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It felt pleasant, as if her body was rocking gently. A faint smell of fine incense tickled her nose. The swaying made her feel like a child in a cradle, but after a moment it ceased, and she felt she was being laid down on something soft.

Then time passed, but she didn't know how much.

Where am I? Maomao thought upon waking. As her eyes fluttered open, she found a glorious canopy above her head. She recognized it—because she'd had to dust it every day.

She smelled the incense again, the finest sandalwood. This was Jinshi's bedroom, and that would make what Maomao was sleeping in his bed.

"Ah, you're awake," said a calm, gentle voice. It came from an attendant in the first flush of old age, reclining on a couch nearby. She stood and took a carafe of water from a round table, pouring liberally into a cup. "Master Jinshi brought you here, did you know? He couldn't stand to leave you to rest in the medical office." Suiren chuckled and passed the cup to Maomao.

Maomao brought it to her lips. She was in sleeping clothes. (When had that happened?) A sharp pain shot through her head, and meanwhile her leg felt like it might cramp.

"Now, don't strain yourself. You needed fifteen stitches."

Maomao rolled back the covers to find a bandage wrapped around her left leg. The dull quality of the pain suggested she'd been given some kind of analgesic. She touched her head: more bandages.

"I'm sorry to ask this when you've just woken up, but may I bring the others to see you now? We can give you a few minutes if you'd like to change clothes."

Maomao saw that her regular outfit was folded neatly beside the bed. She nodded her understanding.

Suiren led in Jinshi and Gaoshun, accompanied by Basen. Maomao had successfully changed into her day clothes; she welcomed them, but remained seated. A breach of etiquette, she knew, but Suiren had given her approval and Maomao decided, in this case, to take it.

Basen was the first to open his mouth: "What in the world is going on here?" He was staring straight at Maomao, looking unusually angry.

"Basen," Gaoshun said sternly. The soldier only clucked his tongue and took a seat. Jinshi positioned himself on the couch, his expression carefully neutral.

His master was in considerable danger, after all, Maomao thought. But she had done nothing to warrant being yelled at, so she simply sipped her tepid water, her expression as cool as her drink.

Jinshi looked at Maomao, his hands stashed in his sleeves. "I'd like you to explain a few things for me. What brought you to that place at that time? How did you know that beam was going to fall? Tell me."

"Very well, sir." Maomao set down the water and took a breath. "First of all, these events lie at the confluence of a series of coincidences. When enough such coincidences occur at once, one might suspect that they aren't happenstance at all. Thus perhaps this was not accident, but incident."

Maomao already knew of a number of related cases. There was Kounen's death the year before. Then that fire had broken out in the storehouse, while at the same time, ritual implements had been stolen. Finally, the very official who oversaw those implements swiftly came down with food poisoning.

"So you believe somebody caused all of these things deliberately?"

"Yes sir, I do. And I believe there's one further connection, which I had previously overlooked."

Maomao didn't know exactly what had been stolen, but it would have been something appropriate to the celebration of an important ritual. Something no doubt produced by a master craftsman. And she happened to have heard of one of those recently...

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