The Faded Alibi
The canal at Luoshui does not flow so much as it crawls, a sluggish vein of grey mud that carries the silt of three counties into the sea, and along its banks the market women are already haggling over the price of dried chives, their voices sharp against the damp air, while the river barges drift past like the slow, rotting teeth of the city. I am Guodong Lin, a border warden of the third...
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