Bai Xuelan did not sleep.
Lan Yue found her at dawn, still at her desk, surrounded by Sun Meihua's scrolls. The candles had burned down to nothing and been replaced twice. Tea cups formed a small army along the desk's edge, each one empty, each one forgotten the moment after it was drained.
"Well?" Lan Yue asked from the doorway.
Bai Xuelan looked up. Her glasses were slightly crooked. Her hair, usually pinned in a precise knot, had begun unraveling at the sides. She looked exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure, which was the most emotion Lan Yue had ever seen on her face.
"She is meticulous," Bai Xuelan said. "Obsessively, beautifully meticulous. Every claim is cross referenced. Every financial trace has a secondary source. She even documented the weather on key dates in case environmental factors affected alibis."
"The weather."
