"Did you see that light?" Old Man Fu lunged toward the doorway, voice raw and urgent. "It was red! Right through the window!" Old Woman Fu answered, fingers tight on the latch of the chest where blankets slept. "Red means fire, or the emperor's will," a neighbor piped from the yard, eyes wide and loud enough to carry. "Or a devil," a woman by the gate spat. "Mark my words, trouble follows strange births." "Shut up." Su Yuehe's voice cut across the yard. She came out of the house with a blanket curled around her arms. The blanket smelled of steamed rice and sweat. Her face was pale and fierce. Fu Sheng pushed through the smaller crowd, his bad leg catching on the threshold and making him curse. "Get back," he said. His voice was low but steady. "This is my child." "Is it a son?" someone asked, hope and greed tangled in one tone. "It's a daughter," Su Yuehe said. She wrapped the blanket closer. "Her name—Mian. Mianmian." A ripple of opinions hit like stones on a roof. Some smiled, some stared, and some turned their faces like they had tasted sour fruit. "Red light at a birth?" Li Hehua's laugh was sharp. She leaned on a cane and held her parasol like a scepter. "You think a glow makes fate? She's born under bad luck. Mark my words, Fu Yuehe. You invite disaster to your door." "Who invited you?" Old Man Fu