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... t have to apologize for.

Longzi shifted his weight a fraction. Not restlessness. Calculation.

"You want something," I told him.

"A headcount," he returned. "Not guards. Not ministers. The men and women who actually keep this place standing. Laundries. Oil-cellar. Night kitchen. People who move before dawn and after last bell. I want to know their names before they learn mine."

"You’ll get a list," Mingyu offered, reaching for a bamboo slip that wasn’t there becaus ...

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