line, floating between two blank pages:

[Credit: 10 Heritage Points, open reconciliation.]

[Credit: 1 Heritage Point, reconciliation: Chixiao rebuttal, both deeds, Dongzhou Boundary Map of the First Year of the Alliance.]

[Balance: One discrepancy: the boundary stele.]

[Balance: 14 Heritage Points.]

He read through line by line. At the last line, something inside him hollowed out—like drawing a stack of things from the bottom of a trunk that had lain there for years. Once drawn, it was gone. He reached out and pressed the curled corner flat, then closed the ledger.

”Sect Master Xu,” Wen Su said.

”Yes.”

”Are you finished arranging?”

”Finished.” He rose, tucked the ledger back between the pages of the account book, and walked to the table. ”Both deeds, both sets of boundaries, carry the same line: boundaries as recorded in the Dongzhou Boundary Map of the First Year of the Alliance.”

His finger landed on the line in Qingyaʼs deed. ”Qingyaʼs reads: east to the boundary stele on the ridge, eighteen li east of the Mountain Gate.” He moved to the Chixiao deed. ”Chixiaoʼs reads: west to the boundary stele on the ridge, twelve li west of the Mountain Gate. Eighteen plus twelve—thirty li between the two Mountain Gates.”

”Thirty li,” Ge Song said. ”Everyone in Dongzhou knows Chixiao to Qingya is thirty li.”

”The map shows the same: two Mountain Gates, one ridge, one spring. A stream runs west from the spring, down to the field at the foot of the slope.” Xu Yan said. ”The map, both deeds, Steward Geʼs rebuttal—they all describe the same ridge, the same spring, the same thirty li between the two Mountain Gates.”

He paused. The room was still except for the clerkʼs brush moving across the paper.

”Only one thing doesnʼt match.”

”What thing,” Wen Su asked.

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

Ge Song leaned forward, bracing both hands on the edge of the table. He wasnʼt smiling, and he didnʼt interrupt; he scanned the map left to right, then again.

”The map draws the stele east of the spring,” he said. ”I accept that. The stele on the ground is west of the spring. No matter how neatly Sect Master Xu arranges the papers, itʼs drawn on the east and standing on the west—that one thing has stood there for three hundred years. You donʼt need a few sheets of paper to settle it.”

”The map is a drawing,” Xu Yan said. ”Steward Ge is right. A draftsman drew it, and the tip of his brush is worth a li of error; the square on the paper is tiny, and the Branch only recognizes it as the stele by convention. I wonʼt dispute any of that.”

Ge Song lifted his eyes.

”The distances are written,” Xu Yan said. ”The map has no distances on it. The deeds do. Qingyaʼs writes eighteen li; Chixiaoʼs writes twelve li. Each sect wrote its own deed and affixed its own seal. So I donʼt ask the Rank Evaluator to rule by this drawing.”

He drew his hands back from the table.

”I ask the Rank Evaluator to follow the number on Chixiaoʼs own deed—ʼtwelve li west of the Mountain Gateʼ—and measure from the Chixiao Mountain Gate westward. The point the measurement ends at is Chixiaoʼs western boundary. If it lands where the stele stands today, Qingya withdraws its claim today and I say no more about the water. If it does not land on the stele, I ask the Rank Evaluator to rule according to where it does land.”

A draft through the window gap lifted one corner of the papers on the table. Ge Song pressed a finger to the deedʼs edge, holding it down.

Wen Su looked at him. ”Does Qingya accept the measured point?”

”We accept.”

”Chixiao.” She turned to Ge Song.

Ge Songʼs chin lifted, then dropped. ”Accepted. Chixiaoʼs boundary is written on our own deed. Wherever the measurement ends, thatʼs where it is.”

The clerk set the brush down, recording both statements. When he finished, he glanced at Wen Su.

By the door, Qi Qi let out a breath—very lightly, so that only he heard it.

”Sect Master Xu has opened up quite the approach,” Ge Song said. ”From now on, any sect in Dongzhou that wants to move a boundary only has to file a petition and ask the Branch to measure. There are dozens of sects in Dongzhou, and plenty of boundary posts stand crooked. Measure this time—whose do we measure next time?”

”Only the ones that can be measured,” Xu Yan said. ”A petition must be accompanied by the deed. If the deed doesnʼt record a distance, it canʼt be measured. Qingyaʼs deed records one, and so does Chixiaoʼs.”

”Chixiaoʼs deed,” Ge Song said, lifting his finger from the paper, ”doesnʼt need Qingya to measure it.”

”It isnʼt Qingya measuring,” Xu Yan said. ”Itʼs the Branch. Measuring the number Chixiao wrote on its own deed.”

Ge Song took both hands off the table. ”Then measure. By the rules, if the Branch measures, Chixiao cannot obstruct it. But the mountain road curves. Measure it bow by bow, the rope never pulls straight, up slope and down slope—the final count could differ by half a li. Who accepts that number?”

”Half a li off is still off,” Wen Su said.

Ge Songʼs mouth moved, but he didnʼt continue.

Wen Su didnʼt respond immediately. She laid both hands on the map, starting from the square at the right edge, tracing west along several broken, steep lines, up to the small circle on the ridge. Her finger paused, lifted, landed on the square west of the ridge, then dropped to the point just east of the spring circle.

”Iʼll measure it,” she said.

The clerkʼs brush hovered over the paper.

”The fifteenth, at the Dragon hour. Starting from the Chixiao Mountain Gate, both sects in attendance. Qingyaʼs people and Chixiaoʼs people stand outside the measuring line and watch. No one speaks, no one blocks the way. Measure to the spot, record it on the spot. Every step called, every step recorded.”

She looked up at Ge Song. ”Steward Ge.”

”Yes.”

”How many people will you leave at the weir?”

”Two.”

”Two. Whether you rotate them or not, I donʼt care. If anyone moves the stele or the weir, and you can tell me who, Iʼll record it against them.”

Ge Song stood motionless for a moment, then bent at the waist. ”Per the Rank Evaluatorʼs rules.”

”Qingya,” Wen Su said.

”Yes.”

”The same goes for you.”

”Just the same.”

”Clerk, read it back.”

The clerk holding the register turned it around and, using the light at the table, read it line by line: On the fifteenth, at the Dragon hour, measurement begins at the Chixiao Mountain Gate, both sects present. During the measurement, no bystander may speak or obstruct the path. Before the fifteenth, neither sect may move the boundary stele on the ridge or the weir; any movement will be recorded against the mover. When he finished, he looked up at Wen Su.

”Record it,” she said. ”This entry goes into the permanent file.”

The clerk made the entry, his brush strokes sharp, then pressed the brush to the bottom of the page.

Wen Su removed the wooden paperweight from the map, took hold of both ends, and rolled the map inward. Halfway through, she stopped, pressed flat a patch where the paper had buckled, then finished rolling it and tied it with the hemp cord. The clerk with the wooden chest had already brought it over. She placed the map inside, closed the lid, and slid the paper tally back into place.

”Keep Chixiaoʼs deed,” she said to Ge Song. ”Bring it on the fifteenth.”

Ge Song folded the deed and slipped it into his sleeve, the corner of paper showing. He shot a glance at Xu Yan, said nothing, cupped his hands toward the table in salute, and turned to leave. His footsteps down the corridor faded only after he passed the screen wall.

Wen Su set the brush back on the brush rest. ”The hearing ends here. Fifteenth, at the Snake to Dragon hour, Chixiao Mountain Gate.”

The sun had passed its zenith by the time they left the Branch. The two walked down the lane toward the city gate without speaking. Only under the gate arch did Qi Qi finally open his mouth. ”On the fifteenth, during the measurement—really no talking?”

”None.”

”Then what if it measures out to the stele?”

”If it lands on the stele, the water belongs to Chixiao,” Xu Yan said. ”I said as much in the office.”

Qi Qi swallowed that and walked a while longer before asking: ”But inside, you never once said the stele had been moved.”

”I never saw it moved.”

”Then why were you watching it?”

”What I was watching was on paper.”

They reached the carriage yard outside the city at the Monkey hour. The yard keeper, same as before, scratched a mark on the back of the wooden sign with his charcoal stick and said the Mao hour cart wouldnʼt wait. Xu Yan said: tomorrow, Mao hour, two people returning.

The wind picked up on the road back into the city. Half the market stalls had been taken down; the remaining vegetable sellers were rolling up their mats.

That night, in their inn room, the lamp was lit and they finished the coarse grain flatbreads with hot water from the stove. Xu Yan spread the account book on his knee and turned to the page from the day before. Beneath the line ”twelfth day, Snake hour, confrontation at the office,” he added two more: Land measurement, fifteenth day, Dragon hour, from the Chixiao Mountain Gate, both sects present. Before the fifteenth, neither sect may move the ridge stele or the weir.

When he finished, he worked the numbers in the margin once more: Chixiao to Qingya, thirty li over a ridge. Six li to the hour; twelve li would take most of a day. He set the brush down.

On the bed across the room, Qi Qi turned over, and from under the blanket came a muffled voice. ”Sect Master.”

”Mmm.”

”How did you see the mismatch just by putting the papers together? I stood at the door watching a long time, and all I saw was one deed saying eighteen, the other twelve.”

Xu Yan moved the account book toward the pillow. ”In the Accounts Room, when reconciling: one item appears in three ledgers. Two write six, one writes five. It doesnʼt mean the six is wrong, and it doesnʼt mean the five is right.”

”Then what is it?”

”It means one of the books has to come out and be looked at again,” he said. ”Today, not one of them came out. The measuring comes first.”

Qi Qi turned that over in his mind, then rolled toward the wall.

After a while, the voice came again.

”Sect Master, why did you fix on that stele?”

”Put all the papers together, and itʼs the only thing that doesnʼt add up.”