The moment hung in the air of the Emperor's study, heavy and sharp as a headsman's axe. The two documents lay side-by-side on the polished zitan desk: Shen Ke's meticulously compiled report, the product of months of painstaking spycraft, and the single, anonymous sheet of paper delivered by a foreign hand. They were reflections of each other, two paths that had led to the same damning truth.
The white-hot rage that had coursed through Qin Shi Huang just moments before was gone. It had been instantly quenched, replaced by the arctic cold of profound strategic shock. This was no longer a simple matter of punishing a thieving servant. That was an internal affair, a question of discipline. This was a violation. An enemy had peered over the high walls of the Forbidden City and read the secrets of his court.
"The plan is cancelled," the Emperor said. His voice was flat, devoid of all emotion, which was far more terrifying than his anger. He tapped a finger on the two reports. "Explain this, Spymaster."
He gestured to the papers. "One is the fruit of your finest work, the culmination of your entire ministry's effort. The other is a piece of filth passed from the hand of a barbarian. Yet, they say the same thing. How is this possible?"
Shen Ke felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. This was the most dangerous moment of his life. The Emperor's question was not a request for an explanation; it was a demand for an answer that would not cost Shen Ke his head. He knew that to suggest incompetence on his own part was death. To suggest the enemy was all-powerful was defeat.
"Your Majesty," Shen Ke began, his voice a low, steady monotone that belied the frantic calculations in his mind. "A leak of this precision from within my own ministry is… unthinkable. Every agent on this investigation was vetted, their loyalty absolute. It is possible the Western powers have conducted a parallel investigation. They have vast resources. It is conceivable they arrived at a similar conclusion through their own methods."
It was a plausible, logical explanation. And it was a lie, or at least a deflection. In his heart, a cold dread was spreading. Could one of his men have betrayed him? Could his own web have a spider he did not know about?
The Emperor dismissed the explanation with an impatient wave of his hand. He did not believe in coincidence. He picked up the anonymous note, holding it by the corner as if it were contaminated. He closed his eyes. He would force the truth from the object itself. He reached for his power, trying to push his senses into the very fabric of the paper, to read the echoes of the hands that held it, the intent that had guided its creation.
But his mind was no longer a placid lake of will. It was a churning sea of paranoia and suspicion. The power, when he called upon it, came not as a clean, sharp tool, but as a muddy, uncontrollable torrent. It sputtered.
The vision he received was useless, a chaotic flash of symbolic imagery reflecting his own internal turmoil. He saw a sneering British lion with a crown askew, which then morphed into a rapacious German eagle clutching a bag of silver coins. Both figures then dissolved into a screeching, visual static, like a shattered mirror reflecting nothing but noise. His power was no longer a lens for seeing the truth. It was a canvas onto which his own fears were being projected.
His eyes snapped open. He felt the familiar, warm trickle of blood on his upper lip, a testament to his failure. The frustration was immense. His greatest weapon, the very core of his advantage over this new world, had failed him at the moment he needed it most. He was blind.
And if he was blind, he could not afford to act blindly. To arrest Yuan Shikai now would be a catastrophic mistake. It would confirm to his hidden enemies that their information was accurate, that their arrow had struck home. It would be an admission of a catastrophic breach in his security. It would be an act of weakness.
He looked at Shen Ke, a new, far more cunning strategy forming in his mind. A plan born of rage, but tempered by the cold necessities of politics and paranoia.
"We cannot show the wolves that there is a hole in our fence," the Emperor said, his voice regaining its chilling authority. "To arrest Minister Yuan now would validate this rumor. It would tell our enemies that their whispers can topple my ministers. It would embolden them. No. We will do the opposite."
Shen Ke listened, his mind racing to keep up with the Emperor's sudden, terrifying pivot.
"We will not punish Yuan Shikai," the Emperor declared. "We will promote him."
The Spymaster's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
"I will create a new position," the Emperor continued, his mind now working with terrifying speed and clarity. "Supreme Overseer of Imperial War Preparedness. A grand title. It will give Minister Yuan sweeping authority over all industrial mobilization and logistical support for the Siberian campaign. Publicly, it will be seen as the ultimate sign of my faith in my most capable servant. It will silence any rumors of his disgrace before they can even take root. It will be a reward for his genius."
He leaned forward, his eyes boring into Shen Ke's. "Privately, it will be a gilded cage. A poisoned chalice. We will give him more rope, and he will use it to hang himself. This new position will force him to work directly with the military, with men like Meng Tian who already despise him. He will be under the constant, watchful eye of the entire war council. Every requisition, every order, every shipment will be scrutinized not just by my spies, but by his rivals. He will be trapped in the open, surrounded by enemies posing as colleagues."
It was a brilliant, ruthless, and deeply cynical move. A maneuver worthy of the First Emperor.
He then fixed Shen Ke with a final, terrifying gaze, his new mandate delivered like a death sentence.
"Your hunt for Yuan the thief is over," the Emperor hissed. "I no longer care about the stolen silver. Your new hunt begins now. I want the ghost who whispered to the foreigners. I want the traitor who walks my halls and sells my secrets. Tear your own ministry apart if you have to. Put every one of your agents under suspicion. Review every report, question every man, follow every shadow. I want the source of this leak. You will find this deeper traitor and you will bring me his head… or I will have yours."
Shen Ke bowed low, his face a mask of stone, his blood running cold. He had walked into the study to deliver the evidence that would destroy Yuan Shikai. He was walking out with an impossible task, knowing that he himself, the Emperor's own Spymaster, was now a prime suspect in a conspiracy he could not yet comprehend.