The Golden Scar
Act I The basin stretches out under a thaw that rots the roads into a brown slurry, the terraced fields of the Sichuan valley looking less like agriculture and more like the empty, flat expanse of a provincial airport waiting for a plane that will never land. The caravan city hums with the seasonal law of the bridge carpenters, their saws cutting the silence of the winter longhouse until the...
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