The following morning, Yun Xi sent Chen to distract their escort while she ventured into Jiangnan's archives. The musty hall smelled of ink and mold, rows of bamboo scrolls stacked like the bones of forgotten dynasties. She sought grain ledgers, shipment records, any clue.
Hours passed before she found it: a discrepancy in the tax reports. Entire shipments listed as "delivered" bore forged seals. The name signed at the bottom chilled her blood—Minister Zhao, head of the Ministry of Revenue.
Minister Zhao. A man known for his calm smile and loyalty to the Emperor. Could such a high figure be the serpent in shadow?
Her brush trembled as she copied the evidence. If true, Zhao's betrayal threatened the empire itself.
But before she could slip the scroll into her sleeve, a voice spoke behind her.
"You read too deeply, Scholar Yun."
She spun around. A tall man in black robes blocked the doorway, his features hidden beneath a veiled hat. He stepped forward, and the faint torchlight revealed the serpent sigil embroidered on his sleeve.
Her heart leapt into her throat. One of the estate guards.
"Curiosity kills more than cats," he said softly. "It kills clerks who don't know their place."
Yun Xi forced her voice to steady. "The Empire suffers famine. Should we not seek truth?"
The man laughed, low and cruel. "Truth is what the strong decide. And you, little scribe, are far too weak to decide anything."
He lunged.
Yun Xi darted between shelves, scrolls tumbling in her wake. His blade flashed, slicing parchment and air. At the last moment, she ducked beneath a fallen rack and fled into the street.
Her lungs burned as she ran through twisting alleys. At last, she collided with a familiar figure—Chen.
His eyes widened at the sight of her torn robe. "Heavens, what happened?"
"No time," she gasped. "We must leave now."
By dawn, they were already on the road back to the capital. But as the city walls came into view, dread settled in Yun Xi's stomach. She had evidence of Zhao's treachery—but also enemies who now knew her face.
That night, she stared at the stolen scrolls, ink smudged from her flight. She whispered to herself:
"If Zhao truly controls the grain, then he controls the people. And if he controls the people… even the Emperor may not be safe."
The serpent had revealed its shadow. But to strike, she would need sharper claws than ink and parchment.