Afternoon sunlight streamed through the clean glass windows of The Gilded Lily, illuminating the crowded interior where dozens of government scribes, junior clerks, and palace guards enjoyed warm leaf brew and sweet pastries. Forty eight hours had passed since the Silk Road enforcers issued their arrogant demand, and the tea house was buzzing with ordinary afternoon commerce. Han Ping stood behind the polished wooden counter, polishing a porcelain teacup while his heavy silver chains clinked against his emerald silk robes. The atmosphere inside the tavern was relaxed, completely belying the massive economic storm brewing beneath the surface of the capital streets.
Outside on the cobblestones of Ministry Lane, the rhythmic sound of heavy boots announced the arrival of trouble. Pedestrians
