The sect's preparations were reaching the stage where work stopped looking like work.
Less hauling. More routing. Less mud. More paper.
The lanes were cleaner, the stations more rigid, the supervisors sharper—not because they cared about cleanliness, but because they cared about what cleanliness signaled.
Readiness.
And readiness, in a place like this, always attracted two kinds of people:
Those who wanted the sect to look good.
And those who wanted to profit from the effort.
Li Shen was sent across the outer yards with a sealed bundle of cloth strips—station markers, color-threaded, used for visitors and reserved zones. It was simple work on the surface.
Carry. Deliver. Get a stamp. Return.
But the closer Conclave came, the more simple work became a cover for other transactions.
He returned the bundle to the issuing desk, received his next slip, and turned toward the sanitation stores.
Halfway down the lane, a runner stepped into his path with a practiced kind of politeness.
Not blocking. Just… placed.
He wore servant grey, but not the same grey as the dorm lanes. Cleaner cloth. Better stitching. His token was lacquered and edged—attached runner badge, the kind that let you move between stations without being stopped every five steps.
A proxy with permission.
"Tier Two," the runner said, eyes on Li Shen's sash. "Li."
Li Shen stopped at the correct distance. Bowed once, minimally.
"Yes."
The runner held out a slate tube. The wax seal was neat. The character stamp on the seal wasn't the central registry. It wasn't Station Nine. It wasn't Senior Liu's.
It was a smaller seal—private in style, formal in shape.
Borrowed authority.
"Delivery," the runner said. "Station Six. Urgent."
Li Shen didn't reach for it.
"What's inside," he asked.
The runner's smile didn't change. "A list."
"A list of what," Li Shen pressed.
The runner's eyes narrowed by a fraction. "Routing adjustments. Conclave lanes. You know."
Li Shen nodded slowly as if accepting the explanation.
Then he looked at the seal again.
"No registry number," Li Shen said.
The runner's smile tightened. "It doesn't need one. It's internal."
Li Shen's voice stayed even. "Internal still has a chain."
The runner exhaled through his nose, mildly irritated.
"Don't make this complicated," he said. "It's an easy run."
Easy runs didn't come in back lanes with private seals.
Li Shen let the silence hang long enough to be uncomfortable.
Then he bowed again, respectful.
"I can carry it," he said. "But Tier Two runs require witness stamp at pick-up or at hand-off. Station Six stamp."
The runner blinked. "That's not necessary."
Li Shen didn't argue. He simply nodded as if he had heard the words and filed them under not credible.
The runner's tone shifted slightly—still polite, but now with pressure.
"Li," he said, and used the name like a hook, "the Conclave is close. People are tired. Supervisors are angry. This is the kind of task you do quickly and quietly."
Li Shen's gaze stayed flat.
"You want it done quickly," he said. "Then give it to a strong back."
The runner frowned. "What."
Li Shen turned his head and looked toward the wash basins.
Bai Ren was there, hauling water with two other servants. His shoulders were tight. His face was set in the grim, permanent irritation he wore like clothing.
Li Shen lifted his chin toward him.
"Bai Ren," Li Shen called.
Bai Ren looked up, saw Li Shen, then saw the runner.
His expression hardened immediately. He didn't like clean hands.
He walked over, wiping his palms on his trousers like that could scrape off suspicion.
"What," Bai Ren said.
Li Shen nodded toward the slate tube. "He needs a delivery to Station Six. Urgent."
Bai Ren's eyes flicked to the runner. "So deliver it."
The runner's mouth tightened.
Li Shen kept his tone neutral, almost practical.
"Bai Ren can run faster," Li Shen said. "Stronger legs. Less traffic stops. Better for urgency."
Bai Ren blinked once, then snorted. "You trying to get me killed?"
Li Shen didn't look at Bai Ren.
He looked at the runner.
The runner hesitated.
Just a heartbeat.
But in a sect, heartbeats were information.
Li Shen watched the hesitation like he watched smoke change direction.
"You don't want the delivery done," Li Shen said quietly. "You want me in the chain."
Bai Ren's head snapped toward Li Shen. "Chain?"
Li Shen didn't explain to Bai Ren yet. Not with a third party listening.
The runner's eyes sharpened. "Careful," he said.
Li Shen bowed again, as if the word had been an instruction, not a threat.
"I'm being careful," Li Shen replied. "That's why I offered Bai Ren."
Bai Ren looked between them, confused and irritated.
"If you need it delivered, I'll deliver it," Bai Ren said, voice rough. "I don't care what's in it."
The runner stared at Bai Ren for a moment, then smiled thinly.
"You're not authorized," he said.
Bai Ren's nostrils flared. "I'm a servant."
The runner's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"This task requires Tier Two access," he said smoothly.
Bai Ren's confusion turned into anger.
"So it's not about speed," Bai Ren said. "It's about the sash."
The runner's gaze flicked to Li Shen again, and this time the politeness drained another degree.
Li Shen nodded once, as if acknowledging a completed demonstration.
"So you don't want delivery," Li Shen said. "You want responsibility."
The runner's tone hardened.
"You're making assumptions," he said.
Li Shen's eyes stayed calm.
"I'm offering solutions," he corrected. "You refused the efficient one."
Bai Ren shifted his weight, fists closing and opening.
"This is that paper trap," Bai Ren muttered, more to himself than anyone. "This is that—"
Li Shen cut him off with a look.
Not anger. Just control.
Bai Ren swallowed the rest of the sentence, jaw tight.
The runner took a step closer to Li Shen, lowering his voice.
"Listen," he said. "You're Tier Two. You want to stay Tier Two. You want your friend to stop sleeping like a corpse. You want food that doesn't taste like punishment."
He spoke like a man reciting known pressures, and Li Shen realized something else:
They had been watching longer than a day.
The runner's voice became softer, almost reasonable.
"Do the run," he said. "You deliver. You get a stamp. You come back. You're clean."
Li Shen stared at him.
"Clean," Li Shen repeated.
The runner nodded. "Clean."
Li Shen's mouth tightened slightly.
"That's not how this works," Li Shen said.
The runner's eyes narrowed.
"What do you think happens," he asked.
Li Shen didn't answer the question directly.
He asked one that mattered more.
"Who issued this," Li Shen said.
The runner's lips pressed together.
Li Shen continued, still calm.
"Which station recorded it," he asked. "Which registry line. Which supervisor signed."
The runner's politeness snapped a fraction.
"You don't need to know that," he said.
Li Shen nodded as if that was confirmation.
Bai Ren took a half-step forward, voice rising.
"So you want him to carry something you can blame him for later," Bai Ren said bluntly.
The runner's eyes flashed.
"That's a dangerous accusation," he said.
Bai Ren laughed once, sharp and ugly. "Dangerous for who? You?"
The runner ignored Bai Ren and kept his eyes on Li Shen.
"Don't be difficult," he said. "People who are difficult get… moved."
Li Shen's gaze didn't change.
"Moved by whom," Li Shen asked.
The runner's nostrils flared.
He didn't answer.
Because answering would create a name.
And names created accountability.
Li Shen bowed again, slow this time.
"I can't accept unregistered tasks," he said. "If you want it delivered, bring it through Senior Liu or the central desk."
The runner's jaw clenched.
"That's not necessary," he said again, but the repetition sounded like weakness now.
Li Shen nodded, as if agreeing.
"Then it's not necessary to accept," he said.
Silence.
The lane around them felt suddenly too open.
Too many ears could appear quickly if a voice rose.
And everyone here understood the same basic physics:
Noise attracted authority.
Authority attracted consequence.
The runner exhaled sharply, eyes hard.
"You think you're safe because you're careful," he said.
Li Shen's voice stayed flat.
"I think I'm safe because I don't volunteer to be written," he replied.
Bai Ren's fingers twitched. "Say it plain," he growled. "You're trying to trap him."
The runner's eyes flicked, calculating the risk of pushing further here.
He made his choice.
He pulled the slate tube back as if Li Shen had dirtied it.
"Fine," he said tightly. "We'll route it properly."
Li Shen nodded once. "You should."
The runner turned and walked away without bowing, without politeness, disappearing into the main lane where official traffic could swallow him.
Bai Ren watched him go, then turned back to Li Shen, anger simmering.
"What was that," Bai Ren demanded.
Li Shen didn't answer immediately.
He waited until the runner was out of sight and the lane had filled with ordinary bodies again.
Then he spoke, low and controlled.
"They wanted a task that could be made into a fault," Li Shen said. "If the slate is late, lost, altered, or misdelivered, the register needs a neck. They wanted yours attached to it."
Bai Ren's jaw tightened. "So why not let me carry it?"
Li Shen looked at him.
"Because they didn't want delivery," Li Shen said. "They wanted the person who can pass checkpoints. The one who can be blamed and then pressured to pay."
Bai Ren stared at him, breathing hard.
"And what do we do," Bai Ren said, voice rough.
Li Shen's eyes tracked the lane ahead like he was already counting routes.
"We keep forcing them to choose," Li Shen said. "If they want work done, they can use proper channels. If they want a chain, we make it obvious."
Bai Ren exhaled slowly.
"That's exhausting," he muttered.
Li Shen didn't disagree.
"It is," he said. "That's part of it."
Bai Ren's shoulders slumped slightly, then stiffened again.
"They're going to hit back," Bai Ren said.
Li Shen nodded once.
"Yes," he said.
He turned and started walking again, toward the next station, the next slip, the next line someone wanted filled.
Bai Ren fell into step beside him, still angry, but with a new kind of anger now—less about fighting, more about being treated like paper.
As they passed the visitor corridor, the lantern frames caught the late light like pale bone.
The sect was readying its face.
And somewhere above them—somewhere that didn't need to show itself yet—ambition was learning that Li Shen didn't break the easy way.
Which meant the next attempt wouldn't be easy at all.