The morning sun was barely above the horizon when Yuelai and Wei Ling arrived at the meeting point. A carriage waited in the shadow of a large estate, its curtains drawn, no insignia visible on its sides. Designed to be unremarkable, forgettable—exactly the kind of vehicle someone would use when they didn't want attention.
Wei Ling shifted nervously beside her, adjusting the simple robes she wore. Not quite a servant's clothes, not quite an official's. The perfect attire for someone who was present but not important enough to notice.
"Are you sure about this?" Wei Ling whispered. "Going to the Ministry of Revenue, confronting officials who might be responsible for murder—"
"We don't have a choice." Yuelai kept her voice low. "Seven days. That's all we have. And the answers are in those boxes."
The sound of approaching footsteps made them both straighten. Two figures emerged from the morning mist—Prince Zhenge in elegant robes that managed to look both casual and expensive, and Shen Rong beside him, dressed in the formal attire of his position as Vice Minister of Justice.
Yuelai and Wei Ling bowed in unison. "Your Highness. Lord Shen."
Zhenge acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod, his expression as unreadable as ever. But before he could speak, Shen Rong's attention fixed on Wei Ling. His eyebrows rose slightly, a smile playing at his lips.
"And who is this?" He looked between Wei Ling and Yuelai, noting the resemblance. "Your sister?"
Yuelai opened her mouth to explain—
"She's his cousin," Zhenge interrupted smoothly. "General Wei's wife's sister's daughter. She'll be helping with examining the boxes with her medical skills."
Everyone froze.
Wei Ling's eyes widened in surprise. Shen Rong's smile faltered into confusion. And Yuelai felt ice run down her spine.
How does he know that? She'd never mentioned Wei Ling's actual relationship to the family. Never explained why she'd brought someone with medical training. Zhenge had just... known. How did he know the exact fake relationship they came up with Wei ling .As if he'd been informed of their every move."
Shen Rong recovered first, his smile returning with an edge of amusement. "Looks like you're quite informed, Your Highness."
Zhenge's expression didn't change. He simply turned toward the carriage. "Let's go. Wei Han, I want you to lead. Don't reveal the fact that I'm in the carriage until I step out. Understood?"
Yuelai didn't understand. Not really. But she wasn't about to question a prince in front of others. "Understood, Your Highness."
A servant brought forward a horse for her. As Yuelai mounted, her mind was racing. Exactly how much does he know? About Wei Han? About me? About what we're really doing?
But there was no time to dwell on it. She had seven days to solve this case. Seven days to find three hundred thousand taels of stolen silver and prove who'd taken it.
Everything else would have to wait.
She urged the horse forward, leading the way toward the Ministry of Revenue.
---
The Ministry of Revenue was an imposing structure in the administrative quarter—three stories of gray stone with narrow windows and guards posted at every entrance. It was one of the six ministries that formed the backbone of imperial government, responsible for taxation, currency, and the flow of funds that kept the empire running.
It was also, if Yuelai's theory was correct, the center of a conspiracy that had stolen three hundred thousand taels and killed six investigators.
As their small procession approached the main gates, two guards stepped forward, crossing their spears to block the entrance.
"Halt," the senior guard commanded. "Entry to the Ministry of Revenue is restricted. State your business."
Yuelai dismounted smoothly, her hand moving to the badge at her belt. She held it up so the morning sun caught the imperial seal etched into the metal.
"I am Wei Han, Military Inspector, assigned to the case of military funds theft by His Majesty himself." Her voice carried the weight of official authority. "Do you dare defy his direct order?"
The guards exchanged uncertain glances. Before they could respond, the ministry's main doors burst open.
Vice Minister Zhao Pengfei strode out, his face flushed with anger. He was a man in his late forties, well-fed and prosperous-looking, with the kind of face that suggested he'd grown comfortable in his position. Too comfortable, perhaps, to appreciate being disturbed so early in the morning.
"You—a mere Military Inspector—dare to order the Ministry of Revenue?" His voice was sharp with outrage. "What are you doing here instead of investigating the case? No one is allowed to enter the Ministry of Revenue, and this is also by order of His Majesty!"
He drew himself up to his full height, clearly expecting his rank and the Emperor's name to send this upstart inspector scurrying away.
Then a voice spoke from inside the carriage, cool and aristocratic:
"So Vice Minister Zhao passes orders in place of my father now?"
The color drained from Zhao's face.
The carriage door opened. Prince Luo Zhenge stepped out, followed by Shen Rong. Both moved with the casual confidence of men who'd grown up in the highest circles of power, who knew exactly how much weight their presence carried.
Zhao dropped to his knees so fast it must have hurt. "Your Highness! I—I was just—I didn't mean—" He pressed his forehead to the ground. "This humble servant misspoke. Please forgive my ignorance!"
Wei Ling leaned close to Yuelai, her whisper barely audible: "It was a good idea to come unannounced and ask Prince Zhenge's help. Otherwise who knows what excuse they would have come up with."
Yuelai nodded slightly, her eyes never leaving Zhao's prostrate form. Then she stepped forward, positioning herself beside Zhenge with the confidence of someone who had a prince's backing.
"Vice Minister Zhao," she said, her voice polite but edged with steel. "Can we proceed now? We don't have the whole day to waste like you do."
Zhao scrambled to his feet, bowing repeatedly. "Of course! Of course! This way, please, Your Highness, honored guests, please—"
They passed through the gates. Yuelai noticed how Zhao's eyes kept darting between her and Zhenge, calculating, reassessing the situation. A man who'd thought he was about to refuse entry to a lone inspector now faced a prince and two high-ranking officials. The power dynamic had shifted dramatically.
Wei Ling walked ahead with surprising confidence, her earlier nervousness replaced by something sharper. She even smiled at Zhao as she passed—a sweet, innocent expression that somehow made the vice minister look even more unsettled.
Shen Rong, watching this display, smiled with obvious amusement. He fell into step beside Wei Ling, his expression one of open admiration.
"You handle yourself well for someone who's just here to provide medical expertise," he said quietly.
Wei Ling glanced at him, her smile widening slightly. "Lord Shen is too kind."
Behind them, Zhenge and Yuelai walked side by side, both maintaining stern, official expressions. But Yuelai noticed how Zhao kept pace with them, and how the vice minister leaned close to whisper to one of his guards.
"Inform the Minister of Revenue. Immediately."
The guard nodded and hurried away.
So,Yuelai thought grimly, Minister Xiao Dingyuan is about to learn we're here. Good. Let him worry.
---
They were led to a meeting room on the second floor—a space designed to impress visitors with its expensive furniture and elaborate decorations. Tea had already been prepared, servants moving with practiced efficiency to serve the guests.
Yuelai stood near the window, studying the courtyard below. Wei Ling positioned herself near the door, still playing the role of helpful assistant. Shen Rong leaned against a wall, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert.
And Zhenge... Zhenge walked directly to the head of the room, where a large, ornate chair sat—clearly the Minister of Revenue's seat. He settled into it as if he belonged there, as if he'd simply decided to borrow someone else's throne for the morning.
Zhao, who'd been about to sit, froze. His mouth opened. Closed. He couldn't very well tell a prince to move, but seeing someone else in his superior's chair clearly disturbed him.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door opened.
Minister Xiao Dingyuan entered.
He was older than his brother the Prime Minister, perhaps sixty, with a round face and the well-fed appearance of someone who'd spent decades enjoying his position's benefits. But his eyes were sharp, intelligent, and currently fixed on the scene before him with barely concealed irritation.
Yuelai stepped forward and bowed. Not deeply—just enough to acknowledge his rank while maintaining her own authority. "Minister Xiao. I am Military Inspector Wei Han. Thank you for receiving us."
Her tone was formal. Cold. The bow was technically correct but lacked any warmth.
Xiao's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He returned the bow with equal formality, then turned to address the prince.
Only to find Zhenge sitting in his chair, calmly sipping tea.
For a moment, Xiao's mask slipped. Anger flashed across his features before he smoothed it away. He bowed to Zhenge—deeper this time, as protocol demanded—then moved to one of the side seats.
"Your Highness," he said, his voice pleasant despite the clear insult of having his own seat taken. "To what do we owe this unexpected honor?"
Zhenge set down his tea cup, his expression one of mild amusement. "Minister Xiao. I trust you received His Majesty's order regarding full cooperation with the investigation?"
"Of course, Your Highness." Xiao's smile widened slightly. "We are always eager to assist the Censorate. Though I must admit, I'm curious—have you found the missing funds? That would be very helpful, rather than... bothering us with inspections and questions."
Wei Ling leaned toward Yuelai and Shen Rong, whispering: "Is he being sarcastic?"
Shen Rong's own smile was sharp with amusement as he whispered back: "He's being sarcastic to the wrong person."
Zhenge, who'd certainly heard both comments, took another sip of tea. When he spoke, his voice was conversational, almost friendly:
"We wouldn't have to bother you, Minister Xiao, if certain stupid officers and their seniors had done their duties seriously in the first place."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
Xiao's smile became fixed, brittle. "Your Highness is as skilled with words as his father. Quite the talent for sarcasm."
Then his attention shifted to Yuelai, his expression taking on a paternal, almost pitying quality.
"You must be Wei Han. Son of General Wei Qiang." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "I've heard about your impressive war strategy skills. The victory at Longmen was quite remarkable. But—" his tone sharpened "—don't let success make you arrogant and ignorant. In the capital, war strategies are useless if you don't know your place in court."
The warning was clear: You're out of your depth. Back down before you get hurt.
Yuelai met his gaze without flinching. When she spoke, her voice was respectful but carried an edge:
"Thank you for your advice, Minister Xiao. I've also heard many good things about you. In fact, I even see you as an idol for every minister."
Xiao's expression brightened slightly at what he clearly thought was flattery.
"After all," Yuelai continued smoothly, "who could be better at benefiting from the Prime Minister's position than you? You've benefited the most compared to all his other relatives. But then, you are his brother, after all."
The flattery twisted into something else entirely—an accusation wrapped in false praise. You owe your position to nepotism, not merit.
Xiao's smile turned glacial. "Like head of Censorate, like inspector. Isn't that so?" His voice dropped to something quieter, more dangerous. "You should take care, Military Inspector Wei Han. Many military inspectors have died recently. Tragic accidents, all of them."
The threat was barely veiled.
Yuelai smiled—Wei Han's professional, emotionless smile. "You should take care too, Minister Xiao. I heard your daughter's wedding is in two days. You wouldn't want to catch a cold and miss such an important family occasion."
The implication was equally clear: I know about your family. I know your schedule. I know exactly where to look.
For a moment, tension stretched taut between them, the verbal sparring having crossed from political maneuvering into something sharper, more personal.
Then Zhenge's personal guard entered the room, moving directly to the prince and whispering in his ear.
Yuelai couldn't hear the words, but she saw Zhenge's expression shift subtly. He asked a quiet question. The guard answered. Zhenge nodded once, then spoke aloud:
"What about the boxes?"
"They're found, Your Highness. In storage, as indicated in the records."
"Bring them to the inspection room. Now."
The guard bowed and departed. Zhenge rose from the minister's chair with unhurried grace.
"Minister Xiao, Vice Minister Zhao—I'm sure you have important work to attend to. We'll conduct our inspection and inform you of the results."
It was a dismissal. Not a request.
Xiao's jaw tightened, but he had no grounds to refuse. He bowed stiffly. "Of course, Your Highness. We are at your disposal."
As they filed out of the meeting room and down a corridor toward the ministry's storage areas, Yuelai felt her pulse quicken. This was it. The moment of truth.
Either those boxes would reveal evidence of tampering, or her theory was wrong and they had no leads at all.
---
The inspection room was smaller, more utilitarian than the meeting room. Stone floors, plain walls, a large table in the center. Windows high up let in morning light but prevented anyone from seeing inside from ground level.
Four guards carried in the wooden chests, setting them carefully on the table. They were exactly as described in the reports—heavy reinforced boxes with iron bands and multiple seal points. Official stamps covered every joint and seam, layer upon layer of wax and ink proving these boxes had been secured, verified, certified.
The same boxes that had somehow been opened, emptied of genuine silver, filled with counterfeits, and resealed without leaving a trace.
Xiao and Zhao had been left behind, but Yuelai was acutely aware they wouldn't stay away. Word would spread. People would watch. This inspection needed to find something, or it would be dismissed as incompetence.
Wei Ling moved forward immediately, her earlier nervousness completely gone. This was her element—examining evidence, finding details others missed. She began with the handles, running her fingers along the wood.
"These boxes have been used many times," she said, half to herself. "See how the wood is worn here, and here? Years of being lifted, carried, loaded onto wagons."
She moved methodically around the first box, examining every surface. Yuelai and the others watched in silence. Even Shen Rong's amusement had faded into genuine interest.
"There are many fingerprints at the handles," Wei Ling continued, pulling out a small cloth and some powder from her medical bag—materials she'd brought specifically for this purpose. She dusted the handles lightly, making the prints more visible. "And at the corners where people would grip to lift. That's normal. Expected."
She moved to the center of the box's lid. Dusted it carefully.
Then she stopped.
"This is unusual," she said quietly.
Yuelai stepped closer. "What is it?"
Wei Ling gestured to the dusted surface. "Look. Many fingerprints at the center of the lid. Right here." She indicated a spot that was too far from any handle or corner to be easily reached when lifting.
Shen Rong frowned. "Why would there be fingerprints there?"
"Exactly." Wei Ling's voice carried a note of excitement. "These are too far from the handles or corners. Why would there be so many fingerprints at the center, unless—"
"Unless the center was used for something else," Zhenge finished, his eyes sharp with understanding.
Rong still looked confused. "What else could it be used for? You can't hold a box this size from the center—it's too big and too heavy."
Yuelai stared at the fingerprints, her mind racing. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her hand exactly where the prints indicated. Not gripping. Not lifting. Just... pressing.
Her fingers aligned with the marks. She pushed upward slightly.
There was a soft click.
Everyone in the room froze.
Yuelai pushed a little harder. The center section of the lid—a panel perhaps two feet square—lifted up and slid to the side.
The box had opened from the center.
The seals along the edges were completely intact. Unbroken. Untouched. But there, hidden in plain sight, was a second opening. A way to access the interior without disturbing any of the official stamps and verification marks.
For a long moment, no one spoke. They simply stared at the impossible made possible.
"Gods," Shen Rong breathed. "The seals were never broken because they never needed to be broken. They opened it from the center, switched the silver, closed it again, and no one ever thought to look for a hidden mechanism."
Wei Ling quickly checked the other boxes. Each one had the same feature—a center panel that could be opened independently of the sealed edges. It was clever craftsmanship, the kind of thing that would only be noticed if you knew exactly what to look for.
"These boxes were specially made," Yuelai said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. "Commissioned by someone with access to ministry funds and the authority to specify how transport containers should be constructed."
Zhenge had moved to the window, his back to the room. When he spoke, his voice was cold and final:
"Guard."
His personal guard appeared immediately. "Your Highness?"
"Vice Minister Zhao Pengfei is to be arrested immediately on charges of corruption and theft of military funds. Take him into custody. Use whatever force necessary."
The guard bowed and departed at a run.
Wei Ling looked at Yuelai, her expression troubled. "Why aren't we arresting Minister Xiao too? He's the one in charge—"
"Because this doesn't prove his involvement," Shen Rong interrupted gently. "Not definitively. These boxes prove someone in the ministry designed a method to steal the silver.
Zhao was the one who personally inspected the funds and oversaw their preparation. We can link him directly to the crime.
But Minister Xiao?" He shook his head. "He's the
Prime Minister's brother. We can't arrest him without absolute proof of his complicity, or it becomes a political weapon he can use against us."
"What about the silver?" Wei Ling pressed. "We still don't know where it is. Three hundred thousand taels don't just disappear."
"No," Zhenge said, turning from the window. "They don't. But Vice Minister Zhao must know where he kept that much silver. It has to still be in the capital—that amount of wealth can't be transported out easily, not right now when everything is being checked thoroughly because of this case."
He looked at Yuelai, and for the first time, there was something like approval in his expression.
"Well done, Inspector Wei. You found what five of your predecessors could not."
Before Yuelai could respond, shouts erupted from somewhere in the ministry. The sound of running feet, of orders being called, of someone protesting loudly.
They rushed to the window. In the courtyard below, guards were surrounding a figure—Vice Minister Zhao, who'd clearly tried to flee the moment he heard about the inspection. He was struggling, shouting something about his rights and his position.
And standing to one side, watching with cold eyes, was Minister Xiao Dingyuan.
Zhao looked up at his superior, clearly expecting intervention. Help. Protection.
Xiao simply smiled and turned away, walking back into the ministry as if nothing unusual was happening.
Yuelai felt a chill run down her spine. Zhao had just been abandoned. Whatever protection he'd thought he had, whatever promises had been made, they'd just evaporated. Xiao was cutting him loose, letting him take the fall alone.
Which meant Xiao was far more dangerous than they'd thought. He'd engineered this theft, used Zhao as his instrument, and now he was disposing of the evidence without a second thought.
Down in the courtyard, guards were dragging Zhao away. He'd stopped struggling, his face pale with the realization that no one was coming to save him.
"Seven days," Zhenge murmured, still watching the scene below. "We have seven days to make him talk. To find where he hid three hundred thousand taels of silver. And to prove Minister Xiao's involvement before he has time to cover his tracks completely."
He turned to Yuelai, his expression unreadable.
"Welcome to capital politics, Inspector Wei. Where solving the mystery is only the beginning of the real battle.
"END OF CHAPTER 13