- Piecing Together the Case in the Hall of Benevolent Healing
The hour of shen, three marks.
September 29th.
In the rear courtyard chamber of the Hall of Benevolent Healing, Li Yan stared blankly at a table littered with an assortment of oddments.
Spread upon it were: a charred, blackened Western Garden Army token, three sheets of paper bearing ink-rubbings of the jade token patterns obtained from Shopkeeper Sun, a hand-sketched simple map of Luoyang, and over a dozen small wooden slips inscribed with information—names of the missing he had gathered from the refugee camps.
In the corner, a medicine pot gurgled over the fire. Shopkeeper Sun was brewing a concoction he claimed would "sharpen the senses and clear the mind." It smelled like a pot of boiled socks.
"I say, Shopkeeper," Li Yan pinched his nose, "is this medicine meant to heal or to asphyxiate?"
Without looking up, Sun retorted, "Drink it or don't. It's for tonight. The Charitable Depository reeks of grave-chill. Without a tonic to fortify your yang and dispel the cold, you'll surely be plagued by nightmares upon your return."
Li Yan grinned. "Nightmares I can handle. My worry is the keepers not letting me in."
"Hence the medicine," Shopkeeper Sun finally turned, handing over a bowl of murky, black liquid. "Drink this. Within one hour, your five senses will become exceptionally keen. You'll smell blood thirty paces away, see the hairs on a mosquito's leg from thirty feet."
Li Yan took the bowl, eyeing the swirling dark brew. "Shopkeeper, this isn't... that Five Minerals Powder, is it?"
"Nonsense!" Sun's whiskers bristled. "That's rubbish for foppish young lords. This is the proper 'Five Senses Powder'! A family recipe! This single bowl is worth fifty pieces of gold!"
"Fifty gold?" Li Yan's hand jerked. "Better I don't drink it then. I'm not worth fifty gold sold at market..."
"Drink!" Sun glared. "No drink, no going out tonight."
Pulling a face, Li Yan held his nose and downed the concoction. A fierce pungency shot straight to his crown, followed by a strange cloying sweetness, leaving a pervasive bitterness coating his mouth.
"Ugh—" he gagged. "The flavor... is truly complex."
"Of course. Fifty gold's worth." Sun looked satisfied at the empty bowl, then produced a small porcelain vial from his sleeve. "Take this too. If discovered, scatter its contents—it will blind a man for a quarter-hour, time enough to run two li."
Li Yan took the vial, weighing it in his hand. "Shopkeeper, you're training me to be a master thief."
"Master thief?" Sun scoffed. "Did any master thief ever stir up as much trouble as you in so few days? Barely in Luoyang, and you've already offended the constabulary, tangled with the black market, and now you're about to poke this hornet's nest of a depository."
Li Yan stowed the items and walked to the table, picking up the city map.
The depository's location was marked in cinnabar red—five li southwest of Luoyang's walls, a lonely little compound backed against a mass burial ground, facing marshland, with only a single narrow path connecting it to the main road.
"The location is... choice," Li Yan remarked, pointing. "Shaded back, facing water. Easily defended, hard to assault. If someone comes investigating, there's nowhere to run."
Shopkeeper Sun approached. "The keeper is an old soldier named Feng, lame in one leg, with a mute apprentice. They've been there five years, keep to themselves mostly, only come to town for supplies during festivals."
"An old soldier..." Li Yan narrowed his eyes. "Lame, yet assigned to guard a charnel house? The constabulary knows how to pick them."
"That's why I say the place is fishy," Sun lowered his voice. "I had someone inquire. Old Feng may limp, but he can lift a hundred-jin coffin lid with one hand. The mute apprentice is stranger still. Once in town, three ruffians tried to rob him. He laid all three out with a few blows—then played dumb, gesturing it was an 'accident.'"
Li Yan chuckled. "Interesting. A lame veteran and a martial-arts mute, guarding a depository for refugee corpses... Shopkeeper, doesn't this seem like bait on a hook?"
"Bait?"
"Purposely leave a few corpses of Dou Wu's old guard there, see who comes sniffing," Li Yan tapped the table. "Whoever comes is either an ally or an enemy—either way, catching them is useful."
Shopkeeper Sun's face changed. "And you still go?"
"Go? Why not?" Li Yan stretched lazily. "They fish, I'll be the loach that nibbles the bait and slips away. Infuriate the fisherman."
He spoke lightly, but his eyes had turned cold.
Outside the window, dusk deepened. An autumn wind rustled through the old locust tree in the courtyard.
Li Yan began preparing his night gear: black close-fitting clothes, a face veil, deerskin gloves, a short blade, a coil of thin rope, a few copper coins, and Sun's porcelain vial. He checked each item methodically, as if preparing a fine meal.
"Oh, Shopkeeper," he suddenly remembered, "do you know if Dou Wu's personal guard had any special markings?"
Sun pondered. "When Dou Wu commanded the Northern Army, his most elite unit was the 'Martial Guard Battalion,' divided into Armors A, B, and C. Armor A had only three hundred men, all dead soldiers. It's said each had a tattoo on the nape—an emblem formed from three stylized seal characters: 'Martial,' 'Guard,' 'A.'"
"Martial Guard, Armor A..." Li Yan committed it to memory. "Three hundred dead soldiers. Six years on, how many could remain?"
"Hard to say. The purge in the first year of Jianning claimed over a thousand from the Northern Army. But some got wind and fled." Sun sighed. "These past six years, they've been found, one by one, and eliminated. If the refugee corpse case truly targets them... then likely... few remain."
Li Yan fell silent.
He remembered the skeletal children in the camps, the mad old man's dying gaze, Shopkeeper Hu of the Old Copper Shop lying in a pool of blood.
Three hundred dead soldiers, perhaps once glorious, now hunted like stray dogs.
"Shopkeeper," he stood up, "if I don't return tonight—"
"None of that ill omen!" Sun cut him off. "If you don't return, that old drunkard will surely charge back from Jiangnan and tear my shop apart."
Li Yan laughed, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
Night had fully fallen. A sliver of waning moon hung in the eastern sky, stars sparse.
He turned, waved to Shopkeeper Sun, then leaped onto the roof. In a few bounds, he vanished into the darkness.
Shopkeeper Sun stood in the yard, gazing long in the direction he'd disappeared, then sighed and turned back inside.
The fire beneath the medicine pot dwindled.
- The Night Raid, Hidden Perils
The hour of hai, three marks.
The Charitable Depository.
The place was even more isolated than Li Yan had imagined.
Leaving the main road, he trekked over a li of muddy path, through a reed marsh, before the lonely compound came into view. Its walls were rammed earth, collapsed in several sections. The gate was two broken planks loosely tied with straw rope. Three tiled rooms comprised the main building, their roofs missing many tiles, exposing dark rafters.
The only light came from the middle room's window—a dim oil lamp flame flickering in the night wind.
Li Yan lay prone behind a mound fifty paces away, a grass stalk between his teeth, observing carefully.
Shopkeeper Sun's "Five Senses Powder" indeed took effect. He could clearly hear coughing from the compound, smell the faint stench of decay and mildew in the air, even see centipedes crawling in the wall's cracks.
"One, two..." He counted breaths.
Only two people inside. One breath heavier, slower—likely the older man. The other light and elongated—a trained fighter.
"The lame veteran, the mute apprentice." Li Yan had his measure.
His original plan was to drug them unconscious, but he changed his mind—if this was a trap, drugging might alert any hidden watchers.
He pulled a small cloth bag from his breast, tipping out several black beetles—"night-crawlers" caught in the rear courtyard that afternoon, which emitted sharp chirps when startled.
Li Yan flicked them gently onto the compound wall. They began to chirp.
"Chirp—chirp chirp—"
Immediate movement inside.
The door opened. A hunched figure emerged, lantern in hand. A man around fifty, left leg lame, walking with a limp, but his right hand gripped an iron rod firmly.
"What's that racket?" the old man muttered, approaching the wall.
At that moment, Li Yan scaled the wall from the opposite side, landed soundlessly, rolled into the shadow of the west wing.
Fast as the wind.
The old man reached the wall, lantern raised, saw only a few beetles. He cursed, kicked a clod of earth, turned and limped back.
Li Yan waited for him to re-enter and close the door before emerging from shadow, creeping to the main room's window.
Through a tear in the paper window, he saw inside: the old man drinking at a table, opposite a young man around twenty, expressionless, polishing a short blade with a cloth. Two bowls, pickled vegetables, a few steamed buns on the table.
Neither spoke.
But Li Yan noticed the young man's ears twitched occasionally—he was listening.
"Indeed not simple," Li Yan thought.
He circled to the back—the mortuary. Three rooms. The east one was locked, the middle and west doors stood open, darkness within.
Li Yan slipped into the middle room first.
Overwhelming decay assaulted him. Even prepared, he nearly retched. Four corpses lay under white cloths, lime sprinkled on the floor, a pile of ragged straw mats in the corner.
A quick check: all four dressed as refugees, dead over five days, no special marks.
"Not these." He retreated, turned to the east room.
Locked, a common copper padlock. He drew a thin wire from his hair, probed a few times. A click, the lock opened.
Pushing the door in, the stench was stronger, mixed with a strange herbal odor. Five corpses here. Four under white cloths, the innermost one covered with a straw mat.
Li Yan approached the mat, lifted a corner.
Moonlight through the broken window faintly illuminated the face: a man around forty, square-jawed, full beard, complexion purplish, ligature marks on the neck—death by strangulation.
He donned his deerskin gloves and began the examination.
First, the hands: thick calluses on the tiger's mouth and palms, from years gripping weapons. An old arrow wound scar on the right shoulder, a coin-sized depression where the scab had fallen. A knife scar ran from left knee to ankle.
"A veteran," Li Yan murmured.
He turned the corpse, checked the nape—there it was! A tattoo, clear!
Not a simple pattern, but an emblem woven from three stylized seal characters. By moonlight, Li Yan carefully discerned: "Martial... Guard... A..."
Martial Guard, Armor A! Dou Wu's dead soldiers!
Li Yan's heart raced. He continued examining, found a hard object inside the belt's inner lining. Slicing the belt open, he found half a jade token!
Warm jade, edges showing scorch marks, finely carved patterns. Identical to Shopkeeper Sun's three.
"Found it..." Just as Li Yan reached to take it, he froze.
Footsteps outside!
Not one person—two! The lame old man and the mute apprentice, approaching the mortuary!
- The Gentleman on the Beam, Securing Proof Amid Peril
Li Yan instantly assessed: no time to exit.
His gaze swept the room, settling on the roof beams. The mortuary ceiling was high, beams thick, coated in heavy dust.
He pushed off with his toes, vaulted onto a beam, concealed himself in shadow just as the door opened.
Old Feng entered with the lantern, the mute apprentice behind, short blade in hand.
"Thought I heard something," Feng muttered, raising the lantern to scan the room.
The light swept just beneath Li Yan's hiding place, nearly catching his foot. Li Yan held his breath, motionless.
The mute apprentice approached the straw mat, suddenly crouched, touched the ground—where Li Yan had stepped.
He looked up at Feng, made a gesture.
Feng's face changed. "Someone's been here!"
He hurried to the mat, lifted it to examine the corpse. Seeing the cut belt, a cold glint flashed in his eyes. "Search! They can't have gone far!"
The mute apprentice swiftly produced a bamboo whistle, put it to his lips—
"Wheeeet—!!"
A sharp whistle pierced the night.
Li Yan cursed inwardly: A trap indeed!
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Almost simultaneously with the whistle, hoofbeats sounded outside the depository! Not one or two—at least five or six, galloping from the marsh direction!
Feng and the apprentice exited the mortuary, took position by the door. Outside, hoofbeats neared, men dismounted—heavy footsteps in leather boots.
"What happened?" a raspy voice demanded.
"An intruder. Checked Corpse Armor Three," Feng replied respectfully. "Belt cut open, but the jade token should still be there."
"Fools!" the raspy voice snapped. "Check!"
On the beam, Li Yan listened keenly—this voice... he'd heard it in the Ghost Market warehouse! One of the masked man's subordinates!
Two men entered the mortuary, both in black, faces veiled. The leader checked the corpse, indeed felt the token in the belt lining.
"Still here," he exhaled in relief.
"Boss, search the place?" the other asked.
"Search! Turn over every stone!"
They exited, began directing the search. From the beam, Li Yan counted: six in total, plus Feng and the apprentice—eight.
A direct fight was impossible.
His mind raced. His gaze fell back on the corpse. The token was still on it, but they would move it soon—then retrieval would be near impossible.
Had to act now.
Li Yan untied the thin rope from his waist, attached a small hook to one end. Slowly he lowered it, the hook descending silently towards the corpse's belt.
Outside, the search was loud—overturning things, cursing. This masked the faint sound of rope against wood.
The hook caught the token's edge. Li Yan lifted gently—the token slipped from the belt, rising slowly.
Just then, outside fell quiet.
"Boss, searched everywhere. No one."
"Impossible! Must be here! Search again!"
Footsteps resumed, someone approaching the mortuary.
Li Yan sped up. The token was mid-air. A flick of his wrist, it flew into his hand as he reeled in the rope—the whole motion fluid, silent.
He'd just tucked the token into his breast when the door opened.
Two black-clad men entered, torches held high. Flame light illuminated the beams. Li Yan shrank into the deepest shadow, heart pounding.
"Check above too," one said.
The other raised his torch towards the beams.
The light crept closer...
- Lime Powder and the Token
Just as the torchlight was about to reach Li Yan's hiding place, a scream erupted in the courtyard!
"Ah—! My eyes!!"
Old Feng's voice.
The two men in the room jerked, turned and rushed out. Li Yan seized the chance, slid down from the beam, hid behind the door to observe.
In the yard, Feng writhed on the ground, clutching his eyes. The mute apprentice faced off against a black-clad man—no, not a face-off, a mutiny!
That black-clad man had somehow produced a bag of lime powder, thrown it in Feng's face, and now fought the apprentice with lethal strikes.
"Have you lost your mind?!" the raspy-voiced leader roared.
The black-clad man didn't answer, fighting while retreating, then suddenly turned and fled towards the compound wall.
"After him!" The leader gave chase with his men.
The courtyard emptied instantly, leaving only the wailing Feng and the stunned apprentice.
Li Yan was baffled.
What was this? Internal strife? Or...
He suddenly understood—the lime-throwing black-clad man had created a diversion for his escape!
Whoever it was, the opportunity was golden. Li Yan slipped out of the mortuary, made for the wall. But the mute apprentice suddenly turned, staring directly at his hiding spot!
Discovered!
Wordless, the apprentice lunged, blade aimed at Li Yan's throat.
Li Yan sidestepped, drew his own short blade, parried the second strike. They fought in the courtyard, blades flashing, exchanging seven or eight moves in moments.
Li Yan grew increasingly alarmed: this mute's martial style he recognized—in the Ghost Market warehouse, those former Western Garden Army men used this military close-combat technique!
Moreover, the man刻意 concealed his left-handed habits, but occasional half-revealed moves clearly followed a left-handed sword style.
"Western Garden Army, left-handed sword..." A flash of insight. "You're from the Western Garden Army's B Company!"
The apprentice's movement faltered.
In that instant, Li Yan's blade twisted, aimed for the man's waist—where something bulged.
The apprentice parried, but Li Yan's strike was a feint. His free hand had already grabbed the hard object at the waist, yanked hard!
Rip—
The belt tore. A token clattered to the ground.
Bronze, rectangular, front engraved with a palace design, reverse inscribed with two large characters: Western Garden. Smaller script below: B Company, Second Platoon, Ninth.
A genuine Western Garden Army token!
Li Yan scooped it up, flashed a grin at the mute apprentice. "Thanks! I'll borrow this for a look!"
With that, he vaulted onto the wall. The apprentice made to pursue, but glanced at the writhing Feng, hesitated.
In that hesitation, Li Yan cleared the wall, vanished into night.
Hoofbeats sounded outside—the black-clad men returned, having lost their quarry, cursing furiously.
The mute apprentice swiftly pocketed the token (which Li Yan had actually swapped for a rock), helped Feng up, gesturing that "the thief escaped, took the jade token."
The leader stormed in, heard this, face livid with rage.
"Worthless! All of you!" he raged. "After him! Ten-li radius, dig three feet deep if you must, but find him!"
Hoofbeats thundered again, pursuing in the direction Li Yan had fled.
But by then, Li Yan was long gone from that path.
- Hide and Seek in the Marsh
Li Yan didn't head for the main road. Instead, he plunged into the reed marsh behind the depository.
The marsh stretched vast, mud deep enough to sink a knee, choked with reeds taller than a man. By day it was seldom visited; by night, treacherous—one misstep into a sinkhole.
But Li Yan was unafraid.
That afternoon's reconnaissance had revealed several safe paths through the marsh—hardened ridges overgrown with water plants, winding like a maze.
He followed the remembered route, moving swiftly through the reeds. Behind him came hoofbeats and shouts—the pursuers.
"Split up! He can't have gone far!"
"Watch your step! This place is treacherous!"
Li Yan crouched behind a reed clump, holding his breath. Moonlight revealed four black-clad men dismounting, slogging into the marsh.
"Boss! Tracks here!" one shouted.
The raspy-voiced leader approached, torch raised. "Follow!"
The four followed the trail—deliberate false tracks Li Yan had left, leading to a deep mud pit.
Li Yan waited until they were well away, then emerged, moving in the opposite direction. He stepped lightly, each footfall on dense root clusters, leaving almost no trace.
As he moved, a splash and panicked cry sounded ahead: "Help! I'm sinking!"
The tracker.
"Don't struggle! You'll sink faster!" the leader's voice, urgent. "Find a branch! Quickly!"
Chaos as they scrambled to rescue their comrade.
Li Yan seized the moment, quickened his pace, finally reached the marsh's edge. The main road lay ahead, but he didn't take it—too exposed, easily chased on horseback.
He moved along the drainage ditch beside the road, crouched low. After about two li, he spotted a dilapidated shrine to the local earth god, slipped inside.
Dust lay thick inside, half the idol toppled. Li Yan leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
The night's exertions had taken their toll, even for his stamina. He pulled out the jade token and the bronze token, examined them by moonlight.
The jade token was a half-piece, finely patterned, seeming to depict a corner of a map. The bronze token was genuine Western Garden Army issue, B Company, Second Platoon—elite troops under Jian Shuo's direct command.
"Western Garden Army, the depository, Dou Wu's old guard..." Li Yan muttered. "The eunuchs' new army, cleansing the Grand General's dead soldiers from six years ago. What play is this?"
He remembered the mad old man's words: Snow in the twelfth month, blood at the palace gates; jade tokens shattered, the realm cracks.
If these jade tokens truly held some crucial secret, if the Western Garden Army was indeed involved in this purge, then the Winter Solstice Sacrifice...
Li Yan dared not dwell on it.
Hoofbeats sounded outside, approaching, stopping near the shrine.
"Boss, a shrine here!"
"Search!"
Cursing inwardly, Li Yan rolled behind the toppled idol. Just hidden, the door crashed open.
Two black-clad men entered, torches held high, searching. Flame light danced across every corner.
"No one."
"Check elsewhere."
They withdrew. Hoofbeats faded.
Li Yan waited the time it takes an incense stick to burn, confirming safety, then emerged. At the doorway, he gazed towards Luoyang.
Deep night. Only scattered lights in the city. The ancient capital seemed peaceful as ever.
But Li Yan knew: beneath that calm, undercurrents swirled.
He stowed the tokens, took a deep breath, stepped into the night.
Time to return.
- The Puzzle and the Gathering Clouds
First day of the tenth month, beginning of the hour of yin.
The rear chamber of the Hall of Benevolent Healing. The oil lamp had burned all night.
On the table lay four jade token fragments—the half-piece Li Yan brought back, plus Shopkeeper Sun's three rubbings. Pieced together, they revealed a rough outline.
Shopkeeper Sun, wearing a single-lens magnifier, examined them closely with a hand glass, fine sweat beading his brow.
"Boy, you've pierced the very heavens," his voice trembled.
"How so?"
"Look here." Sun pointed to the center of the assembly. "This is the Luoyang palace complex. Here, the Imperial Academy. And here... Good heavens, this is the site of the old Grand General's residence!"
Li Yan leaned in. The four fragments formed about a third of a map, annotated with extremely fine lines marking buildings, streets, and over a dozen red dots.
"What are these red dots?"
"Secret contact points." Sun removed the magnifier, rubbing his eyes. "Back then, Dou Wu established over a dozen covert hubs across Luoyang to liaise with courtiers opposed to the eunuchs. Each hub had a keeper, using a jade token as credential. Ten tokens for the ten most crucial hubs."
He pointed to the fragment Li Yan retrieved. "Yours bears the mark 'C,' likely the third hub. If all ten were assembled, one could learn the location of all hubs, and... the list of courtiers who communicated with Dou Wu."
Li Yan drew a sharp breath. "So they're collecting the tokens to obtain this list?"
"More than that." Sun shook his head. "With the list, two things can be done: First, eliminate dissidents, purge all who opposed the eunuchs back then. Second... blackmail."
"Blackmail?"
"If I were the power holder, I wouldn't kill everyone on the list." A cold light gleamed in Sun's eyes. "I'd find those still alive, still serving in court, and tell them: 'I know what you did. Obey, or die.'"
A chill ran down Li Yan's spine.
A vicious scheme indeed.
Using a six-year-old case to control the present court.
"And this." He placed the Western Garden Army token on the table. "From the mute apprentice. B Company, Second Platoon, Ninth."
Sun picked up the token, hand trembling slightly. "The Western Garden Army... Jian Shuo's men. They are involved."
"Shopkeeper, isn't the Western Garden Army the Emperor's new force? Why meddle in this?"
"New force?" Sun gave a bitter smile. "Eight Colonels of the Western Garden. Jian Shuo is the Supreme Colonel, nominally commanding all. But the other seven colonels—Yuan Shao, Cao Cao, Bao Hong... each has their own backing. Can a single eunuch truly control such an army?"
Li Yan caught the implication. "You mean the Western Garden Army itself... is compromised?"
"More than compromised." Sun lowered his voice further. "I've heard the army splits into factions: one loyal to Jian Shuo, one secretly aligned with the consort clans, and another... entangled with certain court ministers. This B Company token appearing at the depository means at least part of the Western Garden Army has been drawn into this purge."
Silence filled the room.
The oil lamp sputtered. Outside, dawn's first light tinged the sky, a rooster crowed.
Li Yan looked at the objects on the table: jade token, bronze token, map... each pointed to a vast conspiracy.
And he, a wandering knight-errant, had stumbled into it.
"Shopkeeper," he asked suddenly, "what if I took all this now to Minister Lu Zhi?"
Sun considered. "Lu Zhi would immediately memorialize the throne, demand a full investigation. And then..."
"And then?"
"Then he might 'accidentally' die suddenly, or be exiled from the capital. This evidence would 'disappear,' the case would be 'shelved indefinitely.'" Sun looked at him. "Boy, why do you think they dare act so brazenly? Because someone above protects them."
"Above? How high?"
"Very." Sun pointed towards the ceiling. "So high you and I can't even see them looking up."
Li Yan fell silent.
He remembered his master's words: "The world's darkness cannot be cleaved by a single blade. Sometimes, you must first learn to see the path within the dark."
"Shopkeeper," he stood, "do me a favor."
"Speak."
"Make a copy of this tattoo design, send it anonymously to Lu Zhi. Don't mention the jade tokens, nor the Western Garden Army. Just state one fact: the deceased have the mark of Dou Wu's personal guard on their napes." Li Yan said. "Let's see how the court reacts."
Sun nodded. "Agreed. And you?"
"Me?" Li Yan smiled. "I'll go look at these red dots on the map. Since someone wants these tokens so badly, I should see what these places truly hide."
"Too dangerous."
"I know." Li Yan pushed open the window. Dawn wind rushed in, carrying autumn's chill. "But some things, once seen, cannot be ignored."
He gazed at the brightening sky. The usual levity in his eyes was gone, replaced by a certain stillness.
Shopkeeper Sun looked at his back, suddenly feeling that beneath this always-jesting young man's exterior lay an unshakable stubbornness.
Like his master.
Like that old drunkard.
- Cui Yan's Discovery (A Glimpse)
Same day, beginning of the hour of si.
The Office of the Capital Governor, the Theft Section.
Cui Jun sat behind a desk in his new dark-blue official robes, a half-person-high stack of case files before him.
His first day in office. As Cui Yan had instructed, he was reviewing all backlogged cases—especially unresolved ones involving court figures.
The clerk was a gentleman in his fifties, surnamed Zhou, thirty years in the office, privy to all its workings. He brought another stack of files, placed them on Cui Jun's desk.
"Lord, these are archives from three years back, mostly sealed," Clerk Zhou said respectfully. "If you wish to view them, I must retrieve them from the storeroom."
"Thank you for your trouble," Cui Jun nodded.
After Zhou left, Cui Jun began reading. Mostly petty thefts, brawls—nothing notable. Until he reached a file wrapped in yellow silk.
The cover read: "First Year of Zhongping, Third Month. Case of Stolen Western Garden Army Armaments."
Cui Jun's interest stirred. He opened it.
The case seemed simple: The Western Garden Army reported ten crossbows, twenty leather armors, thirty spears missing from their armory. The Capital Governor's office opened an investigation. But three days later, the Western Garden Army sent word of a "clerical error, nothing missing," requesting the case closed.
The file ended with Yang Biao's note: "Close per precedent, archive."
Seemed routine. But Cui Jun noticed details: First, the complainant was a close aide of Colonel Jian Shuo. Second, the request to close came from the same person. Third, the number of arms was significant; if truly stolen, "clerical error" in three days was implausible.
More suspicious: a slip of paper tucked inside, bearing a line of small script: "Crossbow serial numbers: Jia-Chen Seven-Three to Jia-Chen Eight-Two."
The serials of the ten missing crossbows.
Cui Jun pocketed the slip, kept reading. Found several similar cases: all Western Garden Army reports, all stolen armaments, all quickly closed.
He set these files aside, waited for Clerk Zhou's return.
"Master Zhou, who handled these Western Garden Army cases back then?"
Zhou glanced, his face changed. "It was... Lord Wang himself. Or rather, orders came from above for Lord Wang to handle it thus."
"Above? Which 'above'?"
Zhou looked around, voice dropping. "The palace eunuchs. Lord Wang instructed: these cases not to be investigated deeply, archive and forget."
Cui Jun understood.
Evening, he returned to the Cui residence, reported to Cui Yan.
In the study, after listening, Cui Yan pondered. "Crossbow serial numbers... Can you trace where those crossbows went?"
"Difficult," Cui Jun shook his head. "Western Garden Army armament control is strict. But if someone inside is tampering..."
"What if someone inside is intentionally leaking them?" Cui Yan interrupted. "To equip a 'private force,' for unspeakable deeds."
Cui Jun started. "Cousin, you mean..."
"Remember the military crossbows those Ghost Market men used?" Cui Yan walked to the window. "They bore the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories' secret marks—palace-made arms. If someone inside the Western Garden Army is stealing equipment, leaking it out to eliminate Dou Wu's old guard..."
She left it unsaid, but the meaning was clear.
Cui Jun paled. "Then this is huge. Involves the military, eunuchs, the court..."
"Hence we must be careful." Cui Yan turned. "Keep those files safe, don't act yet. When the time is ripe, they become weapons."
She walked to the desk, spread a sheet of paper, wrote several names: Jian Shuo, Zhang Rang, Lu Zhi, Yuan Shao, Li Yan...
Under Li Yan's name, she drew a line.
"This man," she said softly, "may be more important than we imagined."
- The Calm Before the Storm
First day of the tenth month, noon.
In his office at the Imperial Secretariat, Lu Zhi received an anonymous package.
Inside, a single sheet of paper bearing an ink-rubbing of a tattoo emblem: the three stylized seal characters "Martial," "Guard," "A" intertwined.
A line accompanied it: "Refugee corpses outside the city bear this mark on their napes."
Lu Zhi stared at the paper, hand trembling.
A veteran minister, he recognized this mark. Six years ago, he had seen Dou Wu's personal guards, each bearing such a tattoo on their nape.
Six years later, these marks appeared on refugee corpses.
The implication was unmistakable.
"Summon someone!" he commanded gravely.
An aide entered. "Lord?"
"Request the presence of Imperial Censor Wang Yun, Court Gentleman-Consultant Cai Yong, and... Colonel of the Central Army Yuan Shao." Lu Zhi paused. "Say I have urgent matters to discuss."
"Yes, Lord."
After the aide left, Lu Zhi walked to the window, gazed towards the palace.
Autumn sunlight bathed the majestic halls in golden splendor.
Yet a chill crept up from his feet.
At the same time, Western Garden Army barracks.
Jian Shuo raged in his quarters, smashed a tea set.
"Worthless! All of you!" he shrilled. "The token stolen, the man escaped, and you dare show your faces?!"
Three men knelt below—the raspy-voiced leader and two subordinates from last night's chase.
"Colonel, please calm yourself. The man was cunning, knew the terrain..."
"No excuses!" Jian Shuo kicked over a low table. "Before the twelfth month, all ten tokens must be gathered! Now one is lost! What do you propose?!"
The leader gritted his teeth. "This subordinate will recover it!"
"Recover? Where? You don't even know who he is!" Jian Shuo's face purpled with rage. "Go! Bring that mute from B Company here! I'll ask him personally how he guards the depository!"
A subordinate scurried off.
Jian Shuo walked to the wall where a large map of Luoyang hung. Nine locations were circled in red. One spot remained blank.
The tenth token, the last, still undiscovered.
"The Winter Solstice Sacrifice..." he murmured. "Time grows short."
Outside, drill sounds—soldiers practicing archery and horsemanship, shouts shaking the air.
But within this force, the Emperor's personal army, undercurrents already swirled.
Evening. Li Yan sat on the Hall of Benevolent Healing's roof, watching the setting sun.
In his hand, he rubbed the four jade token fragments—one half-piece, three rubbings. Assembled, they seemed like a guide, or a curse.
Shopkeeper Sun brewed medicine in the yard below, the bitter-sweet scent wafting up.
"Boy, come down to eat," Sun called.
Li Yan didn't move.
"What are you thinking?"
"Thinking of my master." Li Yan took a swig of wine. "The old man often said: 'In this world, some matters you intervene in, some you don't.' But now I can't tell which kind this is."
Sun was silent a moment. "What else did your master say?"
"He also said," Li Yan smiled, "if you can't tell, ask your own heart. If the heart says do it, then do it, even if you break your head."
"And what does your heart say?"
Li Yan looked at the tokens in his hand, then towards Luoyang.
Dusk deepened. Myriad lights kindled in the city. The markets still bustled—hawkers' cries, laughter, cart wheels—a tapestry of prosperity.
None knew a storm brewed in secret.
None knew how many lives it would sweep away.
"My heart says," Li Yan said softly, "some things, once seen, cannot be unseen."
He jumped down from the roof, dusted off his clothes.
"Shopkeeper, prepare some things for me tomorrow."
"What will you do?"
"Visit these red dots on the map." Li Yan grinned. "See what secrets those men from six years ago left behind."
Shopkeeper Sun looked at him, suddenly feeling the weight on this always-smiling young man's shoulders might be heavier than all of Luoyang.
But he said nothing, only nodded. "Alright."
Night deepened.
Luoyang slept in the autumn wind.
But some were destined for sleeplessness.
The twelfth month was still distant, yet the scent of impending storm already hung in the air.
Li Yan stood in the courtyard, gazing at the star-filled sky.
Master, is the chaotic age you spoke of arriving?
He clenched the jade token in his hand, feeling its cold touch.
The answer, perhaps, lay within these shattered jades.