It was autumn. The leaves on the trees were turning red and falling away. Night settled like a blanket, wrapping around the Palace's commotion.

  Lianfeng wore muted brown and waited while speaking to a maid. The pieces were in place. Mr. Wu would draw the guards away, Wu Hi would hold the next shift guards just long enough, and Ren would keep watch. Lianfeng had only one task—slip in unnoticed.

  Mr. Wu held two jars of wine in his hands. Lianfeng was too far to hear what he was saying, but he was laughing and chatting freely with the guards.

  After some reluctance, the guards eventually followed Mr. Wu. Lianfeng sent the maid away and slipped into the archive. Though rarely used, the archive was impeccably clean, its shelves illuminated by the soft glow of candles. She quickly made her way to the martial section, searching through the scrolls about the tribe. As she unrolled another scroll, the faint creak of a wooden shelf made her freeze. She held her breath, ears straining for any sign of movement outside.

  She sifted through a dozen scrolls before finally finding the one on the tribe. Pulling out a brush and a sheet of paper, she hastily copied the text in her messy script.

  I have to be quick—the guards could return at any moment now.

  Suddenly, the door burst open. Lianfeng stiffened, heart jolting. In one fluid motion, her fingers brushed the dagger at her shin, muscles tensed to strike—

  But the maid barely spared a glance in her direction. She rushed to the study table, snatched something, and vanished just as quickly.

  Lianfeng breathed a sigh of relief, folded the scroll, and placed it back on the shelf.

  She walked swiftly towards the training ground. The training ground always remained open for soldiers to practice whenever they wanted. A few soldiers nodded in greeting, sparing her a glance.

  Mr. Wu was drinking with the soldiers, laughing heartily. The men were already swaying, drunk.

  "Brother, you are so good," one of the drunk soldiers exclaimed.

  Mr. Wu smiled. "You're good too! Come on, one more drink," he said, pouring liquor into their cups.

  The soldier barely managed to finish his drink before slumping over the table, completely drowsy.

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  "You lost," Mr. Wu said, giggling. Though his eyes were heavy and his cheeks flushed red, he held his liquor well, still managing to sit upright. His gaze shifted to Lianfeng. He got up, limping slightly, and took her hands.

  He held her hands and said in a small voice, "My daughter."

  He then turned towards the sparring soldiers, "Isn't she great? My daughter," pointing at Lianfeng.

  When he turned back and saw Wu Hi and Lianfeng standing there, arms crossed.

  "My daughters!" he whispered drunkenly. He stumbled forward, attempting to hug them both.

  Lianfeng and Wu Hi exchanged a glance before supporting him and leading him back to his room. He continued rambling the entire way.

  After putting Mr. Wu to bed, the women gathered around the table. Su Yin poured hot tea into three cups.

  "It's good that you arrived on time," Lianfeng said, blowing on her tea, "or else everyone would have thought he was talking about me."

  "Did you encounter any trouble?" Su Yin asked.

  "None. The plan worked fine." Lianfeng replied.

  After talking some more, Lianfeng left for her room.

  Lianfeng frowned as she walked back. The plan had gone smoothly.

  But that maid.....

  Why was she there? And more importantly—what had she taken?

  Shi Meng had done his part. A copy of the document as already in Lianfeng’s hands—and hers in his.

  Lianfeng sat at her desk, candlelight flickering over the two documents. She ran her fingers over the ink, carefully reading each word. Shi Meng, in his house, did the same, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  Lianfeng's grip on the parchment tightened again. The content of both documents was nearly identical, recounting the massacre of the tribe. The dates matched. The names matched. Even the descriptions of the event were the same. But there was a difference—one that stood out like a blade in the dark.

  In the document she copied, the final lines read: "The matter was handled by provincial authorities."

  In Shi Meng's copy, the wording differed: "The matter was reported by provincial authorities."

  Shi Meng exhaled slowly. The change seemed small, but its implications were huge. If the authorities only reported the incident, then who actually handled it? And why was this detail altered?

  Lianfeng didn’t see just a discrepancy—she saw deception. Her jaw clenched. The wording shifted responsibility, and that wasn’t an accident. Someone had deliberately changed the record. Someone was hiding the truth.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. Only those involved in the cover-up could have manipulated the records. If the provincial officials merely reported it—

  —then the real power behind this was elsewhere.

  Shi Meng rubbed his forehead, thinking through the possibilities. The imperial court? No, the tribe had been in hiding. They possesed no threat to the imperial power. A local power? But why erase their role? He had a feeling the answer lay with those who handled the aftermath.

  It's the magistrate. Lianfeng suddenly realized. He is the one who was responsible for the aftermath.

  It can't be Mr. Wei. He is so kind. It must be a mistake by the clerk. Mistakes made by clerks aren't too rare. That must be it. Shi Meng thought, pacing about the room.