The morning sun filtered through the trees in Prince Zhenge's private courtyard, casting dappled shadows across the stone paths. It was a peaceful scene—birds singing, water trickling from a fountain, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air.
Zhenge sat at a low table under a pavilion, a game of Go laid out before him. Shen Rong occupied the seat across from him, though neither had made a move in some time. They simply sat in comfortable silence, drinking tea and watching the garden.
A servant appeared at the courtyard entrance, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, Military Inspector Wei Han requests an audience."
Zhenge didn't look up from the board. "Let him in."
The servant departed. Shen Rong raised an eyebrow, setting down his tea cup with deliberate precision.
"That was fast," he said quietly. "I thought it would take at least a month before Inspector Wei came asking for help. Assuming he survived that long."
"Someone wants help, I guess." Zhenge's tone was mild, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Shen Rong leaned back, studying his friend's face. "Or should I say, what you knew would happen?"
"Why would I want to help a mere Military Inspector?" Zhenge picked up a white stone, turning it between his fingers. "I have enough problems without adding his investigation to my concerns."
"As long as it's beneficial or interesting to you," Shen Rong said with a knowing smile. "Which we both know it is."
Before Zhenge could respond, the servant's voice called from the entrance: "Military Inspector Wei Han."
Yuelai entered the courtyard, her stride measured and formal. She wore her official uniform, sword at her side, every inch the proper imperial officer. But Zhenge noticed the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes scanned the courtyard before settling on him.
Someone trying very hard to appear calm while being anything but.
"What brings you here, Inspector Wei?" Zhenge asked, his voice pleasant.
Yuelai stopped at the appropriate distance and bowed. "Your Highness, I believe I have a lead regarding the military funds case. But I need your help to pursue it."
"Aren't you too straightforward, Inspector?" Zhenge gestured to an empty cushion. "Please, sit."
Yuelai settled onto the cushion with careful precision, maintaining Wei Han's controlled movements. She opened her mouth to explain her theory, to detail what she'd discovered about the missing hours—
"What will I get by helping you?" Zhenge interrupted.
Yuelai stopped, thrown off balance. She'd expected to present her findings first, to convince him of the investigation's merit. Instead, he was already agreeing to help—but demanding payment?
Her mind raced. What could a prince want from a military inspector? What did she have to offer that would interest someone with his power and resources?
"The credit for solving this case," she said carefully. "As head of the Censorate, successfully recovering three hundred thousand taels of stolen military funds would... significantly strengthen your position."
Zhenge's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "That's not something I want from you, Inspector Wei."
He set down his tea cup and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on hers with unsettling intensity.
"How about this," he said. "In return for allowing you to inspect those storage boxes under my name—" he paused, letting the words sink in, letting her understand that he already knew exactly what she wanted "—I want to have tea with your twin sister."
The world seemed to tilt.
Yuelai's mind went blank for a heartbeat, then raced to catch up. How does he know what I need? I haven't told him about the boxes, about the Ministry of Revenue, about any of it. How—
And then the second part of his statement hit her. Tea with your twin sister.
Wei Han didn't have a twin sister. He had Wei Ling, two years younger. But they looked remarkably similar. And Zhenge had asked about a "twin sister" during their first meeting, as if testing her reaction.
He knew. Or suspected. Something.
But Wei Ling looked like Wei Han—the same strong features, the same serious expression. She didn't look like Yuelai's real face, the one hidden beneath this disguise. So if Zhenge wanted tea with the "twin sister," he was asking to meet... Wei Ling? Or did he somehow know that "Wei Ling" would actually be Yuelai in a different disguise?
The calculation took seconds. Whatever Zhenge knew or suspected, refusing would be more suspicious than agreeing. And if she could examine those boxes, if she could find proof of tampering...
"Agreed," Yuelai said, keeping her voice steady. "My sister would be honored to take tea with Your Highness."
Zhenge's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Satisfaction? Amusement? She couldn't tell.
"Excellent. I'll send word to the Ministry of Revenue today. You may conduct your inspection tomorrow morning." He picked up his tea cup again, a clear dismissal. "I look forward to meeting your sister, Inspector Wei."
Yuelai rose, bowed, and left the courtyard with measured steps. Only when she was out of sight, walking through the palace grounds toward the gate, did she allow herself to breathe.
If I'm right, they won't be able to refuse the prince's request, she thought, her mind already racing ahead to tomorrow. Now I can only hope we find a clue, because this is my only chance. And if we don't find the funds or proof...
They could use this against her. Against Zhenge. Against everyone involved. One inspection, one opportunity, and if she failed...
This is my only chance,she repeated to herself, like a prayer or a curse.
She just hoped it would be enough.
---
The streets of the capital were packed.
Yuelai had seen crowds before—festival days, market days, the organized chaos of urban life. But this was different. This was celebration. Victory.
Banners in the imperial colors hung from every building. Citizens lined the main thoroughfare, cheering and waving. Children sat on their parents' shoulders to get a better view. Merchants had abandoned their shops to join the throng.
"What's happening?" Yuelai asked a nearby official as they both stood pressed against a building wall, trying to stay out of the crowd's path.
"You don't know?" The man looked at her in surprise. "The Second Prince is returning! He's coming through the gates now—look!"
The roar of the crowd intensified. Yuelai craned her neck to see over the mass of people.
A procession was making its way down the main street. Soldiers in battle-worn armor, their weapons carried with the casual confidence of men who knew how to use them. Officers on horseback, their faces weathered by years of campaigning. And at the head of the column, riding a black warhorse that seemed to mirror its rider's bearing, was a man who could only be the Second Prince.
Even from a distance, his presence was commanding. He wore armor rather than ceremonial robes, practical rather than ornate. His face was sharp-featured and stern, the face of someone who'd spent the past two years making life-or-death decisions. There was nothing soft about him, nothing that suggested the pampered luxury of palace life.
This was a warrior, not a courtier.
"Who is he?" A voice near Yuelai asked—a young woman, probably new to the capital based on her confused expression.
An older man beside her answered with obvious pride: "You probably don't know him because you're new to the capital. That's Prince Luo Zhenwei, Second Prince of Luo, known throughout the empire for his war skills. He's returning victorious after two years of continuous war between Luo and Beiyuan." The man's voice swelled with patriotic fervor. "He's also known as the War God of Luo, for being undefeated by anyone till now!"
The War God of Luo. Yuelai watched as Prince Zhenwei rode past, acknowledging the crowd with curt nods but no smiles. His eyes scanned the streets with the alertness of someone who'd spent too long in hostile territory to fully relax.
Their gazes met for just a moment—her pressed against a building wall, him elevated on his warhorse—and Yuelai felt a chill run down her spine. Those eyes missed nothing. Assessed everything.
Then he was past, the procession continuing toward the palace, and Yuelai could breathe again.
A returning war hero. A second prince with military power and popular support. In the complex politics of the Luo court, his return would shift balances, create new alliances and rivalries.
And somehow, Yuelai suspected, it would make her own situation more complicated.
---
By the time Yuelai reached the palace complex, word had already spread. The Second Prince was back. The Emperor had summoned an emergency court session.
And as a Military Inspector with the authority to attend court functions, Yuelai found herself swept along with the other officials toward the throne room.
The great hall was already packed when she arrived. Ministers and officials stood in their ranked positions, the hierarchy of power made visible through placement and robes. Yuelai found her spot among the mid-ranking officials—high enough to be noticed, low enough to hopefully avoid too much attention.
Prince Zhenge stood near the front, his expression neutral. Beside him, Shen Rong looked alert and wary. Whatever was about to happen, they both knew it would be significant.
The drums sounded. Every official bowed as one.
"His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Luo!" the herald announced.
The Emperor entered—a man in his late fifties with the kind of face that suggested he'd been handsome in youth but had been hardened by years of rule. He wore the full imperial regalia, every inch the sovereign. But Yuelai noticed the way his eyes swept the room, calculating, assessing, looking for threats even among his own officials.
A paranoid emperor. Dangerous.
He ascended to the Dragon Throne and sat, his expression revealing nothing.
"Summon Prince Luo Zhenwei," he commanded.
The herald's voice rang out: "His Highness, Second Prince Luo Zhenwei!"
The doors opened again. Prince Zhenwei entered, still in his travel-stained armor, flanked by his subordinate officers. He walked with the confidence of someone who'd just spent two years commanding armies, someone who'd forgotten how to be anything other than a general.
He stopped before the throne and dropped to one knee, his officers following suit.
"Your son greets his Imperial Father," Zhenwei said, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. "I have the honor to report that the war with Beiyuan has concluded. We have achieved complete victory. Their armies are defeated, their capital occupied, and their emperor has formally surrendered."
A murmur ran through the court. Complete victory. After two years of costly warfare, Luo had finally won.
The Emperor's expression remained neutral, but Yuelai saw the slight tension in his jaw. "Rise, Prince Zhenwei. You have done well."
As Zhenwei stood, another figure stepped forward from the ranks of ministers. An elderly man in the highest-ranking official's robes, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp with political acumen.
"Your Majesty," the man said, bowing deeply. "If this humble servant may speak?"
"Prime Minister Xiao Dingtian." The Emperor's voice was cool. "You may speak."
Prime Minister Xiao Dingtian straightened, his expression carefully arranged in concern. "Your Majesty, we rejoice in Prince Zhenwei's victory. However, this humble servant must point out certain... realities. The war took two years to achieve complete victory. Two years during which our treasury was drained, our armies depleted, our resources stretched to breaking."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"Moreover," he continued, "the political treaty between Luo and Shen has been effectively broken. The Shen Emperor used the excuse of the missing murderer to attack our border garrison at Longmen. While we repelled that attack, the peace accord that has held for sixteen years is now fractured. If Shen attacks again—and there are signs they may be preparing to do so—we cannot afford another war."
The court was silent, every official aware of the implications.
"Therefore," Xiao Dingtian said, his voice taking on a tone of false reluctance, "this humble servant believes it is time for Your Majesty to declare a Crown Prince. To establish clear succession, to unify the court, to show both our people and our enemies that Luo has stable leadership prepared to guide the empire through these troubled times."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
The Emperor rose from his throne, and every official flinched. When he spoke, his voice was cold with fury.
"So you think I can't rule this court anymore? That I should retire soon? Is that what you're suggesting, Prime Minister Xiao?"
"No, Your Majesty! This humble servant would never—"
"You only want your nephew—" the Emperor's finger stabbed toward the ranks of princes, where a young man stood trying to look both humble and worthy "—my Third Prince, to take over as soon as possible. To put your family's puppet on the throne while I'm still alive!"
Xiao Dingtian dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor. "Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect. I only—"
"I will decide who becomes Crown Prince!" The Emperor's voice echoed through the hall. "When I am ready, if I am ever ready. And as for the treaty with Shen—the new Shen Emperor has taken no further hostile actions. I will handle it if and when he does."
For a moment, it seemed the matter was settled. Then Xiao Dingtian, still kneeling, spoke again.
"Your Majesty's wisdom is unquestionable. However..." He lifted his head slightly. "The case of the missing military funds is yet to be solved. This is the third time such theft has occurred under Prince Zhenge's oversight of the Censorate. If the First Prince cannot even handle a simple matter of investigating corruption—"
"Prime Minister Xiao." Prince Zhenge's voice cut through the hall, calm but sharp. "We wouldn't have to be solving this case repeatedly if only the Ministry of Revenue could handle their duties properly. If I remember correctly, your brother—Xiao Dingyuan—is the current Minister of Revenue. The ministry responsible for preparing and securing those very funds that keep disappearing."
Every official in the room tensed. The implication was clear: if anyone should be questioned about the missing funds, it was the ministry that handled them.
Xiao Dingtian's face flushed red. "How dare you suggest—"
"ENOUGH!"
The Emperor's shout silenced them both. He remained standing, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne with white-knuckled intensity.
"I am tired," he said slowly, dangerously, "of this constant bickering. Tired of investigations that go nowhere. Tired of officials who cannot perform their basic duties." His gaze swept across the court, landing on Zhenge with the weight of imperial displeasure. "Prince Zhenge, as head of the Censorate, you are responsible for this investigation. You have one week—seven days—to solve this case and recover the stolen funds. If you cannot accomplish this, perhaps you are not suited for your current position."
The threat was unmistakable. Fail, and Zhenge would be stripped of his authority. Possibly worse.
"And Minister Xiao Dingyuan," the Emperor continued, turning his attention to a portly man standing near the Prime Minister—clearly his brother. "You will provide the Censorate with full access to your ministry. Any records, any personnel, any resources they require. Obstruct this investigation, and I will consider it evidence of your complicity."
Both men bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Court is adjourned."
The Emperor descended from the throne and swept from the hall, his guards falling in around him. The moment he was gone, the court erupted in hushed whispers.
Yuelai stood frozen among the officials, her mind reeling.
One week.
Seven days to solve a case that had killed five inspectors. Seven days to prove a theory about missing hours and switched silver. Seven days to examine boxes and find evidence that might not even exist.
And if she failed, Zhenge would fall. His protection would vanish. And she—a fake inspector hiding under a dead man's name—would be exposed and destroyed along with him.
She felt eyes on her and looked up to find Zhenge watching her from across the hall. His expression was carefully neutral, but she saw the message there:
One week, Inspector Wei. Make it count.
Then he turned and left, Shen Rong following, leaving Yuelai standing among the dispersing officials, the weight of an impossible deadline pressing down on her shoulders.
Tomorrow she would examine the storage boxes. Tomorrow she would search for proof.
Tomorrow her real investigation would begin.
And seven days from now, she would either have solved the mystery that had stumped five inspectors before her...
Or she would be dead.
---
END OF CHAPTER 12