In front of everyone, the Directorate of Celestial Records' Registry Office accused Shen Wuzheng of forging a book of fate and changing people's destinies, then ordered her sent to the Heavenly Prison. In the crowd, Lu Chengyan examined the Registry Office seal at the lower right corner of the yellow paper. The two corners on the left were deeply impressed, the two on the right were shallow, and the middle stroke was broken. It was a newly carved stamp, its blade marks still rough. The genuine seal had been used for forty years; its face was worn smooth, leaving an even vermilion impression. He counted seven constables. The leader's waist plaque was from this month's third rotation, while the heel of the second-to-last constable's right boot was worn down, marking him as someone who had spent years carrying documents. The man standing outside with a hand on his saber held it two fingers lower than the others, a copyist temporarily drafted into the escort detail. By the rules, the Registry Office handled records, not criminal cases. This paper had neither the chief registrar's verification nor the Ministry of Justice's countersignature. It had only a newly made seal. The leader blurted out, "How do you know?" The crowd buzzed and turned their heads, edging forward. As the prison cart rolled over the threshold, the half of a broken copper nail his father had given him twelve years ago rang softly in his palm, as if someone standing impossibly high and far away had given the scales a light, measured tap.
