Chen Fong found Lan Zhi in her private study, scrolls of financial records spread across her desk. Candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls as she worked late into the night, her brush moving with practiced precision across the parchment.
"The silk merchant's numbers don't align," she muttered without looking up. Her voice carried the soft edge of exhaustion.
"May I?" Chen Fong picked up one of the scrolls, his eyes scanning the columns of figures. After a while, something caught his eye. "There - he's hidden the true cargo volume behind split shipments."
Lan Zhi's brush paused mid-stroke. Her gaze followed his finger. Then she shook her head and glanced up. A pair of dark eyes studying him with the same measured calculation she applied to her ledgers. "I must be exhausted."
