The ride back to the Censorate was tense despite their victory.
Yuelai rode at the head of the column, her horse moving at a steady trot through the capital's streets. Behind her came the soldiers escorting Vice Minister Zhao—bound and silent now, his earlier bluster replaced by grim calculation. The prince's carriage brought up the rear, its curtains drawn against curious eyes.
Wei Ling had mounted a second horse and now rode beside Yuelai. She leaned close, her voice barely audible over the clatter of hooves.
"I don't get it," Wei Ling whispered. "Why would a prince help you? I don't think he needs to do anything for you. You're just a military inspector."
Yuelai kept her eyes forward, but she whispered back: "I'm quite confused too. But there are two more important things we need to worry about right now."
"What are those?"
"First—" Yuelai's jaw tightened "—we still need to get all the money back. But I doubt we can find the funds from the previous two thefts. They might have already been transported out of the capital. Not to mention finding the current missing funds won't be easy either."
"And second?"
"I thought we could introduce you as Wei Han's sister to Prince Zhenge for the tea meeting." Yuelai's voice dropped even lower. "But I think it won't work. And I don't know who we can introduce to him anymore who has resemblance to me—"
She stopped talking abruptly. They'd arrived at the Censorate.
The building rose before them—imposing gray stone that housed the empire's investigative apparatus. Guards snapped to attention as their procession approached. Yuelai dismounted smoothly, landing with Wei Han's practiced military precision.
The carriage door opened. Prince Zhenge stepped out, followed by Shen Rong. Both looked completely unruffled, as if they'd just returned from a pleasant morning excursion rather than a confrontation that had resulted in a high-ranking official's arrest.
Zhenge's voice carried authority despite its conversational tone: "Take Vice Minister Zhao to the interrogation chamber. Standard protocol—no contact with anyone outside, two guards at all times."
"Yes, Your Highness." The soldiers moved immediately, pulling Zhao from his horse and marching him toward the building's entrance.
Yuelai watched them go, her mind already racing ahead to the interrogation. Zhao knew where the silver was hidden. He had to. All they needed to do was—
She felt him before she heard him.
Prince Zhenge had moved close—too close for normal official interaction. His presence at her back was deliberate, calculated to unsettle. When he spoke, his voice was soft, meant for her ears alone, his breath warm against her ear:
"I've done my part, Inspector Wei. Don't forget to do yours. I'm free tomorrow."
Yuelai turned sharply, shocked by the sudden intimacy of his proximity. He was already stepping back, his expression neutral and professional, as if he hadn't just whispered in her ear like they were conspirators or... something else.
What does this prince want from me? The thought was equal parts confusion and concern. This is so not like a prince's behavior.
But she couldn't afford to look rattled in front of others. She straightened, forcing Wei Han's composed mask back into place.
"Understood, Your Highness."
Zhenge nodded once, then turned to Shen Rong. "Let's go."
Shen Rong had been standing off to the side, and as they moved toward their carriage, he turned his head. His eyes found Wei Ling, who stood beside Yuelai looking somewhat overwhelmed by the formal atmosphere.
Shen Rong smiled—not the polite, professional expression of a high official, but something warmer, more genuine. Then, to Wei Ling's absolute shock, he winked.
Just a quick gesture, barely noticeable to anyone not watching. But unmistakable.
Then he turned and climbed into the carriage after Zhenge. The vehicle pulled away, leaving Wei Ling staring after it with wide eyes.
"Did he just..." Wei Ling turned to Yuelai. "Did he just wink at me?"
"I... think so?" Yuelai was equally confused. First Zhenge's strange intimacy, now Shen Rong openly flirting with Wei Ling. What was happening?
"No." Wei Ling shook her head firmly. "Can't be the case. Right? I mean, he's the Vice Minister of Justice. The son of a marquis. Why would he—"
"Wei Ling." Yuelai cut her off gently. "We'll find out soon at the tea meeting. Right now, we need to focus on finding the funds."
She gestured toward the Censorate building. "Let's go inside."
---
The interrogation chamber was exactly what Yuelai had expected—windowless, cold, with a single table and two chairs. One for the prisoner, one for the interrogator. Guards stood at attention by the door.
Vice Minister Zhao sat in the prisoner's chair, his hands bound behind him. His face was flushed with anger and what might have been fear, though he was trying hard to hide it.
Yuelai entered with Wei Ling close behind. She dismissed the guards to just outside the door—close enough to respond if needed, far enough to not overhear.
"Vice Minister Zhao," she said, her voice formal. "I trust you understand the seriousness of your situation."
"I understand that you've made a terrible mistake!" Zhao's voice was loud, aggressive. "I am a servant of the empire! How dare you arrest me based on—on fingerprints and conspiracy theories! I will make sure you suffer as much as I am suffering now. When I am released—and I will be released—you will regret this!"
Yuelai moved closer, leaning forward so her face was level with his. "Why do you still think you can leave here?"
"Because you have no real proof! So what if I inspected the storage boxes? That was my job! It doesn't prove I was involved in any theft!" His voice rose to a shout. "And I will be leaving soon, because you will never find the missing funds. You have what—six days left? Seven? You'll be executed after that deadline passes. I'm telling you, I'll make sure you're executed. You'll die just like those six officers died!"
Something snapped inside Yuelai.
Six officers. Six men who'd done nothing wrong except investigate a crime. Six families who'd lost sons, brothers, fathers. And this man—this corrupt, arrogant man—was threatening her with the same fate, as if their deaths meant nothing.
As if Wei Han's death meant nothing.
Her hand moved before she'd consciously decided to act. The dagger at her belt was in her grip, and then it was sinking into Zhao's thigh.
He screamed. The sound was satisfying in a way that should have horrified her but didn't.
"You killed six officers!" Yuelai's voice was raw with fury. "Who do you think you are?! What right do you have to just kill someone because they were getting in your way—someone who had nothing to do with you, who was just doing their job?!"
Tears were streaming down her face now, hot and angry and full of grief she'd been holding back for too long.
"Did you ever think about their families? About his sister?!"
Her hand was still on the dagger, still embedded in his flesh. Zhao was gasping, his face white with pain and shock.
Wei Ling grabbed her arm. "Wei Han. Wei Han, stop. Let's go outside."
Yuelai let herself be pulled away, leaving the dagger where it was. The guards rushed in at Zhao's screams, taking in the scene with professional assessment. One moved to tend to his wound. The other looked at Yuelai with something like understanding.
He deserved it, that look said. But you can't do it again.
Wei Ling guided her out of the building, through corridors and doorways, until they reached a small garden courtyard. Private. Quiet. The evening air was cool against Yuelai's flushed face.
She stood there, one hand gripping the pendant at her neck—Junwei's pendant, her brother's last gift. Her other hand hung in the air, trembling.
"Did I go overboard?" Her voice was small, lost. "Sorry, I was just... I was just..."
She couldn't finish. Couldn't explain the rage that had consumed her when Zhao threatened her with Wei Han's fate, as if her cousin's death was just another statistic, another obstacle cleared from someone's path to wealth.
Wei Ling took her hand—the one hanging in the air—and held it gently. "It's okay. He deserved it for taking those innocent lives."
They stood in silence for a moment. Above them, stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky, like jewels scattered across black silk.
"I don't think he'll confess anything," Wei Ling said finally.
"I think so too." Yuelai's voice was tired. Defeated. "But it's not like we have any other leads. Not to mention we only have six days now to find those funds."
"Don't stress about it right now." Wei Ling squeezed her hand. "How about meeting Prince Zhenge tomorrow? Maybe he can suggest some leads or ways forward. And you can also find out what he wants from you. He did ask to meet Wei Han's sister, after all."
Yuelai looked at her cousin. "He asked for Wei Han's sister, not for me. And he sees you as Wei Han's cousin. Where can I find this third person now?"
Wei Ling was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then her face brightened. "I think I have an idea. If he sees you as Wei Han and thinks Wei Ling looks exactly like Wei Han... how about you be that third person?"
Yuelai looked at her with tired, confused eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you dress as a woman and meet him as Wei Ling."
Yuelai stared at her. Then she looked up at the stars, at the night sky that had witnessed so much pain and loss. And slowly, impossibly, she smiled.
"Maybe that can work." She turned back to Wei Ling and pulled her into a fierce hug. "Thanks, Wei Ling. You're the best."
---
The next evening found them walking through the capital's market district.
Yuelai felt strange in women's clothing. It had been months—months—since she'd worn a dress, since she'd let her hair down, since she'd moved without the binding around her chest and the weight of a sword at her hip. The silk robes felt simultaneously familiar and foreign, like putting on the skin of someone she used to be but no longer was.
Wei Ling walked beside her, comfortable and at ease. She'd helped Yuelai prepare, showing her how to arrange her hair in a style appropriate for a young woman of good family. Not too elaborate—they weren't nobility here, just the general's daughters. But refined enough to pass in respectable company.
The market was transformed. Lanterns hung from every shop and stall, their colored paper glowing with candlelight. Red, gold, blue, green—a rainbow of light that turned the ordinary commercial district into something magical. Families crowded the streets, children running between the stalls with smaller lanterns of their own. Vendors called out their wares, competing with musicians and performers for attention.
"Why is it so crowded today?" Yuelai asked, genuinely confused. "Is there something important?"
Wei Ling looked at her with disbelief. "You don't know? I thought you knew—that's why I didn't tell you before. It's the Lantern Festival!"
"I thought that was in a month—" Yuelai stopped, memory catching up with her. In Shen, they celebrated the Lantern Festival on a different date than Luo. She'd forgotten the local calendar in the chaos of investigation and survival.
"Do you want a lantern, Ling?" The nickname felt strange on her tongue—pretending to be herself by pretending to be Wei Ling pretending to be a woman.
Wei Ling's face lit up. "If you say so, let's get two similar lanterns! I never got to celebrate this festival at the capital. Let's do it today, okay?"
Something twisted in Yuelai's chest. I never got to celebrate at the capital. Because Wei Ling had left Longmen to stay with her. Had given up her home, her father, her normal life to help a cousin impersonating her dead brother.
And Wei Han—Wei Han would never celebrate another festival. Would never see another Lantern Festival, would never walk these streets with his sister, would never grow old enough to complain about the crowds and the noise and the commercialism of it all.
It's my fault, Yuelai thought, the familiar weight of guilt settling over her shoulders. She's separated from her family because of me. He's dead because of me.
Wei Ling had wandered over to a stall selling lanterns, examining them with the careful attention of someone choosing something meaningful. She didn't notice Yuelai's sudden stillness, the way grief threatened to overwhelm her in the middle of a festival crowd.
Yuelai forced herself to move. To think of something, anything, to make Wei Ling happy. To give her cousin at least one good memory from this time in the capital.
She spotted a vendor selling rice balls—sweet ones, the kind made for festivals. Wei Ling loved sweet things. Maybe...
Yuelai moved through the crowd toward the stall, her mind already calculating how many to buy, whether they should eat them now or save them for after the meeting with—
The sensation hit her like ice water.
Someone was watching her.
Not the general awareness of being in a crowd, but the specific, targeted attention of a predator tracking prey. Yuelai's training kicked in instantly. She scanned the area without obviously looking, using peripheral vision and reflections in shop windows to search for the threat.
There.
A man standing in the shadow of a building corner. His posture was wrong—too still, too focused. And his hand was moving to something at his back.
An arrow.
Time seemed to slow. The man's hand completed its draw. A crossbow, small and easily concealed. He was raising it, aiming—
At her.
The crowd. Panic flooded through her. It's too crowded. If I dodge, the arrow will hit someone else. Children, families, innocent people—
But if she didn't move, she'd die. Simple mathematics. Simple survival.
The man's finger tightened on the trigger.
Then someone stepped in front of her.
A figure materialized from the crowd, moving with purpose towards the shop, just as the assassin released his bolt.
No!
Yuelai didn't think. Her body acted on pure instinct, on training drilled into her until it became reflex. She lunged forward, intercepting the arrow meant for her, positioning her body between the deadly projectile and the person who'd unwittingly placed themselves in its path.
Pain exploded in her shoulder.
The world tilted. Sound became distant, muffled. She was aware of several things simultaneously:
The arrow embedded in her shoulder, its shaft still quivering slightly.
The person she'd saved, standing frozen in shock directly in front of her.
Screams erupting from the crowd as people realized what had happened.
And through it all, one thought clear as crystal:
At least they're safe.
END OF CHAPTER 14