The Wistful Dinner
Chapter One "You have stained the margin again, Yan Wu." Abbot Li’s voice was not loud, but it carried the specific weight of a man who had just dropped a heavy iron bell on his own foot. Yan Wu looked up from the vellum, his quill still wet, the ink pooling in the hollow of his knuckle like a bruise. He was thirty-two, a junior scribe with only four years of service, and he knew that the...
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