The dawn light was faint.
The autumnal chill was heavy with dense fog.
A night's wind had passed, hastening the frost to nip at wood, while a black dog in the yard stretched lazily, its paws rustling the golden yellow fallen leaves.
Tomorrow would be the fifteenth of the eighth month when the material warehouse of the inner court had sent over Moon Cakes and Rice Wine, now piled up at the entrance to the Palace Marshal's Mansion. Inside the house, Pei Yunmeng turned and sat down on a chair, while at her side, a round-faced and round-eyed boy, lacking his usual cunning, followed behind with his head hanging in dejection.
Last night, a report was received in the Military Inspection House, stating that at the foot of Mount Wangchun a body of an unknown man had been found. It seemed as though the man had stabbed himself in the throat with a stone, bleeding out to death. Peculiarly, a purse was found on his person.
