In the forty-sixth year of Wanli, outside Datong, the last leaf fell from the old locust tree.
Ma Gui wrote one final line in the ledger: “The Later Jin will rise, and the Great Ming...”
He closed the book and said to Zhao Hu, “After I die, bury this book beneath the old locust tree. One day, someone will come looking for it.”
Zhao Hu asked, “Who will come?”
Ma Gui did not answer. He looked out the window and suddenly said, “Who made that blade? I’ve searched for fifty years, and at last I found out.”
Zhao Hu waited for him to continue, but Ma Gui closed his eyes.
Fifty years earlier.
It all began one winter at Datong Right Guard.
