The sky was turning dark.
Chen Ji was wearing a bamboo hat, with his head down, leaning against the eaves on Xuanwu Gate Street, quietly watching the pedestrians come and go.
The sunlight sank behind the ridge beasts of the Xuanwu Gate tower, the last bit of light leaking through the crenels, painting half of his body in pale gold, while the other half was shadowed in black.
Until the darkness engulfed him, the evening drum sounded from the gate tower.
A peddler carrying a pole walked over from the north, the wooden box on the pole already empty, hurrying to leave the inner city before the drumming ceased. In the alley, a woman shouted the name of a child, summoning them home to eat, as the child clutched a little stone they'd picked up from somewhere and ran home.
The street was filled with people returning home, but Chen Ji had a home he couldn't return to.
