My father ordered me to kill the emperor, but His Majesty bestowed a princess upon me instead.

The weeds are taller than a person.

I only discovered this after I crawled inside.

From behind the house, the grass looks terribly messy, but once you actually go inside, you realize there's a narrow path hidden there.

It was neither an official road nor a village road.

It is a mountain path where people often carry firewood, dig bamboo shoots, hide from debtors, or avoid people all year round.

The path was narrow, so narrow that only one person could pass sideways. The grass blades on both sides scraped against my face, making it itchy and painful. There were also pebbles and dead branches on the ground; one wrong step and I could twist my ankle.

I walked last.

Fang Zhoushi held the child in the middle, while a lame woman led the way.

Although she was lame, she walked faster than me on this path.

I suddenly realized something.

When a person has no way out, even if they have difficulty walking, they can still know the escape route better than anyone else.

Shouts came from behind.

"There's a path behind the house!"

"Chase!"

The child in Fang Zhoushi's arms was startled awake and was about to cry when she immediately covered the child's mouth with her hand, and tears fell down her cheeks.

The child's eyes were open, and he was trembling with fear, but he didn't cry out.

Looking at that child, I felt a pang of sadness.

This world is really strange.

Some officials, with tens of thousands of taels of silver, could build river embankments that looked shoddy and still hold respectable official positions in the capital.

Some children, as young as four or five, have already learned not to cry when trying to escape.

The lame woman whispered ahead, "There are two roads ahead. One goes up the mountain, and the other goes down the ditch."

I asked, "Which path leads back to Ci'en Temple?"

"Going down the ditch is a shorter route, but the path is slippery. Going up the mountain is longer and can hide people."

The footsteps behind me grew closer.

There are quite a few pursuers.

At least four or five.

And it's not just random chasing.

They knew there was a path behind the house, and they knew that they could enter the ravine from there.

This shows that their decision was not made on a whim.

Before they arrived, they had thoroughly explored the area around Zhao Family Village.

I immediately said, "Go down into the ditch."

The lame woman turned and glanced at me.

"It's easy to get blocked when going down into the ditch."

"It's easier to be caught up if we go up the mountain," I said. "They outnumber us and will split into two groups to attack us, making us like wild rabbits on the mountain. The path down the ditch is slippery, so they can't ride horses or walk side by side."

The lame woman didn't ask any more questions and immediately turned left.

At this moment, Fang Zhoushi suddenly paused.

She looked at the old paper in my arms.

"Those papers can't be thrown away."

I gasped for breath and said, "I know."

"You don't know," her voice trembled, "those weren't ordinary papers."

"I guessed it."

"That's what my husband gave his life for."

I looked at her.

She hugged her child tightly, still walking, but whispered, "The night before he left, he gave me these things. He said if anyone asked, say they were burned. If no one asked, keep them hidden. If one day someone can tell me that the pork is still hanging under the eaves, give him the paper."

I was taken aback for a moment.

It turns out Fang Yuanshi even foresaw this.

That clerk thought about many things before he died.

He knew he might not survive.

He also knew that among the people who came looking for his wife, some might be genuinely investigating the case, while others might be faking it.

So he left a loophole that only those who had actually followed the clues would know about.

Pork under the eaves.

This is not a clue.

It's a door latch.

I suddenly realized that if Fang Yuanshi were still alive, he might be a very difficult person to deal with.

Unfortunately, such people are often the ones who die the fastest.

The footsteps behind me were getting closer.

Someone shouted, "They've gone into the ditch!"

The lame woman's expression changed: "They know the way down to the ditch."

I glanced back.

The grass blades swayed, and people could already be seen.

"Keep going."

"There's a ditch ahead," the lame woman said. "After you cross the ditch, the footprints will be all over the place."

That's right.

A thought struck me.

"After crossing the ditch, which way will you go?"

"There is a path on the right that leads back to the back slope of Ci'en Temple."

"What about the left side?"

"There's an abandoned kiln on the left; nobody goes there."

I immediately said, "After crossing the ditch, turn left first."

The lame woman paused for a moment.

"The left side is a dead end."

"The people who are pursuing us will think the same way."

She glanced at me but didn't say anything more.

We soon arrived at the ditch.

It's called a ditch, but it's more like a narrow stream that rushed out of the mountains. The water isn't deep, only up to your ankles, but the bottom is all moss-covered stones, making it extremely slippery.

The lame woman went first.

Fang Zhoushi was holding the child when she slipped as soon as she stepped on the ground.

I reached out and helped her up.

She instinctively tried to break free.

I said in a low voice, "Mrs. Fang, now is not the time to avoid suspicion."

She bit her lip and used my hand to cross the ditch.

The child lay on her shoulder, eyes wide open, like a frightened little animal.

After they passed by, I didn't follow immediately.

I squatted down, wiped my hand on the muddy ground by the ditch, and then deliberately stomped on the wood path on the right a few times.

The footprints were messy.

It looked like someone was running to the right in a panic.

Only after I finished doing all that did I step into the water.

The water is very cold.

It was so cold I almost gasped.

After crossing the ditch, I rubbed the soles of my shoes in the water a few more times to wash away the mud, and then followed the lame woman toward the abandoned kiln on the left.

We had just crawled into the weeds on the left when our pursuers reached the edge of the ditch.

"The footprints are to the right!"

"Chase!"

Someone jumped into the water and cursed, "Damn it, this road is so slippery."

The footsteps went to the right.

I stood in the grass, motionless.

Fang Zhoushi dared not make a move.

The child's face turned bright red, but he still didn't cry.

Only when the sounds faded into the distance did the lame woman breathe a sigh of relief and whisper, "Lord Shen, are you really an official?"

I glanced at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Officials usually don't know how to escape."

I thought about it.

"My appointment to this official position came rather suddenly."

Many of them also fled.

During the past ten days or so in Beijing, I have been either being watched, tested, or killed.

If things continue like this, I might be able to write a book called "A Guide to Escaping from Beijing".

Of course, once it's written out, most people probably won't dare to buy it.

We walked along the direction of the abandoned kiln for a while.

The abandoned kiln was located behind a collapsed slope and had long been abandoned. Half of the brick wall lay on the ground, and the entrance to the kiln was overgrown with weeds. Inside, it was dark and gloomy, like a wild beast with its mouth agape.

The lame woman stopped.

"We can hide here for a while, but we can't stay here for long."

I nodded.

"Rest for ten breaths."

Fang Zhoushi sat behind a half-brick wall, holding her child, her whole body still trembling.

I leaned against the kiln wall and took out the old paper from my pocket.

The roll of paper was wrapped in old cloth and covered in dust. Inside, there were five sheets of paper.

It is not a complete ledger.

It wasn't an official account book either.

It's more like drafts, rough calculations, transcriptions, and personal notes torn from different places.

The text is very small.

Densely packed.

At first glance, it looks like a bunch of numbers without any order.

But after reading only a few lines, my breathing slowed down.

Because I saw "Yokozan".

I saw "bluestone" again.

Next, there is a number:

Three thousand two hundred square meters.

These are the numbers recorded in the Ministry of Works' ledgers.

The Yongning River channel was repaired with 3,200 cubic meters of Hengshan bluestone.

But below this old piece of paper, there is a line of smaller print:

The actual income is 1,760 square meters.

I stared at those words for a long time.

One thousand seven hundred and sixty.

The account reported 3,200, but the actual amount received was 1,760.

There was a discrepancy of 1,440 cubic meters.

Based on the account of two taels and three mace per cubic meter, the stone material alone was more than three thousand taels short.

Not to mention the subsequent transportation costs, labor costs, mortar, and timber.

I suspected there was something wrong with the stone.

But guessing is one thing, seeing the numbers is another.

The ledger is deceiving.

Stones can be deceiving.

The government is deceiving people.

But private accounts don't just write down this number for no reason.

I flipped to the second page.

The above shows the construction period.

The official accounts are reported for six months.

The old paper says:

Eighty-seven days of actual work.

Less than three months.

The third image shows the number of craftsmen.

The official account reported a maximum of 320 people.

Written on old paper:

The original number was 127, but later it fell to less than 40.

My finger stopped on the paper.

This matches what the old man washing clothes by the Yongning River said.

There were at most a hundred or so people, but the number gradually decreased until only twenty or thirty remained at the end.

Fang Yuanshi did not lie.

The old man wasn't lying.

The Ministry of Works' accounts were lying.

I continued reading.

On the fourth sheet of paper, there is a line that has been soaked in water, and the ink is somewhat blurred.

However, a few words can still be made out:

The remaining silver entered...

The last two characters are illegible.

I frowned.

Turn the paper up to the light.

The ink was so blurred that only a radical could be vaguely seen.

Like "ku".

It also resembles "府" (fu).

Further down to the bottom right corner, there is a small character.

money.

Not the full name.

It's just the word "money".

The writing was very light, as if Fang Yuanshi had made the mark himself.

My heart sank slowly.

money.

Qian Rong, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works, also had the surname Qian.

But this doesn't directly prove it was him.

It could be "treasury", "fund approval", or a code for an account.

But in any case, the appearance of this word is too coincidental.

It's such a coincidence that I dare not call it a coincidence.

Seeing my expression change, Fang Zhoushi asked in a low voice, "What's written inside?"

I closed the paper again without answering immediately.

"Madam Fang, are these papers just copies?"

She looked at me with a wary and fearful gaze.

"I have no idea."

Did Fang Yuanshi mention where the original ledger pages are?

She tightened her grip on the child.

This action has already answered me.

she knows.

But she didn't want to say.

I softened my voice: "I'm not forcing you. But you should understand that these few sheets of paper can prove that there are problems with the Ministry of Works' accounts, but they may not be enough to convict them. Those people in the court will say that these are forgeries, that your husband wrote them carelessly before he was punished, and that I framed the Ministry of Works in order to gain merit."

Her face turned pale.

I continued, "To shut them up, we need the original ledger pages, or something that corroborates these numbers."

She lowered her head and didn't look at me.

I didn't rush them.

The wind is very strong outside.

It was very dark inside the abandoned kiln.

After a long silence, she whispered, "He said there was half a secret book."

A thought struck me.

"Where?"

She shook her head.

He didn't tell me.

"Then who did he tell?"

She hesitated for a moment.

The child in her arms suddenly whispered, "Little Stone."

Fang Zhoushi suddenly covered the child's mouth.

I looked at the child.

"Who is Little Stone?"

Fang Zhoushi's eyes were filled with panic.

"The child is talking nonsense."

The child's mouth was covered, but his eyes were looking at me.

Those eyes were so clean.

So clean that he can't lie.

I didn't pressure the child; I only looked at Fang Zhoushi.

"Madam Fang, we are being chased. They're not here to scare you; they're after something. If you don't tell me, I can't protect you, nor can I protect these papers."

Her tears fell again.

"Little Stone is not a person."

"What is that?"

"It was a stone doll he made for the child." Her voice was low. "It was a blue stone he picked up on the riverbank, and he rubbed its eyes and nose on it. The child loved it and always slept with it. After the incident, my husband said that if anyone ever found this place, he would make sure the child remembered three words."

"Which three words?"

Fang Zhou looked at me, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

"Looking for Xiao Shi."