Andy was out of place, unmoored, and he reveled in it. Where was the boy drifting on the currents of others, getting washed further and further from shore? he wondered. Frozen in another timeline, waiting for his return to pick up where he’d left off? Dead in a ditch somewhere, rendering his displacement utterly final? And if so, would that be such a bad thing? What was back there for him but grief and an empty house?

A shriek of delight cut through his thoughts as a small girl ran past, red-ribboned hair buns bouncing and a multicolored spinning pinwheel raised up high. A small boy followed close at her heels, chasing her down the main promenade of the provincial capital brimming with market stalls and vendors selling food, toys, and holiday gear. It was Mid-Autumn, and the avenue was decked to the nines for the weeklong celebration.

A dazzling array of lanterns hung from poles, windows, and roof eaves, ranging from simple round globes to elaborately crafted flowers and creatures. Red and gold banners inscribed with auspicious sayings wafted in the breeze, flanked by silk streamers and interspersed with images of rabbits and the moon goddess. Revelers, dressed in their festival finest, laughed and chattered excitedly with family and friends. Their mix of local dialects melded into a constant hum of voices enriched by the lively music of street performers and punctuated by the upbeat shouting of sellers advertising their wares: decadently baked mooncakes, warm roasted chestnuts, savory fried dumplings, fresh sweet pears, melons, and persimmons.

Given that this year the holiday coincided with the civil service examination, an exception was granted to candidates usually kept locked in their cells for the duration of the testing process to preclude cheating. Those who wished could enter a lottery for time slots to attend festivities for an hour chaperoned. It was a way for the exam staff to enjoy some respite as well. As a low-level clerk, Andy did not have scheduled free time of his own. However, he’d been able to partake in the sights and sounds while escorting candidates on their outings, and was in high spirits when he set out with his final assignee for the day: the scholar Erkang.

They had not spoken since she entered the examination hall three days past, and at present, with her staying two steps ahead of him, seemed unwilling to engage in conversation. Understandably, the girl would not want to jeopardize her running con by appearing overfamiliar with a staff member. And it was evident she had fingers in more pies than he was privy to–what with her possession of the examination office keys–and he wouldn't be surprised if she had machinated this lottery assignment upon him. Thus, even though Andy was fit to bursting with questions, he kept his mouth shut. He followed her lead, trusting her to speak when prudent.

Erkang drifted towards a stall draped in a panoply of vibrant holiday apparel. Andy joined her, observing her interests keenly and, not for the first time, pondering the propriety of a personal purchase and the state of Mr. Liu’s finances. The girl turned a corner to admire some long sashes hanging on display. “How are your wounds?” she inquired at last, voice low and face hidden behind vivid rippling silk.

Andy kept his eyes trained on a collection of hairpins glittering in the evening sun. “Stiff and tender,” he replied, matching her tone. “My back throbs constantly and sleep has been hard. But it’s not a problem. I’ve slept enough.”

“And your marks?”

“The red ink has spread to my upper arm.”

The girl hummed pensively. “We must tend to the next person soon.”

“Any ideas?”

Abruptly the stall owner, a merry old woman with wizened skin and a gap-toothed grin, sidled up to Erkang. “Young master has a good eye,” she remarked approvingly. “These are made from Songjian silk, the same worn by the imperial family. If you ask me, they suit your noble bearing very well. We must see you in them. If you buy one today, I’ll gift another for free.”

Erkang smiled politely, and held the expression with a wordless stare until the stall owner awkwardly took her leave. She waited until the old woman was out of hearing to answer: “Several. So we must choose wisely.”

They moved on to a stall packed with home goods and trinkets, and in a polished bronze mirror Andy saw his reflection for the first time. He was momentarily taken aback. The clerk, seeming in his mid-twenties, possessed bright expressive eyes, fine arched eyebrows, a straight high nose, and gently curving lips. His smooth oval face and pointed chin complemented a slender frame. Refined and dignified, with hair neatly combed into a topknot, even Andy had to admit he was quite visually appealing.

How did the girl come to know such a character? A good-looking man who, by all accounts, should’ve been popular on looks alone but was nonetheless an outcast. How close were they, that she cared so profoundly about his passing to help him even in death? But for that matter, how much of her actions were for his sake instead of her own? Andy commended the girl’s strength and willingness to go to deep lengths for self-determination, but couldn't help wondering how deeply those lengths extended.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to finally speak his mind for once. “What was your relationship with Mr. Liu?” he uttered, and immediately cringed inwardly, worried he’d been too forward.

A prolonged moment passed in silence, wherein Erkang selected a fan and opened it to examine the surface painting. Andy, feeling self-conscious, was about to backtrack when she responded from behind crisply folded paper: “Just friends.” She flipped the fan around to inspect the back detailing and said, “I met him here in the provincial capital while running errands. He was being bullied by staff and servants alike and had no one on his side, having inadvertently isolated himself. He brought me into the examination hall as a serving maid and I tried to help him as much as I could, but I had my own problems to deal with.”

Andy thought that was the end of the conversation until the girl added: “I have, however, encountered Lord Ma before.”

An old man shuffled over, crinkled eyes and hunched back. Mutely, he reached out to grab a porcelain flower pot and raised it between them, slowly rotating the hexagonal container in empty space. Without commentary he demonstrated the color-changing glaze: blues darkening into purple lightening into red, depending on the light and angle. Seeing Andy’s piqued interest, the old man gestured for him to take a closer look. Andy accepted the pot and copied his movements, watching the exterior image change with perspective: men in boats under a sky shifting between calm blue and warning red.

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The girl, appearing to have no qualms speaking in front of this stall owner, continued to explain: “Lord Ma also served as an examiner at my county-level test, where I first heard about his…proclivities. He wasn't with Mr. Liu at the time, but there were rumors connecting him with another junior associate. Best be careful around him.” She then gave the old man a curt nod and followed him to a mooncake vendor across the way. Andy had just heard her say, “Lao ban niang, I’ve been told you can help me with a custom order,” when an icy voice called out, “It’s you.”

Never in this reincarnation had those words boded well for Andy. And he didn’t think much of his luck when he turned to meet an imposing goddess swathed in rich purple robes, beautiful pale countenance stern and sleek black hair pulled tight into an elaborate updo adorned with gold pins and jeweled hairpieces.

“What deviant literature are you reading now?” the woman asked coldly. “We’re still reeling from the last book you gifted my husband.” Andy followed her disapproving gaze to a stack of cloth-bound manuscripts stacked near his right hand, minimalistic covers touting such titles as Romance of the Western Chamber and Carnal Prayer Mat. He quickly yanked his hand away, guessing at their genre.

Lady Ma stepped closer, backing him into the book stall, expression growing solemn. “You know,” she began, “my son really looked up to you. He said you were righteous, humble, a man of heroic integrity. Benevolent, and that it meant more given how little you have. He truly believed if circumstances were different you would be a high-ranking official, drafting policies that actually help the people.” She paused, face directly level with Andy’s own. “Xiao Ma even wished to become sworn brothers with you. But you had to break his heart with your slander and ultimatums.”

Andy, intimidated and bewildered, floundered mentally. He emitted some nervous noises, eyes roving desperately for an enterprising stall owner to jump in to save him. All the sellers, however, were suddenly preoccupied, leaving him alone with the fierce woman whose piercing stare was always there to bore into him whenever he happened to look her way.

“However you think we may have slighted you, Xiao Ma is innocent,” the woman declared. “He is wise, strong, and dedicated. Primed with potential to evoke change. You know he is capable of ushering this country into its next golden age. You've read his essays; helped prepare him for the exam. He will elevate all our lives if he has an unobstructed path, one clear of a sire’s blighted shadow.”

“She never said she cared,” Andy’s youngest sister had once said, in another lifetime where the sun blazed hotter and the grass was always manicured. “But of course she loved us! Did you not hear the pride in her voice whenever she spoke of us on her calls back home?” Ever the stubborn provocateur, Wendy wouldn't let their eldest off the hook, even dredging up a statement made months ago for dispute.

At their first Qingming with a grave to tend the pair had squabbled over everything–from flower arrangement and incense placement to joss paper selection for burning. With much cajoling from their siblings, they eventually took their spots in the semicircle before their mother’s headstone but continued to bicker throughout the picnic.

Gradually, rehashing lost its edge and evolved into reminiscing. Secrets were revealed and truths remembered. Tears were shed and laughter spilled. And after everyone parted ways, Andy decided it was the last family function he’d ever attend.

“Nothing irrevocable has yet been committed,” Lady Ma continued, sharp demeanor softening. “Cease acting recklessly and the unsubstantiated rumors will disappear like mist. I can explain matters to Xiao Ma. The outburst at dinner had been a momentary lapse in sanity, due to stress of traveling and exam preparation, combined with the misfortune of never having experienced the blessing of a peaceful household. Painful past events made you misinterpret Lord Ma’s actions. Forswear this nonsense and we can put it all behind us.”

A moment ago Andy would've given anything to be free of Mr. Liu’s legacy so he could live his new life in peace. But Lady Ma’s perfunctory tone made him waver.

Seeing his reluctance, the woman's regal red lips tightened and her bold brown eyes turned piercing once again. “Selfish and short-sighted,” she spat. “What do you even hope to achieve? Never mind that we’ve always treated you kindly. Never mind that Xiao Ma would’ve taken care of you for life. Loyalty means nothing to you.” She huffed out a sour chuckle. “At least now I can be certain what kind of person you are. Son of black magic practitioners. Clan head executed for insurrection, subordinates exiled, and you deserted them all. I’ve made inquiries into your personal history. If you mean to ruin my family I will ruin you with yours. I won't hesitate.”

Andy’s emotions flared discordantly at her accusations. His mind, usually able to disassociate from most statements intended for Mr. Liu, inexplicably latched onto a parallel truth.

“Lady, it would be wise to exercise caution in your words,” Erkang’s calm voice cut in, steady and anchoring. She had returned from the mooncake vendor while he was languishing too severely to notice. Astute scholar eyes flitted between clerk and noblewoman. “Though I dare not presume to know the full situation, I am deeply aware that one who threatens vengeance often invites misfortune upon themselves.”

#

Andy hung suspended in an abyss of his own making. Since his invocation he had spent considerable effort trying to reason why he had been the one summoned by the sacrificial ritual. What connected him to Mr. Liu? Was the clerk a distant ancestor? A past life? Now he knew: they were kindred spirits–cowards both. When collective suffering became unbearable they abandoned their loved ones. Under pressure, stripped down to their barest nature, that was the kind of people they were.

In a bid to keep from spiraling, Andy threw himself back into his work. Sitting at a desk in the administrative office, burning midnight oil, he refocused on transcribing candidate submissions from the second session. His reproduced copies would be the ones submitted to the chief examiners for evaluation, ensuring candidate anonymity and fair grading of the ideas expressed and the style in which they were presented.

Of the answer set he had just finished reproducing, it was obvious even to his unlettered eyes that the submission’s progenitor was highly skilled: the writing was clear and elegant, the arguments persuasive and well-reasoned, the proposals realistic and innovative. On a hunch, Andy cross-referenced the identification number from the containing envelope with the registration list. He was nonplussed to find the name Xiao Ma.

So, it hadn't just been a mother’s exaggerated boasting. Andy extended a moment’s respectful admiration, but there was never any doubt what he would do. It was indeed an injustice to deprive the world of such a competent and compassionate leader, but it was his primordial spirit at stake.

He glanced at the yawning guard who drew the short end of the stick for this dead of night shift, then switched Xiao Ma’s and Erkang’s copies in their respective packets, sealing the life ambitions of both mother and son in one fell swoop. When the entire business was completed, Andy breathed a bittersweet sigh of relief to see the second mark disappear from his arm.

An itch in the back of his mind gave him pause. He retrieved Erkang’s originals from the pile set aside for destruction on his desk, and extracted the talisman he had kept as a souvenir from the folds of his robe. He intently compared the two. The handwriting was the same, right down to the stroke style, spacing, and inclination: round, loose, and left-leaning.