Chapter 3: Half a Line, No Signature

Shen Zhao flipped the note over.

The back was blank.

Gu Qingyuan leaned in and read it aloud: "Take your father..."

He stopped, looking up. "That's it?"

"That's it." Shen Zhao said.

Gu Qingyuan held the note up to the lamp, turning it over twice to check. "Just that one line. Not even a signature. Fang Jing is a bastard, dragging this out on purpose just to toy with us."

Shen Zhao snatched the note back, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her sleeve.

"Your father's what?" Gu Qingyuan asked. "Accounts? Books? Letters?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I've never seen a single thing my father left behind." Shen Zhao said. "The year he went to prison, I was seven. They searched the house clean. They even took away the paper he'd botched."

The water in the kitchen boiled. Granny Chen came out carrying the pot and set it down on the table with a heavy thud.

"We're not going."

"Granny."

"I'm saying we're not going." Granny Chen wiped her hands on a rag, scrubbing hard. "Your father drank one cup of tea with him and ended up in a cage. Now he's inviting you for tea again."

Shen Zhao poured a bowl of water and pushed it in front of her. "Granny, it's the back street of the Palace Examination Venue. Open daylight. He's a Vice Minister of Rites; he wouldn't dare mess with me."

"Dare?" Granny Chen scoffed. "If he really wouldn't dare, he wouldn't have written the note the way a ghost would."

Gu Qingyuan nodded. "Granny makes a good point. How about I go with you?"

"The note said 'Lord Shen.'" Shen Zhao said. "If I bring a third wheel, he won't say a word more."

"So you'll still go?"

"I will." Shen Zhao said. "He wants me to be scared. If I hide, he'll know I actually have something he wants."

"Do you have something?" Gu Qingyuan asked.

Shen Zhao didn't answer.

Gu Qingyuan stared at her for a moment, then lowered his voice. "The Metropolitan Examination is in the second month. He's the Right Vice Minister of Rites; he can throw his weight behind you there. Shen Zhao, don't bet your future on a tantrum."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum." Shen Zhao adjusted the lamp wick, brightening the room. "I want to see how confident he is. A confident man slips things in his speech."

Granny Chen sighed, turned, and headed back to the kitchen, muttering under her breath: "One after another, you're all just like your father."

The next day, noon, back street of the Palace Examination Venue.

The teahouse was called Tingyu Teahouse. The second floor faced the street, and there was only one private room. By the time Shen Zhao arrived, Fang Jing was already seated by the window.

He was in his forties, thin, wearing a blue wool robe washed until it was white, but his knuckles were thick. He held a blue porcelain cup and didn't look up when he heard her footsteps.

"Sit."

Shen Zhao sat across from him.

Only then did Fang Jing lift his eyes. When he looked at people, his gaze didn't focus; it seemed to look through them at the wall behind.

"That river management proposal from the Provincial Examination was well written," Fang Jing said. "'Water does not contend for immediate gain, but for a century-long trend.' That line doesn't sound like it was written by someone twenty years old."

"My father worked on river projects," Shen Zhao said.

"I know," Fang Jing said, setting down his teacup. "That's why I chose you."

Shen Zhao didn't respond.

Fang Jing poured her a cup. "Your father, Shen Yan, passed the imperial exams in the eleventh year of Chengping and rose to Director of the Ministry of Works, overseeing the South River. In the fifteenth year of Chengping, the levee broke and three counties were flooded. The court investigation concluded that the river funds had been embezzled. Your father went to prison and has been there ever since."

"Your Excellency remembers clearly."

"My memory is good," Fang Jing said. "I also remember that seven days before your father was taken into custody, he left the city once. South City. An abandoned kiln. When he came back, the family had a new camphor wood chest."

Shen Zhao picked up her teacup and blew off the foam.

Fang Jing watched her. "Where is the chest?"

"Your Excellency is asking me? Who would I ask?" Shen Zhao said. "I was seven. The day the house was searched, I stood in the courtyard and watched them carry things out, piece by piece. If the chest ever existed, it was in their hands."

"It doesn't," Fang Jing said. "It wasn't on the inventory from the search."

Shen Zhao looked up.

Fang Jing smiled, wrinkles spreading from the corners of his eyes. "So the chest is still there. Your father hid it."

"Is that all you summoned me for today?"

"I pity your father," Fang Jing said. "If he had just turned over that register back then, he wouldn't have spent twenty years in a cage."

"What register?"

Fang Jing didn't answer. He pulled a sheet of paper from his sleeve and slid it across the table.

Shen Zhao looked down. There were thirty-seven names on the paper. The first one was Fang Jing himself.

"What is this?"

"The register your father kept listed these thirty-seven people," Fang Jing said. "Twenty years ago, those river funds were split among these thirty-seven men. Your father took the fall alone."

Shen Zhao pushed the paper back. "Your Excellency shows me this. What do you want me to do?"

"Give me the register," Fang Jing said. "For the Metropolitan Examination, I'll guarantee you pass. For the Palace Examination, I'll put you in the second tier."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you fail." Fang Jing's voice was light. "The papers from the Provincial Examination are in my hands; the papers from the Metropolitan Examination will be in my hands too. If I want to find fault, I can always find fault."

Shen Zhao set down her teacup.

"Your Excellency," she said. "Earlier you said you chose me because of that river proposal. Now you're saying you didn't choose me because of a register I've never seen. Which of those is the truth?"

Fang Jing looked at her.

"Both are true," he said. "I chose you because you're useful. I didn't choose you because you're even more useless."

Shen Zhao stood up.

"My father spent twenty years in a cage without handing over that register," she said. "If I hand it over today, his twenty years were for nothing."

Fang Jing's expression darkened. "You're not afraid?"

"I am." Shen Zhao said. "But I'm afraid of a lot of things. I was afraid the day the house was searched. After that, it's just another thing."

She walked to the door. Fang Jing called after her:

"Lu Bingwen was the Xieyuan. His paper was my pick."

Shen Zhao stopped.

"On the day of the Metropolitan Examination, if you change your mind," Fang Jing said, "it's still not too late."

Shen Zhao didn't turn around. "Your Excellency should first figure out how to explain things to those thirty-seven men."

The Metropolitan Examination was in the second month. Shen Zhao placed ninth.

In the third month, the Palace Examination.

Thirty Recommended Scholars knelt on the marble steps. The Emperor sat high above; from that distance, he was just a blur of bright yellow.

The questions were distributed: a policy essay on river works, canal transport, and border defense.

Shen Zhao knelt in the ninth position, spread her paper, and picked up her brush.

She wrote quickly. Halfway through, she lifted her head to dip the brush in ink and caught a gaze from somewhere ahead of her—Lu Bingwen. He was just past twenty, fair-skinned, with a steady quality in his eyes. He gave her a slight nod and turned back.

The sun moved from the east to the top of the sky. The thirty papers were collected, and the readers entered the hall.

The Emperor picked three papers first. The first was Lu Bingwen's. The second was Shen Zhao's.

"Shen Zhao." The eunuch announced her name.

Shen Zhao stepped out of line and knelt in the center of the hall.

The Emperor's voice fell from above. "You said, 'To manage the river, first manage the officials.' Continue."

Shen Zhao bowed her head to the floor. "Your subject believes the flaw in river works is not the water, but the men. When funds are allocated, ten percent is lost at the first hand; thirty percent is lost at the second. By the time it reaches the riverbed, the materials are rotten, the stones are broken, and the laborers are hired vagrants. No matter how high the levee is built, one rainstorm will bring it down."

"In your opinion?"

"Your subject requests a river works audit, rotated every three years, reporting directly to the Censorate. The salary for the auditor should come from the river funds, not local taxes."

The hall went silent for a moment.

The Emperor said nothing. Fang Jing, standing at the side of the steps, suddenly stepped forward.

"Your Majesty," he knelt. "This subject has a memorial to present."

Shen Zhao's back stiffened.

Fang Jing pulled a scroll from his sleeve and raised it over his head with both hands. "I accuse the new Recommended Scholar Shen Zhao—her father, Shen Yan, was the Case Head of the South River embezzlement case in the fifteenth year of Chengping and is currently in custody. According to Article 17 of the Examination Regulations, the children of officials under investigation are not permitted to sit for the exams."

The hall was so quiet you could hear the wind.

Shen Zhao knelt there, unmoving.

The Emperor took the paper, skimmed a few lines. "Shen Zhao."

"Your subject is here."

"When you registered, did you declare your family background honestly?"

"I did," Shen Zhao said. "When I registered for the Provincial Examination, I listed 'Father Shen Yan, currently detained by the Ministry of Justice.' The Education Office verified it and approved my registration."

"Article 17 of the Examination Regulations," the Emperor said slowly. "I recall it specifies 'cases already finalized'."

Fang Jing jumped in immediately. "Your Majesty, Shen Yan's case was Finalized Verdict twenty years ago. It's just that he hasn't been executed yet."

"Your Excellency," Shen Zhao turned her head. "Have you seen the Finalized Verdict document for my father?"

"Ministry of Justice case files. I have certainly seen them."

"Then your Excellency can tell me: was my father's verdict beheading, strangulation, or exile?"

Fang Jing paused.

"Ministry of Justice Regulations," Shen Zhao said. "A Finalized Verdict must have a ruling. Beheading, strangulation, exile, penal servitude, or flogging—five tiers. Since your Excellency has seen the files, just say one word."

No one in the hall spoke.

Fang Jing's face shifted. "Shen Yan's case was... ordered detained by imperial decree. We haven't—"

"Have not finalized the verdict." Shen Zhao took over the sentence and bowed her head to the floor again. "Your Majesty, my father has been in the Ministry of Justice dungeon for twenty years. The files say 'awaiting trial.' Since it is not a Finalized Verdict, it is not covered by the prohibitions in Article 17 of the Examination Regulations. Your subject's participation is in accordance with the regulations."

The Emperor looked at the paper in his hand, then looked at her.

"Fang Jing," the Emperor said. "Is that the only ground for your accusation?"

Fang Jing remained kneeling, not retreating. "There is one more matter. Back then, Shen Yan secretly copied the accounts of the river funds into a register and hid it among the common people. If that register exists, it proves his embezzlement. I request Your Majesty issue a decree to thoroughly search Shen Zhao's residence."

Shen Zhao's heart sank.

The Emperor paused for a moment. "Shen Zhao, what do you say?"

"There is no register in my home," Shen Zhao said. "If your Excellency doesn't believe me, you can search."

"If it's found?"

"If it's found, I confess to the crime."

Fang Jing suddenly said, "Your Majesty, I have a signed confession from Shen Yan here."

He pulled another sheet of paper from his robe and presented it.

The Emperor unfolded it and looked at it for a long time.

The hall was terrifyingly silent. Shen Zhao knelt, hearing her own heartbeat.

The Emperor passed the paper down. "Look for yourself."

The eunuch carried the paper down and held it in front of Shen Zhao.

Shen Zhao took it.

It was a confession. The handwriting was her father's. She recognized the last stroke of the character for "yan" (inkstone)—her father always flicked that final stroke upward, like a small hook.

The confession read: Forty-two thousand taels of river funds, I, Shen Yan, embezzled alone. No one else was involved.

Below was the signature, red as dried blood.

Shen Zhao's fingers trembled.

"Shen Zhao." The Emperor's voice fell from above. "What is written on this confession differs from what you just said."

Shen Zhao held the paper and straightened her knees.

"Your Majesty," she said. "I request to confront my father face-to-face."

Fang Jing immediately interjected: "Your Majesty, Shen Yan is a serious criminal—"

"Granted." The Emperor said.

A collective gasp echoed through the hall.

The Emperor stood up. "Bring Shen Yan to the hall."

The eunuch's announcement rippled outward. Shen Zhao knelt on the steps, hearing the sound of iron chains dragging across the stone stairs, once, twice.

A man was escorted in.

Twenty years apart. Shen Zhao barely recognized him—his hair was completely white, his back hunched, wearing a prison uniform washed to gray.

The man knelt at the entrance to the hall and looked up.

His gaze swept past the thirty Recommended Scholars and landed on Shen Zhao's face.

He froze.

His lips moved.