Chapter 12: The Plum-Wax Jar

The Sect Master's letter was one sheet of plain paper folded in three.

Wanqing read it standing in the doorway of the Cold Lamp Court.

Yuhang's chair was beside her, and Bao hovered at her elbow with a lantern.

"Daughter-in-law," it began. "I am awake. I have been awake and listening for three years, and the Executor Elder does not know it."

Her eyes went to Yuhang.

He had gone very still.

"I have a letter from Chi Wenhe, sent a month before he died," she read on.

"It says he gave you something. It says you should not open it alone.

"Open it with my son beside you, and do not let Zhonglin know you hold it.

"I cannot come out yet. I am sorry. I am proud of what you have done for him."

She lowered the page.

"He's alive," Yuhang said hoarsely. "He's been alive for three years."

"Seclusion," said Bao, with a rough catch in his voice. "I always said it was a very long seclusion."

Yuhang closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, they were bright and dry.

"Open it," he said. "I'll be here."

She took the clay jar out of her belt-pack.

The plum-colored wax on the lid had not cracked in the fire.

It was a small thing, the size of a fist, with her name in her master's neat, crabbed hand across the top.

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