The clouds had thickened overnight, turning the morning into a dim, gray wash. The river, so sharp and restless in daylight, now moved under a dull surface that reflected nothing but the sky's uncertainty.
Tian Shen stood at the edge of the dock again, spear balanced upright in his palm. He watched the current's pull and imagined the pale figure drifting somewhere beneath, suspended in the cold, mouth closed against the silt.
Feng Yin's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Ji Luan's already spoken to the fisherman again. No one's missing from the village since last night. Whoever that was… he wasn't from here."
Tian Shen turned from the water. "No. He was from upstream."
He didn't say from before the orchard, though the words sat heavy behind his teeth.
