The Ministry of Records was not a loud place—never had been, never would be. It breathed in the soft scratch of brushes, the faint squeak of drawer rollers, and the smell of old bamboo paper warmed by afternoon light.
Clerks worked like the inner gears of a grand timepiece: precise, quiet, terrified of making even one accidental mark.
Into this hush walked Chen Yuantai, Vice Minister of Dali Temple, his robes crisp and posture straight like a blade. Behind him… Jianyan, Qinghe Qinwang, moved with the ease of a man strolling through a tea garden rather than the empire's most sensitive archive hall.
Clerks rose instantly to bow.
"Vice Minister Chen."
"Qinghe Wangye."
Jianyan raised a hand, smiling. "No need to stare at the floor so hard. Benwang did not come to steal your inkstones."
A few junior clerks hid small grins. Even one senior scribe's shoulders eased. Somehow, with two sentences, Jianyan warmed the room without diminishing its dignity—people skills sharpened not by tutors but by life among soldiers, servants, and market folk.
Chen offered a thin, controlled nod. "We require Jinzhou Prefecture's transmissions related to Youyu County's boundary appeals. Bring the logs and the director copies."
Clerks scattered immediately to fetch the scrolls. Within moments, documents were laid out on a long lacquered table—county originals brought by Jianyan, and the prefecture's official submissions retrieved from storage.
Jianyan approached the table and tapped the edge with one knuckle. "Gloomier than a funeral parlor," he murmured.
Chen didn't look up. "Because a mistake here buries more families than a funeral parlor does."
"Mm." Jianyan's grin faded, but not his warmth. "Then let us resurrect the truth while there's still breath in the petitioner."
Chen slid the first prefectural scroll open. Jianyan placed the county version beside it. From the moment they lay parallel, the differences blinked like mismatched eyes.
"Two tones of ink," Chen said quietly. "Two brush hands."
Jianyan leaned closer. "Prefecture version's brush pressure is steady—someone trained. County writing shivers on the curves. Honest hand of a minor clerk."
Chen pointed to the seals. "Rotation—three degrees clockwise."
Jianyan let out a low whistle. "Confident fellow. Everything he stamps tilts in the same direction. Habit of a man who uses the seal often."
"A man who should NOT be using it often," Chen said. "Stamping is the duty of the Prefect or the assigned adjudicating officer.
A seal keeper should only guard, not judge."
Jianyan arched a brow. "Then someone forgot their place. Or they found profit in leaving it."
A clerk stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Vice Minister, Wangye—transmission log for Jinzhou."
Chen took it, flipping through with sharp efficiency. "The prefectural version arrived on the nineteenth day of the second month. Courier name listed: Du Ming."
Jianyan tapped the name. "Du Ming… he's one of the North Relay stable's senior riders."
The clerk nodded. "Yes, Wangye. Good reputation."
"Good reputations are excellent masks," Jianyan murmured. "Has anyone confirmed he actually left the capital?"
The clerk faltered. "We have… no departure mark logged, Wangye. Only the request for leave."
Jianyan straightened. "So the prefecture transmission arrived… without proof the courier ever rode."
Chen closed the log. "Which means either Du Ming vanished—or someone impersonated him."
A junior archivist swallowed. "Wangye… Vice Minister… the prefecture's scroll has no dust. No road wear."
Jianyan lifted it, rolling the texture between fingers. "Right. The county scroll carries the scent of the road—dust, dried mud, a cradle of sweat. This one?" He tapped the prefectural copy. "This one hasn't traveled anywhere. It never left a desk."
Chen nodded. "The prefecture likely substituted a forged version before sending a messenger."
"Or," Jianyan added quietly, "sent the forged one via an unauthorized channel."
He didn't say the word bribe, but every clerk heard it anyway.
Before Chen could respond, a palace eunuch entered, bowing low.
"Vice Minister, Wangye—the petitioner, Qiu Fen… he stirred again in the inner infirmary. The physicians request your presence."
Chen gestured immediately. Jianyan followed, his stride light yet decisive.
Infirmary Hall
Steam curled from medicinal cauldrons. The air tasted of ginseng and bitter herbs. Qiu Fen lay propped on cushions, breath shallow but steadier than before.
His eyelids fluttered as Jianyan crouched beside him.
"You've stood longer than most men today," Jianyan said gently. "Rest. Speak only what you can."
Qiu Fen's cracked lips parted. "They… changed the scroll… the boundary… not what our county wrote…"
His fingers twitched weakly in the air, as if searching for something.
"Do you remember who took your satchel?" Jianyan asked.
The petitioner swallowed. "Steps… someone stepped close… black sleeves… silver-thread cloud… badge on his belt… he said—he said he'd help carry my things…"
Jianyan exchanged a glance with Chen.
Silver-thread cloud embroidery. A known motif of prefectural registrars.
Chen leaned forward. "What about the stamping? You mentioned something earlier."
Qiu Fen's voice wavered. "Seal Master… long sleeves… I saw him once… stamping at night… laughed… said the county always sends trouble…"
His strength faded. A physician gently placed a hand at Jianyan's elbow. "Wangye, please. He needs rest."
Jianyan gave a soft nod and rose.
"Enough. He's given us a path."
Chen followed him out into the corridor, where lantern-light made the court tiles glow.
"The Seal Master," Chen said. "A low official. But unsupervised access to the seal room."
"And likely the boldest hands in Jinzhou," Jianyan replied. "If he stamps this cleanly for eight years, he's grown confident from not being caught."
"Or protected," Chen said.
"Or both."
After that they walk back returned to the archive as the sun dipped toward the west. The clerks waited, stiff with anticipation.
Chen spoke first. "We need the seal-room logs from Jinzhou. All of them. For the last year at minimum."
The Chief Archivist bowed. "A relay rider will be prepared within moments. We will frame the request as Ministry audit protocol."
"Good," Chen said. "No mention of the drum incident."
Jianyan added lightly, "If Jinzhou hears we're looking into their paperwork, they'll burn half the hall before the rider reaches the first relay."
A ripple of uneasy amusement moved through the clerks.
A Relay Captain entered—armor light, boots dusty from a day spent waiting at the ready.
Chen handed him the sealed bamboo canister. "Deliver to Jinzhou Prefecture. No stops except relay stations. Four witnesses shall sign each exchange."
The captain bowed. "By your command, Vice Minister."
Jianyan stepped forward, tapping the leather strap of the canister. "Captain, this scroll is worth more than your horse, your boots, and your last month's stipend combined."
The captain stiffened. "Wangye, I shall ride like thunder."
Jianyan smiled. "Ride steady. Thunder overturns carts."
The man blinked—unsure whether it was humor or warning—and bowed again before departing. A few clerks smothered smiles. Even Chen's stern mouth twitched and he spread a fresh piece of paper, scribbling notes.
"Tomorrow we focus on missing courier Du Ming," he said. "We check the relay station. His residence. His colleagues."
Jianyan leaned against a pillar, folding his arms comfortably. "Let benwang talk to his colleagues first."
Chen's brow lifted. "Wangye, this is a judicial inquiry. Dali Temple should handle questioning."
"Oh, absolutely," Jianyan said brightly. "Benwang will only talk. Talking is not interrogation."
Chen stared at him.
Jianyan added, "People close their mouths around officials. They open them for princes—especially ones who don't glare at them like they're criminals."
Chen exhaled through his nose. "…Fine. But keep to the truth and avoid promising anything."
"Benwang never promises," Jianyan said. "He merely… encourages."
A clerk approached, bowing. "Vice Minister, Wangye—the comparison notes are ready."
Chen reviewed them:
▪ County scroll: uneven brush, correct phrasing, dust wear
▪ Prefecture scroll: uniform brush, phrasing altered, stamp rotation identical
▪ Timeline: impossible witness testimony dated after death
▪ Prefecture decree: claims case closed
▪ County record: clearly states case still open
Chen set the brush down. "This is systemic."
Jianyan's voice softened, but grew sharper underneath. "Someone plays judge behind a desk. Played it so long they forgot the throne still exists."
Chen nodded. "We proceed quietly."
"Quietly," Jianyan echoed. "But not slowly."
As twilight fell, a clerk hurried forward.
"Wangye, Vice Minister—the gate scribes confirm the scrape along the plaza stone. The mark suggests a satchel being dragged. Someone took the petitioner's belongings while the crowd was distracted."
Jianyan crouched beside the stone where the scraping continued faintly into the corridor. Dust clung to his fingertips.
"Someone engineered the distraction," he murmured. "The vegetable vendor didn't slip by accident."
Chen knelt too. "So he wasn't acting alone."
"No," Jianyan said. "Someone wanted Qiu Fen to reach the drum—but not with the original evidence."
He straightened, brushing his hands clean.
Chen looked at him. "This may grow large."
"And benwang," Jianyan replied with a half-smile, "has extremely good hearing for footsteps in the dark."
As lanterns lit the corridor and the palace gates prepared to close for the night, the Ministry of Records settled again into silence.
But a relay rider raced toward Jinzhou.