Morning made the registry hall sound sharper.
Brushes scratched louder. Paper edges sounded like knives. Even footsteps seemed careful, as if everyone had learned overnight that the floor could accuse.
Wuchen stayed in Gu Yan's courtyard until Wei came for him.
Wei didn't explain. He only held out the flawed hour stamp wrapped in plain cloth.
"Don't touch it with bare fingers," Wei said.
Wuchen took the cloth bundle with both hands and bowed.
Gu Yan's voice from the pavilion was gentle. "Remember," he said, "you didn't steal it."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "Yes."
Gu Yan continued, calm as always. "You borrowed it from chaos," he murmured. "Now you return it to chaos through Jiang Ren."
Wuchen bowed again and left.
He didn't go to the registry hall first.
He went to where Jiang Ren liked to feel in control: the corridor outside the incense hall storehouse.
Jiang Ren was already there, as if he'd slept standing.
His eyes flicked to Wuchen's hands immediately.
"What did you do last night?" Jiang Ren asked softly.
Wuchen bowed low. He didn't answer the question. He answered the fear under it.
"This one went out," Wuchen said, letting his voice tremble slightly. "Unlogged. Like you said. It worked."
Jiang Ren's jaw tightened. "And?"
Wuchen slid the cloth bundle out with both hands but didn't unwrap it yet. "Someone is missing a stamp," he said quietly. "The registry clerks are searching."
Jiang Ren's eyes sharpened. His face stayed controlled, but his breath changed a fraction.
He knew.
Or he suspected enough to taste danger.
"You took something from the registry?" he hissed.
Wuchen lowered his gaze. "Senior Brother Gu ordered," he said softly, letting the truth land like a small stone.
Jiang Ren's mouth tightened hard. "Gu Yan is insane," he whispered. "That hall belongs to Han."
Wuchen didn't answer.
Jiang Ren stared at the bundle in Wuchen's hands like it was a snake. "What is it?" he asked.
Wuchen unwrapped it just enough to show the chipped handle. "Hour stamp," he said. "A flawed one."
Jiang Ren's eyes flashed. "That stamp is traced," he said, voice low and furious. "Clerks know its bite."
Wuchen bowed lower. "Senior Brother Gu wants it returned."
Jiang Ren's expression twisted. "Returned by you," he snapped.
Wuchen shook his head slightly. "Returned through you," he corrected gently, repeating Gu Yan's exact shape.
Jiang Ren froze.
For a heartbeat, his mask slipped and pure fear showed.
Because returning it through him meant his hands would be on the cure.
And whoever watched the cure would know whose sleeve held the sickness.
Jiang Ren's voice went cold. "You're trying to drag me under," he said.
Wuchen's throat tightened. "This one can't return it openly," he said softly. "I left unlogged. If I appear near the registry now, Han counts my steps."
Jiang Ren's eyes narrowed. "So you want me to walk it in and drop it like an accident," he said.
Wuchen bowed. "Yes."
Jiang Ren's fingers flexed once. His gaze flicked toward the registry corridor as if he could already see Han's teeth waiting there.
Then his eyes returned to Wuchen, sharp and hateful. "This is Gu Yan's trap," he said.
Wuchen didn't deny.
Jiang Ren swallowed hard, then reached out and snatched the cloth bundle. He didn't touch the stamp directly. He kept it wrapped.
"Fine," he hissed. "I'll return it."
Wuchen bowed deeply. "Gratitude."
Jiang Ren's smile was gone. "If Han bites," he said softly, "I will tell Han you were the one who used my pass."
Wuchen's stomach tightened.
He nodded as if frightened. "Yes."
Jiang Ren leaned in, voice low. "And you," he added, "you will tell Gu Yan to stop playing with Ridge Patrol. We're not outer trash."
Wuchen bowed again. "This one will report."
Jiang Ren turned and walked away fast, no longer measured. Fear made his steps betray him.
Wuchen stayed still until Jiang Ren vanished around the corridor corner.
Then he exhaled slowly.
Now came the part Gu Yan cared about more than the stamp itself.
Where would Jiang Ren go?
Straight to the registry?
To Han's clerk?
To a patrol superior to cover his hands?
Wuchen followed at a distance, using reflections and servant traffic to keep sight without being seen.
Jiang Ren didn't go to the registry hall.
He went to Ridge Patrol's side office first, a narrow door near the north wall with a small notch mark carved into the frame.
He knocked once and slipped inside.
Wuchen's stomach tightened.
So Jiang Ren needed permission.
Or he needed to move blame upward.
Wuchen waited in the corridor, pretending to carry paper bundles, listening to muffled voices behind the door.
A deeper voice spoke inside.
Low. Controlled.
An older patrol officer.
Then Jiang Ren's voice, quieter now, fast, urgent.
Wuchen couldn't make out words, but the shape was clear: confession without names. Fear without admission.
After a few minutes, Jiang Ren emerged, face smoother again, but paler. His sleeve looked heavier, as if someone had added paper to it.
He walked toward the registry hall now, but not through the main corridor.
He took a side passage that led to the clerks' back shelves.
A place servants used.
A place where things could "fall" and be found without anyone admitting they touched them.
Wuchen let him go.
He didn't need to see the exact moment the stamp returned.
He only needed to know one thing.
Jiang Ren had not trusted his own hands.
He had run to a superior first.
That was the answer Gu Yan wanted.
When Wuchen returned to Gu Yan's courtyard, he reported it cleanly.
"He went to Ridge Patrol office first," Wuchen said. "Spoke to an older officer. Then went to the registry back shelves."
Gu Yan's eyes brightened like a lamp flame fed fresh oil.
"Good," he murmured. "So Jiang Ren isn't acting alone."
Wei's voice was flat. "And the patrol line can be squeezed."
Gu Yan smiled faintly. "Everything can," he said softly.
He leaned forward, gentle. "You did well," he told Wuchen. "You returned a stolen tooth without leaving fingerprints."
Wuchen bowed, throat tight.
He had used Jiang Ren's pass, used Jiang Ren's fear, and used Jiang Ren's hierarchy to carry a cure into a place that would otherwise have bitten him.
The stamp would reappear.
Clerks would sigh in relief.
Han would pretend he'd never been worried.
And someone in Ridge Patrol would quietly start counting which junior patrol boys were getting too close to Gu Yan's runner.
The wax had softened.
Now it had been pressed.
And the first drip had begun.