Swift Waters, Leaving the Village
"What if we try Madam Wen?"
The moment the words were spoken, the courtyard fell still.
It was not the stillness of wind or of voices, but that sudden pause that comes after one steps into empty air, only to glimpse—just ahead—a stone that might yet bear one's weight. In every heart, the same motion: a hard tightening first, and then a halt.
The courtyard was still a wreck. Smashed wine jars, broken crockery, spoiled mash, wine lees, and muddy water lay strewn everywhere. Under the eaves, several filtering cloths still soaked in foul water. A fish basket lay overturned on its side, one edge of its mouth split open. The air was thick with the mingled reek of sour wine, fish slime, and wet earth, enough to make the chest feel tight.
Madam Qian had already been helped to an old stool by the doorway. The blow across her shoulders and back had not been a light one. Her face was terribly pale, with scarcely any color left in her lips. Wang Shun crouched beside her. He had just finished applying medicine and had not yet washed his hands; bits of crushed herbs still clung between his knuckles, along with a trace of dried wine. Wang Afu stood beneath the eaves, his expression still numb, as though he had not truly woken even now from the shattered dream spread all over the ground.
Slowly, Fang Yingjie turned the jade token over in his palm.
The jade was warm and lustrous, its moon pattern catching the light like water. Its edges were smooth and rounded, and the cord threaded through it was a pale blue-green. Amid the wreckage filling the courtyard, it looked strangely out of place—as though it had not come from this patch of mud at all, but had fallen into it at a slant from some other, more ordered life.
Wang Afu stared at the token for a long while. Then suddenly, as if something had come back to him, his throat worked once and he said in a low voice, "Two days ago, when I was delivering fish, I heard someone mention at the landing that Madam Wen had returned to Taihu to visit her family, and her boats still hadn't left the mouth of the lake."
"A vessel of that sort isn't some stray skiff or common riverboat. Wherever it moors, somebody will know it."
At those words, everyone in the courtyard slowly turned their eyes toward the token.
Madam Qian braced herself against the doorframe and drew a steadying breath. Her voice was soft, but it did not waver.
"If they're still at the mouth of Taihu, then we can't delay any longer."
"If she left us a door open, then at this point we would not be going to beg a favor. We would be going to beg for a way to live."
She paused, then glanced at the jade token in Fang Yingjie's hand and said quietly, "A person like Madam Wen—who at the mouth of Taihu hasn't heard a word or two about her? Every time she returns to her family by boat, she is always helping someone along the way. Sometimes she speaks on their behalf and opens a path for them; sometimes she has people carry medicine or rice where it is needed. None of it may seem earthshaking, but when poor folk are cornered, such things are real help."
"If she had only spoken casually, she would never have left the token in your hands herself. Since she was willing to leave this behind, she is not the kind who bars the door completely."
It seemed those few words gave Wang Afu just enough breath to lift his head again. In a low voice, he added, "That's true. Biyue Manor has always had a decent name outside, and Madam Wen herself has a reputation for grace and kindness. They all say she is a woman who stores up blessings for others. It's only a pity her own fate was so thin—her husband died young, and she had to hold the manor together alone, yet she still treats people this way."
By the time he reached that point, the grayness in his eyes had stirred at last. It was as if a drowning man had finally gotten hold of a piece of driftwood. His voice, too, grew thick.
"If she left us the token, then perhaps the Wang family still has a chance after all."
When those words settled, the chaos in the courtyard seemed, little by little, to press itself into a road.
Wang Shun was the first to lift his head. Almost by instinct, he glanced toward the oar propped against the wall. It still leaned beside the old bamboo mat, water shining on the shaft. It had plainly been used that very morning. His foot shifted, and for an instant it seemed he meant to go for it at once. But then his eyes flicked toward the fresh medicinal cloth wrapped over Madam Qian's shoulders and back, and he stopped himself hard.
After a long pause, he said only, "Mother can't travel."
"Someone has to stay behind."
"You go. I'll keep watch here and wait for Daoist Master Xuan to return."
Wang Afu lifted his eyes and looked at his son. His lips moved, but in the end he said nothing more. He only nodded once.
Wang Yan had already tied her hair tight and rolled her sleeves higher again. She was crouched by the doorway lacing up her straw sandals. At that, she looked up. Her eyes were very bright. There was no panic in them, only urgency.
"I'm going too," she said. "I know the short channels near the landings. I know which route can cut across, and at which docks we might catch a big boat."
Then she glanced at Fang Yingjie. "And his leg is still like that. If nobody leads the way, he'll get himself turned around before he's halfway there."
Fang Yingjie closed his fingers around the token and said in a low voice, "Madam Wen left this token to me. She saw me that day at Pingsha Market."
Madam Qian looked at him, her gaze settling on his still-pale face. Slowly, she nodded.
"Go."
"If she placed it in your hand herself, then this trip should be yours. You should be the one to take it and see her."
Then she turned to Wang Afu. "You do the speaking."
"When you stand before her, don't lose your head, and don't circle around the matter. Tell it plainly."
Wang Afu answered with a roughened, "Aye," but his throat had already gone tight.
Wang Shun had risen by then. He went first to the wall and brought the oar over, then set an old water skin and half a sack of dried food by the door. He still moved with the same steady, quiet efficiency he always had, only faster now. Wang Yan did not stand idle either. She turned and went straight to the hearth, felt around beside the pot, found two cold flatcakes left from the night before, wrapped them in an old cloth, and tucked them beside the water skin. Then she picked up a half-worn straw rain cape and hooked it over one arm.
Madam Qian watched them and, enduring the pain in her shoulders and back, still lifted a hand to point toward the corner of the room. "Bring the tinder tube as well. The wind runs hard on the water. If you're delayed until nightfall, don't go without so much as a way to make light or start a fire."
No one in the family said anything more. Yet as the oar, the water, the rations, the rain cape, and the tinder tube were moved one by one toward the door, the decision to leave was settled beyond all changing.
Madam Qian took the jade token from Fang Yingjie, examined it carefully once, then placed it back in his palm.
"Hold it steady."
"Don't ask for too much. Just trust to this token."
Fang Yingjie answered softly and slipped the jade token more securely into his robe.
Wang Shun stood at the doorway as though he still wanted to say something. His lips moved, but in the end no words came. He only pushed the oar a little more firmly into Wang Afu's hand.
The courtyard gate opened at once.
The three of them stepped out one after another. Behind them, that yard full of broken wine and broken dreams remained where it was. Not one of them looked back.
This journey was no longer a question of whether they wished to go.
They had no choice but to go.
Three Questions Along the Inlet
The three of them came out through the courtyard gate and headed straight for the landing by the shortcut that ran close along the water behind the village. Not one of them wasted breath on idle talk.
The landing by the village was a small one, used mostly by little boats that cast and gathered their nets in the nearby shallows. When Wang Shun untied his own short-oared skiff, the mooring rope was still wet, and a half-collected net still hung from the prow, water dripping steadily from one corner.
Wang A'fu helped Fang Yingjie aboard first, then sprang in after him. Wang Yan was the last to board. The moment her feet were steady, she hauled in the rope with one hand, touched the bamboo pole against the stone edge of the landing, and the little boat slipped free at once, gliding slantwise into the broken shimmer of water ahead.
A thin mist still pressed low over the surface. Nearby, one could see clearly enough; farther off, everything dissolved into a wash of gray-white. Reeds on both banks bowed low, beads of mist clinging to their tips. Every now and then a stalk trembled, and a droplet fell into the water, stirring a ring of ripples so fine they were almost not there. On any other morning, such a scene would have carried the quiet grace of the water country. Today, none of the three had any eyes for it. In their hearts and in their heads, there was only one word: hurry.
The first place they went was the nearest small landing to the village.
The market there had only just begun to stir. An old fishwife was bent over scaling fish, silver scales flying everywhere and gleaming all around her feet. Wang A'fu brought the boat alongside and jumped ashore first.
"Auntie," he called, "did you happen to see a well-appointed flotilla bearing the Lake-Moon emblem?"
The woman did not pause in her work. She only lifted her eyes and glanced at him.
"I did."
Wang A'fu's heart tightened.
"At daybreak, just when the sky was beginning to lighten, they turned past the far end of the eastern inlet."
"How long ago?" he pressed at once.
"Less than half an hour." She flipped the fish over, ran her knife cleanly along it, and answered as if it were nothing. "If you move fast, you might still catch sight of them at the next landing ahead."
The boat pushed off again immediately.
This time Wang A'fu did not dare take the open water. Instead, he followed the shortcut Wang Yan pointed out and cut ahead through a narrow side channel. The channel was tight, but the water ran quick. The route was shorter, though it twisted again and again. At times the little boat had to skim along the very edge of the reed beds; at others they had to duck their heads beneath old willow branches stretching out low over the water. Fang Yingjie sat in the middle of the boat with his wooden staff laid across his knees. One hand pressed against the gunwale; the other never left the jade token tucked against his chest. He could feel the breath in his heart driving forward with every rise and fall of the hull.
The second landing was a little larger than the first. A few cargo skiffs were moored there, and on the bank an old man squatted on a discarded plank, mending a net. Before the boat had even settled, Wang Yan had already leapt ashore.
"Uncle Zhao," she called, in the tone of someone who knew him well, "did you see a large boat this morning with a moon emblem on the curtain?"
The old man did not even raise his eyelids. His hands flew as the needle passed in and out.
"I saw it."
"It only stopped for a short while, then left again."
"Which way?" Wang Yan shot back at once.
"With the wind." The old man tipped his chin toward the water ahead. "Most likely toward the outer edge of the Daping landing."
Before he had even finished speaking, Wang Yan had already crouched by the edge of the landing to examine a freshly pressed mooring mark. The damp groove had not yet dried. It ran slantwise across the stone, and beside it lay half of a fresh footprint. She pressed it with her fingers. The moisture clung to her skin at once. She lifted her head.
"They didn't leave long ago."
"Father, a big boat draws deep. It won't head into the shallows. It's probably berthed at the big landing ahead."
Wang A'fu nodded once and turned straight back to the boat.
By then, the feeling in Fang Yingjie's heart—that they were always one step too late—had grown sharper and sharper. He knew very well that every answer they received was the truth. And yet each time, they were still short by half a breath. He had tasted that same half-step of failure before—at Eaglebeak Ridge, at Pingsha Market, at Xiaoping Wharf. Now, chasing this flotilla, it was happening all over again.
As the little boat pressed on, the wind gradually began to rise.
With the wind at their backs, the going should have been easier. But if the people ahead had the same wind behind them, then half a step lost was still half a step lost. Wang A'fu drove the pole more urgently. The slap of water against the planks grew tighter and harsher, one blow after another, like something striking directly against the heart. Old Daoist Xuan's method of drawing in and settling the breath had already steadied Fang Yingjie's chest more than before, but in the midst of this frantic pursuit, a dull pressure still began to gather beneath his ribs. He did not dare force through it. He only drew in a quiet breath and slowly pressed that rising turbulence back down.
By the time they reached the third landing, the eastern sky had turned fully white, and the morning wind had blown away most of the mist over the lake.
This landing was much larger than the last, and many more boats were moored there. Fishmongers, porters, cargo hands, and landing guards were all already at work. Along the outer edge lay several larger, more respectable boats, some with dark-blue canopies, some black, all huddled together in uneven ranks. At a glance, it was impossible to tell which one was the one they sought.
Wang A'fu was still searching boat by boat when Wang Yan had already straightened and swept her gaze over the curtains hanging from the outer row. Then suddenly her eyes lit.
"There!"
She thrust out a hand.
"The one at the far end—the corner of the curtain has a moon pattern on it!"
At once, all three hearts tightened.
The wind lifted the hanging corner of the curtain on the outermost blue-canopied boat, and there indeed appeared a familiar pattern—lake and moon reflected upon the water, the lines fine and clean, cut from the same design as the emblem on the jade token.
They had caught up.
But as the little boat drew nearer to that blue-canopied vessel, another, tighter pressure was already descending upon them: catching up was one thing. Whether they would truly be allowed to see the person they had come for was another altogether.
The Moon-Marked Boat at Anchor
The boat lay at anchor with remarkable steadiness. The water ran deep along its outer side, and the landing stones had been laid flush, clean, and even. Beside the jumble of rough craft moored nearby, it did not flaunt itself, yet quiet distinction showed in every detail: the mooring lines were neatly coiled, the rail planks scrubbed clean, and even the two household retainers standing at the bow, though plainly dressed, were turned out with such order and sharpness that one could tell at a glance they were not the sort of men one found by chance at a ragged little landing like Pingsha Market.
No sooner had the Wang family's small boat drawn up alongside the stones than the two retainers looked over.
Wang A'fu jumped ashore and cupped his hands in greeting.
"My apologies for the disturbance."
"We have come to seek Madam Wen aboard your vessel."
One of the men let his gaze rest on Wang A'fu's face for a moment, then swept it past Wang Yan, still dusty from the road, and Fang Yingjie, who was plainly carrying injuries. His expression was not severe, yet there was no easy familiarity in it either.
"Who are you?"
At that question, the urgency clenched tighter in Wang A'fu's chest than it had during the entire chase. On the way here, all they had needed to do was keep the moon-mark in sight and press forward. Only now, standing before the vessel at last, did he realize that asking to be received was far harder than catching up. His lips moved, yet for a moment he did not know where to begin.
Fang Yingjie had already drawn the jade token from inside his robe and offered it with both hands.
"That day at the side landing at Pingsha Market, Madam Wen saved me."
"She placed this token in my hand herself."
The instant the retainer saw the jade, his eyes changed. It was not shock, nor fear. Rather, the stiffness of a man barring strangers eased by a degree. He took the token, examined it carefully, and said, "Please wait a moment. I will inform Madam."
With that, he turned and went into the cabin.
The wait could not have been more than a few moments, yet to the three of them it seemed to stretch endlessly.
The wind at the landing was strong enough to stir the hanging curtain in small, restless sways. Wang Yan had spent the whole journey thinking only of speed. Only now, standing still at last, did she feel the ache rising in her legs, and almost without knowing it, she reached out to steady herself against one of the posts by the boat. She said nothing, but her breathing had not yet fully settled. Wang A'fu stood in front, both hands curled inside his sleeves, looking somehow more tense now than when he had been questioning boatmen and scrambling for passage all along the shore. As for Fang Yingjie, he kept his eyes fixed on that curtain of blue-green cloth. The breath in his chest was steadier than before, yet it still struck against his heart, one beat at a time.
At last, the curtain stirred.
The first to emerge was an older serving woman, with composed features, clean clothes, and an unhurried step. After she moved half a pace aside, Madam Wen appeared from behind the curtain.
She was dressed simply, as before: pale green with the faintest wash of lake-blue, a cloak of medium weight laid over her shoulders, every edge pressed smooth and exact. Her hair was arranged with perfect neatness, and at her ears still hung that same pair of small pearls. In the morning light, the gentle grace of her features—never ostentatious, yet quietly arresting—stood out more clearly than ever.
The first person she saw was Fang Yingjie. Sure enough, something in her brow shifted, just slightly.
"You?"
The word was light. There was no start of alarm in it, and no exaggerated show of concern. It was simply the brief surprise of a woman meeting, upon these waterways, the wounded youth she had once rescued.
In the next instant, her gaze fell on Wang A'fu and Wang Yan.
Mud stained the hems of their trousers and the edges of their shoes. Their clothes still held the damp and creases of hard travel, and the weariness and strain of their haste could not be hidden from their faces. Madam Wen needed only that one glance. Her eyes grew more intent, almost imperceptibly. Yet she asked no needless questions.
"Come inside first."
The moment she said it, it was as though the ragged breath of their entire pursuit had finally found something to rest against.
She turned to the older woman.
"Give them a hand."
"And bring warm water. Food as well."
Her voice remained level and calm, as though these arrangements were no more than the natural thing to do—neither something requiring thought, nor something done for show.
At once the retainers set the boarding plank firm, and the serving woman stepped briskly forward to help them aboard. Wang A'fu started to say, "We would not dare trouble—"
He got no further. Madam Wen gave the faintest shake of her head.
"Board first."
"The wind is sharp at the landing. You should not stand here long."
Wang A'fu had no choice but to swallow the rest of his protest.
Once the plank was set, the three of them went aboard one after another.
And in that moment, Fang Yingjie was seized by a strange feeling. A moment ago, they had still been running from one little landing to another along the Taihu shore, chasing into side channels and outlying moorings, always half a breath too late. And now, with the jade token on his person, he had truly stepped onto her boat.
It was as if the small way she had casually left open for him that day at the side landing of Pingsha Market had only now, at this very moment, been pushed fully wide.
Aboard the Boat, They Told Their Story
The cabin had been kept with exquisite neatness. It was not luxurious, yet everything in it seemed measured and exactly right. The table was small, but set firm and steady. Pale curtains hung by the window, enough to keep out the wind without stealing the light. The tea cups, medicine boxes, incense burner, and food hampers all rested quietly in their proper places, not a thing in disorder. Outside came the wind off Taihu and the voices from the landing. Inside, however, another kind of air prevailed—unhurried, composed, the sort that could press down half the panic a person had brought in with him from the road.
No sooner had the three of them stepped inside than an old serving woman came forward with warm water. Another attendant set several hot dishes upon the table. They were nothing elaborate: a bowl of hot soup noodles, a cup of steaming porridge, two small plates of pastries, and a few little cakes fresh from the steamer. At such a moment, nothing could have felt more solid or more welcome.
"Drink some water first," Madam Wen said. "Then sit, and tell me everything at your leisure."
Wang Yan had been forcing herself onward all the way here. Only when she took the cup did she realize that her palms had gone cold. She lowered her head and drank. The warmth slid down her throat, and the tightness that had been wound inside her chest at last eased a little. Wang Afu held his own cup of warm water in both hands, his throat working once. It was as though only now, at this moment, did he truly believe they had not made the journey in vain.
Only then did Madam Wen look back at Fang Yingjie, her tone still as gentle as before.
"When I left that token with you the other day, it was only because I thought that if trouble ever found you again, someone might at least recognize it. You would not be stopped at the door without even being allowed inside."
A faint pause.
"I simply did not expect to see you again so soon."
The words fell lightly, clarifying the purpose of the jade token without the slightest trace of self-importance or condescension. As Fang Yingjie listened, the strain that had been pressing on his chest all the way here loosened by another degree.
Softly, he said, "If Madam had not left us that token that day... we would not even have known whom else to seek today."
Madam Wen only shook her head slightly. She did not take the thanks. Instead, she turned her gaze to Wang Afu.
"This good sir—judging from your faces at the landing just now, it seems something urgent has happened."
"Now that you have come all this way, you may as well tell me plainly."
The words themselves were simple, yet they felt like a cord quietly placed in Wang Afu's hands. He set down his tea cup carefully, cupped his hands in salute toward Madam Wen, and spoke, though his voice was still tight.
"My surname is Wang. I am Wang Afu. I make my living fishing on the lake. This is my daughter, Wang Yan."
He paused, glanced once toward Fang Yingjie, then went on.
"This boy was injured some days ago and has been staying under my roof with a Daoist Master. Yesterday, trouble came to our house. We truly had nowhere left to turn. Only then did we dare take the token Madam had left us and follow after you so presumptuously."
At first he had meant to make the matter sound more presentable. But the moment he opened his mouth, the wreckage rose before him all at once: the wine spilled across the ground, the ruined mash, the blow Qian Shi had taken, Wang Shun gritting his teeth as he threw himself in front of his mother. His hand tightened slightly around the tea cup. He drew a breath, and then, little by little, began to tell it all.
He told her how Tang Yacai had first struck up the conversation, how he had come to inspect the shop, how he had spoken of it as "nothing more than reserving a place first." He told her how he himself had pressed down his thumbprint. And then how, scarcely had Old Daoist Xuan left than Lu Zhongren arrived at his door with men in tow. They smashed the wine, ruined the mash, kicked over the jars, hurt his family, and pressed for payment. At the beginning his voice was still steady. By the end, it had begun to tremble despite himself.
He did not dress the story up, nor did he deliberately choose only the most miserable details to win pity. He merely laid the whole matter out as it had happened. For that very reason, it landed all the heavier.
When he reached this point, Wang Afu stopped for a moment, as though he knew that unless he made this part plain, something essential would still be missing.
"It is not that we never thought of going to the authorities."
"But people like us—poor folk who live off the lake—what can we do against men who come with contract papers in hand, with brokers at their side, and all the methods of the dockside trade behind them? If we really took it to the yamen, the case would not be settled in any clear way overnight. They demanded ready silver in three days, the full account in ten. By the time a petition was filed and the yamen runners were sent down, I fear they would already have swallowed our boat, our nets, and our house whole."
He swallowed and continued in a lower voice.
"Besides... we have no connections. We would not even know which door to knock on, much less get it opened. If this boy had not suddenly produced Madam's token, we would never have dared come after you like this."
Wang Yan had meant to hold herself together the whole way, and even after boarding the boat she had not wanted to behave like some country girl who had never seen the world. But as she listened to her father speak—of the wine jars kicked over, of her mother rushing forward only to take a blow, of the wine running into the mud—her eyes reddened little by little all the same. She lowered her head and gripped the warm cup tighter and tighter, only so that the surge inside her would not truly break loose.
Madam Wen listened in silence from beginning to end. She did not interrupt him even once.
When Wang Afu had finally said everything, the cabin fell still for a moment. Outside, the sounds of oars and voices still drifted in from the landing, but dulled by the planks of the boat, they only made the quiet within seem steadier.
Madam Wen lowered her eyes, as though considering something. After a short while, she lifted her gaze again.
"This cannot be left alone."
Only that one sentence. It was neither loud nor grand. Yet to the three of them, it landed like a solid stone at last pressing down the chaos that had been tossing their hearts about for the past day and night.
Madam Wen glanced once at Wang Afu, then at the jade token in Fang Yingjie's hand. Her tone remained as calm as ever.
"You have come holding my token. I cannot very well refuse even to hear the matter."
"But how things began and how they were handled afterward cannot be judged on one side's account alone. Before anything else, the whole business must be properly looked into."
She turned to the old serving woman.
"Fetch medicine for the wounds."
"And have a small boat made ready."
Then she said to the other attendant, "Send word to the accounting office ahead. Have them look into the shop deed on the Ping Wharf side, the deposit silver, and the background of the people who brokered the arrangement."
Even as she gave the orders, her tone remained level and unhurried, as though she were merely putting one necessary thing after another into its proper place. There was no display in it, no flourish.
Only after that did she look back at Wang Afu.
"For now, do not rush back and clash with them head-on."
"If they are using contract papers and deposit silver to press you, then this is not something that can be turned around by anger alone."
She paused, and her gaze shifted to Fang Yingjie and Wang Yan.
"This boy is still injured, and his strength has not yet steadied. This young lady has chased us all the way here as well, and I suspect she has only been enduring it by force of will."
"For tonight, all of you will stay aboard and rest. Catch your breath first. Once I have people look into the matter from start to finish, we can decide who should return and who should remain. That way you will not all go rushing in at once and lose your heads."
Nothing in her words was harsh. She did not even say anything so full as I will stand up for you. And yet, for precisely that reason, one could feel that once she had spoken, she truly could bear the weight of it.
The brittle hardness Wang Afu had been forcing himself to carry ever since the road began slowly gave way at last. Holding the tea cup in both hands, he moved his lips once. After a long moment, he managed only a low, unsteady:
"Madam... this truly is..."
But halfway through, even he seemed unable to find words that would fit.
Madam Wen only raised a hand lightly.
"There is no need to say any of that yet."
"Eat something first."
Seated at the side, Wang Yan finally let out the breath she had been holding this whole time. Lowering her eyes, she noticed for the first time that she had pressed a shallow red crescent into her own palm. Only now did the tightness truly begin to leave her, and even her shoulders eased with it.
Fang Yingjie, sitting beside them, said little.
He only lowered his head and looked at the jade token in his hand.
Its surface was smooth and warm, the moon-pattern upon it quietly reflecting the light within the cabin. On that outlying dock at Pingsha, he had thought it no more than a small gesture of kindness, a fragment of dignity offered in passing. When the Wang family's dream of wine had been shattered across the ground, it had become a single path they could not help but seize. And now, at this moment, for the first time, he understood with perfect clarity—
this token had truly brought them before someone they could trust.
The boat curtains hung low, shutting out the noise from the shore. However fierce the wind at the landing might be, it could no longer blow into this cabin.
The ruin, the broken dreams, the pursuit, the near-misses of the last day and night—at this moment, all of it finally seemed to have found a place, however temporary, where it could come to rest.
They had truly stepped into Madam Wen's world.
Poetic Coda
Swift oars startled the dawn shoals as the wind drove hard;
shattered jars and broken dreams went drifting with the tide.
Three times they searched her shadow before the boat drew near;
half a day they chased her voice, while the landing never stilled.
The moon-mark knew the traveler from Pingsha at once;
her gentle words gathered even the sounds of Taihu into rest.
When the blue curtain fell, the dust and clamor stayed outside;
only then did they believe there was still something in this world to trust.
(End of Chapter Twenty-Four)