Archivist Du led the group down a narrow stair into the hospital archive. The air smelled of damp paper and antiseptic. He carried the inventory book in one hand and a key ring in the other.
“The plans stay in the room,” he said. “You may inspect them and request a verified copy. The originals do not leave the cabinet.”
Gu nodded. “That’s reasonable.”
The plans had been filed under furnace channels. Du set them on a padded table and opened the folder. Several sheets showed a safer arrangement: qi would pass through several local regulators instead of relying on one central feed. Gu’s signature sat at the bottom of the main sketch.
Beside it was a rejection stamp: “reduces central oversight; higher maintenance cost.”
Gu went still. Yan watched his face rather than the paper.
“You drew these?”
“Years ago.” Gu’s voice was quiet. “I thought a provincial pilot might still be approved if I stayed inside the Registry. When my access narrowed, I resigned and kept copies. I believed they might matter later.”
