The Official Post Station in Suzhou.
When Zhang Zai pushed the door open and entered, Wei Nisheng was marking papers at his desk.
At the sound, he looked up, the Vermilion Brush suspended in his hand.
He saw dark shadows beneath Zhang Zai's eyes and an unkempt mustache.
Mud flecked the sleeves of his green robe, and half-dried mire still clung to his boots.
Clearly, he had ridden back from the outskirts and had yet to change.
Big White Goose Zhang was no longer white!
"Zihou." Wei Nisheng rose and poured tea from the pot.
"How many hours have you slept these past few days?"
Zhang Zai sat opposite him and accepted the teacup Wei Nisheng pushed over.
Only after gulping down a mouthful did he wipe his mouth and grin.
"Sleep? You must be joking, Zi'an.
"Those bald thieves hid their secret ledgers behind three layers of false walls.
"If I hadn't gone through them page by page myself, who could have found them?"
At this, Wei Nisheng studied his face, his expression turning concerned.
"Zihou, you mustn't overwork yourself. If things are progressing well enough, leave the work to the subordinate clerks.
"The capital has also sent two men from the Ministry of Revenue. They're more familiar with auditing accounts than you are."
"No."
Zhang Zai shook his head firmly.
"I can leave the accounts in other hands.
"But the girls abducted into the temples aren't accounts. They're people."
"And since they're people, I cannot leave them in other hands."
Wei Zi fell silent, and Zhangzi continued.
His words came faster, as though anguish pent up for days had finally found release:
"Zi'an, you have no idea!!
"This afternoon, if I hadn't executed another three monks, that abbot would still have refused to speak, even on pain