On the journey back to the manor, Wangcai trotted along beside him.
“Third Young Master, I still don’t get what you meant about him using up his luck.”
“I told him to stop gambling to save his life.” Shen Xian twirled his fan.
Thirty taels silver could buy him two acres of farmland and marry a wife to live honestly.”
“But will he listen?”
“Almost certainly not.” Shen Xian said bluntly.
“I can give him advice.
Whether he takes it is fate.
That is the only truth five years in the workplace taught me.”
Dusk fell as they reached the manor gate.
Lanterns hung on the second‑gate veranda.
Steward Shen Zhong waited beneath the light, as if expecting them.
“Third Young Master.
How fares the investigation?” Shen Zhong smiled, eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“Night draws near.
The master awaits your report.”
“Almost done.” Shen Xian returned the smile.
“Uncle Zhong, I have one quick question.
Which servants carry wooden household‑issued tokens at their waists?”
“Tokens?” Shen Zhong’s eyelid twitched.
“Guards, purchasing agents, gate‑keepers… many servants carry them.
Why do you ask?”
“Nothing, just curious.” Shen Xian yawned.
“A full day investigating has worn me out.
I shall retire for the night.
Rest early yourself —‑‑ tomorrow will be very lively.”
He walked away with hands behind his back, leaving Shen Zhong standing under lantern light.
Bit by bit, every trace of his smile faded.
The bait is laid.
Square‑jawed, forty‑something, wooden token carved “Shen”.
How many middle‑aged male servants of the Shen Manor fit that description?
Shen Xian already suspected who it was, yet he chose not to strike tonight.
Returning to West Courtyard, he ordered Wangcai to drag a chair into the middle of the yard and sat down, propping his legs up.
Bring a plate of melon seeds and a pot of cold tea.
Wangcai, drag the bedding out of my room to air out.
No sun left, but we need the ritual.”
The two servants exchanged confused glances.
“Third Young Master, are we not hunting the thief?”
“No rush to catch thieves.” Shen Xian cracked open melon‑seed shells between his teeth.
“The thief is far more anxious than we are.
He will not sleep a wink tonight.”
That night in West Courtyard of the Shen Manor.
Shen Xian lay on the yard chair under a thin blanket, sleeping soundly like a plump Buddha.
Wangcai and Laifu squatted on either side of the veranda, each clutching a wooden cudgel, nodding off intermittently.
At the second watch hour, faint soft footsteps approached through the moon‑gate archway.
Laifu jolted awake and tried to stand, but Shen Xian held him down with one hand.
In darkness, a shadow crept along the wall and slipped into the side quarters.
Quiet rummaging noises came from within: mattresses flipped, chests searched, even ceiling beams prodded.
Finding nothing, the shadow cursed quietly and turned to leave.
“Uncle Zhong.
Looking for something?” Shen Xian sat upright in the yard, voice calm and clear.
“Shall I light you a lantern?”
Lanterns blazed to life.
Wangcai and Laifu each held one, flooding the doorway with brilliant light.
Steward Shen Zhong froze on the threshold, a scrap of pried window‑paper still clutched in his hand.
“Third Young Master.” He recovered instantly, plastering on a smile.
“I‑I heard strange noises coming from this yard.
Fearing intruders, I came to investigate…”
“Oh‑hh.” Shen Xian drew out the word.
“What loyal devotion to duty.
Investigating intruders by prying open my window‑paper with your mouth?
Even the county magistrate’s bailiffs ought to learn that trick from you.”
Shen Zhong’s fake smile collapsed.
“Let me guess what you seek.” Shen Xian stood and strolled slowly forward.
“The pawn‑ticket from Ruifeng Pawnshop.
You know I visited Tongbao Gambling House.
You know that fool Broken‑Finger Liu likely betrayed you.
And you know that ginseng still sits preserved in Ruifeng Pawnshop’s ice cellar.
Shen Zhong stepped backward.
“Unfortunately for you, Uncle Zhong.” Shen Xian sighed.
“I never carried the real pawn‑ticket on my person.”
He pulled a sheet of paper out from his robe and unfolded it slowly under lantern light, reading aloud.
“Look closely —‑‑ I asked Brother Liu San to go to the scribe’s shop in town this afternoon and make four copied transcripts.
One stays in my room, one under my pillow, one…” He paused.
“One has already been sent outside the manor.
Guess who holds it?”
Shen Zhong’s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.
“Spare my life, Third Young Master!
I was only following orders!”
“Who ordered you?”
Shen Zhong’s lips trembled, afraid to utter a single word.
Shen Xian did not press.
He simply stood and waited.
Night wind swept through the courtyard, lantern flames flickering.
After a long moment, Shen Zhong broke, tears in his voice.
“It‑‑‑ it was the madam.
The madam said the eldest young master gambled away the birthday ginseng to settle his gambling debts.
If this scandal came out, the Shen family’s honor and the eldest young master’s future would be ruined.
You are but an illegitimate son.
You could take the blame and spend a couple years in the mine.
Madam promised to promote me to chief steward if I succeeded…”
“Just a couple years.” Shen Xian repeated those words quietly, then laughed.
“Uncle Zhong, do you know most prisoners sent to Blackrock Mine do not survive two years?”
“I‑‑‑ I truly did not know.”
“You know now.” Shen Xian folded the paper and tucked it back into his robe.
“Stand.
Lead me to the master.
Repeat every word you just spoke.
Speak clearly, speak loudly.
The master is old; his hearing is poor.”