9. The Eunuch's Long Game

The main gate of the imperial palace was called the Vermillion Phoenix Gate, and it had stood for two hundred years as the boundary between the empire and its ruler. The walls on either side rose thirty feet, faced with bricks the color of dried blood, and the gate itself was a massive construction of iron-banded wood that took ten guards to open. On a normal morning, the approach to the gate was a chaos of officials and supplicants and servants, all jostling for position, all hoping to be noticed by someone with influence.

This morning was not normal.

Wei Zhao and Yu Yan approached the gate through a crowd that had already gathered—scholars clutching copies of the morning's gazette, ministers' aides whispering urgently to each other, palace guards shifting uneasily at their posts. The story of Li Fuguo's directive had spread faster than anyone had anticipated. By dawn, half the capital seemed to know that the Chief Eunuch had ordered the murder of a Ministry of Rites official ten years ago. By the time the sun had fully risen, the other half was learning it.

"The guards are nervous," Yu Yan murmured as they walked. "Look at the officer by the gate. He's been reading the gazette. He doesn't know what to do."

"Good. Confusion is better than resistance."

They reached the gate just as the morning audience was beginning to assemble in the outer court. Officials in the robes of various ministries were streaming through the entrance, their faces ranging from carefully blank to openly agitated. Wei Zhao spotted at least three ministers whose names had been on Yu Yan's list of Li Fuguo's bribe recipients. They were not looking at each other. They were not looking at anyone.

"Halt."

The officer at the gate stepped forward, his hand on his sword. He was young—perhaps twenty-five—with the rigid posture of someone who had recently been promoted and was terrified of making a mistake. His eyes flicked between Wei Zhao's face and the jade token that Wei Zhao had pulled from his robes.

"That's an emergency audience token," the officer said. "Where did you get it?"

"From Minister Song Jing of the Chancellery of State Affairs. It was given to him by the late Emperor Gaozong. Its authority is absolute, and it cannot be blocked by any official, including the Chief Eunuch of the Palace Communications Office." Wei Zhao held the token higher, letting the morning light catch the carved dragon. "I am Investigator Wei Zhao, formerly of the Bureau of Punishments, currently serving as special consultant to the Inspector of Jiangnan Circuit. I am here to present evidence of murder, corruption, and treason to the Emperor. And I am here with the daughter of a man who was murdered on the orders of Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo ten years ago. Her name is Yu Yan, daughter of Yu Zheng, and she carries the proof of her father's murder."

The officer's face went pale. "The Chief Eunuch—"

"The Chief Eunuch is a murderer. That's been established. The only question now is whether you're going to help me bring him to justice or help him cover up his crimes." Wei Zhao stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I know you've seen the gazette. Everyone has seen the gazette. In a few hours, this palace is going to be the center of the biggest political crisis in twenty years. When the dust settles, where do you want to be standing?"

The officer stared at him for a long moment. Then, very slowly, he stepped aside.

"Let them through," he said to his subordinates. "The token is valid."

The outer court of the imperial palace was a vast courtyard paved with white stone, surrounded by colonnades where officials gathered before the morning audience. At the far end, a flight of marble steps led up to the Hall of Supreme Harmony, where the Emperor held his formal sessions. The courtyard was already filling with officials, their silk robes rustling in the cold morning air, their voices a low murmur of speculation and alarm.

Wei Zhao walked through the crowd with Yu Yan at his side, the jade token still raised, the copies of the gazette still clutched in his free hand. Officials parted before him like water before a ship's prow, their eyes wide, their whispers trailing in his wake.

"Is that him? The investigator from Changshu?"

"He has the token. Song Jing's token."

"The daughter—look at her face. She looks just like him. Like Yu Zheng."

"He's actually going to do it. He's going to accuse the Chief Eunuch in open court."

At the foot of the marble steps, a line of palace guards stood with spears crossed, their faces hidden behind ceremonial helmets. Their captain—a grizzled veteran with a scar that ran from temple to jaw—stepped forward as Wei Zhao approached.

"The audience has not yet begun," the captain said. "No one enters the Hall of Supreme Harmony before the Emperor summons them."

"I'm not asking to enter. I'm presenting an emergency audience token. The law states that the bearer must be admitted immediately, without delay, regardless of the normal protocols." Wei Zhao held up the token. "You know the law, Captain. You've served the throne for thirty years. Don't throw away your career to protect a eunuch who's going to be dead or imprisoned by sunset."

The captain's scarred face betrayed nothing. "The Chief Eunuch has instructed us to be vigilant against threats to the Emperor's safety. A man who presents himself at the palace gates with a crowd behind him and accusations against a senior official could be considered a threat."

"The only threat to the Emperor's safety is the man who's been murdering his officials for ten years and burying them in a garden in Changshu County." Wei Zhao stepped closer, close enough that only the captain could hear his next words. "I have a list, Captain. A list of everyone in the palace who has taken bribes from Li Fuguo. Your name isn't on it. Don't make me add it."

The captain's eyes flickered. For a long moment, he simply stared at Wei Zhao, his hand resting on his sword hilt. Then, with a grunt that might have been surprise or might have been respect, he stepped aside.

"Let them through. But if this is a trick—if you harm the Emperor—I will kill you myself."

"Noted."

The Hall of Supreme Harmony was exactly as Wei Zhao remembered it from his years in the Bureau of Punishments, when he had occasionally attended imperial audiences as a junior official. The ceiling soared thirty feet overhead, supported by columns of lacquered red wood carved with dragons and phoenixes. The floor was paved with polished marble that reflected the light of a hundred lanterns. At the far end, on a raised dais surrounded by silk screens, sat the Dragon Throne.

The Emperor had not yet arrived. The hall was filled with officials arranging themselves in order of rank—ministers in the front, junior officials in the back, eunuchs and servants moving silently along the walls. The air was thick with incense and tension.

And standing at the foot of the dais, his back to the gathering crowd, was Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo.

Wei Zhao had never seen the Chief Eunuch in person. The man was smaller than he had expected—thin and wiry, with the narrow shoulders of someone who had been malnourished in childhood. His robes were the deep purple of high imperial rank, and his head was bare, showing the gray stubble of close-cropped hair. When he turned to face the disturbance, his face was smooth and unreadable, the face of a man who had spent fifty years learning to conceal every emotion.

"Investigator Wei Zhao." Li Fuguo's voice was soft, almost gentle. "I've heard so much about you. The man who dug up a garden and thought he found justice."

"The man who found five bodies and the proof of who killed them." Wei Zhao walked forward, the jade token still raised. "I am here under the authority of an emergency audience token issued by the late Emperor Gaozong to Minister Song Jing. I am here to present evidence that Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo ordered the murder of Ministry of Rites official Yu Zheng ten years ago, and that he has been operating a network of corrupt magistrates who have murdered, stolen, and suppressed the truth across fourteen counties in Jiangnan Circuit."

A ripple of sound ran through the assembled officials—gasps, murmurs, a few hastily suppressed exclamations. Li Fuguo's expression did not change.

"The emergency audience token is a sacred tradition," the Chief Eunuch said. "But it is not a license for slander. If you present false evidence against an imperial official, the penalty is death. You know this."

"I know it. Do you?"

Li Fuguo smiled—a thin, bloodless expression that did not reach his eyes. "You have spirit, Investigator. I admire that. It's a pity you've wasted it on a doomed crusade. The gazettes you've been distributing are forgeries. The documents you claim to possess are fabrications. And the witnesses you've gathered are criminals and malcontents who would say anything to avoid punishment for their own crimes."

"Then let the Emperor decide. Let me present my evidence in open court, before the entire assembly. If it's as fraudulent as you claim, you have nothing to fear."

"If I allowed every disgraced scribe with a grudge to present spurious accusations in open court, the business of the empire would never be conducted." Li Fuguo gestured to the guards who had begun to gather at the edges of the hall. "Remove this man from the palace. The emergency audience token was clearly obtained through fraud or coercion. Minister Song Jing is old and confused, and he has been manipulated by—"

"The token is valid."

The voice came from the back of the hall, and it cut through the murmur of the crowd like a blade through silk. Every head turned. Every voice fell silent.

Princess Taiping walked through the parted crowd with the measured grace of a woman who had been commanding attention since she could walk. She was dressed in the full regalia of an imperial princess—robes of cloth-of-gold, a headdress studded with pearls and jade, her face painted white as a winter moon. Behind her walked a dozen attendants, and beside her, leaning heavily on a walking stick, was Minister Song Jing.

"I have examined the token," Taiping announced, her voice carrying to every corner of the hall. "It is genuine. It was issued by my father, the late Emperor Gaozong, to Minister Song Jing in recognition of his forty years of loyal service. Its authority is absolute. Investigator Wei Zhao has the right to present his evidence before the throne."

Li Fuguo's composure flickered—just for an instant, just at the corners of his eyes. "Princess Taiping. I was not informed that you would be attending the morning audience."

"I'm sure there are many things you're not informed of, Chief Eunuch. That is rather the point of today's proceedings." Taiping swept past him to take her place at the foot of the dais, her attendants fanning out behind her. "The Emperor will be here shortly. When he arrives, Investigator Wei Zhao will present his evidence. You may attempt to refute it if you wish. But you will not prevent it from being heard."

The Emperor Xuanzong entered the Hall of Supreme Harmony as the morning bells were ringing the third hour.

He was fifty-two years old, still handsome in the weathered way of men who had spent their youth on horseback and their middle age on a throne. His robes were the imperial yellow that no other person in the empire was permitted to wear, and his crown was a simple circlet of gold that he had always preferred to the heavier ceremonial headdresses of his predecessors. He walked with the measured pace of someone who had long since learned that emperors did not hurry, and his face, as he surveyed the crowded hall, was carefully neutral.

"We have an unusual assembly this morning," he observed, settling onto the Dragon Throne. "Princess Taiping, you rarely attend the morning audiences. Minister Song Jing, I was told you were ill. And there is a man in the center of my hall holding an emergency audience token, flanked by a woman I do not recognize. Someone explain."

Li Fuguo opened his mouth, but Taiping spoke first.

"Your Majesty, the man in the center of your hall is Investigator Wei Zhao, formerly of the Bureau of Punishments. He has been investigating a series of murders in Changshu County, in Jiangnan Circuit. His investigation has uncovered evidence of crimes that reach into this palace. He has come to present that evidence to you directly."

The Emperor's eyes moved to Wei Zhao. "Investigator Wei Zhao. I've heard your name recently. The gazettes have been full of it. Some say you're a hero who exposed a corrupt magistrate. Others say you're a slanderer who fabricated evidence against an innocent man. Which is it?"

"Neither, Your Majesty." Wei Zhao knelt, pressing his forehead to the cold marble. "I am an investigator. I follow evidence. The evidence in Changshu County led me to five bodies buried in a magistrate's garden. Those bodies led me to a network of corrupt officials stretching across fourteen counties. That network led me to the Prosperity Mutual Trust, a financial entity controlled by a eunuch of the Palace Communications Office named Fan Yousheng. And Fan Yousheng led me to this."

He withdrew the directive that Yu Yan had given him and held it up for the court to see.

"This is an order from Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo to the former Changshu magistrate Qian Delun, dated ten years ago. It authorizes the elimination of a Ministry of Rites official named Yu Zheng. The official was murdered—shot with a crossbow bolt from an imperial guard weapon and buried in the garden of the Changshu yamen. His body has been recovered and identified. His daughter stands beside me."

Yu Yan stepped forward and knelt beside Wei Zhao, her dark eyes fixed on the Emperor. "Your Majesty, my father was Yu Zheng. He discovered that Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo was selling court appointments to the highest bidder. He compiled a report and requested an audience with Your Majesty to present his findings. The night before the audience, he was murdered. His body was hidden. His reputation was destroyed. And the man who ordered his death has been serving as Your Majesty's most trusted advisor for the past ten years."

The silence in the hall was absolute. Even the lanterns seemed to have stopped flickering.

Li Fuguo stepped forward, his robes whispering against the marble. "Your Majesty, this is absurd. The document is a forgery—a crude attempt to—"

"I have more documents." Wei Zhao withdrew the sheaf of papers that Yu Yan had given him. "Directives from the Chief Eunuch to magistrates in fourteen counties, authorizing land seizures, tax fraud, and the elimination of anyone who threatened the network. Financial records showing the flow of stolen assets through the Prosperity Mutual Trust. Testimony from witnesses who saw murders committed and were threatened into silence. This is not a single corrupt magistrate, Your Majesty. This is a criminal enterprise that has been operating for a decade under the protection of the man who stands beside your throne."

The Emperor looked at the papers. Then he looked at Li Fuguo. His face was still neutral, but something had changed in his eyes—a flicker of something that might have been doubt or might have been anger.

"Chief Eunuch. These are serious accusations."

"They are lies, Your Majesty. Fabrications created by my enemies to destroy me." Li Fuguo's voice was steady, but his hands—hidden in the folds of his robes—were trembling. "Princess Taiping has been plotting against me for years. She has allied with the reformist ministers to undermine my authority. These documents are forgeries, the witnesses are bribed, and the investigator is a disgraced scribe whose own father was executed for corruption. This is not justice. This is a coup."

"Then let the court examine the evidence," Taiping said smoothly. "If the documents are forgeries, the forensic specialists in the Ministry of Justice will determine that. If the witnesses are lying, cross-examination will reveal it. Unless, of course, the Chief Eunuch is afraid of what an impartial investigation might find."

Li Fuguo turned to face her, and for the first time, Wei Zhao saw genuine fury break through the eunuch's composure. "You think you've won, Taiping. You think you can replace me with your own people and rule through the Emperor as I have. But you don't understand what you're doing. The network I built wasn't just for my own enrichment. It was for stability. For order. For the protection of the empire against the chaos that always threatens to consume it. If you destroy me, you destroy the foundation of everything that has kept this dynasty peaceful for the past twenty years."

"The foundation of this dynasty is justice," Song Jing said, his old voice ringing through the hall. "Not murder. Not corruption. Not the silencing of every official who dared to speak the truth. You have confused stability with fear, Chief Eunuch. They are not the same thing."

The Emperor raised his hand, and the hall fell silent.

"We will have an investigation." His voice was flat, unreadable. "The documents will be examined by the Ministry of Justice. The witnesses will be questioned. Chief Eunuch Li Fuguo will be confined to his quarters pending the outcome. If the accusations are proven true, he will face the full penalty of imperial law. If they are proven false, those who brought them will face the same penalty."

"Your Majesty—" Li Fuguo began.

"You will be confined to your quarters," the Emperor repeated. "That is not a request."

The palace guards moved quickly, surrounding Li Fuguo and escorting him from the hall. The Chief Eunuch did not resist. He walked with his head high, his face composed, his eyes fixed on some distant point that only he could see. But as he passed Wei Zhao, he paused for just a moment.

"You think this is a victory," Li Fuguo murmured, so quietly that only Wei Zhao could hear. "But you've only cut off one head of the hydra. You told the assassin that every head was connected to the same heart. You were right. But you were wrong about where the heart is. It's not in the documents. It's not in the financial records. It's in the system itself—the system that requires men like me to keep the empire from tearing itself apart. Destroy me, and you destroy the system. And what comes next will be far worse than anything I ever did."

He walked on, his guards falling into step around him, and disappeared through a side door of the hall.

Wei Zhao remained kneeling on the marble floor, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He had won. The evidence had been presented. The Chief Eunuch had been removed. Justice, for the first time in ten years, was within reach.

But Li Fuguo's words echoed in his mind, and the cold hand on his heart had not released its grip.

"The investigator will rise," the Emperor said. "We have much to discuss. But first—the woman. Yu Zheng's daughter. Step forward."

Yu Yan rose and approached the dais, her face still pale but her bearing steady. "Your Majesty."

"Your father died trying to tell me the truth. I did not listen. I allowed myself to be deceived by the man who killed him." The Emperor's voice was heavy with something that might have been shame. "That failure is mine. I cannot bring your father back. But I can ensure that his name is cleared, that his memory is honored, and that his daughter receives the justice she has been seeking for ten years. Whatever you ask of me, if it is within my power, I will grant."

Yu Yan was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but clear.

"I want the truth to be known. Not just about my father, but about everyone Li Fuguo killed. I want their names remembered. I want their families compensated. And I want the system that allowed this to happen to be reformed, so that no Chief Eunuch can ever accumulate such power again."

The Emperor nodded slowly. "It will be done. All of it."

"Then I ask nothing more, Your Majesty. My father's work is complete."

The morning audience continued for another hour. Officials presented their reports, ministers debated policy, the machinery of imperial governance creaked forward. But beneath the surface, the real work was already beginning—the scrambling of Li Fuguo's former allies to distance themselves from the fallen Chief Eunuch, the jockeying of his rivals to claim his position, the quiet calculation of everyone who had ever accepted a bribe or signed a false report or looked the other way while murder was done.

Wei Zhao watched it all from the side of the hall, Yu Yan beside him, the jade token still clutched in his hand.

"It's not over," he said quietly. "Li Fuguo was right about one thing. The network is larger than just him. Fan Yousheng is still out there. The fourteen magistrates are still in their positions. The Prosperity Mutual Trust still exists. If we don't dismantle the entire structure, someone else will step into Li Fuguo's place."

"Then we dismantle it." Yu Yan's voice was hard. "We have the documents. We have the list of names. We have the Emperor's support. It won't be quick, but it can be done."

"And what about Taiping? She's already positioning herself to take control of the Palace Communications Office. She told Pei Jing and Song Jing that she wanted Li Fuguo's position. If she gets it—"

"I know." Yu Yan turned to look at the Princess, who was standing at the foot of the dais, speaking quietly with the Emperor. "Taiping is dangerous in her own way. But she's not a murderer. She's not selling magistracies to the highest bidder. She's a political operator, not a criminal. We can deal with her later. Right now, we need to focus on finishing what we started."

Wei Zhao nodded. But as he watched Taiping's silk-draped figure moving through the crowd of officials, accepting their congratulations and their whispered offers of alliance, he could not shake the feeling that they were trading one master for another.

The investigation of Li Fuguo's network took three weeks. In that time, Wei Zhao and Yu Yan worked with the Ministry of Justice to compile the evidence, interview the witnesses, and issue arrest warrants for the fourteen magistrates. Fan Yousheng was captured trying to flee the capital with a chest of silver and a pouch of forged documents. Qian Delun, the former Changshu magistrate who had buried Yu Zheng's body, was arrested in the provincial capital and brought to Chang'an in chains. One by one, the pieces of the network were dismantled.

Guo Simo was tried in a special session of the Supreme Court. The trial lasted four days. The evidence was overwhelming—the bones from the garden, the testimonies of A-Ling and Old Meng and Lian, the physician Cheng's confession. The magistrate did not attempt to defend himself. He sat in the defendant's chair with the same calm, composed expression he had worn throughout the investigation, and when the verdict was read—guilty on all counts, sentence of death by strangulation—he did not react at all.

On the morning of his execution, Wei Zhao visited him in his cell.

"I wanted to ask you something," Wei Zhao said, standing at the bars. "You had a position. A comfortable life. A reputation. Why throw it all away for a network that was never going to protect you in the end?"

Guo Simo looked up from the floor of his cell. His calm expression had not changed, but his eyes were tired—the eyes of a man who had not slept in a very long time.

"Do you know what Li Fuguo told me when he first recruited me?" Guo Simo asked. "He said that the empire is a machine, and machines need parts. Some parts are beautiful—the scholars, the poets, the ministers who debate philosophy in the imperial academy. But some parts are ugly. They do the work that no one wants to do. They make the threats disappear. They seize the assets that keep the treasury full. They keep the machine running. He said that if I became one of those parts, I would be rewarded. And I was."

"With land. With power. With the freedom to kill anyone who threatened you."

"With everything I ever wanted." Guo Simo's smile was faint and utterly without humor. "But the machine doesn't care about its parts. When a part breaks, it gets replaced. I broke. Li Fuguo broke. The machine will find new parts. It always does."

"The machine is being dismantled."

"Is it?" Guo Simo met his eyes. "You've been so focused on Li Fuguo, on the network, on the murders. But you haven't asked the most important question. Why did the Emperor allow it? Why did he let Li Fuguo accumulate so much power? Why did he sign every decree, approve every appointment, look the other way while his Chief Eunuch built a criminal empire?"

Wei Zhao said nothing.

"The Emperor knew," Guo Simo said softly. "Maybe not the details. Maybe not the murders. But he knew that Li Fuguo was corrupt. He knew the network existed. He allowed it because it was useful. Because Li Fuguo did the ugly work that an Emperor cannot be seen doing. Because the machine needs its ugly parts, and someone has to provide them."

"Then why did he turn on Li Fuguo?"

"Because you gave him no choice. The gazettes, the evidence, the public outcry—you made it impossible for him to pretend he didn't know. So he sacrificed Li Fuguo to save himself. It's what emperors do." Guo Simo leaned back against the wall of his cell. "The machine is still running, Investigator. You haven't dismantled it. You've just replaced one part with another. Give it ten years, and there will be another Chief Eunuch, another network, another magistrate burying bodies in a garden. And no one will remember my name, or yours, or the names of the people who died."

"Then why did you do it? If you knew it would end like this?"

Guo Simo closed his eyes. "Because I wanted to be important. And I was, for a little while. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

Wei Zhao had no answer to that.

The execution was carried out at dawn, in the public square before the main gate of the Ministry of Justice. A crowd had gathered to watch—the same crowd that had read the gazettes, that had followed the story of the Changshu murders, that had watched the fall of the Chief Eunuch with the fascination of people who had never believed that powerful men could be brought to justice.

Guo Simo died without speaking. The headsman's blade fell, and the magistrate's body crumpled to the platform, and the crowd let out a sound that was not quite a cheer and not quite a sigh.

Wei Zhao watched from the edge of the square, Yu Yan beside him. He felt no satisfaction. No sense of victory. Only the cold, familiar weight of the truth that Guo Simo had spoken in his cell.

"What happens now?" Yu Yan asked.

"Now we go back to work. Fan Yousheng still needs to stand trial. The fourteen magistrates still need to be arrested. The network still needs to be dismantled."

"And after that?"

Wei Zhao looked up at the gray autumn sky, the clouds heavy with the promise of winter.

"After that," he said, "we see if Guo Simo was right."

That night, Wei Zhao returned to the inn in the western ward where he had been staying since his arrival in Chang'an. He was exhausted—three weeks of endless work, endless testimony, endless paperwork—and all he wanted was to sleep for a thousand years.

But when he opened the door to his room, he found someone waiting for him.

Princess Taiping sat in the room's single chair, her silk robes arranged perfectly around her, her painted face unreadable in the candlelight. Behind her stood two attendants, and at her feet lay a small chest of polished rosewood.

"Investigator Wei Zhao," Taiping said. "I've been waiting for you."

"The Princess honors me. But I'm tired, and I'm not in the mood for politics."

"This isn't politics. This is gratitude." Taiping gestured to the chest. "The Emperor has authorized a reward for your service. Silver, a new appointment, the restoration of your rank. You could have your choice of postings—any ministry, any province. The empire is grateful for what you've done."

"The empire has an interesting way of showing gratitude. Usually it involves an assassin in a gray robe."

"The assassin has been dealt with. Li Fuguo's people are being rounded up as we speak. The network is being dismantled. Justice is being done." Taiping's smile was thin. "You should be proud, Investigator. You've accomplished something that no one else could."

"Then why do I feel like I've been used?"

Taiping's smile did not waver. "Because you have been. That's how politics works. You used Song Jing's token to get into the palace. Song Jing used your evidence to get Li Fuguo removed. I used both of you to position myself as the next Director of Imperial Communications. Everyone uses everyone. The only question is whether the result is better than what came before."

"And is it?"

"We'll see." Taiping rose from the chair. "The chest is yours, whether you want it or not. The appointment is yours. But I have a feeling you won't take it. Men like you—men who dig up gardens and chase the truth across half the empire—don't settle easily into comfortable positions."

"Then why offer it?"

"Because it's protocol. And because I want you to remember, in the years to come, that you had a choice. You chose to keep fighting. Whatever happens next—whatever you uncover, whatever you lose—remember that this was your choice." Taiping walked to the door, her attendants falling into step behind her. "Good night, Investigator Wei Zhao. I doubt we'll meet again."

The door closed, and Wei Zhao was alone.

The chest sat on the floor, its rosewood surface gleaming in the candlelight. He did not open it. He sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about what Guo Simo had said.

The machine is still running.

Somewhere in the palace, the Emperor was sleeping peacefully, his conscience salved by the execution of a single magistrate and the removal of a single eunuch. Somewhere in the city, Princess Taiping was consolidating her new power, preparing to become the next master of information. Somewhere in Jiangnan, the fourteen magistrates were still waiting to be arrested, still hoping that the storm would pass them by.

And somewhere in the darkness, the real heart of the machine was still beating.

Wei Zhao closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he would start again. Tomorrow, he would keep digging. Tomorrow, he would find the truth that everyone else wanted to bury.

But tonight, he was just a tired man in a cold room, and the weight of everything he had done—and everything he had failed to do—was pressing down on him like the earth over a hidden grave.