The moment Xu Qian stepped into the inner hall, three sharp gazes landed on him.
The one in the crimson robe had to be the Prefect — clouds and wild geese embroidered on his chest, a fourth-rank official. The middle-aged man with a silver gong badge on his chest... ah, someone from the Night Watchman organization. And the young woman — heavens, what a face. Was she married?
He glanced at her chest, and immediately felt much calmer.
Xu Qian quickly lowered his head, putting on the most humble posture he could manage.
Prefect Chen sat rigid in his great chair, face expressionless, his interrogator's tone thick with authority: "Xu Qian, three days ago when you were thrown in prison, you said nothing about any crucial clues. You do understand the consequences of concealing information."
An old hand at official maneuvering. Even with his heart burning with urgency, he wouldn't open with questions about clues — he'd start with psychological pressure.
Getting here meant the plan was already halfway to success. Xu Qian kept his voice steady. "My lord, just earlier, the Second Son of the Xu family came to see me. I asked him for the case files."
Honesty first.
All three people present knew who Xu Xinnian was — not because he was famous, but because as Xu Pingzhi's eldest son, the three lead investigators would naturally have investigated him.
"And what does that have to do with the clues you mentioned?" Prefect Chen asked.
"This commoner deduced the truth of the case from those case files..."
"Hold on." Prefect Chen cut him off, leaning forward slightly. "From the case files?"
This was not what he had expected.
"I've already solved the case," Xu Qian nodded, as if it were nothing.
Prefect Chen suppressed the urge to call guards and send this brat back to prison. His face hardened. "Speak, then. But I warn you — if you spew nonsense, two hundred strikes of the plank will separate you from your flesh and bones."
"The tax silver robbery was not the work of demons. It was the work of men."
One sentence shocked all three.
Prefect Chen slammed the table and roared, "Rubbish! Guards, drag him out — two hundred strokes!"
A demon stealing the tax silver was practically a settled conclusion, a consensus among the three lead investigators. If he'd harbored any hope that Xu Qian might produce something of value, that hope was now thoroughly extinguished. This was nothing but the wild, desperate words of a brash young man cornered like a rat.
The middle-aged man's eyes brightened slightly. He waved off the bailiffs who had rushed in. "Lord Chen, a moment's patience."
He turned his gaze on Xu Qian, burning, scrutinizing, tinged with expectation. "Say your piece."
This Prefect Chen was rather short-tempered. Xu Qian knew it was his moment to perform. "According to the city gate guards' testimony, my uncle entered the city at the Hour of the Rabbit, Second Quarter. At the Hour of the Dragon, First Quarter, the tax silver escort reached Guangnan Street. That was when a strange wind rose, and the horses panicked and plunged into the river."
He did his best to keep his tone even, neither servile nor arrogant, so he'd seem all the more composed and convincing.
Prefect Chen nodded. "This is precisely why we concluded that a demon lurked in the river, awaiting its chance to seize the silver."
"No!" Xu Qian's rebuttal rang out. "The demon wind was a smokescreen. The explosion in the river was a smokescreen. They were both meant to make you overlook a fatal flaw."
Prefect Chen pressed urgently, "What flaw?"
The middle-aged man leaned in, listening intently.
The girl in the yellow dress stopped chewing her candied fruit. Her lively, luminous eyes fixed on Xu Qian with interest.
They had pored over those case files countless times. They knew every detail of the incident by heart. Yet not one of them had ever detected a flaw.
"My uncle was escorting one hundred and fifty thousand taels of tax silver. I ask you, my lords — how much does one hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver weigh?"
The middle-aged man's face went rigid. The yellow-dressed girl tilted her head to one side, and for a long moment couldn't straighten it back.
Prefect Chen scowled. "Say what you want to say. Stop being coy."
Xu Qian had hoped to drop a hint and let the officials work out this massive oversight on their own. But that seemed to have backfired. Quick calculation skills were a bit lacking among you ancient folk. He spoke directly. "Nine thousand three hundred and seventy-five catties."
By this world's conversion, sixteen taels to a catty, one hundred and fifty thousand taels came to nine thousand three hundred and seventy-five catties.
The middle-aged man frowned, a vague sense that something had just clicked into half-focus.
The yellow-dressed girl furrowed her brow. "What does that prove?"
Her voice was crisp as silver bells.
It proves you're not the sharpest tool. Xu Qian asked, "From the city gate to Guangnan Street, what's the distance?"
The middle-aged man answered, "Thirty li."
"How many market districts along the way?"
"...Four."
"What's the pace of pack horses?"
"Pack horses..." The middle-aged man's eyes suddenly bulged wide, and he shot to his feet. His eyes stretched so wide they seemed about to pop, his expression transforming into the unmistakable look of sudden revelation — 'So that's it,' 'It was this all along.'
Three days of tracking, three days of searching for demon traces with nothing to show for it — this veteran Night Watchman had already sensed he might be on the wrong trail. But no clear line of thinking had formed in his head, so when he'd been rejected earlier, he'd let it go.
Prefect Chen's scalp prickled, because he still hadn't caught the problem, and it was making him look singularly lacking in wisdom. He glanced at the yellow-dressed girl and felt somewhat better.
She asked glumly, "What's the problem?"
The middle-aged man looked invigorated. "Time. The time doesn't add up."
"Guangnan Street is a full thirty li from the south gate. At the pace of pack horses, passing through four market districts, entering the city at the Hour of the Rabbit, Second Quarter — they could not possibly have reached Guangnan Street by the Hour of the Dragon, First Quarter."
He'd been trapped by his own preconceptions, assuming a demon had stolen the silver. But once Xu Qian peeled away the layers, the problem instantly became clear.
"But the tax silver did arrive at Guangnan Street at the Hour of the Dragon. There were plenty of witnesses who saw the horses plunge into the river. It couldn't have been faked," the yellow-dressed girl said in her crisp voice.
Prefect Chen nodded approvingly and echoed, "How do you explain that?"
The middle-aged man froze. He glanced instinctively at Xu Qian.
"Because what they were escorting was never real silver," Xu Qian said, his words landing like stones.
"Absurd!" Prefect Chen shot back. "Setting aside your uncle and his soldiers — did none of them have eyes? The case files record testimony from commoners on the scene. The horses plunged into the water, and gleaming white silver spilled into the river." He shook the file in his hand. "Is this also false?"
"Seeing is not always believing. Allow this commoner to demonstrate in person." His eyes fell on the desk. "May I borrow brush and paper?"
Prefect Chen waved a hand — help yourself.
Xu Qian shuffled to the desk in his chains, poured water and ground ink, spread out a sheet of paper, and began writing with a crooked, unpracticed hand.
"My lord, please have the items on this paper prepared as specified." Finished, he handed the paper to Prefect Chen.
Prefect Chen scanned it and frowned in confusion.
"Let me see." The yellow-dressed girl came over to join in, reaching out a snowy white hand to take the paper. Then she also frowned in confusion.
The middle-aged man, Li Yuchun, glanced at the paper and arranged his face into an expressionless mask. Without a trace, he smoothed down a folded corner of the paper and passed it to Prefect Chen.