The winds from Cining Palace had not yet reached the Imperial Kitchen.
But panic had already arrived first.
Before dawn broke,
the rear hall of the Internal Affairs Bureau's Kitchen Office was blazing with light.
Qing Tian sat at the head seat.
She hadn't touched her tea.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the man it had taken countless days to finally uncover—
"The Iron Abacus."
"Director Qing."
A quiet voice announced from outside.
"The Iron Abacus… has been brought in."
His real name was Zhou Cheng.
He had worked as a clerk in the Internal Affairs Bureau for over thirty years.
The silver that had passed through his ledgers could have filled an entire lake.
He held no official authority.
Never stepped into the spotlight.
But he knew everything.
The door slowly opened.
A frail old accountant was shoved inside.
So thin he looked as if he might collapse.
The moment he entered, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor.
"D-Director Qing…"
His voice trembled.
He had never imagined that one day he would be investigated.
"This old servant… only keeps the accounts…"
Qing Tian didn't even look at him.
Instead, she opened a thick ledger.
"Last winter."
"The total grain allocation for the Imperial Kitchen…"
She read slowly.
Almost deliberately.
As if letting each word tighten the rope around the man kneeling before her.
"…differs from the actual warehouse intake by 7,460 jin."
The Iron Abacus jerked his head up.
His face turned completely white.
"You wrote this," Qing Tian said quietly.
"Correct?"
His lips trembled.
"…Yes."
Qing Tian closed the ledger.
"Then tell me."
"Where did the missing 7,460 jin of grain go?"
Silence filled the room.
Suddenly—
The Iron Abacus slammed his forehead into the floor.
Again.
And again.
"Director Qing, mercy!"
"I was forced! I had no choice!"
Qing Tian did not stop him.
She let him keep bowing—
Until blood appeared on his forehead.
In her heart,
she believed this was nothing more than the consequence of his own crimes.
The grain they had embezzled could have fed and saved countless lives.
Instead, they had traded it for their own profit—
Without a single thought for the lives below them.
Finally, Qing Tian spoke.
Only two words.
"Who is it?"
The Iron Abacus shuddered violently.
"It's… the Offering Office."
The air tightened instantly.
"Today," Qing Tian said coldly,
"you will explain everything here."
The old man's voice became hoarse.
"The shrine offerings… that's only part of it."
"The real grain enters the system through something called 'post-offering redistribution.'"
He swallowed hard.
"It's handed off by eunuchs… distributed to temple officials… then passed through grain merchants outside the capital."
"Layer by layer, the records are washed clean."
"And in the end—"
He looked up.
His eyes full of despair.
"In the end… it's turned into silver."
"And that silver goes to—"
He never finished the sentence.
Outside—
Suddenly—
Rapid footsteps thundered down the corridor.
"Director Qing!"
Little Li burst in, his face deathly pale.
"Something's wrong!"
"The grain merchant detained at the Judicial Office last night…"
"…he hanged himself!"
The room fell silent.
Qing Tian slowly stood.
"When?"
"Just now?"
"Yes," Little Li said.
"And his testimony?"
"…He hadn't finished writing it yet."
"…He—"
The Iron Abacus collapsed completely onto the floor.
"It's over…"
"It's all over…"
But Qing Tian remained unnervingly calm.
She looked toward the door.
"Seal the Judicial Office."
"The accounting office."
"The grain warehouses."
"The Offering Office."
"Everyone involved."
"No one moves."
She turned back.
For the first time, her gaze was as sharp as a blade.
"They've started killing."
Her voice was ice.
"Just because I've found the trail…"
"They think they can silence it with blood?"
"How cruel."
"They want to erase the evidence."
Her fingers slowly tightened.
"But I will not let them succeed."
This was not a warning directed at her.
This was a cleanup operation.
And in this game—
She had already lost her chance to retreat.
Because she knew very well
that the next step
would reach far deeper.
Into the palace itself.