The days passed in heavy labor and unbroken vigilance.
Lin Yan—once the honored scion of the Ling clan—was no longer the desperate fugitive crawling through a drainage tunnel, nor the boy who needed old Zhong to shield him. Now, he lived as a silent, diligent, almost invisible menial in the Sishui Town inn.
Chopping firewood, hauling water, mucking out the stables—tasks he once would never have touched—became the pillars of his survival. The rough handle of the axe raised blisters, then hardened them into calluses. The yoke weighed red welts onto his shoulders, but also gave strength to his once-slender frame. At night, he curled in the dampest corner of the common dormitory, clutching the jade pendant and the iron token to his chest, eyes wide open in the dark, replaying every detail of his family's destruction, chewing over the bitter sediment of his hatred.
Innkeeper Wang seemed satisfied enough with his performance. At the very least, the bowl of watery porridge and the rock-hard bun were given to him on time each day. Zhao Qi, the young constable, dropped by occasionally—sometimes during patrols, sometimes just to chat. He would slip Lin Yan a piece of fruit, a strip of malt candy. That unearned kindness brought a fleeting warmth to Lin Yan's frozen heart, but also sharpened his awareness: he could not live on pity. He had to prove his worth, to show value beyond that of a menial, if he wanted to truly secure his place.
The chance came one quiet afternoon.
In the main hall, a silk merchant was red-faced and shouting at Innkeeper Wang. He claimed that two bolts of fine Hangzhou silk he had deposited at the inn had vanished, and he swore someone in the inn had stolen them. Wang, equally furious, swore by his ancestors that the inn had never lost a guest's goods. He countered that the merchant must have made a mistake—or worse, was trying to extort money.
"I handed them over with my own hands!" the merchant shouted, voice shaking. "To your servant, into Storehouse A, Room Three! They're gone now—if you didn't steal them, who did?"
"Nonsense!" Wang slammed the counter with his palm. "The key to Storehouse A, Room Three is held only by me and Old Zhang. He's been with me for over ten years—he would never dare! Where's your receipt, then? The deposit slip?"
The merchant faltered. "That day, it was crowded… your man said the slips had run out, promised to fill it later. I trusted him—how was I to know…"
"Without a slip, you've got nothing to say!" Wang roared. "Who knows if you're trying to skip out on storage fees?"
The argument drew a crowd. Zhao Qi tried to mediate, but with no proof either way, he was helpless.
Lin Yan, chopping wood in the back, set down his axe and silently stepped closer. He had noticed something: when the innkeeper mentioned Storehouse A and keys, a young errand boy who cleaned that area had flinched—his hand unconsciously touching his waist. Not guilt… but unease.
The quarrel was about to turn violent. Lin Yan drew a steadying breath. He needed this chance.
He stepped up beside Wang and spoke in a low but clear voice:
"Master Wang, may I say a word?"
The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to the normally invisible drudge.
"This has nothing to do with you, Lin Yan. Back to work," Wang snapped.
But the merchant seized on it like a drowning man to driftwood. "Let him speak! Maybe he saw something!"
Ignoring the innkeeper's scowl, Lin Yan fixed his gaze on the errand boy.
"Brother Li, I recall two days ago, at midday—you complained of a strange smell near Storehouse B, Room One. You thought a rat had died inside, so you asked the innkeeper for a key to check, didn't you?"
The youth froze, startled that Lin Yan remembered such a trivial detail. He nodded nervously. "Y-yes, I did…"
Lin Yan turned to the innkeeper. "Master Wang, are the keys to Storehouse A and Storehouse B the same?"
"No," Wang frowned. "They're different." Then his eyes narrowed as he caught Lin Yan's meaning.
Lin Yan pressed on, voice calm but firm: "Brother Li, when you carried that key, are you certain you opened Room One of Storehouse B? Could you, in your hurry, have unlocked the door right beside it—Storehouse A, Room Three? The locks look nearly the same."
The boy's face went chalk white. He stammered, "I-I don't remember… maybe… maybe I was rushing—"
"Then let us check," Lin Yan said, tone still even but with an edge of command. "If the goods were misplaced, they will be there. If not, the truth will stand clear."
The suggestion hung in the air.
Without a word, Wang seized the keys and led the way. Zhao Qi, the merchant, and the crowd followed eagerly.
The lock turned. The door swung open.
There, half-buried among dusty crates, gleamed two bolts of Hangzhou silk.
The merchant cried out, rushing forward to clutch them, laughing and weeping at once. Wang exhaled in relief, then spun on the pale, trembling errand boy with a glare sharp enough to cut. "Useless fool! We'll settle this later."
But when his eyes returned to Lin Yan, they carried something new—not contempt, not dismissal, but a flicker of respect, surprise, and a faint, wary calculation.
"Lin Yan…" He clapped the young man's shoulder heavily. "Sharp eyes. Quick wits. Without you, today would have ended badly."
Zhao Qi grinned, punching Lin Yan lightly in the chest. "Didn't expect this from you! Smarter than half of us constables."
Lin Yan bowed slightly, voice low. "I was only lucky. Hardly worth such praise."
Yet in that humility lay something else—something Innkeeper Wang's sharp merchant's gaze did not miss.
That night, Lin Yan's supper bowl contained a small strip of salted pork.
But when he lay down on the hard wooden bed, he felt the weight of curious and distant stares from the others.
No longer invisible.
Eyes closed, he replayed the innkeeper's look—that measured glance that seemed to say: I know you are not what you appear to be.
A double-edged sword. Recognition, yes—but attention, too.
Outside, the moon was cold and pale. Lin Yan understood: the waters of Sishui Town ran deeper than he had imagined. He had taken his first step into them. There would be no turning back.