Jinling City in the third year of Xianfeng, April.
Lead-gray clouds pressed against the eaves of the Heavenly King's Mansion, and rainwater dripped down the tiles, making a dense sound on the bluestone slabs. In the side courtyard of the Shengku Yamen, the "crackling" sound of the beads colliding never stopped from Mao Shi to Shen Shi.
Zhou Jinyan sat on the bench closest to the window, pressing the yellow book with his left hand and dialing the abacus with his right hand. His movements were slow, even clumsy—at least to outsiders. The beams of the Paulownia abacus had been polished to a shiny shine, and the thirteenth-position abacus made a dull "click" sound when it returned up and down as he nudged it with his fingertips, which was incompatible with the quick and clear calculation sounds of his colleagues around him.
