On the eighth day of the thirty-day hold, Min Wei sent us a social invitation.
I sat with the envelope for a long moment after Kaien handed it to me. Sealed. Formal handwriting. Addressed to both of us by our household name.
A dinner invitation to the Min household. The mid-winter reception.
This was, by any reasonable measure, the most unexpected thing he could have done. I had prepared for interference attempts. I had prepared for a counter-filing through an allied official. I had prepared for a challenge to No Songyi's contact's standing to bring the procedural challenge in the first place. I had even allowed for the possibility that someone would approach Kaien directly — something framed as unrelated conversation, carrying an implicit edge.
I had not prepared for a dinner invitation.
"He wants a meeting," Kaien said.
