Pema set two relay lanterns across the ancestral hall courtyard. One stood beside the water cistern, the other near the gate. She checked each flame, then walked the route once to make sure a servant or cart would not block the light.
“We’ll use two projections,” Qinghe said. “Your body stays here by the measurement table.”
Yan smiled. “Ready.”
He opened the first branch and sent it to the cistern. A chalk mark sat on the stone above the waterline. The second branch reached the gate. A messenger had just entered carrying a blue bundle.
Yan could see both views while also watching the courtyard from his body. The cistern mark showed the water level was lower than yesterday. At the gate, the messenger’s bundle was blue, wrapped in oilcloth.
“Lower than yesterday by about a finger,” Yan reported. “The messenger has a blue bundle.” Han checked the chalk mark against the cistern rim. The surface had fallen by the width of a finger, just as Yan said. Lian opened the bundle to show a harbor schedule and a sketch of a mooring rope. The projection had identified its color, not the contents. That distinction mattered; the relay could tell them where to look, but a person still had to read the message.
