"Who's there?"
Ji Qingwu made her way to the door, following the carved red sandalwood partitions, and asked in a low voice.
Outside, there was only the sound of the howling wind. No one answered.
She held her breath, pressing her ear to the door to listen for any other sounds.
The person at the door seemed to notice her caution and said, "I'm a farmhand from the back courtyard. The scroll jar in the master's room has a crack, and some of the scrolls have gotten damp. I need to take them out to air."
It sounded like a young man, but his voice was raspy and terribly dry.
'He's here for the scrolls in the jar?'
Ji Qingwu recalled seeing a scroll jar in the room earlier, one painted with a design of a toad in the moon palace plucking a cassia branch. It did indeed have a noticeable crack on its right side.
A glint flashed in her eyes. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
