Agarwood Six Records · Side Story Six: Frost's Descent

Agarwood Six Records · Side Story Six: Frost's Descent

One · Frost's Descent

It rained on the day of Frost's Descent.

Liu Zhiqiang was in the shop sorting the censer ash left over from the scattering-incense rite. Six censers, six bundles of ash, each wrapped in plain paper, set on the top shelf. He did not often move them; only on the first and fifteenth of each month did he take them down, open them, and smell. The ash had long lost its scent, yet still he smelled. What he smelled was the thin layer of scorched-wood breath beneath the ash — the bones of the agarwood.

The door was pushed open. The man who came in was soaked through, an old camphor-wood chest in his arms, its corners clad in copper sheeting gone green.

"Master Liu." The man set the chest on the counter and wiped his face. "From Quanzhou. The Lin family's ship docked last month. The old man on board said this chest had lain in the hold for three generations; no one dared open it. There are characters carved on the lid." Liu Zhiqiang looked down. At the center of the lid a line of small regular script; once the rain-soak touched it the characters blackened: *The Wen registry to the Liu family of Bianliang; open on the day of Frost's Descent.*

His finger stopped over the character "Wen."

Two · Inside the Box

Wang Wanshu arrived when the rain had lessened. She brought an old felt pad, moved the chest from the counter onto the pad, and said camphor wood would warp in damp air — let it ease first.

"The Wen registry." She read it once. "Wen An's line?" "Wen An was a hired hand; his sister Wen Nuan ran the Wen Aromatic Pharmacy in Bianliang," Liu Zhiqiang said. "But this chest came from Quanzhou. How would the Wen registry's goods travel by sea?" The chest had no lock, only a bamboo pin. He drew out the pin; inside was oilpaper, and within the oilpaper were wrapped a ledger, a few pieces of broken incense, and a small wooden box. On the ledger's cover was written *The Wen Aromatic Pharmacy's Ledger of Goods In and Out*, in running script, the strokes carrying a hurried force.

Wang Wanshu pulled on gloves and turned the pages one by one. Partway through, she stopped.

"Look at this entry." The ledger page recorded: *On the night of Frost's Descent, divided the orchid. One wisp entrusted to the ship, bound for Quanzhou. The remainder stayed in Bian.*

Below it a line in smaller characters, the ink paler, as if added later: *The orchid fragrance cannot be gathered; divided, then at peace. Recorded by Wen An.*

Liu Zhiqiang took the ledger over and held it to the lamp. The two characters "divided the orchid" were written heavily, the brush tip nearly tearing through the paper. The "orchid" was the orchid of the Ranjatai. At the scattering-incense rite, one wisp of each of the five fragrances had been divided out; the mother incense Ranjatai was left untouched, attested by fingerprint alone. Yet what this ledger recorded was a matter of the Northern Song.

"Wen An divided one wisp of the orchid fragrance in Quanzhou," he said.

Three · The Small Box

There was no incense in the small wooden box.

Its bottom was laid with a layer of dried orchid leaves, the veins still there, crumbling at a touch. Set among the leaves was half a wooden seal, its face carved with the character "record," only one side of it.

Wang Wanshu took the incense seal from the cloth bag at her side. The two halves fitted together, seamless.

"The Wen registry's wooden seal," she said. "The other half was in Bianliang. This half went with the ship." Liu Zhiqiang said nothing. He remembered the night of the scattering-incense rite, when Liu Shengjingma handed over the Jiuju's hoarded fragments of the five fragrances and said one thing: whose hands the incense is in does not matter; what matters is who is willing to divide.

"On the night of Frost's Descent, divided the orchid," he repeated the ledger's line. "Wen An divided on the Liu family's behalf. The ship went to Quanzhou, the fragrance went south. The Ranjatai in the Shosoin is the yardstick; one wisp of the orchid fragrance sent south was a message to later generations: the yardstick is not only one." Wang Wanshu set the half seal back in the box, then took up the ledger and turned to its last page. Clamped in the last page was a thin sheet; on it was drawn only one censer, and in the censer three sticks of incense, one long, two short. Beside it a line of small characters: *The long one is the mother; the short ones guard the division. The three are never burned at the same time.*

"This is a drawing of dividing incense," she said. "Not of gathering it."

Four · Ash and Ink

When the rain stopped, night had fallen thick. Liu Zhiqiang spread the ledger on the table; Wang Wanshu sat opposite, copying page by page. When she reached the entry "on the night of Frost's Descent, divided the orchid," her brush tip paused.

"You say Wen An sent the orchid fragrance down to Quanzhou — and after?" "After, the fragrance became ash," Liu Zhiqiang said. "But the ledger remains. While the ledger remains, the dividing of the fragrance remains." He rose and took a bundle of censer ash from the top shelf — gathered on the night of the scattering rite from the six censers. He opened the plain paper; the ash was gray-white, extremely fine. He pinched a little and set it on the ink of the two characters "divided the orchid" on the ledger page. The ash did not take to the ink; a soft breath blew it away.

"Incense cannot tell ink," he said. "But the one who tells ink still remembers the incense." Wang Wanshu folded the copied sheet and slipped it into her own notebook. She glanced at the half seal and said: "This half I'll take. The Wen registry's other half is in Bianliang; someone must put them in one place. Not joined into a whole seal — just laid in one place." "Laid in one place, not joined," Liu Zhiqiang said.

"Right. Guarding one's share."

Five · The Hook

The man who delivered the chest left early the next morning. Before leaving he said the Lin family of Quanzhou still kept a matching camphor-wood chest, its lid carved with the words *Open on the day of Frost's Descent; do not open*. The Lin family elder said that chest had never been opened, and no one dared open it.

Liu Zhiqiang saw him to the mouth of the alley. Coming back, he saw on the shop door a line written in water — Wang Wanshu, before leaving, had traced it with a finger dipped in rainwater: *Divide the orchid at Frost's Descent; drink tea at Grain Rain.*

He smiled and took a rag to wipe the words away. At the last stroke his hand stopped. Clamped in the door's seam was a dried orchid leaf, whether carried out of the box or blown in by the wind, no one could say. He took the leaf down and laid it in the empty wooden box, beside the hollow where the half seal had rested.

When the lid closed he heard a ship's horn in the distance. Bianliang had no sea, yet in the rain of Frost's Descent every sound seemed to come from very far away on water.

He thought of the censer on the ledger's last page. Three sticks of incense, one long, two short, never burned at the same time.

Never at the same time.

He set the wooden box back on the shelf, in a row with the six bundles of ash. Seven things: six bundles of ash, one box. The ash was scattered; the box was sealed.

The rain began to fall again.

— To be continued · next: Side Story Seven

> This is an original serialized story from *Agarwood Six Records*; characters and plot are fictional. Common knowledge of agarwood and aromatics herein is compiled from public materials and does not constitute investment or medical advice.