The Wistful Dinner
Act I The water in the public baths was always too hot for the hands and too cold for the feet. Xiu He stood under the iron spout, watching the steam curl into the tin roof above, the metal groaning as it expanded in the summer heat. He was thirty-two years old, and his knees ached with a dull, persistent throb that no amount of soaking would fix. He had served twenty years in the river guard,...
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