Jinghe Year Fifteen, the twentieth day of the second month.
The willows' buds had just begun to open; boat songs drifted along the waterways, passing beneath bridges into the distance.
The Suzhou Guard's command headquarters stood in the north of the city.
Its grounds were modest, its entrance cold and deserted.
A pair of stone lions crouched before the steps.
Their bodies were mottled, green with moss, left untouched for years.
Inside the headquarters, a room lay bleak and bare, a solitary shadow cast upon its wall.
The tea on the desk was still dark, little more than decoration.
Xiong Hui sat alone in the rear hall, his mind far from his tea.
For several days, he had been unable to sleep at night.
Whenever he closed his eyes, the words from the letter appeared.
[The officers under your command have had dealings with the various temples for more than a day.]
[How much of the incense money paid monthly by the temples has gone into your officers' private purses?]
Every word was an awl, piercing the night, piercing his heart.
Xiong Hui shook his head with a sigh, picked up his cup, and drained it.
Cold tea entered his belly, his troubled guts tangled into a hundred knots.
"My lord." Just then, a personal guard's voice came from outside the door.
"Someone has arrived from the capital."
Xiong Hui's brows stirred slightly at this, and he set down his teacup.
"Send him in."
Before long, a middle-aged man entered with a bow, dressed in a padded robe of blue cloth.
His face was sallow and travel-worn, his manner earnest.
After saluting Xiong Hui with clasped fists, he took a letter from his sleeve and presented it with both hands.
"Commander Xiong, Chancellor Shen has entrusted me with