Trickery Succeeds, Token Stuns

Tan Zhenglong's burly figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, leaving Ye Qingxuan alone in the room. He leaned against the cold door, and the pretense he had maintained finally gave way, a wave of soreness washing over his limbs.

He slowly slid to the floor, his own heavy breaths echoing in his ears. The flickering lamplight stretched his shadow long and short on the wall, like a struggling phantom.

What he had said to Tan Zhenglong was nine parts true and one part false, a mixture of truth and lies that was hard to discern. But he knew in his heart that an old Constable like Tan Zhenglong wouldn't believe it all.

The final scrutiny in those tiger-like eyes was clearly an interrogation, a weighing of his words.

The bruise on his chest was real, but for a Body Tempering martial artist of the second stage, even if severely injured, the force of a dying man's counterattack would be immense. He had only a bruise, hadn't spat blood, hadn't injured his internal organs – this in itself was the biggest flaw.

And why had the Mottled Fish fallen down repeatedly? The explanation "already injured" was too vague.

He had to patch this hole.

He raised his head and, facing the empty room, silently recited his story again in his mind. This time, he added some embellishments.

"...The thief limped, his movements unstable when he ran. I thought he must have been gravely injured. Only later did I realize, he was wanted throughout the city, where would he dare seek medical attention? After so many days, his wound must have festered and become infected, his strength depleted, which is why he was... so useless."

He reached out and pressed down on several joints on his body, until red marks appeared, before stopping. This way, he had a few more "struggle" marks on him.

Details, the devil hides in the details. Only when all the details point to the same conclusion will a lie become "fact" in the eyes of others.

Amidst the wind outside, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard. Ye Qingxuan flinched and stood up from the ground, resuming his appearance of being shaken.

The door was pushed open, and Tan Zhenglong strode in, his expression impassive, revealing no emotion.

He didn't look at Ye Qingxuan, walking to the table on his own, pouring a bowl of cold tea, and drinking it in one gulp.

"The Chief Constables already know," he said, putting down the tea bowl, his voice still gruff. "Chief Constable Hong's intention is that this matter is significant and requires an on-site investigation with the coroner after daybreak before a conclusion can be reached."

Ye Qingxuan's heart sank. An investigation? A coroner's eyes were the sharpest. Could the injuries he had inflicted on himself with stones still be hidden?

Tan Zhenglong glanced at him, as if seeing through his thoughts, and added, "Deputy Envoy Xiao has ordered that results are what matter. Since the person is already dead, the process doesn't matter as long as it's plausible."

These words were a reassurance.

The weight on Ye Qingxuan's chest lifted by half. The higher-ups in the Fengtian Division wanted the bounty of thirty taels claimed and the Green Fish Gang case to be concluded. As for who got the credit, whether it was Zhang San or Li Si, whether it was one person or ten, they wouldn't investigate too deeply.

"You can go back now," Tan Zhenglong waved his hand, signaling for him to leave. "Do not mention anything that happened tonight to anyone. Wait here for a summons tomorrow morning."

Ye Qingxuan stood still, not moving.

He bowed deeply to Tan Zhenglong. "Constable Tan..."

"Is there anything else?" Tan Zhenglong's brow furrowed again.

Ye Qingxuan looked up, his face showing a hint of the almost fawning awkwardness characteristic of those from the lower rungs, but his eyes held a clarity that belied his age.

"Constable, this... this credit is a monumental matter for me. I am insignificant, just a temporary Constable not officially registered. I fear... I fear that delays might cause trouble."

He didn't state it too explicitly, but the meaning was clear.

Within the Fengtian Division, cronyism was rampant. How many credits changed hands and names with just a transfer of documents. If he left tonight, by tomorrow morning, the owner of this credit might no longer be Ye.

Tan Zhenglong's gaze sharpened. He stared at Ye Qingxuan, remaining silent for a long time.

This kid was not only bold but also meticulous, and possessed a stubborn refusal to accept his fate. Tan Zhenglong had already believed seven parts of his eloquent words and doubted three. But now, his actions to claim credit for himself made Tan Zhenglong look at him with renewed respect.

In this murky world, honest people didn't live long.

"You want a token of proof?" Tan Zhenglong cut straight to the point.

Ye Qingxuan lowered his head even further, almost burying it in his chest. "I... I just want peace of mind."

"Hmph." Tan Zhenglong snorted through his nostrils, it was unclear whether in approval or mockery.

He turned and rummaged through his desk piled high with case files, muttering, "You brat, you're quite sharp. I've been on duty for twenty years, and I've never seen a temporary Constable dare to ask me for proof."

Ye Qingxuan dared not reply, only bowing his head and waiting quietly.

He knew this was his last gamble of the night. If it succeeded, his path forward would be clear; if it failed, and he angered this official Constable, tomorrow's events would become infinitely more uncertain.

After searching for a while, Tan Zhenglong pulled out a dark, heavy object from a locked wooden box and tossed it over casually.

Ye Qingxuan quickly reached out and caught it.

It was an iron token the size of his palm, cold to the touch and quite heavy. It was entirely black, its material unknown. The front was smooth, while the back was engraved with intricate cloud patterns, with a simple character "奉" in the center.

"This is a token for internal dispatch within the Fengtian Division. Each token's cloud pattern is slightly different, and rubbings are kept on record only with the Chief Constable and the duty Constable," Tan Zhenglong's voice returned to its gruff tone. "Mine is the 'Mystic Bird Pattern'. Keep it well. If anyone asks tomorrow, or if someone tries to scheme, show them this."

He paused, then added, "This item represents me. Although I, Tan Zhenglong, am not a big figure, I still carry some weight within the Fengtian Division. Since I've accepted your claim for credit, I won't let it slip away for nothing."

Ye Qingxuan held the token, its sharp edges pressing into his palm. The coldness, however, ignited a warmth in his heart.

He carefully tucked the token inside his clothes, took a step back, and performed a ninety-degree bow to Tan Zhenglong.

"Thank you, Constable Tan, for fulfilling my request!"

This bow was sincere.

Tan Zhenglong waved his hand impatiently. "Alright, get lost. You're an eyesore."

Ye Qingxuan said no more, bowed again, and turned to leave quickly.

By the time he walked out of the Fengtian Division, it was the fourth watch. The night was at its darkest, the cold most biting. He looked back at the two stone lions that resembled fierce beasts in the darkness, then lowered his head and touched the hard iron token in his bosom.

A path to survival had, at last, been carved out by himself.

He quickened his pace, heading in the direction of the Southern District. Tonight, he no longer needed to walk through the dark corners, but strode down the middle of the streets. His steps were infinitely lighter than when he had arrived.

However, when he turned into the familiar alley leading to his home, his steps suddenly halted.

Outside his family's courtyard gate, a tall, slender figure stood silently in the moonlight, his back to Ye Qingxuan.

The man wore simple, coarse cloth shorts and a tunic, but his build was like a javelin. Even just standing there, he exuded a calm demeanor that felt out of place in his surroundings.

Ye Qingxuan's heart leaped into his throat.

Was it someone from Fierce Tiger Hall? Or... sent by Zhang Lingxiao?

He stealthily reached for his waist, where the short-handled cleaver he had used to kill someone was still tucked away.