Chapter 13: A Wrong Verdict

She decided at the fourth watch, when the moon had gone behind the hill and the courtyard was dark except for the lamp in the study and the small red glow of the brazier Shang's mother had brought out for her. She sat on the bench with her writing box on her knees and read her two columns through one more time, slowly and in order, so that nothing could hide between the lines. Han's three complaints lay beside them: the clumsy country hand, the middle one, the neat one six years old. Always the jade pin. Even at the end, it was the last thing I saw. The columns agreed on the first night, down to the word. She noticed that, and let it reassure her: two sisters with thirty years to compare stories would agree on everything. Agreement proved nothing. The complaints were the only witnesses who had…