The Pale Bonsai
Chapter One The wind farms on the escarpment turned their slow, grinding circles above the hutong, a mechanical prayer that never ended, while below, in the sealed basement of the Imperial Library, the air tasted of recycled dust and old paper. I was Tao Li, thirty-two, a junior archivist whose hands were permanently stained with the black ink of the registry, and I was three days away from...
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