Yu Jiuling and Jiang Ran followed Li Chi out of the carriage house. The carriage headed in the direction of Jizhou City’s granary.

Inside the carriage, Yu Jiuling turned Li Chi’s words over in his mind and summarized them in a few lines.

“So what we have is: I know the enemy plans to hit me. I don’t know when, or how. So what do we do?”

Li Chi replied: “Hit them first.”

Yu Jiuling blinked. Jiang Ran’s mouth curved faintly.

Jiang Ran had come up through officialdom, and Yu Jiuling had never particularly taken to people of his sort. But having spent considerable time together, he had come to realize that apart from a certain vanity, Jiang Ran was quite all right. The experience of navigating official life had given Jiang Ran a far sharper read of people and motives than Yu Jiuling possessed.

“The Cui family’s whole approach is to lay out a maze,” Jiang Ran said, “and hope we stumble around in it without direction—ideally dividing our people as thin as possible, the thinner the better.”

“But instead of following their logic, we follow our own.”

“If we’re going to hit back,” Yu Jiuling said, “shouldn’t we go straight to the Cui family compound? Why are we going to the granary?”

“Go yourself, then,” Jiang Ran said.

“Coward.”

“You’re not scared either, and you’re not going.”

Yu Jiuling: “…”

If they kept that up it could go on forever with no conclusion.

“Jiuling.”

Li Chi cut in. “There’s a job that needs you—you’re the fastest, you’re the best fit.”

Yu Jiuling straightened up at once. “Name it.”

Li Chi passed him a rolled document. “A while back, Xiahou and I went through the files at the Surveillance Bureau and I held onto what seemed useful. This is a full roster of all officials attached to the granary. Check it for any with the surname Cui.”

Yu Jiuling took it and began reading. After a moment he looked up at Li Chi: “What does this have to do with my being fast?”

Jiang Ran leaned over to look alongside him. The two of them turned the pages one by one, from start to finish—and found not a single person surnamed Cui.

“Not one,” Yu Jiuling said, looking up. “The Cui family apparently has no reach into the granary. The granary is a sensitive installation—Prince Yu and the Commissioner would naturally guard it closely and only trust their own people there.”

Jiang Ran mused: “Not a single one—that is almost too clean. There are no absolutely clean things, and no absolutely clean people, in this world.”

“There are,” Yu Jiuling said. “I am absolutely clean.”

“Your coin-purse, maybe,” Jiang Ran said.

Yu Jiuling: “…”

Li Chi said with a smile: “Jiang Ran’s right. The Cui family’s people are being too deliberate about it—which is itself suspicious. Not a single person surnamed Cui in the entire granary roster, and it’s not as if every person named Cui in Jizhou City is a member of that family.”

He looked at Yu Jiuling. “Not one—what do you make of that?”

Yu Jiuling thought carefully, and then it dawned on him. He looked at Li Chi. “Not a single one—that actually means the granary was taken over long ago. If the people running the granary had nothing to do with the Cui family, they couldn’t have deliberately excluded everyone surnamed Cui. For the granary to be this clean, the people in charge had to be Cui family operatives themselves. So the question isn’t whether there are Cui family members in the granary—it may be that all of them are Cui family people.”

“Let’s go and look,” Li Chi said.

He paused and then added: “There’s one more thing—and it is the most critical thing of all. I need you for it.”

Yu Jiuling immediately felt himself grow taller in his own estimation. He thumped his chest. “Tell me.”

“When we get to the granary,” Li Chi said, “Jiang Ran and I will go in. You wait outside. If you see the signal from me, that means we can’t easily get out. You run—find Xiahou, tell him to bring soldiers.”

“Leave it to me,” Yu Jiuling said.

Then it seemed to occur to him. He looked at Li Chi almost involuntarily. “Is it because I can’t fight?”

“You figured it out—don’t ask,” Jiang Ran said. “Honestly. You worked it out, so let it go. Do you want to make things awkward?”

Yu Jiuling spat at him, then sighed. “At least I’m of some use.”

Not long after, their carriage pulled up outside the granary precinct. The garrison there was substantial and the watch strict. When a carriage appeared and stopped, men moved to wave it off at once.

Li Chi looked at Yu Jiuling. “Wait here. Watch for us—or for the signal.”

Yu Jiuling nodded. “Don’t worry.”

The unit commander heading over to drive them away had barely opened his mouth when Li Chi produced the Prince Yu’s household credential. The man’s expression changed in an instant, his face rearranging itself more swiftly than the tricks of the Daoist Changmei.

“May I ask what brings you gentlemen to the granary?”

The commander bent at the waist. “I will inform our senior officer, Administrator Gao, straight away and have him come to meet you in person.”

Li Chi said: “Go quickly, then.”

The commander turned and sprinted inside. Li Chi watched him go, then glanced at Jiang Ran. Jiang Ran understood at once and stepped forward. One of the door guards exchanged a look with the other and took a step toward them, looking apologetic. “Gentlemen, this is a restricted installation. Perhaps it would be better to wait until our Administrator Gao—”

Smack!

Jiang Ran raised his hand and gave the soldier a hard, ringing slap across the face—hard enough that the man very nearly spun completely around.

“Insolent wretch!”

Jiang Ran’s voice rang out in a tone of cold fury. “We are going into this granary. Even your Administrator Gao would not dare bar our way.”

No one in Li Chi’s company could project that particular kind of presence as convincingly as Jiang Ran—because Jiang Ran knew this manner of operation best of all.

The soldier’s face was already swelling, yet he immediately stepped back and did not dare to obstruct them further. There was something in Jiang Ran’s stare that said: keep standing in my way, and I will make sure you have no place in Jizhou.

Li Chi watched Jiang Ran perform and inwardly sighed. That effortless shift of manner—ordinary people simply could not fake it convincingly.

Inside the main gate, Jiang Ran caught Li Chi looking at him and gave an embarrassed little smile. “My… professional background.”

By the time Granary Chief Administrator Gao Shengda came hurrying over, Li Chi and Jiang Ran had already vanished somewhere inside. Gao Shengda asked how many people had entered; the man who had just been slapped said two. Gao Shengda’s eyes flickered—but then seemed, oddly, to relax somewhat.

Fortunately there were soldiers everywhere. Asking as he went, Gao Shengda quickly located Li Chi and Jiang Ran. The two of them were standing outside the door of one of the storage buildings, hands clasped behind their backs, looking at something he could not determine.

“Gentlemen.”

Gao Shengda came toward them at a trot, pasting a smile across his face. He did not know precisely who these two were, but they carried a Prince Yu’s household credential of very senior rank—which meant he did not need to worry about matching their official grade, only about being sufficiently deferential.

Jiang Ran—an old hand at this—saw through Gao Shengda’s smile in an instant. He also noticed that the soldiers on duty nearby seemed to be edging gradually closer.

“Is there something I may assist you with?” Gao Shengda asked with a smile.

Li Chi said: “General Xiahou sent us to see how preparations for the military rations over the next few days are proceeding.”

Gao Shengda hastened to reply: “Provisions for the garrison are dispatched in batches every three days. The last delivery went out just yesterday.”

“I am aware it went out yesterday,” Li Chi said, “but with the Qingzhou army already at the walls, General Xiahou’s concern is that there should be no disruptions. If the ration supply were to fall short, the soldiers would be defending the walls on empty stomachs.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Gao Shengda said quickly. “The next batch of rations has already been prepared in full. To ensure prompt delivery and distribution, I have arranged for the loading to begin tomorrow, and dispatch and delivery at first light the day after.”

“Take us to have a look,” Li Chi said. “One look will set our minds at ease, and we’ll have something to report to General Xiahou when we return.”

“By your command. This way, gentlemen.”

Gao Shengda extended a welcoming hand and led the way, walking in front as he guided Li Chi and Jiang Ran toward another storage building.

“All military ration requirements draw from this building, the Jia-Character Store. The grain here is the finest grade—nothing mixed in.”

“The soldiers are fighting for their lives on the walls,” Gao Shengda said. “Naturally we must give them the best. The other stores hold raw grain; this building has about half finished product. Behind the granary is the milling operation—wheat is brought there, ground into flour, and then stored here. Flour doesn’t keep well, especially in the rainy season when it can absorb moisture, so we keep strict limits on how much processed stock we hold.”

“The flour reserve, measured against total requirements, is maintained at fifteen days’ supply—but the mill runs every day to ensure that fifteen-day cushion is always maintained. Every three days a delivery goes out, and every three days a replacement batch comes in from the mill.”

“Over there is the rice. No new harvest yet this year—the rice that remains dates from previous years, shipped in from Jiangnan. Even in good years, the rice supply in our northern regions is not large.”

Gao Shengda’s briefing was impressively thorough. He walked them through the entire processing flow in careful detail.

Li Chi stopped where the grain was stored. “May we open some of these and inspect them?”

Gao Shengda nodded at once. “No trouble at all, sir. You are welcome to look at anything you like. Simply point to whichever you wish opened, and I will have it done at once.”

Li Chi said: “An administrator who is this careful and thorough and so conscientious in his manner—that is genuinely rare. When I see General Xiahou, I will make sure to mention your diligence and dedication.”

Gao Shengda bowed quickly. “Thank you for the kind word, sir.”

“You said just now,” Li Chi continued, “that we may open whatever we wish, however we wish. That kind of confidence—that kind of bearing—I find it genuinely admirable. If I actually went around opening things, it would look as though I didn’t trust your word.”

He waved a hand. “We won’t open anything. If you say all is in order, then it is.”

Gao Shengda’s face visibly brightened.

Jiang Ran said: “However—if General Xiahou asks about quality and quantity, we need something to say.”

He looked at Gao Shengda. “Let me put it this way: if you were to rate the quality of this grain on a three-tier scale—superior, standard, or inferior—what would our answer be?”

Gao Shengda made a small gesture. Immediately, someone brought over a wooden box and placed it in Jiang Ran’s hands. He opened it with a smile. “Superior, of course. As pure as it gets. This is a sample for your inspection.”

Jiang Ran opened the box. Inside was a neat row of silver ingots. He smiled. “Superior indeed.”

Li Chi made a sound of agreement. “Excellent. Then we’ll be on our way. We won’t take up any more of your time, Administrator—we’ll go back and give our report to General Xiahou.”

Jiang Ran added: “Then let’s be off.”

Gao Shengda personally escorted them to the gate. Even after Li Chi and the others had boarded the carriage, Gao Shengda remained standing at the entrance, waving them off.

Once they were on their way, Jiang Ran looked at the wooden box in his hands. “If this man Gao has nothing to hide, I will eat every one of these silver ingots.”

Yu Jiuling looked at him, and sighed. “You wish.”

—