Luo returned with the examination witnesses and stopped at the spill line. He had a fresh board under one arm and two blank statement sheets clipped to it. The candidates had held their place beyond the oil. Wei stood between them and Zhao, who was no longer near the laboratory door.
“Leave every weapon on the floor,” Luo said. “No one picks up a tool, moves the lantern, or steps over the marked line until I finish recording the scene.”
The two guards obeyed. One kept looking at the man Qinghe had checked, who sat with his back to the wall and a cloth beneath his head. The other stared at Yan’s torn sleeve. Neither reached for the weapons again.
Bai held up the refusal copy. “The original is on the banquet table. I can retrieve it when you’re ready.”
“Not yet. First, tell me where you found this.”
“At the corridor bench outside the banquet room. Yan gave it to me before the attendants closed the passage. The original remained on the table.”
Luo wrote that down. Bai watched him spell the room’s name correctly, then asked him to add that he had not moved the contract.
“I will record that you did not touch it.” Luo tapped the sheet. “The clerk can confirm its position when I send someone in.”
