Master Cheng received me in the same garden where we had first spoken.
The afternoon was cold but not unpleasant — the kind of late winter day that had a quality of not quite spring in it, a suggestion of something loosening, though the trees were still bare and the ground was still hard. The water feature made its small sound. The garden held its controlled wildness with the patience of a place that had been maintained long enough to no longer need constant attention.
He was already seated under the eaves. He had the document summary in front of him, which surprised me slightly — I had expected him to have reviewed it privately and then presented himself without it. That he had brought it suggested he wanted to reference specific points. That was a different kind of meeting than the one I had prepared for.
Better, probably.
He indicated the chair across from him. I sat. Tea appeared, as before, and then the servant withdrew.
"I read it three times," he said, without preamble.
