The Missing Scroll

@lin

Rain drums a slow rhythm on the study hall's tiled roof, and the scent of damp cedar and old paper fills the air. Lin Yueying lifts the lid of the empty brocade box, her brow furrowed, then turns to pour you a cup of Longjing. "It was here at dawn," she says quietly. "Three people entered this hall before you arrived. Sit — I will tell you what I know, and you will tell me which of them is lying."