The lantern repair shed sat behind the north wall where the inner hall stopped pretending it didn't need servants.
It smelled like old oil, soot, and metal filings. During the day, workers came and went, replacing glass panes and trimming wicks. At night, it was empty except for the quiet drip of oil from a spout that never fully closed.
That was why Gu Yan chose it.
Empty places made promises feel private.
Wuchen arrived just after the second bell, gray runner trim hidden under a darker cloak so he wouldn't shine like a target from ten paces away. He didn't bring Wei. If Wei appeared, it became teeth on teeth.
He came alone, like a boy making a mistake.
He stood outside the shed door and waited, breath stacked, wrist points lightly pinned. Two grains of qi sat steady in his belly, small coins that made his body feel less hollow and his fear sharper.
Footsteps came from the shadow of the north wall.
Jiang Ren didn't rush.
He stepped into lantern light as if he belonged there, robe clean, ridge-mark token at his belt. His smile was thin, but not playful now. It was the smile of a man who had slept badly.
"You came," Jiang Ren said softly.
Wuchen bowed. "Senior Brother asked."
Jiang Ren's eyes narrowed. "So you reconsidered," he murmured.
Wuchen kept his gaze lowered and let his voice soften. "This one… doesn't want trouble," he said. "Deacon Han watches. Lan watches. Gu Yan watches."
Jiang Ren chuckled without warmth. "So you want me to turn eyes away," he said.
Wuchen bowed deeper. "If possible."
Jiang Ren stepped closer, still polite. "Possible," he said. "Everything is possible when people stop being loyal."
Wuchen didn't answer. He let the silence make him look weak.
Jiang Ren's gaze slid to Wuchen's cuff. The jade token edge showed faintly. His mouth tightened.
"Lan marked you," he said. "Gu Yan marked you. And you still want Ridge Patrol to shelter you."
Wuchen swallowed. "This one will pay."
Jiang Ren's eyes brightened slightly. "With what?" he asked.
Wuchen pulled out the small strip of black paper Lan had traded him, held between finger and thumb.
The one-use seal strip.
He didn't offer it.
He only showed it, then tucked it back into his sleeve as if embarrassed he had anything valuable.
Jiang Ren's gaze sharpened.
He understood what it was without being told.
A method piece. A seal help. Something inner disciples wanted and outer dogs would kill for.
Jiang Ren exhaled once, controlled. "So Lan is feeding you," he murmured.
Wuchen lowered his gaze. "This one leaks," he said softly. "So people offer things."
Jiang Ren's smile returned, more real now. "Good," he said. "Then you can offer me something too."
Wuchen waited.
Jiang Ren leaned in slightly. "I can make Han stop looking at you for a while," he said. "Not forever. Just long enough for you to breathe."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "How?"
Jiang Ren's eyes flicked to the shed door, then back. "Ridge Patrol files," he said softly. "We choose what goes into the weekly report. If Han thinks a different runner is carrying messages, he'll chase that runner instead."
Wuchen's stomach tightened. So this was how "turning eyes away" worked. Paper. Names. Small lies stacked until they became someone else's misery.
Wuchen bowed. "And in exchange?"
Jiang Ren smiled faintly. "You tell Gu Yan," he said, "that I'm clean. That my hand on Lan's box was nothing."
Wuchen's throat went dry. "That is… lying."
Jiang Ren's smile thinned. "That is commerce," he corrected. "You get less pain. I get less attention."
Wuchen looked down, pretending to struggle, letting fear show in his shoulders.
Then he spoke, quiet. "If I tell Gu Yan that," he said, "he'll ask why I'm protecting you."
Jiang Ren's eyes narrowed. "So don't protect me," he said. "Redirect him."
Wuchen kept his gaze lowered. "To who?"
Jiang Ren smiled. "To Lan," he said softly. "Tell Gu Yan Lan set you up to make Ridge Patrol touch her box, so she could accuse patrol of snooping. Say she's stirring elders."
Wuchen's stomach tightened.
A believable lie.
Because Lan would do that.
And because Gu Yan already believed Lan was hungry.
Jiang Ren watched Wuchen carefully. "You can sell that," he murmured. "Gu Yan likes nets. Lan likes knives. Tell him she's trying to cut his net."
Wuchen nodded slowly as if convinced.
Inside, his mind stayed cold.
Gu Yan had told him to give Jiang Ren hope, and a harmless secret.
This wasn't harmless. This was fuel.
But hope made men offer more.
Wuchen said softly, "If I do this, I need proof Han will look away."
Jiang Ren's smile sharpened. "Smart," he murmured.
He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small folded slip stamped with Ridge Patrol's notch mark. "This is the next patrol report draft," he said quietly. "It lists runners scheduled for corridor duty near Han's platform."
He held it out. "Take it," he said. "If you see your name moved off the list tomorrow, you know I can."
Wuchen took it with both hands, careful not to look greedy. The paper was warm from Jiang Ren's sleeve.
Jiang Ren leaned closer, voice low. "Now," he said, "repeat what you will tell Gu Yan."
Wuchen bowed. "I will say Lan set a trap," he said softly. "To make Ridge Patrol look dirty. To stir elders. To cut your net."
Jiang Ren's smile returned, satisfied. "Good," he murmured. "And you will stop digging my name."
Wuchen bowed. "Yes."
Jiang Ren stepped back, posture relaxing. "Then I'll move Han's eyes," he said softly. "For a week."
Wuchen's throat tightened. A week in the inner hall could be an entire lifetime.
Jiang Ren turned to leave, then paused. "Runner," he said.
Wuchen looked down. "Senior Brother."
Jiang Ren's voice went colder. "If you lie to me," he said, "I'll make Lan's token around your wrist become a rope around your neck."
Wuchen bowed lower. "This one understands."
Jiang Ren left, footsteps measured again, disappearing into shadow.
Wuchen stood in the lantern shed smell for a long breath, holding the patrol report draft in his sleeve like a small flame.
He had done it.
He had bought a week of fewer eyes.
He had also accepted a new leash.
Because now he owed Jiang Ren silence, and he owed Gu Yan a story.
And the story Jiang Ren wanted him to tell was aimed like an arrow at Lan.
Gu Yan liked arrows.
Lan liked blood.
Wuchen exhaled slowly.
Then he walked back toward Gu Yan's courtyard, already rehearsing how to tell the truth in a way that sounded like Jiang Ren's lie… while still serving Gu Yan's hunger.
In this sect, the only skill that mattered was not choosing sides.
It was choosing which knife you let cut you today.