Chih did chuckle a little at that, because there were perhaps a handful of plays that could get away with a mammoth trampling everyone flat for an ending, and The Cruel Wife of Master See, all about the tragic deaths of a riverlands sect master and his beautiful wife, both betrayed by his best friend and his wife’s secret lover, was not one of them.

“I saw it performed when I was a child at the abbey,” they said. “I thought it was good.”

“What you need is to watch some old-fashioned xauhi operas,” Lao Bingyi said, rolling herself up in her blankets and settling down beside Sang. “Those are so good that it doesn’t matter where they’re set or how the actors dress. If you’re still in the riverlands by the equinox, they do a festival at Anhui, you should go. And you should get some sleep. You have the last watch again.”

“Of course,” Chih said with a smile, and they wrote as fast as they could, making notes for how Lao Bingyi and Khanh felt about The Cruel Wife, before writing down the other stories they had heard over the last few days. Then they tucked their work away and fell into a restless sleep until Khanh came to wake them.

“Were you awake this whole time?” they asked, rubbing at their eyes.

“My wife came to sit with me for a while. You and the girls need your rest, and as I told you before, I don’t sleep much.”

“Mm, thank you, I like to sleep a lot,” Chih said, climbing to their feet. The sky above them was more blue than black, and there was a slight warmth to the air that made it somewhat bearable out of their blankets.

“You and auntie really don’t like The Cruel Wife, do you?” Chih asked. They had an idea why Khanh and Lao Bingyi might not like the story, and they wanted to give Khanh an opportunity to tell another one, if he wished.

In the darkness, it seemed as if Khanh’s eyes were darker still, strange and indifferent to light. They had seen that look in Lao Bingyi’s eyes while she was fighting. They guessed that sooner or later, if she kept walking the martial road, Wei Jintai would have it as well.

“Well, you know, it’s a matter of taste,” Khanh said at last. “I guess there’s people out there who think it’s a good story or that it’s an important one.”

“Not you?”

“These days, I think it’s hilarious. And she’s right, you could do worse than to take in some xauhi opera if you get the chance. That’s the good stuff, they don’t make them like that anymore, and why would they, when they did it right the first time?”

“Back when everyone went to temple and children respected their elders?”