The following morning. Jizhou Prefecture Offices.

Military Governor Zeng Ling arrived with a sizable retinue and walked straight into the prefectural offices. The acting deputy prefect and the rest of the assembled officials bent at the waist to receive him, each one hardly daring to breathe.

The Jizhou Prefecture offices — and someone had let a band of criminals break into the jail, not only making off with a high-value prisoner, but killing a number of men in the process. Worse still, not a single one of the criminals had been stopped; they had strolled out without a care. If this got out, what would the people say?

“A pack of wine sacks and rice bags!”

Zeng Ling was in a rare fury, his face an iron grey.

“The Prince entrusted you people with running the Jizhou Prefecture offices, and this is how you repay him? Have you any face left to stand here calling yourselves officials?”

A wave of sound — and a whole row of men dropped to their knees.

In the glory days of the Great Chu dynasty, kneeling had meant nothing in particular. Even at court, civil and military officials weren’t expected to prostrate themselves before the Emperor at every turn — that level of ceremony was reserved for grand audiences and occasions of the highest formality. Junior officials meeting their superiors had no need to kneel, and even before imperial clan members — Prince Yu among them — kneeling was not required.

But in these chaotic times, knees had become cheap.

“Whoever I call will come forward first and explain himself.”

Zeng Ling waved a hand. “Chief Constable Jiang Ran of the Jizhou Prefecture — stay. Everyone else, get out to the hall and wait.”

The crowd filed out in cowed silence, retreating to stand in the outer hall. Zeng Ling sat down at the head position, looked around, his anger still unspent, and snapped: “Farther.”

The assembled prefectural officials hurriedly backed up further, heads bowed, tails tucked — a sight that was almost comical and almost pitiful at once.

Zeng Ling turned his gaze on Jiang Ran and fixed him with a long, hard stare. Jiang Ran looked at the Military Governor’s expression and thought to himself — the Governor really does put on a convincing performance. If I didn’t know the inside story, I’d have believed it myself. I’d have been frightened half to death.

Good thing I do know.

“Jiang Ran!”

Zeng Ling bellowed.

“Your subordinate is present.”

*I have to play along with this scene,* Jiang Ran thought. The Azure Formation man in the teahouse had already said the Military Governor would come to make a formal inquiry — go through the motions, put on a show.

“You have some nerve!”

“As Chief Constable of the Jizhou Prefecture offices,” Zeng Ling thundered, “you stood there and watched a prisoner get taken away — right in front of you!”

Jiang Ran knelt and said: “This subordinate is guilty. I was derelict in my duties and submit to whatever punishment the Governor sees fit. I was present at the time, but I gave everything I had. When it comes down to it, the blame truly rests with Jing Yanli and his people. They drove off the jailers and the constables and refused to allow my men anywhere near the cells. We weren’t even permitted to approach — anyone who tried was beaten and abused.”

Jiang Ran went on, aggrieved: “The duty jailers on shift were all humiliated by Jing Yanli. One man was kicked and injured — he still can’t move and is confined to bed. After I heard the commotion, I immediately led my men in to fight those criminals…”

Zeng Ling’s expression shifted color with fury. He glanced at the officials waiting outside — far enough away — then rose and walked in front of Jiang Ran, unable to contain himself, and landed a kick squarely on him.

“Now Jing Yanli is lodging a complaint against you before the Prince. How do you answer for it? Your men shot and killed several of his people — how do you answer for that?”

Jiang Ran pressed his forehead to the floor. “Governor, I have been wronged. When I heard the battle cries and rushed in with my men, those criminals all had their faces covered — and so did Jing Yanli’s people. There was no way to tell them apart. I could only order my men to shoot in order to stop the criminals from escaping. Some mistaken casualties were unavoidable.”

Zeng Ling let out a long breath. “And you? Jing Yanli told the Prince that you feigned injury — that you deliberately allowed those criminals to escape. Is this true?”

Jiang Ran knelt and said: “Governor, from the moment this happened until now, I have not returned home or changed my clothes. Look — the boot prints are still on my person, the tears in my clothing are still there.”

He had preserved the evidence with meticulous care — specifically for Zeng Ling to see. Boot prints were not easy to keep intact; a few extra turns in one’s sleep would have erased them, and a careless brush of the hand would have left nothing. What remained was already somewhat faded. The clearest print was the one Zeng Ling had just put there with his own foot.

“You—!”

Military Governor Zeng Ling looked at the boot prints and nearly erupted.

He pointed at Jiang Ran. “Different sizes — all kinds of prints. Those criminals who broke in numbered only a few, yet you’ve taken this many kicks. Did each of those criminals have three feet or four? Three feet per man, and you’d need more than five men to make this many prints!”

Jiang Ran looked down at himself, then gave Zeng Ling a sheepish grin. “I was careless.”

“You— you useless—” Zeng Ling’s fury crested.

“Governor, please calm yourself…”

Zeng Ling exhaled a long breath and returned to his seat. After a moment, he said: “I told you not to go making reckless moves. You just wouldn’t listen. Either don’t act, or act cleanly. If you had killed Jing Yanli last night as well, I would not be standing here cursing you now. But you didn’t finish the job.”

*And I could have done that?* Jiang Ran thought. *Governor, you never said so.*

He’d have struck harder if he’d known.

He didn’t dare ask outright — *isn’t this what you arranged, Governor?*

Zeng Ling, of course, would never say so either — because he genuinely hadn’t arranged any of it. He naturally wasn’t going to ask Jiang Ran directly what had possessed him to do what he did.

Each thought the other had been behind it.

Zeng Ling was certain it was Jiang Ran’s doing. Jiang Ran was certain it was the Governor’s.

“Hmm…”

After a long silence, Zeng Ling sighed again. “The Prince sent me here to ask questions — which means the Prince suspects I was involved. Even if I explain myself, the Prince is unlikely to listen…”

He looked at Jiang Ran. “Same point as before: if you had disposed of Jing Yanli and his people last night as well, no one would have been left alive to contradict anyone — and the matter would have been easier to explain. As it stands, he’s insisting you let the criminals in. How do you explain yourself to the Prince?”

Jiang Ran, thinking himself very clever, replied: “Whatever the Governor says on his return, I’ll corroborate.”

Zeng Ling fell silent again. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “I’ve already made a promise to the Prince that I’ll get to the bottom of this. For the time being… go home and rest. If anything comes up, I’ll send someone to ask you. Once things settle down, I’ll arrange for you to return.”

*Works for me,* Jiang Ran thought. *All arranged in advance, all a formality, all for show.*

So he bowed deeply. “I will do as the Governor instructs.”

Zeng Ling had expected Jiang Ran to show some reluctance. He hadn’t anticipated such ready compliance. A pang of guilt stirred in him — Jiang Ran was his old subordinate, a man he had promoted himself, once a general of the Military Garrison Command in his own right. Now reduced to being abused by a pack of men from the Western Regions.

“Go home and rest easy. I’ll have you reassigned before long.”

Zeng Ling waved a hand. “You’re dismissed.”

Jiang Ran thought of one loose end and asked: “Governor — do you know where Yue Huanian is now?”

If Zeng Ling didn’t know, the story wouldn’t quite add up. Crucially, Zeng Ling did know.

“Last night, the Azure Formation’s people reported to me. While on their rounds, they spotted a flicker of firelight at a certain location, and when they investigated, they found a corpse — badly burned. But from the missing ear and the broken limbs, it appeared to be Yue Huanian’s remains.”

*And that,* Jiang Ran thought, *is what they mean by ginger getting sharper with age. The Governor played that hand masterfully. Old ginger. Me — I’m the young ginger.*

His admiration for the Military Governor was genuine. He left without any grievance, in perfectly good spirits, thinking: I serve the Governor, and it won’t be long before he promotes me again.

—

The body was not Yue Huanian’s.

After Yue Huanian died the night before, Li Chi had been unwilling to let the remains of such a hero fall into the hands of petty villains to be dishonored. So he and Yu Jiuling had slipped out of the transport company again. Knowing the prefectural offices would eventually dispose of the body, they waited until the search was underway — and then Yu Jiuling, relying on his lightness technique, crept back into the offices and stole a Western Regions corpse, dressed it to match Yue Huanian’s wounds, then set it alight. True and false became indistinguishable.

And this had required the assistance of one other person.

By now, Yue Huanian’s body had already been carried out of the city.

Outside the walls, beside a river, Li Chi and the others had used the transport company’s wagons as cover, concealing the body in the cargo, and brought it through the gates. They found a decent enough spot and buried him there.

Li Chi helped Qiu Qingche kneel, kowtow, and light incense and paper offerings. Then they all returned to the city.

Back at the transport company’s rear courtyard, Li Chi helped Qiu Qingche lie back down and sat beside him. “Rest here and heal. Once you’re well, you can make other plans — go wherever you want to go.”

“I have nowhere I want to go.”

Qiu Qingche looked at Li Chi. “But when I’m healed, I’ll go to Xinzhou Pass. The Magistrate said that standing against the invaders at Xinzhou Pass is the most important thing — the thing every man of Great Chu should do. I’ll honor his final wish.”

Li Chi nodded. “Heal first.”

He rose to leave. Qiu Qingche looked up at him. “Thank you for burying the Magistrate.”

“I didn’t want to bury him,” Li Chi said. “I wanted to save him.”

He stepped through the door and stood outside, lifting his face to the sky — clear blue, washed clean. Li Chi let out a long breath.

He stood at the doorway for a while, then looked back at Qiu Qingche. “Don’t think too much. Heal your wounds. If you give up on yourself, how will Magistrate Yue’s grievance ever be answered? This is a debt that cannot be left to fester.”

Qiu Qingche nodded hard. “He must be killed.”

—

One hour later. Cloud Study Teahouse.

In the private room upstairs, Li Chi clasped his hands toward the middle-aged man seated there, savoring his tea. “Thank you, Mister Ye, for your help.”

Ye Zhangzhu took a sip, smiled, and said: “This is good tea. I just asked — two taels of silver a pot. Settle the bill before you go. Saying thank you seems a bit hollow, don’t you think? Buy me this tea, and we’re even.”

Li Chi opened his mouth, and after a moment managed: “That feels… far too easy on me.”

“Not easy at all,” Ye Zhangzhu said. “If I’d been helping you fight our own Central Plains people, the price would have been different. But those were Western Regions barbarians. Two taels — that’s about what they’re worth. I’m not losing out.”

Li Chi couldn’t help laughing.

Ye Zhangzhu looked at him. “You’re Xiahou’s brother. As it happens, so am I.”

He gestured to the seat across from him. “Well? This two-taels-a-pot tea isn’t going to drink itself. If I finish it alone, you’ll have lost even more.”

Li Chi sat down, somewhat awkward. “Should I… order some pastries and snacks as well?”

“Only now realizing how stingy you’ve been?”

A faint flush crossed Li Chi’s face.

Ye Zhangzhu sighed. “Worth it. Xiahou told me you never get embarrassed, never blush — this is a rare sight. Xiahou’s probably never seen it either.”

Li Chi flushed a little more and nodded. “He hasn’t.”

Ye Zhangzhu was quiet a moment, then looked at Li Chi. “Do you know why I’m willing to call Xiahou a brother?”

Li Chi didn’t answer — he didn’t know how to.

“Because Xiahou is a man who stands upright beneath heaven,” Ye Zhangzhu said. “As for Li Chi… you are too.”

—