The first message came three days after she made her promise to the boy.
It was a small thing—a scrap of paper, folded twice, slipped under her door in the hour before dawn. Yulan found it when she came to light the lamps. She picked it up, examined it, and brought it to Liu Lanzhi's bedside with hands that did not quite steady.
"This was on the floor, Your Highness."
Liu Lanzhi took the paper. It was cheap, rough, the kind used by clerks and servants who could not afford better. The characters were uneven, written in a hand trying not to be recognized.
The Minister of Revenue met with the Prime Minister's steward last night. They spoke of the eastern trade routes. The minister left with a heavy purse.
She read it twice. Then she folded it back along its creases and tucked it into her sleeve.
"Who delivered this?"
Yulan shook her head. "I do not know, Your Highness. It was already here when I arrived."
