Wei found the errors while comparing Qinghe’s injury notes with the candidate roster. He had spread both lists across the end of the registration desk, where the afternoon light fell cleanly through the window. Tao stood across from him with a brush tucked behind one ear.
“This one is wrong,” Wei said. “Qiao’s family name has a different final stroke.”
Tao leaned over the sheet. “The roster was copied in a hurry after the chamber closed.”
“His name was written correctly on the admission card.”
Yan was bringing a cup of water to the desk. He set it down and looked. “I heard Qiao correct it in the corridor. The last stroke turns left.”
Tao’s mouth tightened. “That is a small difference.”
“It is enough to make the list belong to someone else,” Wei said.
A voice came from the doorway. “It is my name.” Qiao stepped inside, his shoulder still wrapped and his sleeve pinned back so it would not pull. Lin followed him with her admission card in hand.
