Detonation

"Greetings to you, sirs," a voice rang out as a woman approached the duo of finely dressed men standing at the center, a man following behind her. Both dressed in silk, their robes dancing to their every step.

"Are you the owner of this establishment?"

Mingyao tilted her head slightly then a simple smile. "I wouldn't say I am the owner, but rather a cog in the machine. However, if you have any inquiries, I would be happy to assist you."

A scoff.

"If you are not the owner, then step aside and do not waste His Lordship's time." his face twisting, it was clear disdain.

"And you are?" Mingyao asked, unruffled. 

"That is not important," he snapped. 

The older of the pair raised a hand—a cue for his subordinate to hold his tongue. 

He proceeded.

"If you could summon the head of this bank, I would appreciate it." His deep voice weighting the hall.

"That would be me, sir."

A derisive breath. "I thought you said you were not the owner." the younger of the two cut in

"As I mentioned, I am merely a cog in the machine—think of me as the figurehead of a group of noble businessmen."

The senior official hummed, his gaze scrutinizing. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes. If there is anything I can assist you with, please feel free to ask."

His silence stretched for a beat too long, then— "Then you won't mind if I take a look around?"

"Of course not, sir," Mingyao said smoothly her hands folding neatly in front of her. "But may I inquire who you are?"

"How dare you, a mere woman, demand His Lordship's name?"

The man dressed in senior Censorate attire raised his hand again, a command for his junior to calm down.

"I am Wei Zhongren from the Censorate, and this is my subordinate, Han Zexian. We have reason to suspect that this establishment was founded through corrupt means. It would be in your best interest to cooperate with our investigation."

Mingyao dipped her head. "By all means."

Before anything else could be said, a shuffle of footsteps echoed against the wooden floor. A man, breathless and disheveled, burst forward. His clothes were patched in places, but he had done his best to maintain some dignity in his appearance. He clutched the hem of Mingyao's robes, his fingers trembling..

"Please, miss, I need this loan! There are still vacancies among the 20 business spots. I don't understand why they rejected me, but I promise to repay it in full. My business is struggling, and after the damages caused by those masters' fights, I can't afford to recover on my own!" He breathed the paragraph in a single breath.

His grip was tight, his knuckles turning white.

Mingyao met the man's face— teary eyes, anxious movements, and desperate expression. It was all too raw.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mo Yan and the others moving swiftly to pull the man away, but she lifted a hand—halt.

The bank members froze, watching her carefully.

She knelt down to the man's level, gently grasping his elbows to help him up.

She studied him again.

This must be some kind of test—or sabotage, she thought. She needed to appear both kind and firm, benevolent yet business-minded. She couldn't simply approve the loan out of sympathy.

"What reason did they give for rejecting your application?"

The man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "My profit margins over the years have been low," he admitted, his fingers curling into fists. "But you must understand—this business has been in my family for generations. I can't lose it to debt!"

Mingyao paused, contemplating her next words. But before she could speak—

"Miss? What was your name again?"

Mingyao's mind raced as she considered which alias to use. Her gaze landed on a familiar face, and she instinctively defaulted to her other fake identity.

"Shen Yueqing," she replied before she could fully process her decision. "My name is Shen Yueqing."

"Alright, Miss Shen Yueqing, can we move on? My superior is a busy man."

"Just give me a moment," Mingyao replied before turning back to the man. "Did you say your business is a family business?"

"Yes."

"I understand, but the assessors must have had a valid reason for rejecting your loan. Why don't you try the other bank? They might be more willing to consider your case."

The man shook his head vehemently. "No, I can't. The other bank's interest rates are far too high—I wouldn't be able to keep my business afloat. This bank is my only hope."

Mingyao's fingers tightened slightly against his elbows.

She sighed. "I understand your plight, but there's nothing I can do about your situation."

The man's face crumbled. "Please, Miss, I'm begging you!"

A beat of silence.

Then, softly— "I can try."

His head snapped up.

"What kind of business do you run?"

The man hesitated, his fingers tightening around the fabric of his sleeve. "It's a restaurant—one that has been passed down through generations."

Mingyao's eyes gleamed. "What kind of food do you serve? Roast duck with crisped skin? Soft, golden eggs steeped in soy? Braised pork that melts at the touch of chopsticks?" Her words tumbled out, quick and eager. "Do you have a secret recipe, something that makes your restaurant truly one of a kind?"

The man blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh...?"

Han groaned. "Miss Shen, could you stop with these sentimental inquiries and take my superior—"

"Censor Han," Wei Zhongren interrupted. "Let her finish."

"As you wish, Senior."

Mingyao continued, "Does your restaurant have something that sets it apart from the rest?"

"I believe so, Miss. We have a family recipe that has been passed down for generations."

"Alright. I can't approve the loan, but I do love food—especially family-run businesses with history behind them. Here's what I propose: I will visit your restaurant the day after tomorrow and see for myself how good your food is. If I'm satisfied, I will provide you with the money you need—but under one condition."

"Miss Shen, how—"

"Let her finish, Censor Han."

"I will treat your restaurant as one of our businesses. I will provide the necessary funds to help you run it smoothly. You will retain only enough profit to support yourself, while the rest will go toward repaying my investment. Once I have recouped my money and I am satisfied with the business, we can negotiate a new partnership, free from my control. However, if the restaurant fails, I will take over completely, and you will become just another worker there. Is that acceptable to you?"

The man's throat bobbed, his fingers twitching at his sides. A heavy silence stretched between them before he finally exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I accept."

Then, without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, bowing deeply until his forehead nearly touched the floor. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a slip of paper, offering it with both hands. "This bears the name of my restaurant. I will await your arrival, Miss Shen."

Mingyao took it, running her fingers over the inked characters before tucking it into her sleeve.

The man then walked out.

"That was well-handled, Miss Shen," Censor Wei remarked, impressed by her skills. "I trust you will keep your word to that man?"

"Of course, Your Lordship."

"Now, Right this way," Mingyao said as she led the two censors toward the inner rooms, one of which was the office she had set up for this very scenario.

She waved to an attendant, signaling them to escort the familiar face—Rouyan—to another room, where she would meet with her after finishing with the officials. Mo Yan, who had been silently observing, followed the attendant.

Mingyao led the two censors down the hall, her blue robes billowing behind her like banners in a war. The air in the corridors was packed with the scent of ink and parchment, mingling with the faint, bitter aroma of tea left forgotten on a nearby tray. 

They arrived at the door.

Without hesitation, Mingyao reached for the wooden screen door leading to her office. The lacquered frame felt smooth beneath her fingers as she slid it open

Inside the office, warm golden light filtered through a lattice window, illuminating the polished surface of an expansive wooden desk.

Neatly stacked documents rested beside a jade paperweight, while a slender brush lay across an open inkstone, its bristles still dark with lingering strokes of calligraphy. Heavy wooden chairs stood before the desk, their curved backs carved with delicate patterns of twisting vines.

"Now, my dear censors, please have a seat," she said, gesturing toward the chairs.

Censor Wen settled into the chair, smoothing the wrinkles in his robe. Across from him, Censor Han sat straighter, his fingers twitching at his sleeves, restless like a hawk on the verge of flight.

"Miss Shen, where are the permits for this bank?" 

"Right here," Mingyao replied as Bai Ling handed her the documents.

She passed them to Censor Wen. The parchment rustled as Censor Wen unfolded it, his fingers tracing each line with meticulous scrutiny. His eyes flickered over official seals, stamped approvals, and elegant calligraphy. The silence stretched as he lingered over a particular page, his index finger tapping against a letter of recommendation.

"The permits seem to be in order," he said at last. However, he continued to tap the letter of recommendation. "But suspicions of royal involvement remain high."

Mingyao leaned forward slightly. "I swear, Your Lordship, the Fourth Prince is not involved in the bank's activities. He merely assisted in acquiring the permits to aid in disaster relief after the duel between the masters." 

Censor Wen let out a slow breath through his nose, his gaze lingering on her, weighing her words.

"I would like to believe you, Miss Shen, but…"

"What can I do to convince you?"

"We need to see some of the bank's ledgers," Censor Wen stated.

A pause. Just a breath.

"But isn't that private information, Your Lordship?" she countered.

"This is an investigation, Miss Shen. We require all your records, no matter how private."

Mingyao hesitated—just for a fraction of a second. Then she inclined her head. "Alright. I'll provide the bank's ledgers—nothing more."

Censor Han scoffed under his breath, barely concealing his impatience. Wen, however, merely nodded. "As I mentioned, this is an investigation. Just yesterday, your so-called Golden Alliance had several transactions. I'd like to review those records as well," Censor Wen added.

Mingyao's fingers twitched at her side, her nails digging slightly into her palm before she relaxed them. "But, Your Lordship, this is a breach of—"

Censor Wen's stare hardened. "Miss Shen, it's either that, or we ban you from conducting business and possibly exile you from the city."

A slow breath. A brief closing of her eyes. When she opened them, they were unreadable.

"...As you wish, Your Lordship. Bai Ling, bring the ledgers."

"Right away, my lady."

Bai Ling bowed and disappeared behind a carved wooden partition. When she returned, she carried the ledgers with both hands. She set them down with the faintest thud. 

Wen wasted no time flipping through the pages studying the details. The pages were pristine, the ink still fresh. The ledger was shallow—containing very little information, which was expected from a newly established business.

Censor Wen shook his head, unsurprised.

"Is this all?" he asked.

"Yes, that's all," Mingyao confirmed.

"Are you certain, Miss Shen?" Censor Han interjected. "The details seem… lacking."

"Of course, they're shallow, Censor Han. We only just started this business," she responded calmly.

Han folded his arms. "Then where is your money coming from? It must be from other businesses, unless…"

"As I've told you, this has nothing to do with the prince. The funds were provided by a group of benevolent merchants who wish to assist," Mingyao explained.

Censor Han scoffed, turning to his superior. "Senior, don't believe this woman! There must be underlying corruption here. Why don't we search this room for evidence?"

"Sir, that would be an illegal search, wouldn't it?" Mingyao countered.

"It would be quite uncouth, Junior Han," Censor Wen replied.

"But, Senior, what if there is actual evidence of corruption here? We could…"Han leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Get a promotion, don't you think?"

Censor Wen narrowed his eyes but nodded slightly. "Careful, Junior Han… but you do make a point." He turned back to Mingyao. "Miss Shen, if you don't mind, I'd like to conduct a search."

Mingyao let out a soft laugh—sharp, mirthless. "But, Censor Wen—"

"If you are as righteous as you claim, you have nothing to worry about," he said pointedly.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Mingyao let out a low, bitter chuckle. "You look down on me because I'm a woman, don't you?" 

"Miss Shen, this has nothing to do with your gender," Wen responded firmly.

"Of course, it doesn't," she said her tone sarcastic.

Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, she stepped aside. "Feel free to look around. After all, how dare a weak woman try to stand up for herself?"

Wen sighed. 

"We will be quick, Miss Shen. Apologies for the inconvenience," Censor Wen replied. "Junior Han, begin the search."

Han moved full of energy, eager—too eager. His fingers swept over desks, opened drawers, tapped on walls as if expecting a hollow space to reveal a hidden compartment. But as time passed, their search yielded nothing.

Minutes passed. Then—

Han's breath hitched.

His fingers brushed against the spot where Bai Ling had retrieved the ledgers earlier.

Bai Ling attempted to stop him, but Mingyao gestured for her to let him proceed.

Censor Han's eyes lit up as he spotted a different ledger.

"Senior! Look!" He snatched up the ledger, his hands trembling slightly with excitement.

"Miss Shen, what is this?" Censor Wen demanded.

Mingyao barely spared the ledger a glance. "A ledger."

"Then why didn't you present it to us earlier?"

Han grinned. "Senior, it must contain records of their crimes!"

Mingyao smirked. "It does not. But since you are so convinced that I am a criminal, why don't you take a look at it?"

Censor Wen hesitated for a moment, thrown off by Mingyao's confidence. Nonetheless, he decided to inspect the ledger, determined to call her bluff.

But when he read the contents, his jaw dropped.

The ledger detailed numerous crimes—records of illegal transactions and corruption. However, as he examined it further, his expression darkened.

"Miss Shen… is this yours?"

Mingyao folded her arms across her chest. "I suggest you check the owner's name before turning your fury toward me."

Censor Wen flipped to the front page and read it aloud. "This is the ledger for… the other bank?"

"These are serious crimes, Senior. Could it be a setup?" Censor Han asked in disbelief.

Wen exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the incriminating book. "I don't know," he murmured, eyes shadowed with thought. "But we will have to investigate this further."

Mingyao merely smiled. "I suggest you do."