O Roubo da Prata Refinada

Year twenty-three of Yuan Chang, Great Ning Dynasty, ninth day of the sixth month, Western Capital’s Silver Mine.

It had rained for three days, the drizzle swelling into a torrential downpour since the hour of the Ox. The sky hung like a colossal waterfall, indifferent as it unleashed an endless deluge.

Half an hour ago, word arrived: the embankment of the Changbai River, five li from the mine, was showing signs of instability, threatening to breach.

Shen Jifeng stood beneath the grass awning at the mouth of the mine, watching the rain cascade down the mountain, gathering in the hollows of the mining grounds, forming murky pools. She pressed her waterproof cloak tighter around her; moisture seeped in everywhere, and even in June, a shiver ran through her.

“Someone, gather everyone from the mine—build the embankment!”

Shen Jifeng stepped into the driving rain, pacing out a route roughly a hundred zhang long. Li Leqi, the mine’s overseer, hesitated a moment, sighed, and followed her.

“Princess, the wind and rain are fierce. If anything is needed, let the likes of me handle it. You are of noble birth—how can you toil in the mud?”

Shen Jifeng wiped her face; the rain was so fierce that in moments she was soaked through.

“This is no time for such talk! The mine is already at risk of collapse because of the rain. If floodwaters pour in, Uncle Li, I’ve signed the death warrant—I promised His Majesty to produce silver within three months. Two months remain. If we fail, we all die.”

Li Leqi cursed himself for losing his head