Two days.
Two days of reading the same reports until the characters blurred together. Two days of checking witness statements against each other, looking for contradictions that never appeared. Two days of studying maps and routes and timelines, searching for the moment when one hundred thousand taels of genuine silver transformed into worthless counterfeits.
And finding nothing.
Yuelai sat slumped in her chair, her eyes burning with exhaustion. The office in Qingfeng Residence was a disaster—documents spread across every surface, maps pinned to walls, notes scattered like leaves after a storm. She'd barely slept, barely eaten. Wei Ling had forced food on her at intervals, but most of it sat untouched on a tray by the window.
Five inspectors had died investigating this case. Now she understood why. Not because the mystery was complex, but because it was impossible. Every answer led to a contradiction. Every theory collapsed under its own logic.
The silver was real when checked. The seals were never broken. The guards never stopped. And yet the silver that arrived was fake.
It couldn't be true. All of it couldn't be true. And yet dozens of witnesses, all vetted and verified, all said the same thing.
Wei Ling sat across from her, equally exhausted but still methodically working through another stack of documents. She'd been reading the same financial records for hours, cross-referencing dates and amounts, looking for... something. Anything.
She set down the papers with a frustrated sigh. "I think I've gone through everything at least three times now."
"Only three?" Yuelai's voice came out hoarse. "I've read Vice Minister Zhao's statement so many times I could recite it from memory."
"And?"
"And nothing. It's consistent. Thorough. Every detail matches other accounts." Yuelai rubbed her eyes. "Which means either he's telling the truth, or he's an exceptionally good liar."
Wei Ling was quiet for a moment, then said slowly, "After going through everything, I've only found one thing strange."
Yuelai looked up, too tired to feel hopeful but listening anyway. "What is it?"
"Why did they hand the duty to the same officers even after they lost the money two times before?" Wei Ling pulled out the assignment records. "Vice Minister Zhao Pengfei handled all three shipments. Captain Liu Feng led the escort for the second and third. Commander Zhang Wei received all three. After the first theft, you'd expect them to change personnel, suspect the people involved. But instead, they kept using the same officials."
"They're really suspicious," Wei Ling continued. "Almost like—"
"I don't think so." Yuelai straightened in her chair, forcing her exhausted mind to work. "One hundred thousand taels of silver is not a small amount. Stealing it three times in a row isn't something officers like them could do alone. Someone really powerful must be involved. Probably someone from the ministry itself."
She paused, organizing her thoughts. "What I found strange is—if the money was changed during the journey, the soldiers carrying it would have probably noticed. Weight, sound, something would have been different. But they didn't notice anything, which suggests the silver was fake before the escort even began."
"But Vice Minister Zhao had it checked, didn't he?" Wei Ling added, flipping through the reports. "Multiple inspections. He even brought an expert from the Imperial Mint."
Yuelai nodded slowly. "That's what's most strange. Maybe we're missing some detail. Some small thing that everyone overlooked."
Wei Ling opened the main case file again, spreading the timeline document across the desk. She began reading aloud, her voice measured and clear:
"Ministry of Revenue prepares one hundred thousand taels. Vice Minister Zhao conducts inspection on the fifteenth day of the fourth month. Silver confirmed genuine by ministry officials and Imperial Mint expert. Boxes sealed with official stamps." She traced her finger down the page. "Escort departs capital on the sixteenth day at dawn. Three-day journey with no stops except at designated way stations. Arrives at Yanzhou garrison on the eighteenth day at sunset. Funds discovered to be counterfeit."
Yuelai's head snapped up. "What did you say?"
Wei Ling blinked. "Funds discovered to be counterfeit?"
"No, not that part. Before that. Repeat it."
"Uh... arrives at Yanzhou garrison on the eighteenth day?"
"No!" Yuelai lunged forward, snatching the document from Wei Ling's hands. Her eyes scanned the timeline frantically. "The other part. About the inspection and departure."
Wei Ling watched her cousin's expression transform from exhaustion to sudden, electric alertness. "You mean... they checked on the fifteenth but left on the sixteenth?"
"Yes." Yuelai's finger stabbed at the dates. "They checked the silver on the fifteenth. The inspection took most of the day—Vice Minister Zhao was thorough, brought experts, tested multiple samples. By the time they finished sealing the boxes, it would have been evening."
"And then the escort departed the next morning," Wei Ling said, following her logic. "What's wrong with that? It makes sense to inspect one day and depart the next. You can't expect them to load everything and leave immediately after—"
She stopped. Her eyes widened.
"Oh," she breathed.
"Exactly." Yuelai stood, adrenaline cutting through her exhaustion. "It doesn't look strange at first. It seems perfectly reasonable. Inspect thoroughly one day, depart fresh the next morning. But if you think about it—"
"It's the perfect time to switch the funds!" Wei Ling jumped up, scattering papers. "After the inspection, after everyone has confirmed the silver is genuine, but before the escort takes custody. That night between the fifteenth and sixteenth—"
"That's when it happened." Yuelai's mind was racing now, pieces clicking into place. "Vice Minister Zhao conducts his inspection on the fifteenth. Everyone confirms the silver is real. The boxes are sealed with his personal stamp. Then what? The boxes sit somewhere overnight. In a storage room, probably. Guarded, certainly, but..."
"But if someone from the ministry itself wanted to switch them," Wei Ling continued, her voice rising with excitement, "they'd have access. They'd have keys to the storage areas. They'd know which guards were on duty, when shifts changed, where to place bribes or threats."
"And the next morning, when the escort arrives to collect the shipment, they receive boxes that look identical. Same seals, same stamps, same everything. Because the boxes themselves never changed—only what's inside them."
Wei Ling grabbed the case file, flipping through witness statements. "That explains why the guards didn't notice anything during transport. The silver was already fake when they received it. It explains why the seals were never broken—they didn't need to be. And it explains why Commander Zhang found counterfeits when he opened the boxes—because they'd been counterfeits since before they left the capital."
"It explains everything," Yuelai agreed. "The silver was real during the inspection. It was switched that night. And by morning, when the escort took custody, it was already fake."
They stared at each other, the breakthrough hanging between them like a fragile thread.
Then Wei Ling's excitement dimmed. "But we don't have solid proof. Just a theory about a window of time when the switch could have happened. We don't know who did it, how they accessed the storage area, where the real silver went..."
"And why did the other officers never look this way?" Yuelai said quietly, her earlier excitement fading into something colder. Grimmer. "Five inspectors investigated this case. Surely one of them noticed the gap between inspection and departure?"
The implication settled over them like frost.
"Maybe they did," Wei Ling whispered. "Maybe they found exactly what we just found. And maybe that's why they're dead."
Yuelai returned to her chair, but she couldn't sit still. Her mind was churning, connecting dots, seeing patterns. "If someone at the Ministry of Revenue is involved—someone high-ranking enough to access secured storage, to move large quantities of silver without arousing suspicion—then investigating them directly would be..."
"Suicide," Wei Ling finished. "You'd be accusing one of the most powerful ministries in the empire of systematic theft. Without absolute proof, they'd crush you. And even with proof, if they're protected by someone higher up..."
She didn't need to finish. They both understood. The Emperor had appointed Yuelai to this position knowing the risks. Had assigned her this specific case knowing it had killed five inspectors before her. Either he wanted to test her loyalty, or he wanted her dead, or—most disturbing of all—he already knew who was responsible and couldn't or wouldn't stop them.
"About clues," Yuelai said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach. "I think I have a new lead. A way to find proof."
Wei Ling looked at her warily. "What kind of lead?"
"The boxes. The ones used to transport the silver." Yuelai pulled out the inventory documents. "According to these records, the Ministry of Revenue has a standard set of reinforced chests they use for large fund transfers. After each shipment, the chests are returned to the ministry for inspection and storage until needed again."
"You want to examine the boxes?"
"If someone switched the silver overnight, they would have needed to open the sealed chests, remove the genuine taels, replace them with counterfeits, and reseal everything perfectly. That takes time. Tools. Skill." Yuelai's finger traced the inventory list. "There might be evidence. Scratches on the locks. Residue from fake seals. Something that shows the boxes were tampered with between inspection and departure."
"But those boxes are stored at the Ministry of Revenue," Wei Ling said slowly. "You'd have to go there. Request access. If the people responsible are ministry officials, you'd be walking right into—"
"A trap. I know." Yuelai met her cousin's eyes. "But it's the only way forward. We can theorize all we want about the missing hours between the fifteenth and sixteenth, but without physical evidence, we have nothing. The boxes are evidence. If I can examine them, find proof of tampering, then we have something solid. Something that can't be dismissed or explained away."
"It's really dangerous."
"Everything about this case is dangerous." Yuelai's voice was quiet but firm. "Five inspectors are dead, Wei Ling. Six if you count the first one. I'm not going to solve this by being careful. Careful gets you killed slowly. At least this way, if they're going to move against me, I'll force their hand. Make them act in a way that might expose them."
Wei Ling stared at her cousin for a long moment. Then she sighed, resignation and determination mixing in her expression. "When?"
"Tomorrow. I'll submit a formal request to examine the transport equipment as part of my investigation. It's well within my authority as Military Inspector—I'm investigating theft of military funds, after all. They can't refuse without looking suspicious."
"And if they try to stop you anyway?"
"Then we'll know for certain that someone at the Ministry of Revenue is involved." Yuelai managed a grim smile. "Either way, we get information."
Wei Ling didn't look reassured, but she nodded. They spent the next hour organizing their findings, documenting their theory about the missing hours, preparing the formal request Yuelai would submit. By the time they finished, night had fallen completely outside.
Yuelai walked Wei Ling to the guest room they'd prepared for her, then returned to her own chambers. She should sleep. Tomorrow would require all her wits, all her strength.
But sleep felt impossible. Her mind kept circling back to the timeline, to the gap between inspection and departure, to the question that haunted her:
If the previous inspectors had found this same lead, what had they discovered that got them killed?
She was standing at her window, looking out at the dark street below, when she heard it.
A soft sound. Barely audible. The flutter of wings.
Yuelai turned just in time to see a shadow pass her window. A bird, she thought at first. But birds didn't fly at night unless—
A messenger pigeon.
She watched its silhouette disappear over the rooftops, heading toward the palace complex. Heading toward the noble quarter where the highest-ranking officials lived.
Carrying messages. Information. Secrets.
Yuelai felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.
Somewhere in this city, people were communicating. Coordinating. And she had a terrible feeling that some of those messages were about her.
---
## Shen Empire - Three Days' Ride East
Gu Tianyu sat in what had once been Crown Prince Junwei's private study, though all traces of its previous occupant had been meticulously removed. The maps on the walls now showed Tianyu's interests—trade routes, military deployments, borders with Luo. The desk held his correspondence, his plans, his careful calculations.
He was reviewing troop assignments when the flutter of wings drew his attention.
A pigeon landed on the windowsill, a small cylinder tied to its leg. Tianyu rose and retrieved it with practiced ease. He'd established this network of messenger birds shortly after taking the throne—faster than couriers, more discreet than official dispatches, and almost impossible to intercept.
He unrolled the tiny scroll, reading the cramped characters by lamplight.
*From Luo. We still need some time. You will be informed when we are ready.*
Tianyu's lips curved into a smile. Not the pleasant expression he showed his court, but something colder. Sharper.
He moved to the door and called out: "Captain Feng."
His personal guard appeared immediately, bowing. "Your Majesty?"
"The fish has taken the bait." Tianyu's voice was conversational, as if discussing nothing more significant than tomorrow's weather. "Send word to General Zhao. I want weapons inspected and the army prepared for mobilization. Nothing obvious—standard readiness drills. But I want us ready to move within a week."
"Ready for war, Your Majesty?"
"Ready for whatever proves necessary." Tianyu returned to his desk, already composing the next message. "And Captain? Increase border patrols along the Luo frontier. I want to know immediately if there are any unusual troop movements on their side."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
After the captain departed, Tianyu stood alone in the study, the message from Luo still in his hand. He moved to the fireplace and held the paper to the flames, watching it curl and blacken and turn to ash.
Three months. Three months since Yuelai had escaped. Three months of carefully laid plans, of messages sent and received, of pieces moved across the board like stones in a game of Go.
She thought she was safe in Luo. Thought she could hide behind her uncle's protection, behind a dead man's name, behind the temporary interest of a prince who liked to collect broken things.
She was wrong.
Tianyu moved to the window, looking out over the Shen capital. His capital now. The throne he'd fought for, killed for, sacrificed everything to claim.
But it wasn't complete. Not yet. Not while she lived free, somewhere beyond his reach, possibly gathering allies, possibly planning revenge.
He'd underestimated her once. At Longmen, when her strategy had defeated his siege, when she'd proven herself more than just a pampered princess playing at war. That had been... unexpected. Almost impressive.
But impressive or not, she was still just one person. One fugitive in a foreign land, surrounded by enemies she didn't even know existed yet.
"Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Yuelai," he murmured to the night. "Walk around that capital. Play your games of investigation and intrigue. Pretend you're safe."
His hand clenched around the windowsill, knuckles going white.
"Because you'll be caged soon enough. Back here, where you belong. And when I have you again—" His voice dropped to something barely audible, something that carried the weight of three months' worth of fury and frustration and something darker that he refused to name "—you will suffer as much as I have. You'll understand what it means to lose everything. To have your plans crumble. To watch everyone you care about die because of choices you made."
The image of her brother's severed head flashed through his mind. The way she'd looked at him afterward—not with fear, but with hatred so pure it had almost been beautiful.
He wanted to see that expression again. Wanted to break it, piece by piece, until nothing remained but acceptance of her fate.
The messenger pigeon from Luo had brought good news. His contact there was in position, feeding him information, preparing the final pieces of a plan that would bring Yuelai back to Shen whether she wanted to come or not.
She thought she'd escaped. Thought she'd found a new life, a new identity, a chance to fight back.
But she was wrong. She'd simply stepped from one cage into another.
And soon—very soon—Tianyu would slam the door shut.
He turned from the window, his expression smoothing back into the pleasant mask he wore for his court. There was work to do. Messages to send. Armies to prepare.
And in Luo, in a residence that had killed five inspectors before her, Yuelai was about to walk into exactly the trap he'd helped arrange.
Tianyu returned to his desk, picked up his brush, and began composing new orders.
The game was entering its final phase.
And this time, he would make certain there was no escape.
---
END OF CHAPTER 11