Chapter 152: Twenty-Seven Marks

Just past noon, Shi Po walked from the courtyard gate to the outermost pillar along the west wall, stopped, and looked up.

Every step in the courtyard kicked up a layer of dust. Qian Duoduo stood at the gateway, the bundle of flatbread still out on the stepping stone, glancing back every few moments.

"Everyone back outside the wall," Jiang Wan said.

Shi Po didn't turn around. He pressed his palm against the pillar and pushed down; it didn't budge. Then he rammed it with his shoulder, and a puff of earth leaked from the gap at its base, settling on his shoe. He didn't stop.

He tested each pillar working east. The second one wobbled when he struck it—swayed out and drifted back on its own. He crouched, pried a broken brick from the dirt, and wedged it into the gap at the foot; then he picked up a half rafter from the ground, propped it diagonally against the pillar's waist, planted a foot on the rafter's end and tested it once more. Only when it held did he stand.

"This one sways. It's shored up underneath—don't lean against it," he said.

He didn't ram the third. Instead he ran his palm down its length, top to bottom, then cocked his head and listened. The beam creaked once—just once.

He walked to the pillar nearest the counter and struck it three times. The pillar didn't move; only a sifting of dirt fell from above.

"This one's solid. Stay out of that side."

He pointed at the eastern half. The roof frame there had collapsed—beams lying across tiles, tiles pointing up, ash crusted over everything in a hard shell.

"Not even a little?" Xu Yan asked.

"People can go in to pick up paper, fine," Shi Po said. "Just don't step on the beam ends. There's tile pressing down on top—touch it with anything and it all comes down."

"What if we have to move things up there?"

"Call me first."

Huo Qing dragged a half rafter out of the tile pile, pulled it to Shi Po's feet, said nothing. Shi Po glanced at it and said, "This'll be useful," then stood it by the door.

Bai Xiaoman counted the row of square holes along the east wall. She stopped halfway: "This row of ledger racks is socketed into the wall too, same as the southern row." Shi Po turned: "Don't pull on them. Pull, and the wall moves."

Qian Duoduo asked the practical question: "So are we going in today or not?"

"We go. Hug the east wall," Shi Po said.

Shao Ming rolled up his sleeves. "Underneath those beams—we treat it as if it doesn't exist."

Xu Yan stood one step inside the gate, watching Shi Po finish testing the last pillar along the wall base. Shi Po went from the west end to the east end, back and forth twice. The second pass was slower than the first, his footsteps lighter. In front of the collapsed half he stopped, tried to lift a jutting rafter end upward, couldn't move it, and let it be.

"Done," he said. "The six pillars on the west—safe to stand around. The collapsed half on the east—not one of them can be trusted."

Noon light fell straight down through the roofless frame, onto paper covering the floor, onto the ash tracked with footprints. Xu Yan didn't enter the outer room; he stood just outside the threshold.

At the hour of the Sheep, Bai Xiaoman crouched at the foot of the stone wall west of the accounts room. She stayed there a long while, then suddenly called out: "There's sound here."

Everyone came over.

She brushed ash away from the wall base. A water streak ran down the rock face, slanted from above, vanishing at the bottom. She turned her head, pressed her ear to the stone and listened, then straightened: "There's water inside, running downward."

"A trough." Shi Po crouched and moved two broken bricks aside. Beneath them a stone trough emerged, half-buried in earth, its bed laid with fine sand and half-full of water. Where the streak reached the bottom, water fell drop by drop into the trough.

"There's water," Bai Xiaoman said.

Cheng Banshan came over from the gate. Crouching, he first pressed a hand against his knee, then reached into the trough, scooped up half a palmful, brought it to his lips and tasted it, holding it in his mouth a moment before swallowing. "Drinkable."

He scooped another mouthful. "Cold. Colder than the well water on the mountain."

"Why so cold?" Bai Xiaoman asked.

"It seeps out of the rock—hasn't seen the sun yet." Cheng Banshan shook his hand dry. "It's drinkable. Don't guzzle. Sip slow, see if your stomach accepts it."

Qi Qi squatted nearby watching: "Elder Cheng, how much do you charge for that taste-test?"

"You take a drink—two copper," Cheng Banshan said.

Qian Duoduo asked the more important question: "How much water is there? Enough for ten people?"

Cheng Banshan let the water run through his fingers back into the trough: "Dripping like this, it takes a while to fill one flask. Ration it, and it's enough."

The word "enough" landed, and Qian Duoduo's shoulders dropped an inch. He went around collecting everyone's water flasks, Du Xiaochuan following behind with the other half. The two of them squatted by the trough, holding each flask beneath the trickle one at a time. It took nearly half an hour to fill four; the remaining six sat in line waiting.

Bai Xiaoman traced the trough's rim with her finger and found two worn-smooth grooves. "The rim's polished. Someone drew water here every day, long enough for the bucket rope to wear it down."

"Not a matter of one or two days," Cheng Banshan said.

Xu Yan, standing outside the wall base, said, "Don't wash the trough. If you wash it, you'll stir up the sand at the bottom and cloud the water."

"I won't wash it," Bai Xiaoman said. "Just looking."

"Looking's fine," Xu Yan said. "When you're done, put the bricks back the way they were. Don't let ash fall in."

Late Shen hour. Ten water flasks stood in a row on the ground between the open yard and the accounts room, mouths tied shut. Qian Duoduo crouched back in front of his bundle of flatbread, untying each wrap to count, tying each one again as he went—tying slowly.

Xu Yan walked over. "How much?"

"Still more than half," Qian Duoduo said, looking up. "Sect Master, at the way we've been eating, it's enough to last until the gate is sealed—barely. If we tighten further, half a flatbread per person per day—"

"One per person per day," Xu Yan said. "Half in the morning, half at night. We have water now—drink more."

Qian Duoduo swallowed the rest of his words, then said them anyway: "Drinking water won't fill a stomach."

"It's half of something. Better than nothing."

"Then I'll count again tonight." Qian Duoduo tied the four corners of the cloth tight, putting in two hard knots. "I'll only feel settled once I've counted it out."

Jiang Wan circled the yard once and came back, standing beside Xu Yan, her eyes still on the collapsed half of the roof frame. "Tomorrow we really start from the east?"

"We start from the east," Xu Yan said. "As for what's on top of those beams—we wait for Shi Po's word."

At the hour of the Dog, daylight retreated from the courtyard wall inch by inch until it vanished from the masonry.

The ten of them sat in the open yard before the accounts room. Qi Qi was already on the outer-room threshold, hugging his water flask, facing the gate—the You-Xu shift was his. Qian Duoduo handed out flatbread—half a piece each.

The bread had gone hard; biting into it was like biting a piece of old tile. Cheng Banshan chewed slowly, a bite, then a drink. Shi Po finished his half in three mouthfuls and tipped the crumbs from his palm into his mouth. Bai Xiaoman broke her half into small pieces and soaked each one soft before eating—one piece dipped, one piece eaten—the slowest of all.

The half in Xu Yan's hand sat untouched. Jiang Wan took his flask from beside him, uncapped it, and pressed it back into his hand. "Tomorrow you'll be on your feet all day."

Only then did he take a bite. He broke off the remaining half and set it on Shi Po's knee. Shi Po moved to push it back, and he said, "You spent the whole afternoon ramming pillars."

"Ramming pillars doesn't cost bread."

"It does," Xu Yan said. "Is your strength free, fallen from the sky?"

Shi Po said no more. He took the half, snapped off a small corner to save, and ate the rest.

"Twenty-seven days until the gate seals," Xu Yan said.

No one in the yard answered. Bai Xiaoman counted silently, reached twenty-six, and stopped. Shao Ming clapped the crumbs from his hands: "Twenty-seven days. Enough time to clear it."

"Tomorrow we start at the east wall," Xu Yan said. "From the east wall to the counter, work in rows, picking outward from the wall base. Senior Sister and Bai Xiaoman form one row, starting at the east wall. Uncle Shao and Du Xiaochuan next, working down the line. Clear a row completely, then shift the whole row south. No grabbing one page here, one page there."

"The counter end is mine," Huo Qing said.

"Good," Xu Yan said. "Shi Po moves the tiles up top, one handful at a time. Carry one handful, set it down, then the next. Don't heap it against your chest. Qian Duoduo works with me, stacking the recovered paper behind the counter—pile by pile, flat and level. No pressing down."

"Elder Cheng watches the perimeter," he added. "Which stack came from which spot—I'll say it once; you remember it for me."

"The paper has to go into something once it's picked up," Cheng Banshan said.

Xu Yan didn't answer. Cheng Banshan went on himself: "I'll think of something."

"Lift one page at a time. Don't tug," Xu Yan said. "Tear a character and it's all for nothing. Anything you can't tell where it belongs—set it aside; I'll look."

Qian Duoduo raised a hand: "Sect Master, what if we find money?"

"Any money you find—also note which stack it came from."

"So it's ours?"

"Note it first," Xu Yan said. "Today we don't know. Tomorrow, once we know, we'll talk."

Before the last light failed, Xu Yan picked a charred stick from the ash and walked to the flat stone by the collapsed section of wall, crouched, and scored a vertical line onto its surface.

The charcoal had worn blunt; the mark came out deep on the left, shallow on the right, but still legible.

"What's that for?" Qian Duoduo came over.

"One mark a day," Xu Yan said. "Twenty-seven marks filled in, and it's the fifth day of the Sixth Month."

Qian Duoduo squatted to look at the mark. "So today's mark is the first one."

"The first." Xu Yan stood and set the charcoal stick at the edge of the flat stone. "Whoever wakes early and sees first light return—add one mark. Don't add it twice."

"I wake early," Bai Xiaoman said.

"Then you add it."

Night chill crept in from the mouth of the stone steps. Everyone folded their bundles under their heads and lay down, none of them undressing. Xu Yan went over the night watches: "You-Xu, Qi Qi. Hai-Zi, Senior Sister. Chou-Yin, me."

"The latter half I'll stand," Shi Po said.

"You sleep. Tomorrow you'll be moving tile all day."

Qi Qi answered from the outer-room threshold, his voice muffled through the roof frame: "Sect Master, when you were all eating flatbread, I could smell it."

"We saved you some," Qian Duoduo said. "It's behind the flask by your feet."

At the hour of the Boar, Jiang Wan took over from Qi Qi. She laid her sword across her knees, sat on the threshold, facing the gate. In the yard Xu Yan slept a light sleep, waking twice in between.

At the hour of the Ox he rose to relieve her. Jiang Wan stood and yielded the spot, saying only, "Nothing happened," then returned to the yard.

The accounts room was now only a black outline. The collapsed half leaned on the standing half; with the day's light gone, beam and tile were indistinguishable, the ledger racks too. Only the pillar by the counter still stood straight—its edge a single visible line.

In the hour of the Ox, something sounded from the inner room.

Not loud, not dull—a tile baked brittle fell from above and shattered on the flagstone floor of the outer room. The sound turned once in the empty courtyard, then was gone.

Xu Yan didn't get up.

Someone in the yard rolled over, hitched their bundle, and fell silent again. He sat on the threshold, eyes on that spot—in truth he could see nothing, only knew where it was. He didn't go over either.

He simply sat there, looking in that direction, until the light came back.

When the dawn turned gray, the gap in the courtyard wall brightened first. He rose and walked into the outer room, stepping around the scattered tile shards, and brushed aside the ash until he'd uncovered three or four pieces.

Shi Po was already up, standing behind him, watching for a while before speaking: "That pillar I tested yesterday—it's lost a tile up top."

"Shi Po." Xu Yan still held a shard in his hand, a layer of black soot stuck to its back. "Will it hold until the fifth day of the Sixth Month?"

Shi Po didn't answer at once. He stepped back into the yard, tilted his head, and looked the whole half of the roof frame over from end to end. Then he walked to the pillar and leaned his shoulder against it. Only when he came back did he speak: "It'll hold through a few windstorms. It won't hold until that day."

Xu Yan set the shard on the pile beside the threshold, brushed the ash from his hands, and walked toward the gate. "Then we work fast. East end—one section a day."