The Distant Summer
The notice arrived on a Tuesday, stamped with the county seal, its ink still wet and smelling of iron. It stated that the estate of Wu Ling was to be liquidated within thirty days to satisfy the debts of the spirit court. I read it twice, the paper gritty under my thumb, then placed it beside the bronze razor on the desk. The blade was dull, an heirloom from my father, but it had never cut a...
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