Tang’s first official case was disappointingly small.
A grain inspector outside Beijing had been taking bribes to certify spoiled stores as usable.
“No pirates?” Tang asked.
“No.”
“No poisoned darts?”
“No.”
“No mysterious cult?”
“Try to survive the boredom,” Lin said.
Tang spent two days interviewing warehouse workers and discovered that the inspector never accepted silver directly. He required merchants to lose money deliberately at a gambling house owned by his cousin.
The trick impressed Tang.
“Elegant.”
Lin looked at him.
“Criminal.”
“Those categories can overlap.”
Tang went undercover as a loud provincial merchant and lost magnificently for three nights.
On the fourth, the inspector arrived personally.
They arrested him before dawn.
No blades were drawn.
No one fell into a river.
Tang found the whole operation strangely satisfying.
On the ride back, Lin asked, “Disappointed?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because if you begin needing danger to feel useful, danger will eventually choose for you.”