Eighty-Four Taels

The second shop’s tenant holds his receipt out to me with both hands, as though I might charge him for the paper too.

“Eighty-four taels,” he says. “Paid to the Gu household. It says I’m covered through the eighth month.”

Gu Shiyan glances at the receipt, then at the key ring on the counter. “The shop is being returned. The rent was already put toward its upkeep.”

I take the receipt. The ink is clear. So is the seal.

“Then show me the upkeep.”

The tenant looks from Gu to me, waiting to learn whether he needs to pack his goods. Behind us, Pei Shuying stands with the shop steward, her hands folded inside her sleeves. She came to witness the handover. I make sure she sees every line.

Gu’s mouth tightens. “There were repairs.”

“Good. We can subtract documented repairs from the rent you collected. Where are the records?”

He doesn’t answer at once. That pause is expensive. It tells me how much he expects a claim to be worth when no one asks him to prove it.

The shop is small, but the shelves are full of folded cloth and household goods. The tenant has kept it tidy. He has also kept his receipt, which may be the most carefully guarded object in the room.

Gu reaches for it. “I need to verify the date.”

I keep it in my hand. “You can read it from there.”

He reads it. The receipt bears his household’s seal and a clerk’s signature. It records the 84 taels and the months covered. The tenant didn’t invent a term. He paid for it, and the Gu household accepted the money.

“Do you have the ledger?” I ask.

Gu’s attendant brings a thin book from the carriage. Gu flips through it, stopping at an entry marked with the shop’s address. The amount matches. The words beside it say advance rent.

I tap the page. “That is the money you collected.”

“I’ve already said it went toward the property.”

“You’ve said there were repairs. That isn’t an account.”

His eyes lift to mine. “Must we turn every handover into an accusation?”

“If you don’t want an accusation, bring the receipts.”

Pei Shuying shifts beside the steward. A month ago, she would have urged me not to embarrass him in front of the tenant. Today she looks at the ledger instead.

“Gu Shiyan,” she says, “if repairs were paid from this rent, the amounts should be written down.”