Spying on Qin Wen was easier than Lan Yue expected.
Not because he was careless. He wasn't. The man moved through the Academy like every step was choreographed, every word measured, every smile calculated to extract maximum loyalty from whoever received it.
But he had one blind spot.
Servants.
To Qin Wen, servants were furniture. They carried things, poured tea, opened doors, and existed somewhere below his line of sight. He talked freely in front of them. Laughed openly. Let his mask slip in small, revealing ways because, in his mind, furniture didn't have ears.
Lan Yue had ears. Very good ones.
She started by volunteering for shifts in the Academy's guest quarters where Qin Wen was housed. The head servant, an older woman named Madam Zhou, was grateful for the extra help and didn't ask questions.
