The city is still blank.
At dawn, A-Yan waits outside Mingde Gate with a stitched book under his robe. A traveler at the western market will carry it onward tonight—if A-Yan reaches him before the ward gates close.
The map in A-Yan’s hand has no street names. Beyond the gate, Zhuque Avenue runs north through a city of walls, wards, schools, offices, gardens, and markets.
A gate clerk taps the empty page. “Before you move, what will keep you from getting lost?”