The heavy oak door of the second floor office slammed shut, locking out the noise of Ministry Lane and leaving Han Ping alone in the dim amber glow of a single tallow candle. Across the polished oak desk lay the stolen tax records, forged customs manifests, and embezzlement ledgers detailing Minister Zhao's illegal financial empire. Every page represented an unanswerable indictment of treason, extortion, and state plunder that would dismantle the Silk Road Chamber of Commerce by morning.
Han Ping rolled the thick sheaves of parchment into a tight cylinder, sliding the documents inside a heavy tin tube designed to protect against moisture and fire. He picked up a stick of red sealing wax, holding the wax over the candle flame until a pool of thick crimson liquid formed around the rim. He p
