Wuyi didn't wake until late afternoon. He awoke in the comfort of his own room, although it felt odd. Air was moving around him. Someone had fixed blankets and an old silk tapestry over a hole the size of a cart. A hole in the wall that went right through to the outside air. His little veranda was gone, too.
He got his feet on the floor, and Dong had his clothes laid out neatly on a wooden stand, and long silk boots over his arm, clean and black. His Qi warrior's belt was polished, shining like something mystical.
"The Pavilion Mistress has invited you to dinner," Dong said. "Master Jia is at his exercises."
Wuyi groaned as his weight came on his thighs and hips, and just for a moment, he had a flash of what old age might be like.
"The pavilion elders have brought clothes for you," Dong said. He pointed to a basket. "New, clean, and pressed. Robes. Trousers. Two pairs of black silk hose." Dong pointed at the basket.
