Chapter 103 - Chapter 103: Original Theft Lan didn’t steal

the original the same night. If she had, it would have been hunger. Lan preferred patience that looked like elegance. She let the bait slip sit in her sleeve for a day, long enough for the idea to ferment, long enough for Luo Ping to repeat the signature line to her twice so it felt real even without ink. Wuchen walked his deacon route in the morning, delivered forms, spoke his daily sentence, painted weakness, and left without looking up. Han's clerk was sharper today. His eyes flicked to Wuchen's sleeve seam and back, like he expected paper to fall out on its own. Say it, he muttered. Wuchen bowed low. This one delivered forms. North wall gate is tense. Patrol is unhappy, he said quietly, keeping it narrow enough to be useless but pointed enough to irritate. The clerk snorted. Everyone is unhappy when Han touches their logs, he said. Then his gaze sharpened. He leaned in slightly. If you see any patrol instruction slips, you bring them to me, he murmured. Not asked. Ordered like a suggestion. Wuchen bowed, fingers trembling ugly. Yes. He left. By noon, rumor tightened into shape: the signed instruction slip from Qian Luo had been copied twice at the copying room, then returned to a clerk tray for Han to "find" again. Copies existed. That meant the original mattered less for proof and more for leverage. Originals carried pressure. Originals carried fingerprints. That afternoon, Luo Ping collided with Wuchen again, but not in the open corridor. He took the narrow back passage behind the archive where bamboo screens muffled sound and servants avoided looking. He stepped in front of Wuchen and held out his hand without speaking. Wuchen bowed, trembling ugly, and waited. Luo Ping's eyes were flat. Senior Sister wants the original, he said quietly. Wuchen's stomach tightened. This one doesn't have it. Luo Ping stared at him. Then he spoke the real thing. She wants to know where Han keeps it. Wuchen kept his gaze down. This one doesn't know. Luo Ping's jaw tightened. You walk Han's clerk every morning, he murmured. You smell his trays. Wuchen swallowed. He couldn't deny the route now. The route was visible. Luo Ping leaned closer. If you help, Lan will keep Han's teeth off you, he said softly. If you don't, Han will keep you on a leash until you forget how to breathe. Wuchen bowed lower. This one is afraid. Luo Ping's eyes narrowed. Good, he said. Fear makes you useful. He stepped back and left, leaving Wuchen with the same choice he always had: be used by one side, or be used by the other. Wuchen didn't report Luo Ping's request to Gu Yan immediately. He walked a loop through servant corridors first, letting his breath settle, letting his three grains stay low. Then he knelt in Gu Yan's pavilion and spoke cleanly. Luo Ping says Lan wants the original. She wants to know where Han keeps it. Gu Yan's eyes brightened faintly. Good, he murmured. So she's biting Han directly now. Wei's voice was flat. Han will bite back. Gu Yan nodded. That's what we want. He leaned forward slightly. Tomorrow morning, you will let Han's clerk see you looking at the tray, Gu Yan said. Not touching. Just looking too long. Wuchen's throat went dry. Gu Yan smiled faintly. He'll think you're curious. He'll set bait. When he sets bait, Lan steals. When Lan steals, patrol panics. When patrol panics, Qian Luo moves. Wei added quietly. And when Qian Luo moves, we watch whose hands he uses. Gu Yan nodded. Exactly. Wuchen bowed. Understood. The next morning, Wuchen delivered forms as always, lingered for his daily sentence, then did the new dangerous thing. While Han's clerk stamped, Wuchen let his eyes flick to the tray labeled Pending and rest there a breath too long. Not staring. Just a fraction of hunger. The clerk noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes narrowed, then he smiled without warmth. Interested, he murmured. Wuchen bowed, fingers trembling ugly. This one only wondered. The clerk leaned closer. Wonder less, he whispered. Then he slid a different folder onto the tray, not the usual thin slips. A thicker packet, tied with string, the kind clerks used for sensitive notices. He placed it where Wuchen could see, then stamped three times loudly, as if announcing nothing. Wuchen kept his face dull and left without reacting. But his stomach tightened. Han's clerk had set bait. Not for Wuchen. For whoever was watching Wuchen. That evening, the theft happened. Not loud. Not a fight. A simple absence. The tied packet vanished from the Pending tray between second bell and third. Han's clerk discovered it at the start of third bell, and his shout cut through the registry hall like a knife because clerks only shouted when they wanted someone else to bleed. Patrol boys appeared within minutes. Han's men appeared within minutes. And somewhere in the corridor shadows, Luo Ping's steps moved too fast to be casual. Lan had bitten. Or someone had bitten while wearing her teeth. Wuchen stood at the edge of the noise with his head lowered, three grains steady, trembling painted on his hands, and understood the new problem. The original was no longer just a signed instruction slip. Now it was an excuse for a purge. Because when important paper vanished in the inner hall, the first thing everyone did wasn't search shelves. They searched throats.