The Yanjing Twelve Offices were something of a combination of the Secret Guard and the Black Bureau. Granted imperial authority to execute first and report afterward, they investigated officials above and arrested outlaws below, commanding enormous intimidation both at the Imperial Court and in the martial world. When their brocade-clad officers passed a doorway, even high officials of the Six Ministries felt their hearts quail and secretly wondered whether entering the morning court session with their right foot first had displeased the Liang Emperor.
But this unparalleled intimidation extended only to the Twelve Offices' official staff. Their hired lackeys were not included.
Nightfall, Shigu Street, beneath the Grand Archway at the intersection.
A small wooden watch room stood in an inconspicuous corner beside the arch. Its window was barely two feet square, and a sign hung outside bearing the character for "constable," so faded it was almost illegible.
Jia Shengzi, his hair graying, wore the robes of a minor government clerk. Gently waving a palm-leaf fan in his left hand, he wrote unhurriedly in a ledger:
"Cao Aning reports: the old lady of the Wang family in Clog Lane has lost one speckled hen..."
The palm-sized wooden room could hardly accommodate two people. Dressed in an officer's robe, Cao Aning could only lean against the doorway, holding a tea mug and leisurely blowing at the floating leaves.
"Phew..."
Watching Jia Shengzi earnestly record the case, Cao Aning shook his head.
"What's the point of writing all this? I used to command the Secret Guard. Homicides and major cases have dedicated investigators. Nobody even glances at the petty nonsense those street-patrolling lackeys submit."
Jia Shengzi waved his fan twice and advised him in the tone of an old hand:
"Officialdom in Great Liang isn't like the Southern Dynasty. After His Majesty