On the third day of the third month in Jinghe Year Fifteen, the rain stopped in Suzhou.
Zhang Zai returned from outside, an old file tucked into his sleeve.
Mold mottled its cover, its corners curled like dead leaves, and water stains had blurred the ink beyond recognition.
The volume had been found in a concealed compartment within a convent's false wall, beneath layers of scriptures.
Had he not personally supervised the soldiers as they stripped the walls and dismantled the cabinets, it would never have seen the light of day.
"Zi'an! Zi'an!"
"Come look! Look what I found!"
"Hahaha, Zi'an!"
Honk, honk, honk-Zhang Zai strode through the post station's puddles.
Wei Zi'an sat in his room, hearing the voice before he saw the man.
The door was still only half-open when Zhang Zai barged in.
He held the volume from his sleeve high above his head, as though he had found a priceless treasure.
[Jinghe Year Eleven, autumn. Suzhou Prefecture's assessed grain tribute: 280,000 shi. That year, the winds and rains came in season. Actual receipts: 312,000 shi. Reported to the Ministry of Revenue: only 230,000 shi. The remaining 82,000 shi all entered the warehouses of the Everlasting Abundance Firm. Resale proceeds: 41,000 taels of silver. Shares distributed as follows: Li Jin of the Imperial Silk Bureau received 15,000 taels. Prefect He Yanming received 11,000 taels. Owner Shen retained 2,000 taels. The remainder was allocated entirely to offerings at Buddhist and Daoist temples.]
The paper was brittle and yellow, the handwriting scrawled. Clearly, this was no official file, but a private record.
"Why would an outlying convent, a den of debauchery like that, have this?" Wei Nisheng closed the volume and looked up.
"Hmph!" Zhang Zai snorted coldly.
"That bald donkey confessed! This was