Extra Chapter 20: Old Archives of Quanzhou

I.

The rain in Quanzhou is different from that in the capital. In the capital, rain falls straight, shattering on the tiles and scattering. In Quanzhou, it comes slanting from the sea, clinging to one's clothes without a sound.

Wen Ye was waiting outside the station. He was not in police uniform, but an old jacket, holding two umbrellas.

"We won't go to the archive room yet," he said. "First, look at something."

The car headed toward the old docks. Banyan aerial roots hung to the ground, glistening from the rain. Wang Guanshu looked out the window and suddenly said, "My father came here."

Wen Ye glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "How do you know?"

"He restored a batch of paintings salvaged from the water in Quanzhou. The mildew on the paintings was seaside mildew, not inland." She paused. "When he came back from his trips, his suitcase smelled of salt."

II.

The warehouse was behind the docks, with a tin roof. Rain pounded on it as if someone were walking overhead.

Wen Ye unlocked the door and turned on the light. A row of iron shelves held cardboard boxes, their labels yellowed. He pulled out one box, placed it on the table, and opened it.

Inside were stored archives. Bundles tied with hemp rope, knotted in old-fashioned double bowlines.

"These archives were transferred in the late 1990s from a canceled incense and medicine firm," Wen Ye said. "The depositor left only a surname. Wen."

Liu Zhijiang reached for a bundle. The paper was brittle, edges curled. He flipped slowly, stopping at the third bundle.

A receipt lay between two pages. The writing was copied through carbon paper, blue and faded. The forwarding address column read a street in the capital; the recipient column read "Wang Shouzhuo."

Wang Guanshu leaned in. She said nothing, her finger pausing on the three characters "Wang Shouzhuo."

"The forwarding date," Liu Zhijiang said.

Wen Ye turned the receipt over. There was a stamp on the back. The date was autumn, twenty years ago.

III.

"There's more than this one in the batch," Wen Ye said.

He moved the whole box under the lamp, and the three of them searched separately. In the latter half of the box, Wang Guanshu pulled out a torn account page. Only half remained, the break torn, not cut. Several lines of goods were recorded, the ink brownish, old ink.

After each goods name came a quantity, and after the quantity, a mark. The mark was a single character, written small, squeezed into the grid.

"Lan," Wang Guanshu read aloud.

Liu Zhijiang took the page and held it to the light. Beneath the character "Lan" was a line of even smaller text, blurred by water stains, barely legible as a firm number. He recognized the first two characters of the firm number as the name of an old local incense and medicine firm in Quanzhou, followed by the three stamped characters "Canceled."

"I checked this firm number," Wen Ye said. "It was canceled two years before these archives were transferred. After cancellation, the archives stayed untouched, pressed in the dock warehouse."

"Who pressed them?" Liu Zhijiang asked.

"Registered under a shopkeeper surnamed Wen. Only one character for the name: Wen."

IV.

The rain had let up. The sound on the tin roof changed from walking to dripping.

Wang Guanshu put the torn account back on the table, her hand lingering on the paper. She said, "My father didn't store the agarwood all at once. One box in the capital, one in Quanzhou. We found the capital box. For the Quanzhou box, he entrusted someone."

"He entrusted the shopkeeper surnamed Wen," Liu Zhijiang said.

"A descendant of Wen An," Wen Ye said. His voice was low. "I checked the genealogy. Wen An had an elder sister who ran an incense and medicine shop in Bianliang. After the southward migration, one branch of the Wen family settled in Quanzhou, dealing in maritime incense and medicine. These archives should be what that branch left behind."

Liu Zhijiang thought of the old genealogy in the shop. Wen An's name was at the back, in small writing, annotated "stayed with the Liu family to tend the shop." He had never considered that Wen An had an elder sister, let alone that another branch of the Wen family would end up in Quanzhou, holding a box of archives for the Wang family.

"Separate storage," he said.

"Separate storage," Wang Guanshu echoed.

V.

Before leaving the warehouse, Wen Ye placed the torn account page in a paper bag and handed it to Wang Guanshu.

"There's also a receipt book that hasn't been retrieved," he said. "It's in another warehouse. The number matches, but retrieving it will take two days."

"The recipient column," Liu Zhijiang said.

"Covered by water stains," Wen Ye said. "Only one character shows. Wang."

Wang Guanshu put the paper bag in her bag and zipped it. She stood at the warehouse door, watching the rain outside. An old boat sat at the dock, most of its paint gone, revealing the wood beneath.

"My father came here," she said again. This time very softly, as if speaking to herself.

Liu Zhijiang stood beside her. He did not reply.

The rain continued. Far out at sea, a light flickered, bright then dim.

—To be continued·Extra Chapter 21 follows