The Pale Dance
Chapter One The basin churned with the gray sludge of the winter thaw, a terraced labyrinth of irrigation channels where the water ran thin and cold against the stone. Here, the air smelled of wet iron and machine oil, the scent of the mills that huddled along the river like hunched dogs. Hua He stood at the head of the queue, his boots sinking into the mud of the ferry slip, twenty-three of...
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