The walk back to Qingfeng Residence felt longer than it should have. Yuelai moved through the capital's streets with the file pressed against her side, acutely aware of its weight. Servants and officials passed her without a second glance—just another bureaucrat carrying documents, nothing remarkable—but she couldn't shake the feeling that the file itself was radiating danger.
*This case has particular significance,* Zhenge had said. *Handle it with appropriate care.*
Five dead inspectors. Six, if you counted the first one they'd ruled natural causes.
And now this file was hers.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon by the time she reached the compound gates. The guards—two men who'd been assigned to watch the residence, ostensibly for her protection—nodded as she passed. She wondered if they were really there to protect her, or to report on her movements. Probably both.
Qingfeng Residence was quiet in the evening light. Too quiet. The servants had prepared the main rooms but then vanished, as if they couldn't bear to stay in the cursed house any longer than necessary. Only Lian remained, and even she disappeared into the servants' quarters the moment her duties were complete.
Yuelai climbed the stairs to her private office on the second floor. She'd barely had time to settle into the space—a room with a heavy desk, shelves for documents, and windows that overlooked the street. Functional. Impersonal. Exactly what a newly appointed inspector would have.
Wei Ling was waiting inside.
She'd set up a small workspace in the corner, organizing the medical supplies she'd brought and arranging books on an empty shelf. But the moment Yuelai entered, Wei Ling abandoned her tasks and turned, worry etched across her features.
"Finally." Wei Ling crossed the room in three quick strides. "I was starting to think something had happened. How did it go? Why did the prince summon you personally?"
Yuelai set the file on her desk with deliberate care, as if it might explode if handled roughly. "He gave me this."
Wei Ling stared at the leather-bound file, at the imperial seals still intact along its edge. "A case file? He summoned you just to hand over a case?"
"Apparently." Yuelai moved to close the office door, then checked the windows. No one watching from the street below. No servants lurking in the hallway. They were as alone as they could be in a residence that felt perpetually observed.
"That doesn't make sense," Wei Ling said. "Cases are assigned through official channels. The Censorate sends files to the Office of Military Inspection, the inspectors review them and begin investigations. There's protocol. Procedure. Why would a prince—especially one as powerful as Luo Zhenge—personally hand you a case on your first day?"
"Because this isn't an ordinary case." Yuelai sank into the chair behind her desk, suddenly exhausted. The day's tension was catching up to her—the court appearance, the impossible Go game, the prince's probing questions. "Five inspectors dead, Wei Ling. Five men who held this position before me, all dying under mysterious circumstances. And I'm willing to bet every single one of them was working on this exact case when they died."
Wei Ling's face went pale. "You think the case itself is what's killing them?"
"I think investigating whatever's in this file is dangerous enough that someone is willing to commit murder to stop it." Yuelai's fingers traced the edge of the sealed document. "And the Emperor—or the prince, or someone—just handed me that same investigation."
"Then don't open it." Wei Ling's voice was sharp, almost desperate. "Refuse the case. Claim inexperience, ask for something simpler to start with—"
"And look weak? Incompetent? Or worse—frightened?" Yuelai shook her head. "No. This is a test. The Emperor appointed me to this position knowing the risks. He wants to see if I'll run at the first sign of danger, or if I'll actually do the job he's supposedly hired me for."
"Even if it kills you?"
"Especially if it kills me." The words were bitter. "If I die investigating this, it proves I'm loyal. It removes a potential problem—General Wei Qiang's suspiciously convenient heir who appeared at exactly the wrong moment. And it sends a message to anyone else who might question imperial authority."
Wei Ling was silent for a long moment. Then she pulled up a chair and sat across from Yuelai, her expression determined.
"Then we'd better figure out how to investigate this without dying."
Despite everything, Yuelai felt a flicker of warmth. Wei Ling had every reason to leave, to return to Longmen where it was safe. But instead she was sitting here, ready to face whatever danger came next.
Just like her brother had.
Yuelai reached for the file, her fingers finding the wax seal. It bore the imperial chop—the Emperor's personal mark. Breaking it felt like crossing a threshold. Once she read what was inside, there would be no going back. No pretending she didn't know.
She broke the seal.
The wax cracked cleanly, falling in red fragments onto the desk. Yuelai opened the leather cover and spread the contents across the surface.
Documents. Dozens of them. Official reports on Ministry of Revenue letterhead. Witness statements signed and stamped. Maps of trade routes and city layouts. And at the top, a summary sheet written in the precise calligraphy of a senior official.
CASE FILE: THEFT OF MILITARY FUNDS
INVESTIGATING OFFICER: [Previous names crossed out] INSPECTOR WEI HAN
STATUS: UNSOLVED
Yuelai began reading.
---
Ministry of Revenue, Capital City
Fourth Month, Fifteenth Day
Vice Minister Zhao Pengfei stood in the counting room, watching his clerks work with practiced efficiency. Silver taels gleamed on the tables—neat stacks of coins, each one stamped with the imperial seal. One hundred thousand taels, destined for the garrison at Yanzhou to fund military operations along the northern border.
"Count again," he instructed. "Triple-check every stack. I want no discrepancies."
The head clerk bowed. "Yes, Vice Minister. We've counted three times already. One hundred thousand taels, exact."
Zhao Pengfei nodded, but his expression remained stern. This was the third shipment in two years. The first two had... disappeared. Not during transit, according to the guards. Not before departure, according to his staff. The silver had simply ceased to be real somewhere between the capital and Yanzhou, transforming from genuine imperial currency into worthless counterfeits.
It was impossible. And yet it had happened twice.
This time would be different. This time, he was taking every precaution.
"Seal the boxes," he ordered. "I want my personal stamp on every single one. And I'll be inspecting the silver personally before they're closed."
For the next hour, Vice Minister Zhao moved from box to box, selecting random taels and testing them himself. Weight, color, the ring of metal striking metal—everything confirmed these were genuine. He'd even brought an expert from the Imperial Mint, who examined samples with jeweler's tools and declared them authentic.
Only then did Zhao allow the boxes to be sealed.
Heavy wooden chests, reinforced with iron bands. His personal seal pressed into red wax at every joint. Additional stamps from the Ministry of Revenue, the Imperial Treasury, and the Military Affairs Department. By the time they were finished, each box bore half a dozen official seals, any one of which would be noticed if broken or tampered with.
"Load them onto the wagons," Zhao ordered. "And may the heavens help us if anything goes wrong this time."
---
Main Road to Yanzhou
Fourth Month, Sixteenth Day
Captain Liu Feng led the escort with grim determination. Twenty soldiers, all veterans, all personally selected for their loyalty and competence. Ten wagons carrying the sealed chests, each one guarded by at least two men at all times.
The orders had been explicit: no stops except at official way stations. No one approaches the wagons. Any attempt at theft or interference would be met with lethal force.
Liu Feng had been part of the escort for the second shipment, the one that had arrived full of counterfeits. He'd spent months being interrogated about what had gone wrong, whether he'd been bribed, whether he'd fallen asleep on watch. The investigation had cleared him eventually, but the suspicion had never quite left.
This time, he would take no chances.
They traveled during daylight, avoiding any route where ambush was possible. At night, they made camp in open areas where visibility was clear. Guards rotated in shifts, no one sleeping for more than three hours at a stretch. The wagons were checked every evening—seals intact, boxes undisturbed.
Three days of travel. Three days of perfect security.
Nothing went wrong. Not a single incident. No bandits, no suspicious travelers, no unexplained stops.
On the eighteenth day of the fourth month, they arrived at Yanzhou.
---
Yanzhou Garrison Headquarters
Fourth Month, Eighteenth Day
Commander Zhang Wei received the shipment with equal parts hope and dread. He'd been the one to open the last two deliveries, the one to discover the worthless metal inside. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been questioned, investigated, accused of complicity.
"Bring the first chest," he ordered.
Soldiers carried it into his office. Captain Liu Feng and Vice Minister Zhao's representative—a senior clerk named Wu—stood witness. Zhang Wei had invited every high-ranking officer in the garrison to observe. If this went wrong again, he wanted witnesses to prove it wasn't his doing.
The seals were intact. Every single one. Zhang Wei examined them carefully, comparing them to the official records Wu had brought. Vice Minister Zhao's personal seal, unmistakable. The Ministry of Revenue stamp, correct in every detail. No signs of tampering, no indication that the box had been opened since leaving the capital.
Zhang Wei took a deep breath and broke the seals.
The lid opened with a creak of hinges.
Inside, silver gleamed in neat stacks.
For a moment, hope surged. Then Zhang Wei reached in and lifted one of the taels.
Too light. The weight was wrong.
He struck it against the edge of his desk. Instead of the clear ring of genuine silver, it made a dull thud.
With growing horror, Zhang Wei grabbed another tael. Then another. He tested every stack in the chest, already knowing what he would find.
Fake. All of it. Worthless metal coated with a thin layer of silver, made to look genuine but valueless as currency.
"Open the other chests," he said, his voice hollow.
They opened every single one. Ninety-nine more chests, each sealed perfectly, each containing the same worthless counterfeits.
One hundred thousand taels of military funding had vanished again.
---
Yuelai set down the report, her hands trembling slightly.
The documents were meticulous. Every detail recorded, every witness statement taken and verified. She'd just read through accounts from dozens of officials, guards, and clerks, all saying the same thing:
The silver was real when it left the capital.
The escort never stopped.
The seals were never broken.
And yet the silver that arrived was fake.
"This is the third time it's happened," she said quietly, picking up another report—one detailing the previous two incidents. "First time was two years ago. Different escort, different officials, but the same result. Second time was eight months ago. Same pattern. And now this, just two weeks ago."
Wei Ling had been reading over her shoulder, her expression growing increasingly troubled. "What did the previous inspectors find?"
Yuelai shuffled through more documents, finding the investigation reports. "The first inspector, Chen Biao, investigated for three months. He questioned everyone involved, traced the route, examined the counterfeit taels. Found nothing. No evidence of tampering, no signs of conspiracy. He died—" she checked the date "—four months into the investigation. Fell from his horse, broke his neck."
"And the second?"
"Inspector Feng. He took over the case, focused on the Ministry of Revenue, suspected the silver might have been fake from the start. Died six weeks later. Poisoned, they think, though they never found who did it."
"The others?"
"The remaining three inspectors all touched this case in some capacity. One tried to investigate the escort guards, another focused on the Yanzhou garrison, the last one tried to trace the counterfeit taels to their source." Yuelai's finger traced down the list of names, each one marked with a death date. "All dead within months of starting. And none of them found a single useful lead."
Wei Ling leaned back in her chair, her face pale. "How is it even possible? If the guards never stopped, if the seals were intact, if dozens of witnesses all confirm the same timeline..."
"I know." Yuelai stood and moved to the window, looking out at the darkening street. "It's like the silver turned to worthless metal by magic. But magic doesn't exist. Which means someone figured out how to switch one hundred thousand taels of genuine silver for counterfeits without leaving any trace, any evidence, any explanation."
"And whoever did it has killed five inspectors to keep it secret."
"Six, if you count the first one they ruled natural causes." Yuelai turned back to the desk, to the scattered reports and witness statements. "This isn't just theft. This is systematic, organized, and protected by someone powerful enough to murder imperial officials without consequence."
Wei Ling was quiet for a moment, studying the documents. Then she asked the question they were both thinking: "What did the guards and officials say? The ones who were present during the escort?"
Yuelai found the relevant statements and read aloud. "Captain Liu Feng, leader of the escort: 'We departed the capital on the sixteenth day at dawn. We made no unscheduled stops. We camped at designated way stations. We arrived at Yanzhou on the eighteenth day at sunset. At no point were the wagons left unguarded or the seals disturbed.'"
She picked up another document. "Vice Minister Zhao Pengfei: 'I personally inspected every tael before the boxes were sealed. I brought an expert from the Imperial Mint to verify authenticity. The silver was genuine. My personal seal was placed on every chest. Those seals were intact when the chests arrived in Yanzhou.'"
"And the commander who received them?"
"Commander Zhang Wei: 'The seals were unbroken. I examined them personally against official records. Every mark was correct, every stamp authentic. I opened the chests myself, in the presence of multiple witnesses. The silver inside was counterfeit.'"
Wei Ling shook her head slowly. "It doesn't make sense. If the guards never stopped, if the seals were never broken, then the silver would have to have been fake from the start. But the officials who checked it swear it was real."
"Or," Yuelai said quietly, "it was switched somehow during the journey, in a way that left no trace. No broken seals, no signs of tampering, nothing."
"But that's impossible."
"Impossible, yes." Yuelai stared at the documents, at the evidence that pointed in every direction and nowhere at all. "Which means either everyone is lying—"
"Or someone has found a way to do the impossible."
They sat in silence as darkness fell fully outside. Somewhere in the city, lanterns were being lit. Life continued its normal rhythm—merchants closing shops, families gathering for evening meals, officials heading home after a day's work.
And in Qingfeng Residence, two young women sat surrounded by documents that had gotten five men killed, trying to solve a mystery that couldn't be solved.
"It's quite tricky," Yuelai finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If the escort never stopped, how could the silver be switched? It's either—"
"Either it was fake from the start," Wei Ling finished, "or it was switched somehow during the journey. But we've just read dozens of statements that make both explanations impossible."
"Exactly." Yuelai looked at her cousin, seeing her own fear reflected there. "This is what I'm supposed to investigate. This is the case that's killed every inspector who's touched it. And I have absolutely no idea where to even begin."
Wei Ling reached out and squeezed her hand. "Then we start with what we know. The silver disappears somewhere between the capital and Yanzhou. That's a three-day journey along a specific route. Tomorrow, we get maps of that route. We identify every way station, every village, every place where something—anything—could have happened without being noticed."
"And if we find nothing? If the answer really is impossible?"
"Then we find a new way to look at the problem." Wei Ling's voice was firm, determined. "My brother died protecting you. I'm not going to let you die trying to solve an impossible case. We'll figure this out. Together."
Yuelai nodded, grateful for the support even as doubt gnawed at her. The documents spread across her desk told a story of systematic failure. Every inspector who'd investigated this case had died. Every attempt to find answers had led to dead ends.
And now it was her turn.
She looked down at the case file, at the summary sheet with its list of crossed-out names. Previous inspectors, all dead. And at the bottom, freshly written: NSPECTOR WEI HAN.
Somewhere in this impossible mystery was the truth. Someone had stolen three hundred thousand taels of military funding over the course of two years. Someone had murdered six imperial inspectors to keep that theft secret. And someone was powerful enough that even the Emperor seemed unable—or unwilling—to stop them.
This case has particular significance,Zhenge had said. Handle it with appropriate care.
Now she understood what he'd meant. This wasn't just an investigation. It was a death sentence disguised as an assignment.
And she'd just accepted it.
Outside, the night deepened. In the street below, a figure moved in the shadows—watching, waiting. But Yuelai didn't see them. She was too focused on the impossible puzzle before her, trying to find a thread to pull, a question to ask that hadn't already been asked and answered with death.
The Silver Ghost, some officials had started calling it. Three shipments, three impossible thefts, the silver vanishing like a ghost passing through walls.
Yuelai stared at the documents until the characters began to blur together.
Somewhere in these pages was a clue. A contradiction. A lie. Something that would unravel the entire mystery.
She just had to find it before whoever was watching her decided that six dead inspectors weren't enough.
---
END OF CHAPTER 10