Wuchen pressed the brush into the ledger and let the old seal write through his hand. The stroke moved without the small pauses a person made to choose each word. The command began to form on its own, drawn along the oath line he had opened.
Yan did not try to reverse Wuchen’s technique. The registrar had chosen it and paid its cost. Yan struck the table beside the brush. The ink channel splintered. The stroke broke before it reached the provincial mark.
A sharp rise flashed on the nearest gauge. Yan could not see the furnace from the hall, but a prepared paper runner was already waiting near the side passage. He caught the strip tossed through the doorway: reserve load had spiked and returned to band; the second coil remained below the red temperature. Gu had checked the cutoff with his own hand. Qinghe had recorded both values.
Yan read the numbers twice. They were current, not a promise. “Tell them to keep the load where it is. No increase. If the next reading changes, send it immediately.”
The runner nodded. Yan let him turn back down the safe stair. He did not ask for the timer to pause or for a fresh estimate. The tested buffer was doing its job, but the clock continued.
