Li Chi’s blood had been stirred up by Tang Pidi’s words — stirred to the point where he couldn’t contain himself, and without thinking he had thrust out his hand and called out *let’s do it*. Tang Pidi had laughed heartily, grabbed his hand, and called out *let’s do it* in return.

The two of them stared at each other and burst out laughing — that particular electricity that passes between young men of the same spirit. But just then, both of them sensed something faintly off about the atmosphere.

They turned their heads at the same moment.

There was Yu Jiuling, leaning against a pillar. In his left hand he held a pile of melon seeds. In his right hand, a single melon seed was pinched at his lips — but had not been put in. How long he had been holding that pose, it was impossible to say.

Li Chi asked, “When did you get here?”

Yu Jiuling looked down at the carpet of seed husks at his feet and decided that claiming he had just arrived was probably not going to be very convincing.

“Just… a little bit before you,” he said.

He then added a clarification: “Roughly a little bit before you two started getting emotional.”

Li Chi let out a series of *heh* sounds. Yu Jiuling sensed things were not going well for him and hastened to explain: “I really was here first. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on whatever you were talking about. I was already standing here when you two hadn’t even come through the back courtyard gate yet. If you’re going to say I was listening in and dock my wages for it, I think that’s unfair, unjust, and I refuse to accept it.”

Li Chi said, “Tossing seed husks on the ground — that’s a month’s wages docked.”

Yu Jiuling froze.

He looked at the husks on the floor. “There were plenty of people here spitting seed husks just now — it wasn’t only me. Of these husks, at most one-fifth are mine…”

Li Chi said, “No witnesses.”

Just then the four young women came through with brooms and dustpans, chatting and laughing. They took in the scene, and Gao Xining held out her broom to Yu Jiuling. Xiahou Yili set down the dustpan. They gave Yu Jiuling a look of encouragement.

Gao Xining said, “We just walked past and told you — don’t go around spitting seed husks on the floor, it’s not right. You wouldn’t listen. Look how it turned out.”

Xiahou Yili said, “Exactly. We were even being kind enough to bring a broom and dustpan to help you. I suppose we won’t, then. You need a lesson.”

The two of them turned, and with the other two girls in tow, walked away.

Yu Jiuling looked at Li Chi, grief and indignation writ across his face. “Heaven and earth as my witness — boss, if my wages get docked, do I still have to sweep?”

Li Chi said, “Do you understand how money distorts a person’s character?”

Yu Jiuling shook his head.

Li Chi said, “Sweep it clean, and I won’t dock your wages.”

Yu Jiuling immediately swept every seed husk from the floor with great thoroughness. He wore a smile of entirely undisguised flattery, leaning in close to Li Chi. “Clean enough?”

Li Chi sighed. “You see? That’s exactly how money distorts you — it takes a man with no self-respect and restores him to a state of self-respect. Even makes his features look a touch more pleasant.”

Yu Jiuling: “You set the wages, you have all the say.”

Li Chi said, “But I just deceived you a moment ago. I still think you could do with a lesson, so I will in fact be docking a month’s wages.”

Yu Jiuling: “Where’s your humanity?! I’ll fight you to the end!”

Li Chi said, “You see — money has distorted your character again.”

Yu Jiuling: “…”

Li Chi said, “Now, do you know what it means for fortune to reverse itself?”

Yu Jiuling: “I don’t want to know anymore.”

Li Chi sighed. “Fortune reversing itself means: are you simple, or what? Yesterday was payday.”

Yu Jiuling’s face opened up in an instant. He burst into laughter. “I actually forgot — yesterday was payday! Ha ha ha ha… you really were just teasing me.”

Li Chi said seriously, “So I’ll be docking next month’s wages instead.”

Yu Jiuling’s laughter stopped dead.

Li Chi said, “You see, that was fortune reversing itself, and now fortune has reversed back again. Invigorating, wasn’t it?”

Yu Jiuling: “A boss like you has utterly extinguished all human feeling! That little bit of wages I save up over several months is barely enough for one trip to Shuangxing Pavilion — and now you’re docking that too, so when will I ever be able to—”

Li Chi said, “Why didn’t you say so earlier? If you’d said so earlier I’d have helped you long ago.”

He took out his coin purse and pressed it into Yu Jiuling’s hands, in a tone of warm reassurance: “Yongning Tongyuan Carriage Yard still has some human feeling in it. Here, take this for now.”

Yu Jiuling: “I sense a trap. I don’t dare take it.”

Li Chi said, with great solemnity: “It’s yours, it’s already yours — I’m giving it to you. What trap? Take it.”

Yu Jiuling tentatively accepted the purse. “Are you certain there’s no trap?”

“Certain — no trap. That money is yours, about two years’ worth of wages, plenty for Shuangxing Pavilion. I’m advancing you the full amount right now. Happy?”

Tang Pidi shook his head and sighed: “No human feeling indeed.”

Yu Jiuling said, “Old Tang, you really are the decent one — you can see that Li Chi has no human feeling either.”

Tang Pidi said, “What I mean is, he forgot to subtract that one month’s wages before handing it over. Someone who runs things with such careless disregard for money — no human feeling.”

Li Chi said, as though struck by a sudden realization: “Right, you’re absolutely right — if you hadn’t reminded me I truly would have forgotten. I’ll go write it down now so I don’t forget again. So from here on, two years plus one month, not a single day’s wages for you.”

He walked away with Tang Pidi, side by side.

Tang Pidi said as he went: “Now that’s more like it.”

Yu Jiuling stared at the dustpan full of seed husks. Then he stared at the money in his hand. He decided that life was genuinely electrifying —

Truly, absolutely, electrifyingly so.

In the back courtyard of the carriage yard, the workers had not trained for the past two days — they were occupied with transferring provisions from the cellars into the underground palace, which was more solid, more reliable, and whose cool, dark environment would preserve the grain better.

Aside from the grain, there were also the weapons and armor that had been — as they put it — *borrowed* from the Military Preparedness Bureau’s armory. Li Chi and the others had gone back and forth whenever the opportunity arose, each time coming away feeling they had taken very little — and yet when it came time to move everything into the underground palace, it turned out they had accumulated enough to outfit nearly three thousand soldiers in full armor.

Li Chi himself could not believe it. He felt there must be some mistake. How could they possibly have taken so much from someone else’s stores? That seemed rather ungracious.

Li Chi and Tang Pidi went down into the underground palace again, carrying a compass, and took their bearings. Then they came back up and walked around the city. At the end of it, Li Chi confirmed that Tang Pidi’s assessment had been correct: the underground ramp’s exit was situated in the vicinity of the Surveillance Bureau compound.

The rest was straightforward. Li Chi went to discuss it with Xiahou Zuo, who said the transaction had to go through the books — he could give Li Chi the land, but if nothing was recorded and his father came back and asked questions, it would be difficult to explain.

Li Chi asked how much. Xiahou Zuo said it really couldn’t be less than twenty thousand taels, otherwise it would be a bit much to defend. Li Chi winced. Xiahou Zuo said he would think of a way — go write two pieces of calligraphy…

Li Chi was stunned. This maneuver from Xiahou Zuo was the kind of thing only an inside man could pull off.

Xiahou Zuo said, “Look — before my father led his army out, your calligraphy was going for eight thousand taels a piece. With the way prices have been rising, by the time my father returns, it’ll be at ten thousand a piece at a minimum.”

Li Chi said, “I want to bow down before you.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Go ahead — I’ll give you money for New Year’s when you do.”

Li Chi: “Get away…”

Xiahou Zuo said, “This time don’t use new paper. Get some old paper, and when you’re done I’ll take you to the Jizhou prefectural office. Hand over the money, pick up the deed.”

Li Chi: “If your father comes back and actually asks you about this, what will you tell him?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “By then I’ll have run for it.”

Li Chi: “…”

Because Xiahou Zuo personally accompanied Li Chi to the Jizhou prefectural office, the transaction went through with remarkable ease. Never mind the two pieces of calligraphy — purportedly genuine works by Master Songming — even without them, Xiahou Zuo’s word alone would have been enough to get the prefectural office to comply.

And so Li Chi found himself, with little fuss, in possession of his third piece of land in Jizhou City. First the house, then the carriage yard property, and now the Surveillance Bureau site.

Xiahou Zuo declared that Li Chi should be moved to tears of joy — this was an enormous expansion. The Surveillance Bureau’s land was two and a half times the size of Yongning Tongyuan Carriage Yard. He absolutely had to weep three times, at minimum. Li Chi asked why exactly three times. Xiahou Zuo said: a crafty hare has three burrows to weep from.

In less than a day the land question was resolved. Next came hiring craftsmen and laborers to demolish what remained of the burned Surveillance Bureau compound. Li Chi, frugal as ever, was not about to throw everything away — anything still usable would be salvaged.

Standing in the courtyard of the Surveillance Bureau and looking at the scorched, partially collapsed buildings around him, he felt both an ache of regret and a grin spreading across his face — thinking that if it hadn’t burned first and just fallen into his hands as-is, how much better that would have been.

His eyes landed on a pile of wooden crates stacked in the corner of the yard. Some had burned; others were more or less intact. He looked at Xiahou Zuo. “What are those?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “After the Surveillance Bureau burned, Liu Ge brought people in to inspect it once the fire was out. All the silver inside the Bureau had already been taken away to fund the military — quite a haul. As for everything else — nothing much of use — so it all got piled over there waiting to be dealt with.”

Li Chi heard this and went over. He opened one of the charred crates at random and looked inside. It held a series of case files, most of them burned. He picked up one that was more or less intact, opened it, and his eyes lit up.

When Li Chi’s eyes lit up, Xiahou Zuo felt that nothing good could come of it.

“This is interesting.” He handed the file to Xiahou Zuo. “Have a look — this is a treasure trove. But they thought it was worthless.”

Xiahou Zuo took it and read. Then he nodded. “This is genuinely useful.”

The files were, nearly all of them, the Surveillance Bureau’s archived records — each one a dossier on an official, a ledger of their misdeeds and corrupt dealings, documented with extraordinary clarity. Every official of any size in Jizhou City appeared to have had their vulnerabilities catalogued and kept on file.

Which was precisely why the Surveillance Bureau’s people had operated with such brazen arrogance. With these dossiers in hand, they could deploy them whenever it suited them, or hold them in reserve for later use — and the officials in question had no choice but to submit to their manipulation.

“Let me see if there’s anything on the Cui family.”

Li Chi crouched down and began to dig through the pile. Xiahou Zuo watched him rummaging and remarked: “The practiced efficiency with which you sort through rubbish makes you look like a specialist.”

Li Chi said, “After your trip to Sanyue River Pavilion it seems your sharp tongue has had its two meridians unblocked.”

Then he paused, turned to look at Xiahou Zuo. “Has it actually?”

Xiahou Zuo: “Get away…”

He crouched down beside Li Chi and joined the search. As they worked he said, “The Cui family’s influence is too vast — the Surveillance Bureau wouldn’t have moved rashly against them. And besides, the Cui family would have already bought off the Surveillance Bureau people long ago. They wouldn’t have looked too closely.”

Li Chi said, “But just possibly — maybe the Surveillance Bureau accepted their money and still investigated, just without targeting them. I’ve been thinking that Cui Tai’s invitation to Sanyue River Pavilion wasn’t simply about winning us over.”

Just then, Li Chi found something. The file he recovered had been mostly destroyed — what remained had been dampened by water and the text was not very legible. What could still be made out was a series of names, one after another.

Li Chi said, “These archive records are all about the Cui family’s people — who is posted where, what rank they hold. The legible portions alone, for a household of the Cui family’s scope… this is a thick register, and it’s nothing but their official postings.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “The Cui family isn’t particularly conspicuous, but they run deeper than most would guess. As far as I know, Qingzhou Military Governor Cui Yanlai is…”

His voice stopped.

He looked at Li Chi, who was already looking back at him.