The Golden Crossing
Act I Zhen He’s fingers trembled as he adjusted the tension on the piano wire, the steel singing a high, thin note that cut through the humid air of the model flat. The furniture here was for show, polished teak and velvet cushions that smelled of dust and varnish, designed to sell a life he could not afford. He was a freelance tuner, a trade that required patience and a steady hand, skills he...
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