Chapter Five: Between Four Hands

"Seal it," Manyi wept. "Make sure Chongshan never finds it." "Music can hide testimony," Qinghe replied. "It cannot atone in your place." The vision shattered. Shen Yan's right hand had touched the narrow black surface without his noticing. The second time. This time he did not hear one person. The Nightingale made him hear himself. Voices poured from its body: Han wanted to burn every trace, Chengjun wanted to take Xingyao away, Manyi wanted her son acknowledged, Minglan wanted to end her father's life with her own hands. Beneath them all was Shen Yan's own voice: Press it, and you will know why your mother did not want you. He jerked his hand away. The key stretched like tar, fine black filaments clinging to his fingertip.