Chapter 106 - Chapter 106: Han Likes Clean Cuts Too

Morning duty at the registry hall ran like a quiet machine that had learned it could bleed. Wuchen delivered the blank forms, bowed, took the receipt strip, and stayed for his daily sentence. Han's clerk didn't look up at first. Say it, he muttered, as if the routine itself was irritating. Wuchen bowed low and let his fingers warm and tremble ugly. This one delivered forms. No disturbances, he said, keeping it small. Han's clerk snorted. Disturbances don't announce themselves, he murmured. Then his gaze flicked past Wuchen's shoulder, toward the corridor. Someone was watching. Wuchen didn't turn. He didn't need to. He felt it: a presence held too stiffly to be casual. Du Zheng. Gu Yan's instruction was clear. Let him see you speaking to the clerk. So Wuchen stayed one breath longer than necessary, a boy lingering under a deacon leash. Han's clerk noticed the linger and smiled without warmth. You like standing here now, he said softly. Wuchen bowed deeper. This one obeys. The clerk waved him away and reached for a slip in the tray meant for Han. His hand paused on a tied bundle and then moved on, as if reminding Wuchen without words that paper here could still ruin lives. Wuchen left the registry hall and walked the bright covered walkway at an ordinary pace. He let his breath stay stacked, three grains low and steady. Wei followed at a distance again, far enough to look like coincidence, close enough to become interference. At the corner near the north wall corridor, Wuchen slowed just a fraction. Du Zheng stood near a pillar, pretending to inspect the register board hanging there for notices. His eyes were tired, his jaw tight. The deacon countersign order had turned his post into a stage, and stages made ordinary men old fast. Wuchen walked past him as if he hadn't noticed, then let one phrase slip out like a mistake, pitched low, not meant for any ears but the one Gu Yan wanted. Han likes clean cuts too, Wuchen murmured. Then he kept walking. The line was poison because it sounded like agreement and accusation at the same time. Du Zheng froze. Wuchen didn't look back, but he felt it in the air: Du Zheng's breath catching, the moment fear chose a direction. Behind him, Du Zheng took two steps, then stopped, then took two more. His feet didn't know whether to chase Wuchen or run away from the sentence. That uncertainty was the beginning of panic. Wuchen turned into a quieter corridor and let his hands tremble for a breath, ugly leak, as if speaking had cost him. He didn't want to look steady now. Steady would make Du Zheng think Wuchen had intended it. He wanted Du Zheng to think it had slipped out because Wuchen was frightened and stupid and leaking. That way Du Zheng would treat it like accidental truth. By late afternoon, Du Zheng's panic became visible to patrol. Wuchen didn't see Du Zheng go to Ridge Patrol office, but he saw the aftermath: a patrol junior hurrying down the corridor with a sealed packet, the kind carried when someone wanted instructions in writing. Another patrol boy followed, face tight, eyes scanning for watchers. The gate's throat was running upward. Exactly as Gu Yan wanted. That evening, Jiang Ren found Wuchen near the copying room courtyard, eyes too sharp for someone pretending calm. What did you tell Du Zheng, he hissed. Wuchen bowed, fingers trembling ugly around a paper bundle. This one didn't tell him anything, he whispered. Jiang Ren's jaw clenched. Don't lie, he snapped. He ran to patrol office like a rat with smoke on its tail. He's saying Han is staging cuts. He's saying someone is setting him up. Wuchen's stomach tightened. Good. The line traveled. Jiang Ren leaned closer, voice low. Qian Luo is angry, he whispered. He thinks someone is using Du Zheng to drag patrol into Han's mess. Wuchen kept his gaze down. This one is afraid. Jiang Ren stared at him, then his mouth tightened with something like real caution. If Qian Luo asks about you, he said, you say you're only a runner. You leak. You know nothing. Wuchen bowed. Yes. Jiang Ren hesitated, then lowered his voice further. And… if you have warmth again… Wuchen didn't answer with words. He only let his sleeve shift slightly as if something small might be hidden there, then kept it still. Jiang Ren's throat moved. Need showed. Wuchen bowed lower. This one doesn't have. Jiang Ren's face tightened, then he stepped back, controlled again. Fine, he muttered. Then listen. Tomorrow night, Qian Luo is going to the north wall gate himself. To speak with Du Zheng. To see what he's saying. Wuchen's chest tightened. The shadow hand was moving. Jiang Ren continued, fast. If Han's clerk is there too, it becomes a collision. Patrol and deacon in the same breath. Someone will bleed. Wuchen bowed, trembling ugly. This one understands. Jiang Ren left quickly, shoulders tight. Wuchen went straight to Gu Yan and reported: Du Zheng heard the line and panicked, patrol movement afterward, Jiang Ren's confrontation, and the key warning that Qian Luo will go to the gate tomorrow night to speak with Du Zheng, possibly with Han's clerk present. Gu Yan listened and nodded once, eyes bright. Good, he murmured. Now we can see Qian Luo's face in lantern light, not just his handwriting. Wei's voice was flat. And if Han's clerk appears, we get a clean collision. Gu Yan nodded. Exactly. He looked at Wuchen. Tomorrow night, he said softly, you will be at the gate. Not close. Close enough to hear. You will bring nothing in your hands. Only ears. Wuchen bowed, throat tight, three grains steady. He had dropped one phrase like a mistake. It had moved the gate's throat upward into the shadow hand's reach. Now the shadow hand was coming down to touch the hinge directly. And when powerful hands touched hinges, runners were often the ones crushed between door and frame.