The Wistful Incense
Act I In the Warring States, the ink in a ledger is never merely a record of debt, but a living thing that breathes when the owner’s conscience is thin. Anders Gundersen, a tax collector whose hands were perpetually stained with the residue of official duty, stood before the salt smugglers' cove where the winter rain lashed the water into a grey, churning sheet that made the boundary stone,...
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