My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 135: Half Left, Half Right

The seal strip had been kept at the bottom of the wooden box by the clerk who carried it, the two ends rolled up.

Early Wu hour, in front of the back mountain gate. The sun was directly overhead, and the ground before the gate had no cover. The stone surface baked pale white; only the wind slipping through the cracks was cool, and when it touched a personʼs face, it felt like it had passed over a well mouth.

Huo Qing and Shi Po stood on the three-step line, one on each side, neither holding anything. Xu Yan stood half a step behind them.

Wen Su came up from below the cliff, followed by two clerks. The one carrying the wooden box crouched before the gate, lifted the lid, took out the seal strip, and unfolded it.

It was about a forearmʼs length, the paper slightly thicker than a Branch notice, both long edges trimmed straight. From the bottom of the box he also took out a small clay jar, its mouth stoppered with cloth. With a bamboo slip he lifted out some paste and spread it across the left door panel, working from the outside edge inward. He stopped when he reached the seam, then did the right panel.

The seam was a fingerʼs width wide. Paste that went into it was paste wasted.

The two clerks each pinched one end of the strip and stretched it across, centered on the seam. Wen Su stood to the side, checking the height.

”The left side is a hair high.”

The one holding the left end shifted it down slightly.

”Good.”

The clerk who carried the register pressed from the middle outward with his palm, working the air out from under the paper. When he reached the right end, a cool draft pushed up from the seam. The paper bulged over the crack, and the right end lifted half an inch. He held it down with his thumb, waited for it to settle, then pressed it again.

”Write the date,” Wen Su said.

The brush was passed over, its tip fully loaded with ink. Wen Su took it, her left hand gently holding down the upper corner of the paper, and wrote the date: Alliance Year 301, Fourth Month, Sixteenth Day. When she finished, she passed the brush back.

From her sleeve she took out the small bronze seal and turned it over. One hand held the paper steady, the other pressed the seal onto the seam. She held it there a moment before lifting it away.

On the paper was a square vermilion mark. Half on the left door panel, half on the right.

Wen Su stepped back half a pace to look, then stepped forward again, lowering her head to check whether both edges of the seal mark truly crossed the seam. When she was satisfied, she straightened.

”Sect Master Xu, look at this seal.”

Xu Yan stepped forward half a pace and bent down. The vermilion mark was pressed firmly; the two sides that crossed the seam showed not a single break. He did not reach out to touch it.

”The words on the stone wonʼt blow away,” Wen Su said. ”But the seal on the paper—if you peel it off and stick it back, the two sides wonʼt line up. Half on the left, half on the right. If they donʼt match, someone tampered with it.”

”Record: one seal strip, applied horizontally, covering the seam, with a seam seal pressed across it.” The clerk wrote in the register, then looked up. ”Rank Evaluator, should I record the part about writing the date as well?”

”Record it. The date is at the top of the paper, one fen to the left.”

Shi Po had been watching from the three-step line for a while. He spoke up: ”If the paper falls off, whose fault is that?”

Wen Su turned to look at him.

”Mine.”

Shi Po asked nothing more.

”Shao Ming. Du Xiaochuan,” Wen Su said. ”Come look at the seal.”

The two came up from below the cliff and stopped two paces away, bending to look. The sunlight fell on the square vermilion mark, and the seal paste caught a faint gleam against the stone.

”Look carefully,” she said. ”Youʼre on this watch. Every day, look twice: Is the paper still here? Does the seal match? Are the two ends lifting? If they lift, report to the Branch. Donʼt press it down with your hands.”

”Understood,” Shao Ming said.

”Wu hour to Shen hour—thatʼs you.” Wen Su returned the brush to the clerk. ”Donʼt add people at the gate, and donʼt let anyone go through the seam.”

Huo Qing and Shi Po gave up their positions and started down the side path. The wind was still there, pressing up through the gap beneath the paper. The middle of the strip bulged once, then lay flat again. The two ends did not move.

The main hall was cooler than outside. The clerk wiped down the long table, spread out a sheet of paper, and ground ink. Wen Su did not sit; she stood at the tableʼs edge, watching.

He copied line by line, transcribing the six articles that had been read aloud that morning, not changing a single character. When he reached the third article, his brush stopped.

”The line about the landlord sect—write it below the third article?”

”Below the third,” Wen Su said. ”The date goes at the end.”

The clerk wrote on. When the date was done, he started a new line and copied the final sentence, which was the Branch noticeʼs original wording: Those who dispute the findings may file a petition at the Branch after the gate is sealed.

”Read it aloud.”

The clerk picked up the paper and read from beginning to end. Xu Yan stood listening, his hands hanging before him.

Cheng Banshan had appeared at the threshold at some point, a wine gourd in one hand, catching only the latter half. From the direction of the kitchen, A Sui leaned close to Qian Duoduo, her voice very low. ”She really wonʼt eat anything?”

”The Rank Evaluator doesnʼt eat food from the mountain,” Qian Duoduo said.

”Then what does she eat on the road?”

”Inn food. Luoxia Inn.”

A Sui made a soft sound of understanding and tucked her hands back into her sleeves.

When the copy had been read through, the hall was quiet. In the front courtyard someone was drawing water from the well; the wooden bucket went down and knocked once against the stone wall.

Xu Yan spoke. ”Qingya entering with ten people—is that written on this copy?”

”It is,” Wen Su said. ”Below the third article, on a new line: Qingya, landlord, ten people, gate watch.”

Xu Yan walked over and took the paper from the clerkʼs hand to look it over. Below the third article was the half line, written in characters one size smaller than the regulations, placed after ”below Foundation Establishment.” He looked at the final sentence, looked at the date, then pushed the paper back.

”The date is on the copy,” he said. ”When the day comes, who takes the seal strip down?”

”I put it up; I take it down,” Wen Su said. ”When it comes off, itʼs done with witnesses present, checking the seal. If it doesnʼt match, the matters at this gate become very serious.”

She took out the bronze seal from her sleeve and waited until the ink at the end had dried a little before pressing it down. When she lifted it, another square vermilion mark had appeared in the corner of the paper.

She turned the paper around and pushed it toward Xu Yan.

”Sect Master Xu, this copy stays with Qingya.”

Xu Yan took it but did not fold it right away. He read it from the first line to the last, line by line, and when he reached the final sentence, he went back to the beginning and read again, stopping only when heʼd reached the third article a second time. He folded it in two, avoiding the seal, and tucked it into his chest, against the sect ledger.

”The paste is made from flour,” Cheng Banshan said from the threshold. ”The windʼs strong on the back mountain, but it wonʼt bother it. If damp air gets in, the paper will loosen.”

”Noted.”

At the end of Wei hour, Wen Su took the clerks down the mountain. Xu Yan saw them to the mountain gate.

The kitchen chimney had long gone cold. Qian Duoduo stood at the kitchen door, a rag draped over his hand, watching the three of them cross the front courtyard.

”She wonʼt eat?” he asked.

”She wonʼt,” Xu Yan said.

”Thereʼs still water heating in the pot from this morning. Still warm.”

”Save it for tonight.”

At the foot of the mountain gate, Nie Bo pulled his broom aside and gave half a step. Wen Su passed him without stopping. Step by step she went down the stone stairs, her shadow shifting in segments to follow.

Shen hour, under the west wing veranda. The sun had moved to the top of the western slope, leaving half the verandaʼs floor in shade, half in sun.

Shi Po sat on the long bench, working slowly through half a flatbread, one small bite at a time. Huo Qing stood by a veranda pillar, his right arm hanging down, his left arm hanging too.

Xu Yan came out of the accounts room with the copy in his hand.

”Iʼll read it to you.”

He stood in the shade under the veranda and read the six articles from beginning to end. When he reached the phrase ”within the Hidden Realm, each keeps what they obtain,” Huo Qingʼs eyes lifted once, but he said nothing and did not move. After the sixth article, Xu Yan read the final sentence in its original wording.

Jiang Wan came over from the east courtyard, sword in hand, and stopped at the verandaʼs mouth, listening to the last sentence.

”What are we supposed to do with this piece of paper?” Shi Po asked.

”While the gate is open, guard it by these terms,” Xu Yan said. ”Once the gate is sealed, speak to the Branch by these terms.”

”Say what?”

”Say whether itʼs been touched or not.”

Huo Qing spoke, his voice low. ”I canʼt remember that many rules.”

”Then Iʼll read them again.” Xu Yan folded the paper. ”You only need to remember two things: no one touches the seal strip, and no one goes through the gate.”

”How close can we hold the lamp at night?” Huo Qing asked again.

”An armʼs length away,” Xu Yan said. ”If the heat gets to it, the paper will yellow.”

”What if the seal doesnʼt match?” Shi Po asked.

”Report to the Branch. Donʼt touch it, and donʼt guess,” Xu Yan said.

Jiang Wan leaned her sword against the veranda pillar. ”Shi Po said she answered that if it falls, itʼs on her. But if it falls, it might not fall where we can see.”

”Thatʼs why all four watches keep a record,” Xu Yan said. ”Mao to Si, Wu to Shen, You to Hai, Zi to Yin—one person from each watch writes it down, and the writing is kept with the paper.”

Shi Po finished the last bite of flatbread, clapped the crumbs from his hands, and stood to gather his things. At You hour, the two of them took their lamp and headed up the back mountain.

On the seventeenth, at Mao hour, Jiang Wan and Bai Xiaoman went up to take over the watch.

Jiang Wan stood on the three-step line and glanced at the seal strip.

”Itʼs crooked.”

”The windʼs strong,” Bai Xiaoman said.

”Crooked either way.”

At the end of Si hour, Bai Xiaoman came off shift and went into the accounts room to recopy the gate-watch log. The old sheet was worn fuzzy along the edges, one corner curled, the characters some dark and some light. Xu Yan moved the lamp over and pointed to a blank space beneath the entry for the sixteenth.

”Add a line here.”

He dictated; she wrote: Sixteenth day, Wu hour, Branch seal strip affixed.

”Crooked still counts?” Bai Xiaoman asked as she wrote.

”It counts,” Xu Yan said. ”We donʼt care whether itʼs straight. We care whether itʼs been moved, whether itʼs loosened.”

Bai Xiaoman blew the new page dry and laid it on top of the old one, aligning each page. She sat a while longer, watching Xu Yan click the abacus twice, then stop.

”End of Wei hour on the sixteenth, down the mountain,” Xu Yan said. ”By You hour, Luoxia; staying at the inn. Boarding a carriage at Mao hour today; eighty li of official road, five shichen, at Linchuan by Shen hour.”

”What are you figuring that for?”

”After Shen hour, the Branch notice should be going out.”

”To where?”

”The Eight Great Sects.”

Bai Xiaoman paused. ”So should the mountain buy more rice?”

”The regulations say nothing about providing meals,” Xu Yan said.

She smiled faintly and set the brush back on the rest. ”Then Iʼll buy the usual amount.”

At Zi hour, Xu Yan and Qi Qi went up the back mountain to take the watch. The lantern hung low, its light falling on the seal strip. The wind beneath was pushing the center of the paper up, slowly swelling it, up to half an inch, then letting it fall back.

”Is it going to blow it off?” Qi Qi asked.

”If it does, we write it down,” Xu Yan said.

”Write it down for who to see?”

”For whoever takes it down.”

Qi Qi crouched to study the square seal for a long while. ”Halfʼs on this side, halfʼs on that. To peel it off, youʼd have to tear it.”

”Then the tearing is on her,” Xu Yan said.

All through the eighteenth, the wind came strong and then weak. By the end of the four watches, every person had said only one thing: the seal strip was untouched, the paper had not loosened. Once the sun slanted, the red of the seal paste pale on the stone, you had to lean close to see whether the two sides still matched.

At You hour, Huo Qing and Shi Po went up to relieve Shao Ming and Du Xiaochuan. The sun had dropped behind the west slope, the sky not yet fully dark, the mountain path still clear underfoot. Shao Ming handed over the lamp and said only one thing: the seal matched.

Shi Po stood on the three-step line, looking at that piece of paper for a while.

”One strip of paper. Guarding it for ten-some days.”

Huo Qing set the lamp down on the stone by his feet.

”Itʼs not the paper weʼre guarding.”