Xiao Kai also had good news. She moved through the dusty courtyard, a slender shadow in the failing light, her face flushed with a tense excitement that made her eyes burn.

  "I have a name," she said, her voice an urgent whisper that cut through the evening calm. "The low-level clerks at the Ministry of Revenue, they are all terrified of one of their superiors. A Vice-Director named Song. They say he lives like a prince on a public servant's salary and that his rise was unnaturally fast."

  I looked from the Censor's terse question to Xiao Kai's expectant face. Vice-Director Song was a solid lead, but a dangerous one, a vice director or Yuánwàiláng, was only two steps down from a vice minister. Censor Wang, however, was an opportunity.

  "A rapidly rising Vice-Director is a dragon in its den," I said, thinking aloud. "We don't have the strength to pull it out. Not yet. But a Censor… a Censor's job is to hunt dragons."

  The decision was made. I took a fresh sheet of paper, the ink a pool of blackness on the stone, under Xiao Kai’s steady gaze and with my best, most deliberate brushwork, I wrote my reply. I chose my identity carefully, Zhang Rulin, the man with a connection to power.

  "This humble one is Zhang Rulin. I have heard that Your Excellency is also a man of Go."

  It was a simple, polite response that revealed my name while framing my approach through the respectable lens of a shared passion. I asked Xiao Qi to deliver it the next morning.

  The reply was not swift. Two days crawled by. I continued my tedious work at the Whirling Cloud. Xiao Kai started to dig into this Vice-Director song and I began to wonder if my gambit had failed, if the Censor's deeply ingrained caution had won out.

  Then, after two days, Xiao Qi received a sealed, unmarked letter.

  Inside, there was no puzzle and no questions. The message was written on expensive paper, the calligraphy precise and strong. It was a summons.

  The Spring Breeze Pavilion. Tomorrow, at the hour of the horse (11 am). Second floor, private room 'Orchid'.

  Below the single line of instruction, there was a final, pointed addendum:

  Come alone.

  I had my audience.

  The next morning, I prepared with meticulous care. I shed the identity of the humble clerk and donned the fine, dark silk robes of Zhang Rulin, aide to a Vice-Minister. I was projecting status, authority, and a seriousness of purpose. Before I left, we spoke in our courtyard.

  "I'm heading out to meet with Censor Wang as planned," I told them, my voice low. "I will be back this afternoon. If I do not return," I looked towards Xiao Kai, "you must leave as soon as you can."

  Xiao Qi nodded "Shouldn't Xiao Kai go with you?" I assume he meant she'd do so in secret.

  "Auntie Ying would know I'm there" Xiao Kai assumed the same and shook her head. "And I can't run along the rooftops in broad daylight."

  "Auntie Ying?" I asked, confused. "She's part of his guard," Xiao Kai said without further elaboration.

  She understood the stakes. I left them behind and made my way alone through the city to the Spring Breeze Pavilion. It was exactly the sort of high-class establishment I had imagined, elegant and serene, a world away from the grime of the market. The air inside was fragrant with expensive tea and sandalwood incense, and the quiet murmur of conversation was underscored by the gentle, flowing melody of a zither played by a musician in a distant corner.

  I approached the host at the entrance. "I am here for the Orchid room."

  The man gave my fine robes an appraising glance and bowed deeply, his professional smile never wavering. "Of course, Master Zhang. This way, please."

  He led me up a polished wooden staircase to a secluded corridor on the second floor. He slid open a heavy paper screen door. "The Orchid room," he announced, before bowing again and retreating, his footsteps silent on the floorboards.

  I stepped inside. The room was spare but tasteful, with a single, large latticed window overlooking a tranquil bamboo garden. In the center of the room, a Go board was set upon a low table, flanked by two silk cushions. A man was already seated at the board, his back to me, contemplating the empty grid. He was in his late fifties, with a stern, upright posture and a wispy grey goatee. His official's robes were of a simple, dark color, immaculate but unadorned.

  He did not turn around as I entered, but spoke, his voice calm, measured, and carrying an undeniable weight of authority.

  "Scholar Zhang. Please, close the door."

  I did as I was told, the door sliding shut with a soft click. The Censor then gestured to the empty cushion across from him without looking at me.

  "Your 'humble query' was anything but," Censor Wang stated, his eyes still fixed on the board. "It was a clever and aggressive trap, hidden within a deceptively crude opening. Please, sit."

  I took the cushion opposite him and inclined my head respectfully.

  "A good trap is one the opponent walks into willingly, thinking it a path to victory," I began. Using the cool, smooth stones from the bowls, I started to lay out the opening sequence of the modern game, explaining the subtle logic behind each seemingly passive move.

  Censor Wang listened with an intensity that bordered on reverence. His stern official's mask slipped away, replaced by the focused gaze of a true connoisseur. His fingers stroked his goatee as he followed my explanation. "Ingenious," he muttered as I demonstrated how with precise play the 3x3 invasion gains space substantially more valuable than the potential of the outside stone on the 4x4 point. "This is quite the revelation" He murmured.

  I offered him a slight, mysterious smile. "I've had the privilege of watching some… out of this world games, and a teacher unlike any other in my youth."

  "You are, twenty-nine? Twenty-eight" Censor Wang looked up from the board, his eyes assessing me. "A man of twenty-eight is well into his prime, Scholar Zhang. To have such a teacher is a great fortune at any age."

  He leaned back, the Go session concluded. The air in the room became heavy again, the political reality reasserting itself.

  "A fascinating strategy," the Censor said, his voice once again cool and measured. His gaze was now sharp, penetrating. "You did not arrange this meeting to discuss Go, Scholar Zhang. You are an aide to the Vice-Minister of Rites. I am a Censor. Such a meeting, arranged through any means, is highly irregular."

  He met my eyes directly. "Let us dispense with the game. State your purpose."

  Censor Wang listened without interruption as I spoke, his expression unmoving, his steepled fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table. He was a statue carved from granite, absorbing every word, every nuance of my carefully chosen report: my recent journey, the irregularities I'd observed, the rot in Shanzhou, all pointing back towards the capital, back towards his own jurisdiction.

  When I finished, he was silent for a long time, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical weight.

  "The Ministry of Revenue has always been a swift and treacherous river, Scholar Zhang," he said finally, his voice low and grave. "Many men who have tried to chart its currents have drowned."

  He leaned back slightly, a flicker of genuine appreciation reaching his eyes. "To see the link between corruption in the ministries and the ambitions of the generals in the north… few in this city possess such perspective." The compliment hung in the air for a moment before his expression hardened again. "But you speak of smoke. 'Irregularities' and 'unusual groups' are smoke." He leaned forward, his gaze pinning me in place. "A Censor cannot investigate smoke. I need to see the fire. If you wish for my 'guidance,' you must be specific."

  He gestured to the Go board between us. "You have shown me an interesting opening gambit, but you have not told me what you are truly playing for. You mentioned Shanzhou. Do not be coy, Scholar Zhang. Tell me what you saw."

  "I happened upon bailiffs escorting Chen HuaRong's family to Chang'an," I said, my voice now direct, my gaze locking with his. "And I cannot in good faith allow an innocent family to suffer. I cannot rest unless justice is done. Where else should my schooling and skills be applied?"

  Censor Wang went very still. The air in the room, already tense, became taut as a bowstring. He looked down at the Go board, at the elegant patterns of the stones, as if the answer to some difficult problem lay there.

  "The Chen case," he said finally, his voice a dangerous murmur without looking up. "The case of Inspector Chen HuaRong was settled by Imperial Edict. To question it is to question the judgment of the Son of Heaven. That is a path to ruin, Scholar Zhang, for you and for anyone foolish enough to walk it with you."

  He slowly raised his head, and I saw that the cautious official had receded, replaced by the Censor. His eyes, though weary, now held a flicker of a long-banked fire.

  "You speak of righteousness," he continued, his voice quiet but intense. "A noble sentiment. One I remember from my own youth." He paused. "I knew Chen HuaRong. We served together once. He was a stubborn man, an inflexible man… but he was not a thief. The evidence presented against him was… convenient. Too convenient."

  He had just confirmed my deepest suspicions. He had admitted his own doubts.

  "But sentiment, however righteous, is not a weapon in this country. It is a weakness." He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. "You have involved yourself in a matter of great danger. If you truly wish to see justice done, then your feelings are worthless to me."

  His gaze was as sharp as a blade. "Bring me proof. Bring me a ledger. A signed order. A person. Do that, Scholar Zhang, and you will have more than my guidance."

  He rose from his cushion, signaling the end of the meeting. "Now, I suggest you leave before my next guest arrives."

  I rose and gave Censor Wang a deep, formal bow.

  "I shall return with proof," I stated, my voice firm with conviction. "And you will know I have it when you receive another puzzle to solve."

  The Censor nodded, a silent acknowledgment of my terms.

  “Scholar Zhang”, I heard Censor Wang call out to me just as I reached the door. I turned and found the Older Man standing and offering me a bow. “Be forewarned that I am no master of Go.” He said, I froze as I took in his words “I am but an enthusiastic amateur, should you face a true master you may not find so much success.”

  For a moment I pondered his words before I returned the bow deeply. Before I could say anything Censor Wang straightened his back and waved his hand. Dismissing me before turning away.

  I strode out of the quiet elegance of the Spring Breeze Pavilion and back into the vibrant, chaotic streets of Chang'an. When I entered the gate, Xiao Kai and Xiao Qi were waiting in the main hall. Xiao Qi was scribbling idly on a piece of scrap paper while Xiao Kai watched with hollow interest. They both looked up the instant I arrived, their eyes searching my face for the outcome.

  I closed the door behind me. "He is cautious," I said, addressing Xiao Kai directly. "But he is not our enemy. He knew your father, and he has his own doubts about the case."

  I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes, which I quickly tempered with the hard reality of the situation. "But he will not act on doubts or sentiment. He is a man of law. He needs proof. Hard proof. A ledger, a signed document, something that directly implicates the conspirators in the Ministry of Revenue."

  The hope in her eyes did not die. Instead, it transformed into a cold, hard resolve. "Proof," she repeated, her voice low but steady. "Then we will find it."

  We had to find the fire.