Many thanks to Tristan Morris for creating a beautiful illustrated hardcover print edition of the site

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Just around the time the first-year novices began to ask their masters if winter in this mountain province ever came to an end, the first winds of spring finally found their weary way up through the labyrinth of cliffs and snowbound peaks surrounding the Temple.

Monks and nuns bustled from abbey to abbey with renewed enthusiasm, pausing only to dodge the immense icicles that had begun to crash from the eaves. Now all thoughts turned to the traditional Celebration of the End of the Long White-Space*. All manner of fruits and spirits were ordered up from villages far below. The monks of the Clan of Iron Bones had even set up a webcam atop a flatscreen monitor in the Great Hall, so that Zjing, the acrophobic nun who lived alone in a hut far below the Temple, would be able to teleconference in to the festivities.

The party had not been long underway when Zjing suddenly excused herself. In front of her webcam she placed a hastily-penned sign declaring BRB.

A few hours later the doors to the Great Hall opened, and a very pale looking nun stumbled through them. News spread throughout the crowd that the nun Zjing had returned for the first time in over a year.

Hwídah dashed forward and thrust a bottle of strong liquor into Zjing’s hands, guessing from her expression that the cliffside paths and long swaying bridges over bottomless ravines had taken their toll on the nun’s nerves.

After Zjing took a long pull, Yíwen said, “A thousand pardons for my curiosity, but why did you brave the steep road here, so treacherous now with melting ice and slick stone?”

“To share important news,” said Zjing. “While observing the party, I discovered a form of communication that cannot be transmitted over IP sockets.”

Zjing then embraced Yíwen and Hwídah, kissed their cheeks, and turned to greet the others gathering round.

* Commonly abbreviated \s{99}\S.