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

A large crowd had gathered in front of the old warehouse. Seventeen and I stood separated by a rope. If the storytellers in the capital saw this scene, they could probably come up with ten different versions. What twin brothers, what Shen Lie's past romantic escapades, what Wang's substitution of the crown prince.

Fortunately, my mother didn't listen to storytelling. She only looked at the paper. "Don't acknowledge it yet," she said. This wasn't directed at me, nor at Seventeen. It was directed at everyone. Lin Huan took the "Return of Name Page," but didn't hand it to either party. He simply placed it on the central examination table, placing stones at the four corners.

Mother then said, "You two, first tell me what you did today." Seventeen looked at me. "You go first?" "Sure." The clerk opened two pages. One page said Shen An. The other page said Seventeen. It wasn't one true and one false, just the names they were giving.

I recounted what had happened on the way: I came from the capital; I carried the emperor's private seal and travel permit; I was accompanied by six Censorate officials, Bai Zhi, and A Liu; no troops were mobilized, no transfer order was issued, and I had no authority to arrest anyone simply because they resembled me. My mother asked, "Anything else?"

I thought for a moment. "When I received the first urgent report, I thought he would run away, so I had more people sent to the north gate." "And then?" "He didn't run away. The three merchants waited a moment longer." The clerk noted this down. Seventeen looked at me: "Does that count?" "It was a delay, that's for sure."

"You didn't arrest the wrong person." "Those three weren't here in Yong'an to help me investigate the case." He didn't speak. It was his turn. He entered the city with the Imperial Edict, the Censorate's transfer order, and the deputy seal of the patrol officer, using the name Shen An; he requested the original public account documents to be moved; he didn't draw his sword or enter the warehouse; after Gu Qinghe stopped him, he didn't force his way in.

Mother asked the same question: "Anything else?" Seventeen was silent for a moment. "I know the Inspector's Deputy Seal is now invalid." The surroundings suddenly fell silent. Ah Liu couldn't help but ask, "Knowing that, why use it?" "An invalid seal means no power," Seventeen said, "but it's true. It can get people to open the door."

That's honest. And also troublesome. "Who taught you that?" I asked. "The accountant." "Zhou Qi?" "She said Zhou Qi isn't alone." "Have you met her?" "No." "Then how do you pass on the message?" "The five-knot thread." Five knots again.

For any set of rules, as long as one outlives the person who invented them, whether that person is dead or alive becomes less important. I pointed to the old paper on the examination table. "Why do you believe this?" Seventeen looked at it. "Because it existed before I remembered myself." "What do you mean?"

"My earliest memories are only numbers." This time, he spoke slowly. A room without windows. Nineteen children. No names, only numbers one through nineteen. Seventeen was him. The first thing they learned wasn't how to kill. It was how to observe people. How to see which hand they used to hold chopsticks, which leg they took first when walking, whether they paused before calling "Mother," and whether they touched their sleeves or bowed their heads first when lying.

Later, I learned to remember routes, to learn accents, and to learn to write. Then, I learned something even stranger: filling in the blanks. "Where you don't know, you have to fill in the blanks in the most reasonable way," Seventeen said. Hearing this, I suddenly remembered that bowl of noodles. "So when my mother asked you what you ate, you answered noodles."

"Yes." "Why noodles?" "You were in the southwest when you were young. The most common food in the army was flatbread and noodles. Since she asked about going home, there's more likely to be hot food at home." Ah Liu's mouth dropped open. "That counts?" Seventeen looked at him: "I taught you."

I didn't laugh. It wasn't that he wasn't clever enough; on the contrary, he was too clever. He was taught from a young age that a blank was a mistake. If you didn't know something, you should quickly fill in the blank with the most reasonable thing possible. After the age of ten, only twelve of the nineteen children remained.

"Are the rest dead?" Bai Zhi asked. "I don't know." Seventeen paused after saying those three words, as if it were the first time she felt they could stand alone as an answer. "Someone told us they were dead. The beds were empty, and their names were added to the 'dead' group. We haven't seen the bodies."

"Did all twelve of them eventually get names?" "They all got usable names." Chen Ping. Lin Ping'an. Wei Zhi. Du Heng. And Shen An. Some people got more than one. Seventeen got "Shen An" because his figure was closest to an old register of identities.

The register read: Shen Lie's son, born to Gu Qinghe, disappeared in childhood. The mother remained silent until this point, when she finally asked, "Who told you you were my son?" "Many people." "Who?" "I don't know their names." "Do you remember me yourself?"

"I don't remember." "Do you remember Shen Lie?" "I don't remember." "Then do you know if you're my son?" Seventeen looked at her. After a long while, he said, "I only know that since I was little, someone told me that I'm another son you left behind."

Mother nodded. "I've only ever given birth to one baby boy who left the delivery room alive." Seventeen immediately asked, "Who can prove it?" The question was impolite, but it was valid. Mother didn't get angry. "The midwife died. The old servant of the Gu family also died. Shen Lie was in the army at the time."

"So you're the only one left to tell us." "Yes." She actually nodded. "So for the birth entry, write 'to be verified' for now." Someone in the crowd whispered. The mother ignored them. She didn't expect everyone to believe her memory just because she was the mother.

This was probably the first time Seventeen had encountered someone who could have used their status to suppress him, yet willingly included their own words in the evidence. Bai Zhi had already begun examining the return page. The paper was genuinely old. At least the bottom layer was very worn. Originally, it only had two characters: Seventeen.

Then people kept adding to it. Male. About eight years old. Right-handed. Good at remembering people. Later came: original name Shen An, father Shen Lie, mother Gu Qinghe. Further on were my official title, old injury on my left shoulder, and imperial son-in-law. The ink was divided into at least three layers.

The last layer, no more than three months ago. Bai Zhi laid out the rubbings. "The original page is genuine." Seventeen looked up. "The original name was added later." For the first time, his face was expressionless. "Was the left shoulder injury also three months ago?" I asked. "Yes."

"Who hurt me?" "Myself." Ah Liu gasped. Seventeen pulled open his collar. The location of the wound was very similar to mine, even differing in length by only half an inch. But the scab was still fresh. "They gave me a sample," he said. "The wound is three inches and seven-tenths of an inch long, located behind my left shoulder. I copied it."

"Why?" "Otherwise, it wouldn't sound like Shen An." "What about your voice?" "Throat medicine." "Your handwriting?" "I practiced for seven years." "My past?" "Lots of papers. People have asked people who know you about it." "What's the first private thing you know about me?"

"You didn't go home after your first murder." I looked at him. "Then why did you answer the door?" Seventeen lowered his head. "I was afraid that if I said I didn't know, she wouldn't recognize me." After he said that, Old Warehouse became even quieter. He wasn't trying to be a clever liar.

He was taught only one thing from a young age: only by filling in the blanks can one have the right to continue existing. Bai Zhi pressed the paper down again. Seventeen stared at the top line, "Original Name: Shen An," and asked his mother, "If this isn't my name, then what is it?"

His mother didn't name him. She said, "Seventeen is a number someone gave you, but it's also something that brought you to life. You can use it for now. What you call yourself later is up to you." "A number counts as a name?" "At least it's better than stealing someone else's name."

Ah Liu couldn't help but nod. I pushed a blank sheet of paper across the string. "Write something." Seventeen didn't take it immediately. "Write what?" "Write about today first." "What about today?" "You didn't move Yong An's accounts." He looked at me for a long time.

Finally, he lowered his head and wrote the first line on the paper, not practicing my handwriting: Seventeen. For the second line, he paused for a long time. Then he wrote: I know the secondary seal is obsolete, yet I still use it. His hand trembled slightly after finishing this stroke. Not because it resembled my handwriting.

It was because this was the first time he had used his own name to acknowledge the things he had done. He put down his pen and suddenly asked me, "Do you hate me?" "Why would I hate you?" "Because I came to steal your name." "A name isn't like the last bag of rice in a rice shop."

"Aren't you afraid?" "Yes." He seemed surprised by my quick answer. I pointed to his shoulder. "I'm afraid someone can train a person to the point where they're willing to cut themselves. I'm also afraid they'll use my name again to get others to do even more things."

Seventeen looked down at his injury, remaining silent. His mother arranged accommodation for him next to the old granary. There were guards outside, but the door was not locked. He couldn't leave Yong'an for the time being because the investigation into the Zhenxi scroll transfer wasn't finished; but that didn't mean he should be imprisoned as a criminal.

Ah Liu seemed quite uncomfortable carrying the bedding for him, constantly turning back to look at me. "Young Master, are you really letting him stay?" "What else?" "What if he runs off in the middle of the night?" Seventeen said from behind, "I won't." Ah Liu immediately asked, "Why should I believe you?"

Seventeen paused for a moment. "No. You can guard it." Ah Liu was speechless. That night, Yan Xiaoyi didn't guard Seventeen. He circled the four vehicles with permits for half the night. Just before dawn, he knocked me out of bed, carrying a piece of the vehicle's sideboard that he had just pried off.

"Lord Shen." "What?" "The cart is empty." "I know." "But an empty cart shouldn't be this heavy." He flipped the cart over. A stack of yellowed paper was revealed in the interlayer.