Chapter 87 | People Behind the Ledger

Xu Tianlong watched the mouth of the service lane. No shout came from beyond the corner. No hurried footsteps. No shadow crossed the strip of lamplight between the walls.

Beside him, Feng leaned against the shuttered cloth shop and watched the same empty gap.

"Too narrow," she murmured.

Xu looked over.

She tipped her chin toward the lane. "If I walk in behind him now, I may as well knock on the cart and ask where he’s going."

Warehouse gates opened beyond the turn. Xu had no reason to choose any gate over the rest.

Xu looked down the public street instead. There was still enough traffic for a woman alone to disappear into it if she knew how.

"Circle the block," he said. "Watch the rear side. Don’t go in after him."

Feng’s mouth twitched. "Cruel. I was hoping to climb inside it."

"Next time."

Feng gave a soft huff of laughter, pushed away from the shutter, and joined the thinning stream of porters, late buyers, and servants moving under the warehouse lamps.

Xu waited until she passed the next corner before leaving the eaves.

He went the other way.

Golden Crescent’s front doors were still open when he reached them, though the branch had lost most of its daytime noise. A servant was lowering a hanging lamp. A clerk near the counter tied shut a stack of order slips. From the right-rear passage came the scrape of wood, a man’s irritated voice, and the heavy knock of a crate being set down too hard.

"Easy, damn you. It isn’t firewood."

Wei Bo’s voice.

Xu stepped inside.

Su Meilin looked up from behind the main counter. Her hair had been pinned back again, though loose strands had escaped at her temple. Ink stained her fingers. The tiredness around her eyes hadn’t dulled them.

Her gaze went to the door behind him.

"Feng?"

"Outside."

The brush stopped above the paper.

Xu came to the counter. "A man bought lamp oil and an empty cart. He took the shared service lane. We lost sight before he chose a gate."

Su’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"So it could be mine," she said.

"Could be."

"And it could belong to any other warehouse using that lane."

"Yes."

She set the brush down. "Wonderful. A problem that won’t tell me what it is."

Xu’s mouth moved a fraction.

Su caught it. "Don’t look so pleased."

"I’m not."

"Mm. Terrifyingly solemn."

A porter came through the rear passage carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder. "Mistress Su, Wei wants to know if the late load still goes tonight."

Her attention shifted. "Tell him I’ll come back there."

The porter nodded and vanished again.

Su picked up the brush. "Stay where I can find you, Young Master Xu. If someone decides to make trouble tonight, I’d like the famous tournament winner to be inconveniently nearby."

"You say that like I’m furniture."

"Expensive furniture."

She went back to the paper.

Xu left her to it.

Near the left-rear side of the front room, Zhou Kai was finishing the last of the wage work. The smaller desk in front of him held a ledger, a shallow wooden coin tray, tied pouches, and a cup of tea that had gone untouched long enough to stop steaming.

A worker signed with a thumb mark, took his pouch, and walked off rubbing the back of his neck.

Zhou crossed off the worker’s line.

Then he reached his own name.

He counted his wage without ceremony, divided the coins, and tucked the larger share into his belt pouch. The smaller share went into a square of plain cloth. He folded the corners inward, tied them with cord, then pressed a small delivery mark onto the knot.

Xu stopped near the end of the desk.

Zhou looked up. "Young Master Xu."

"Late."

"Silver dislikes sleeping."

"Does it?"

"Mine certainly keeps leaving."

Footsteps sounded at the entrance. An older courier with a narrow shoulder bag ducked inside and slapped dust from his sleeve.

"Last west round," he called. "If you’ve got anything, hand it over now. I’m not coming back because someone remembers his aunt after I reach the bridge."

The courier saw him and sighed. "You again."

Zhou slid the packet across with the courier fee. The courier checked the delivery mark, tucked the packet and fee away separately, and pulled the flap down.

"Same house?"

"Same house."

"Good."

The courier tucked the bag against his side and moved toward the door.

Zhou crossed off his own line and pulled the next pouch toward him.

Near the loading passage, porters had settled around a low stool with bowls in their hands. Steam rose from rice and chopped greens. A porter ate so quickly that his cheeks were full when a coworker nudged his boot.

"Wei said that stack goes inside. You hear me?"

The porter nodded around a mouthful of rice.

"Fine. Finish eating first."

Xu moved past them toward the rear.

Wei stood at the warehouse threshold with a scowl. A loaded handcart waited behind him, its cargo tied down under rough canvas. Porters waited beside it. A younger man held a lantern; the porter beside him looked tired enough to resent the road personally.

"No," Wei said.

The younger porter rubbed his jaw. "We can still get it out before the lamps go dark."

"And then what? Grow wings on the way back?"

"It’s not that far."

Wei jabbed a thick finger toward the rear gate. "That outer road goes black after first watch, there’s barely a soul on it, and you idiots will be walking home with empty hands and tired legs. Fuck that road. The load waits."

The younger man opened his mouth.

Wei kept staring until the porter closed it again.

Su entered the passage behind Xu, shift slate tucked under her arm.

"Does it have to leave before dawn?" she asked.

Wei turned. "No."

"Can the dawn crew still make the promised time?"

"Yes. Easy, if they don’t spend all morning scratching themselves."

"Then we’re done."

She pulled the slate free, braced it against the wall, and changed the mark beside the load.

"Keep it inside. Finish the sorting, then take your usual way home. Dawn crew takes the cart."

Wei grunted. "Good."

The younger porter looked at the cart, then at Su. "So we unload it again?"

"No," she said. "Roll it inside and leave it tied. If you untie that canvas after Wei already cursed at you for tying it badly, he’ll kill you before the road gets a chance."

Wei scratched his beard. "That’s possible."

The porter sighed. "Right. Inside."

He grabbed the cart handle.

Xu stepped aside as the cart rolled back through the warehouse opening. The wheels bumped over the threshold. Wei followed, still complaining about the knot on the rear rope.

Su remained beside the wall long enough to finish the change on the slate.

"Come on," she said. "I need to post this before Wei invents a new shift by shouting at people."

The small counting room sat off the right-rear passage, close enough to the warehouse that the dull movement of crates still carried through the wall. It held a narrow desk, a lamp, ink, shift slips, and more paper than Xu wanted to look at after dark.

Su sat and began copying the changed assignments.

Xu stayed just inside the doorway.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the brush and the work outside.

Su finished a line. "You’ve been quiet."

"They know their work."

"That hasn’t stopped men from talking before."

"Usually makes them worse."

Su laughed softly. She finished the next line, blew lightly across the wet ink, and looked up.

"You’ve been in and out of my branch all day. Now you’re standing in my counting room."

"So?"

"So most men this persistent want silver."

"I don’t."

"I’ve noticed."

She set the brush down and rose.

Xu watched her come around the desk without hurrying.

When she stopped, faint tea mixed with the smells of paper, lamp oil, and warehouse dust. She rested 2 fingers against the center of his chest.

Xu set his right hand against her waist and brought her nearer. Su’s breath hitched.

Her gold eyes stayed on his. For a breath, she stopped smiling.

"You’re getting comfortable, Young Master Xu."

"You came to me."

Her smile returned. "Details."

Instead of answering, she flattened her palm against his chest, then stepped back. Xu released her as she returned to the desk.

Su sat again and picked up the brush. "And you’re still not getting my silver."

"I didn’t ask."

"Exactly. Suspicious."

Quick footsteps came down the passage before he could answer.

A young runner appeared at the doorway, breathing hard through his nose.

"Young Master Xu?"

Xu turned.

The runner held out a folded scrap. "A woman outside gave me this. Said it was yours."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No, Young Master. Just that."

Xu took the paper.

The runner was already glancing back toward the warehouse.

"Go."

"Yes, Young Master."

He disappeared down the passage.

Xu unfolded the scrap.

Feng’s handwriting was rough and compact.

Rear-side watcher moving. Staying with him.

Xu reread it, folded it, and slipped it into his inner robe beside the older note.

Su’s brush had stopped.

"Feng?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Did she find the cart?"

"No."

Su waited, brush still above the slate.

"Something else, then."

"The rear-side watcher started moving. She’s staying with him."

Su looked toward the passage leading to the warehouse.

Then she lowered her eyes and put the brush back to the shift slate.

Xu stepped out of the counting room and stopped at the mouth of the right-rear passage. He stayed there, listening to the last crates thud into place and waiting for Feng’s next scrap.