"Hey!" The girl named Caiwei, her beautiful eyes sparkling, pressed him. "Why can salt become silver?"
She paused, then pulled out a stalk of sugarcane and offered it. "Here, this is for you."
The two officials had already vanished. Xu Qian considered his answer. "This commoner once read in an ancient text of an alchemical secret for turning salt into silver."
Her eyes went wide. "Which ancient text? Who wrote it?"
Its name was *High School Chemistry*. "The text was long ago destroyed, but I remember its contents."
Her breathing quickened. "Quick, tell me."
Xu Qian sighed. "This commoner's life hangs by a thread. I am in no mood to teach."
She rolled her eyes. "You're a sly one. The Directorate of Celestials does not meddle in court politics. Bargaining with me is pointless."
"Then take me in. Given the Director's status at court, obtaining one implicated prisoner should be simple." He needed insurance in case the silver wasn't recovered.
She swept her eyes over him. "You're clearly a martial cultivator. Why become an Artificer? Foundation is laid in childhood. Switching now is far too late."
"What I truly admire is the Director's magnificent presence," Xu Qian said with utter sincerity.
"Then tell me the alchemical text first." Her eyes were clear and bright — large almond eyes, dark pupils, sharply black and white. Xu Qian had only seen such clean, lovely eyes in children in his past life.
"The contents are abstruse. Mere recitation will not suffice. Only detailed instruction can let the knowledge take root." Xu Qian was fishing.
Chu Caiwei rolled her eyes, indignant. "Across all Nine Provinces, in alchemy, our Directorate stands supreme."
"Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium, aluminum, silicon, phosphorus."
She was dazed. "You're playing me. The Directorate only accepts disciples as children."
She snatched the sugarcane back and walked away, skirts fluttering. Xu Qian opened his mouth, then understood — the Directorate recruited from early childhood. That road was closed.
Two days passed in the cell. Xu Qian spent them in anxious fear — what if the silver wasn't recovered in time? If it came after his exile, even successful recovery wouldn't change his fate. Or what if Prefect Chen was a black-hearted worm who swallowed the credit whole? Yet what more could a prisoner do? He felt once more the crushing reality of feudal society.
"Let fate decide," he sighed.
*Clang!*
A jailer strode in and unlocked his cell. "Xu Qian, you're free."
He erupted with joy. "The tax silver was recovered?"
"Sign and make your mark, then leave." The jailer studied him. "You've got quite the luck, boy."
"And my uncle?"
"Don't waste words. Just follow." The jailer rapped his fire poker against Xu Qian's backside and hustled him out.
At the yamen, under a clerk's direction, Xu Qian signed his name, pressed his thumbprint, and retrieved the clothes stripped from him when he was thrown in prison. A bailiff led him out the rear gate. Outside, the eastern sky was just growing light. The streets lay cold and still.
*Clang!*
Xu Pingzhi jerked awake in his cell, eyes shot through with blood. Disheveled and filthy, he bore a resemblance to Xu Qian in the face. His own son, Xu Xinnian, had features far too refined for either of them.
Across the corridor, Li Ru stirred from a dazed sleep and jerked awake, her face a mask of supreme terror.
Husband and wife gazed at each other across the corridor. Li Ru's voice was desolate. "My lord, I would sooner die than go to the Bureau of Music."
At thirty-five, well-maintained, she was a beauty of exceptional charm. Even after five days of fear and misery in prison, gaunt and haggard, she could not hide the allure in her brows and eyes. The Bureau of Music — what place was that? A woman's hell.
Xu Pingzhi, covered in wounds, opened his mouth but no words came. Then hot tears streamed down his face. "My wife, I have wronged you. Let us walk the Yellow Springs together. In the next life, I will toil like an ox to repay you. I only pity the children... and my nephew."
Five days had passed. What awaited him was the executioner's blade. What awaited the women was the Bureau of Music. His two daughters — one of marriageable age, past fifteen, one only five — huddled in the corner, now also awake.
The five-year-old rubbed her eyes, murmuring "Mama," wholly ignorant of her fate. The sixteen-year-old sat up, tangled hair framing a pale oval face. Thin rosy lips, large expressive eyes, a nose straight and prominent — not small and delicate like most women's, giving her features a striking dimensionality, an especially refined beauty. She had the stillness of a fine sculpture. She edged closer to her mother, thick lashes trembling with fear.
Several jailers strode in, blades at their waists. Despair and resolve flickered in Li Ru's eyes. Xu Pingzhi gripped the bars, knuckles white, teeth clenched. Losing the tax silver, dereliction of duty — he accepted his death. But dragging his wife and daughters down with him, he could not die in peace. Especially the youngest, only five, destined to be sent to the Bureau of Music. As a parent, how could he accept that?
"Xu Pingzhi, come with us. Sign and make your mark, and you'll be free to leave." The jailer opened the cell without putting them in chains, rapping the bars to wave them out.
"Xu Pingzhi has spent his life loyal to country and sovereign — wait, what did you say?" Uncle Xu thought he must have misheard. What was this about?
"We can leave? You just said we can leave." Xu Pingzhi couldn't believe it. "What's going on? Aren't you taking me out for execution?"
"No idea. Orders from above. Ask outside if you want to know."
Bewildered and uneasy, Li Ru held her two daughters' hands. The family followed the jailer in silence toward the end of the corridor. "My lord... they wouldn't be deceiving us, would they?" she whispered.
"How could such a thing be a joke?" Xu Pingzhi limped along, his body still wounded. He was as confused as she was — joy at escaping death, and bewilderment at not knowing why.
Li Ru's heart stirred. "It must be Xinnian. He must have been running himself ragged these past days, pulling strings. Don't forget — Xinnian's teacher was the Vice Minister of Justice in the eighteenth year of Yuanjing."
The eighteenth year of Yuanjing... that was over twenty years ago. Xu Pingzhi felt it didn't add up, but who else could a minor official like himself rely on? "Perhaps."
At the signing station, Xu Pingzhi took the brush, fingers trembling. He signed, pressed his thumbprint, and felt a seed buried underground finally pushing through soil into sunlight. Suddenly the world became so beautiful, even though not a single copper coin had appeared. His wife and daughters only needed to press their thumbprints.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he clasped his hands. "Sir — why have our crimes been pardoned?"
Li Ru immediately fixed her gaze on the clerk.
"The case has been solved. The tax silver has been recovered."
"The silver's recovered? Ha! Damned demons, daring to rob Great Feng's silver!" Uncle Xu was invigorated. Then doubt crept in — even with the silver recovered, his dereliction was real. It wasn't his doing. Even with leniency, exile should be the best outcome.
"Lord Xu, here is your official robe." The clerk presented the green seventh-rank uniform.
Even reinstated. Robe in hand, the phrase 'this official' came out with more conviction. "Sir, could you enlighten this official?"
"Great Feng law holds that when an elder commits a crime, a son may atone through merit."
"It really was Xinnian! My lord, Xinnian helped the court recover the silver!" Li Ru wept with joy.
"Xinnian..." Xu Pingzhi's eyes grew moist. "My fine son."
The clerk glanced at the emotional couple. "It was your nephew, Xu Qian. He helped the Prefect solve the tax silver case. He left moments ago."