Chapter 1: A Name Not on the Roster

The valley of the Drowned Brushes Pavilion held fog the way a cracked cup held tea: badly, and everywhere. It leaked over the ridgelines, soaked into pine bark, and beaded on the bamboo palisades until every carved slogan dripped like fresh ink. The rain was not so much weather as a mood made visible. So Cheong had walked through it for four days, and their boots had long since stopped complaining...