Xing Wuju pushed the incomplete case files on the Duhe salt smugglers in front of Qi Yan and told him to write the words "claim their lives." Qi Yan refused. He wanted to see the accounts. All forty-seven salt permits bore genuine seals. The ship manifests, listing three men, matched the tax records, which listed four, and the lock keeper's signature checked out. Three hundred shi had gone into the depot, three hundred and two were in storage, and three hundred and twenty-six had come out. The extra twenty-two shi was damp from the tide, not sand. No one in the hall said a word, but Xing Wuju's hand paused on the lampshade for half a moment.
