The Pale Garden
Chapter One The tong lau groaned under the weight of the humidity, its wooden beams swelling like swollen veins in a fevered arm, while the city outside churned with the noise of rickshaws and the smell of machine oil pouring through a funnel from the shipyards. In the uppermost room of the building at sixty-three of the Rope Walk, Fang Gao sat hunched over his workbench, the silence pressing...
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