After tossing the Zhou brothers to an acquaintance at the Ministry of War, Chen Dasheng turned and walked away.

The petty clerk at the Ministry of War was a sharp one—one look at Chen Dasheng’s expression and he knew how to take care of things. The Officiary Manager didn’t add a single extra word; he simply handled it according to the usual routine, and the fee wouldn’t even come to a hundred strings of cash.

A small matter, a small matter indeed!

Even so, the Zhou brothers were overwhelmed with gratitude, escorting Chen Dasheng all the way to the street entrance of the Ministry of War before turning back.

Once clear of the Ministry of War avenue, Chen Dasheng didn’t dare ride his horse through the marketplace, so he could only lead it on foot. He was in a good mood today, so he deliberately led the horse in a roundabout way through the bustling streets.

Yandu before the New Year was lively. Just as his adoptive father always said, so long as the people were given a bit of warmth and breathing room, it wouldn’t be long before you’d see all things coming back to life.

In the past, Chen Dasheng hadn’t understood this world at all—no matter what he looked at, he couldn’t see any deeper meaning in it, only whether there were many people or few, whether it was lively or not. But now it was different. He could look at bolts of cloth on display and estimate the cotton market from them; he could look at the variety of goods and estimate how smoothly the canal traffic was running.

If the canal ran smoothly, then the prices of tea, grain, and cloth would stay level.

And now, all the shops His Majesty had envisioned were open for business at this very moment—fur shops, felt shops, glutinous rice shops, mutton shops, tea-bud shops, wine shops, restaurants, noodle shops, silk and dry goods stores—a full several hundred establishments, several hundred kinds of goods. Even so, his adoptive father said that a hundred years ago, the books described Yandu as also having merchants from overseas coming inland to trade, and that the splendor back then was even more unprecedented.

The foreign traders who came to do business were different from them—their hair, their eyes, were all sorts of colors, and their beliefs and systems of government were different too… His adoptive father longed for such a flourishing age, but also worried that once commercial taxes rose, it would gradually corrupt the customs of the people. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—if the merchant class moved up in standing, the people would grow calculating and opportunistic; to weigh people by profit alone went against the great Way. What his adoptive father sought after was profit in the sense of righteousness harmonized with gain—the balanced benefit of all under heaven, the kind of harmony that fit precisely between things, for only that was the most fitting harmony, and only then could one obtain true benefit… Ah, these were the sort of deep questions of statecraft that all the great ministers had to worry over. He himself had only memorized the words; he still didn’t really understand them—it would take slow, patient thought to work them out.

He walked the streets and alleys in a plain cloth robe, feeling quite at ease. It was only the big black horse he led that drew stares; every now and then some idle troublemaker would tail him a few steps, then spot the insignia of the Imperial Bodyguard and scurry off.

Hm, public order in Yandu really was worrying—if there were too many incidents, His Majesty would come down hard on people again… Why was he even bothering himself with such things? At the thought, Chen Dasheng gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. He didn’t know when it had started, but the angle from which he now considered problems had come to resemble that of the great ministers at court—truly, he must have eaten his fill and had nothing better to do.

Walking all the way to the main street in one go, he finally stopped, turning back to look at the lively market district, and it brought to mind those words of his adoptive father’s—a country this vast, one bout of internal chaos, and everyone wanted things settled and secure. But how were the common people to know that, in truth, this country had never known a single day of true peace.

In the first month, the Governor of Nansi Prefecture provoked civil unrest through harsh oppression; in the second month, there was a military mutiny in Ningzhou; in the third month, the frontier tax censor Gui Ben ran rampant and provoked unrest among the people; the fourth month, the fifth, the sixth, and on to the present—if it wasn’t flooding here, it was hail over there, and earthquakes large and small happened every single month. Not a day passed at court without some new anxiety. Like something out of an opera where they slap the table in outrage—these were all trifles too small to matter, things His Majesty wouldn’t even bother to look into.

Seeing the road ahead clear, Chen Dasheng finally stepped into the stirrup and mounted, when he heard ahead the clatter of the street-clearing gongs.

“Feilian! Brother Feilian! Over here, over here…!”

Chen Dasheng looked over from his horse and saw, on the second floor of a restaurant across the street, two young men grinning and waving to him.

Very familiar faces indeed—one was Kang Rui, a collateral-branch relation of the Duke of Kang’s household, and the other was His Majesty’s adopted son, grandson of Grand Preceptor Li Zhang—Li Jingui. Kang Rui had only started running around with them in the latter half of the year; he mixed with Li Jingui, functioning as something between a friend and a hanger-on.

Chen Dasheng grinned at them and, tugging the reins, crossed the street. He dismounted and handed the reins to the innkeeper who came out to greet him, asking, “Many people up there?”

The innkeeper bowed repeatedly, saying with a fawning smile, “Not many, not many. The two young masters came early this morning; we haven’t let any strangers up.”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng was willing to go up.

This was one of Yandu’s four great avenues, and the restaurants lining the street served not only wine but also a fine vantage point for watching the excitement below.

Li Jingui personally ran downstairs to greet him, and on seeing Chen Dasheng he laughed, “What a coincidence today—I actually managed to catch our idle Chen Feilian.”

Chen Dasheng laughed too. “New Year’s almost here—shouldn’t you be home helping out? What are you doing out here?”

Li Jingui pursed his lips. “I’m not like my elder brother—I haven’t started my own household yet! I’ve got it easier; they don’t nag me too much. You know what? A’Man went into the palace yesterday, insisting on spending New Year’s there.” He scratched his head, showing a flash of youthful awkwardness. “It’s that same old business, you already know—we didn’t grow up at home, and yet they still want to manage us from every direction. I just can’t sit still at home, don’t like watching Mother cry, so I slipped out. What about you?”

Chen Dasheng said with a smile, “My adoptive father is alone in the palace, and I couldn’t settle at home either, so I thought I’d go see him at the palace.”

Li Jingui understood the moment he heard it, nodding and saying to Chen Dasheng, “Makes sense. Given Bàn Bàn’s temperament, only you could manage him.” At this he laughed, and while pushing open the door to the private room, he asked, “How’s everyone at home? Is the old lady, your sister-in-law, all well?”

Chen Dasheng entered the room. “Thanks for asking after them—everyone’s fine. Our family keeps New Year’s simple, not like your household…”

Before he could finish, a burst of gong-clattering rose from the street district. At once he strode to the window and looked out to see, far down the street, a long line of prison carts approaching.

Li Jingui, half-perched on the windowsill, sighed as he watched. “Not even a full year gone by, and already an opening-dynasty marquis has fallen. What do you suppose Gui Yisheng was thinking?”

As His Majesty’s adopted son, he’d seen plenty of such scenes and spoke of it coolly—anyone who opposed His Majesty deserved to die, full stop.

Kang Rui, by contrast, said with some sorrow, “Ah! Once the academy opens after the New Year, there’ll be a lot fewer people. Gui Xiang and the others really weren’t bad—good-tempered, good at their studies, could write poetry and prose too, a hundred times better than me. The teacher always praised them, not like the rest of us, always being called hopeless idiots by our elders!”

Chen Dasheng watched the row of pillories pass below, all the way until the carts carrying the women prisoners came into view, and only then, his voice mingling with the wailing that rose from below, did he say, “His Majesty didn’t want this either. It’s not as if they left him no room to spare them even a little, so why would he take up the knife like this in the depths of the twelfth month if he didn’t have to? The Empress Dowager spends her days at the temple chanting sutras and burning incense—she detests this sort of thing most of all.”

Li Jingui, without turning his head, asked, “Elder brother knew about this beforehand?”

Chen Dasheng nodded faintly, still watching the street below. “Mm, I knew back in the sixth month. The Gui family was on a road to certain destruction—no one could have saved them. There was a man in their family named Gui Ben who was the first to stir up the unrest, and it dragged Little Huar into being reassigned there on short notice, delaying the suppression of the rebellion. His Majesty and the ministers of the Ministry of Justice were already furious about it back then. There’s been a lot more since, and I can’t tell you the rest right now. If you’re curious, go ask Wei Xuanhe…”

Before he could finish, the door behind them was pushed open again, and in came a man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven, wrapped in fox fur, cradling a hand warmer, dressed with great care but with a rather ordinary face. The moment he entered he started grumbling, “Don’t ask me, don’t ask me—the Ministry of Justice can’t take full charge of this one this time. My father hasn’t said a word about it at home, doesn’t dare to, and I only just found out myself. I figured you’d all be here, so I rushed straight over.”

Then, spotting Chen Dasheng, he laughed. “Well! What a rare sight—I was just thinking, by rights they wouldn’t dare address me by my given name so casually, but with you it’s only natural.”

Chen Dasheng glanced at him, exchanged a proper greeting, and said, “Not on duty today?”

This man’s name was Wei Xuanhe. He had entered the Office of Transmission at the start of the second month to build up seniority. He was the legitimate second son of the family, and his father was Wei Jitai, Minister of Justice.

Wei Xuanhe handed the hand warmer to the servant boy trailing behind him, waved him off, and said, “On duty, sure, but nobody keeps track of a small fry like me anyway, so I slipped out. I figured you’d all be here, but I didn’t expect you to be here too. Don’t go pinning this business on me—nobody saw this coming!

His Majesty had no choice either. The other day, over a hundred people from the provinces quietly gathered around the Denwen Drum and beat it for a full hour and a half—the commotion! Hah! Now nobody can hold it back anymore, and the Gui family won’t make it through this New Year! Ask me, and I don’t know anything either—this is being handled jointly by the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Censorate, and it’s dragging in far too much. Even our chief officials occasionally have to go and make up the numbers—oh, and there’s also Meng Dingchen’s Jiu Si Tang involved. In short, it’s chaos, sheer chaos!”

Chen Dasheng of course knew exactly what was going on, and nodded. “I’ve been away these past few days, so I was puzzled too. His Majesty’s original intent was to let the Gui family have a peaceful reunion at New Year’s out of consideration for their past service…”

Just then, a commotion rose from below—someone had leapt down from one of the prison carts, trying to push into the crowd. Though it was a woman, several officers seized her and hauled her back. Taking one look, they saw she was a servant girl from some wealthy household, and without caring whether she was a woman or not, they began flogging her right there in the street.

Chen Dasheng went over for only a glance, then shook his head and retreated back to the table. The others, however, were genuinely excited for a moment, pressed against the window without blinking.

The Gui family was a great clan, five generations living under one roof—those carts would take a good while yet.

The door opened, and the innkeeper came in bowing, followed by a line of attendants who set out a small feast of assorted mushrooms on the table, with a hotpot placed handsomely in the center. In this weather the young masters weren’t necessarily eager to eat much meat—though that wasn’t quite true of Chen Dasheng, who liked meat and had no taste for mushrooms.

Once the food and wine were set out, Chen Dasheng called to them, “Stop staring, it’ll be a while yet—come eat something hot while it’s fresh.”

With that he picked up his chopsticks contentedly and ate meat first.

He was used to it by now, no longer bothering to ask who was footing the bill—he had no money on him anyway. He’d brought a little pouch of copper coins out with him that morning, and half of it had already gone on oil cakes.

The others over there watched the spectacle to its full extent; only once the woman had very nearly been beaten to death and was tossed onto a donkey cart to be dragged away did they reluctantly close the window and turn around—to find Chen Dasheng had already eaten his way through half the hotpot.

Li Jingui glared at him in some indignation. “You’re always like this!”

Chen Dasheng chuckled. “I’m used to snatching my share first. Besides, what’s there to see in that? My grandmother always says, in the depths of the twelfth month, stay far from bad luck, so you don’t get any of that ill fortune stuck on you—this counts as…” He raised his cup, tilted it toward them, and drank before finishing, “…the worst kind of ill fortune there is, the unpardonable kind.”

Wei Xuanhe hesitated a moment before settling firmly into his seat. He immediately exchanged a glance with Li Jingui, who looked toward the door; Kang Rui set down his chopsticks, rose, and pushed the door shut, then stood in the corridor coughing a few times without moving.

Once he saw Kang Rui had the door covered, Li Jingui lowered his voice and asked, “Elder brother? Is it really as bad as that?”

Chen Dasheng was different from the rest of them—he spent his days stationed right outside Dongming Hall, and even when his adoptive father didn’t tell him things directly, he was still the best-informed of all the young masters in the city.

It was only that he never went out to socialize, which drove the others to distraction.

With the Gui family fallen, a great many positions at court would open up—but these positions had long since been staked out by others; it wasn’t as though young masters like Li Jingui could simply step in and take them. But if it came to the unpardonable crime of treason, which would implicate at least three degrees of kin, then even more positions would open up—especially a great many local official posts.

Never mind that Li Jingui was the Grand Preceptor’s grandson—his grandfather looked down on such petty scraps and wouldn’t bother mentioning it at home, and His Majesty certainly wouldn’t bring his adopted sons to Dongming Hall either; even the imperial princes rarely went there.

Chen Dasheng was well-informed, and he was willing to share this in advance—that in itself was an enormous favor. If the Li and Wei family young masters had the information, they could arrange for their own people to stake claims before the verdicts were even finalized. If they waited until after the New Year when the case was closed, it would be too late for anything.

There was a natural rivalry between Chen Dasheng and Zheng A’Man, so this kind of information was something he’d never tell A’Man.

Chen Dasheng ate a few more bites of meat, then smiled, without answering Li Jingui’s question directly, and instead said, “I happened to come into the city today, and seeing this wasn’t intentional on my part either—but there’s something I won’t hide from you all. You already know I came up from the Tan family’s army, and I suffered some hardship over there. Though it hasn’t quite come to being sworn enemies, still… in my heart, I’m not exactly satisfied!”

At this, a broad grin spread across Li Jingui’s face. “Understood. Elder brother, set your mind at ease—whoever it takes, we won’t leave so much as a scrap of that family behind!”

Chen Dasheng’s face lit up with pleasure at once. He smiled, raised his cup to clink with Li Jingui’s, drained it, then turned to the door and said, “It’s freezing out—what are you doing standing there? Get in here and warm up!”

Kang Rui rubbed his hands together with a laugh. “Heh! The air’s a bit too bloody down there on the street—can’t help feeling a little soft-hearted…” He came in smiling, sat down, and poured wine for the young masters, then said, “Do you gentlemen know, there’s been quite the strange affair in the city lately?”

Chen Dasheng set down his cup and asked, “What’s happened?”

On the surface Kang Rui belonged to the Duke of Kang’s household, but he was in fact a legitimate second son of a collateral branch—his father lived off scraps under the eaves of that ducal household, let alone him.

Yet it was this fellow’s good fortune that he happened to be a wrestling enthusiast, as was Li Jingui, and somehow, through no clear plan, he’d fallen in with Li Jingui’s circle and became his hanger-on, which was how he’d begun to make a name for himself in Yandu.

What he relied on was quick wit and a knack for reading the room—well-versed in every trade and rumor, and best of all at reading people’s expressions.

Seeing Chen Dasheng ask, Kang Rui said, “A few days ago, at a hidden gambling den in the West Market, there was a huge wager of five thousand strings of cash—do you gentlemen know of it?”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng’s cup hesitated in his hand for a moment; he set it down, picked up a bite of monkey-head mushroom, ate it, and only then said, “My wife only gives me five hundred coppers a month—where would I hear about a five-thousand-string wager?”

Seeing them interested, Kang Rui grew animated and sat down. “Heh! One man’s fortune, another’s fate—I only found out about this myself afterward. Gentlemen, do you know of a man called Wu Xiu?”

At this, Li Jingui immediately looked at Chen Dasheng.

Chen Dasheng nodded expressionlessly, sniffing. “I know him—used to see him often, though I haven’t heard news of the fellow lately. Tan Weitong’s brother-in-law, isn’t he? Wasn’t he cast off?”

Hearing this, Kang Rui sighed. “Cast off? He’s struck it rich again! Gentlemen, let me tell you, this is remarkably strange, remarkably wonderful, as interesting as something out of a storybook… hey~?”

Wei Xuanhe reached out and cuffed him, scolding, “Enough with the theatrics—out with it, what’s so strange and wonderful?”

Seeing Wei Xuanhe getting impatient, Kang Rui gave a sheepish laugh. “Hah, well, wasn’t it that a while back this Wu Xiu got hold of a treasure—a belt handed down in his family, an inlaid gold and gemstone jade-coral wide belt made for the former imperial court…”

Chen Dasheng, who was in the middle of drinking soup, choked on the spot.

Li Jingui, laughing as he patted Chen Dasheng’s back, scolded, “What a piece of junk to call a treasure—that idiot’s been wandering around showing off that ratty belt, I’ve seen it myself several times. Family heirloom, my foot? You’re all just falling for his boasting.”

But Wei Xuanhe said, “Dongli, don’t stir things up—what’s your standing to talk? Take that junk of yours out and it’d still be treated as a family heirloom out there. My father was just grumbling the other day about this year’s list of items His Majesty plans to reward—my father’s name is near the top, while you and Xiaohua and the rest are at the bottom. Your things aren’t the same as ours—casually tossed off, all made for the former court. Remember that first time I went to your room? Those several zithers in your music room, do you still remember them?”

The Rites of Zhou say the eastern direction should be honored with the blue jade tablet—Li Jingui’s courtesy name was Dongli.

Li Jingui blinked. “You mean those old zithers?”

Hearing this, Wei Xuanhe practically spat in disgust. “‘Old’ zithers, indeed! And to think you’re the Grand Preceptor’s grandson! Never mind the rest—one of them, called Chengyue, is recorded in ancient texts. I about jumped out of my skin when I first saw it, but seeing how unconcerned you were, I didn’t dare say anything for fear of showing my own ignorance. I’ve wanted to ask you—where did you even get it?”

Li Jingui thought hard for a good while before finally recalling. “The one from the former Noble Consort Lü’s maiden family? I arrived late that day, and His Majesty just grabbed a couple of chests and handed them to me—I thought it was something good, and it was so heavy too, but when I got home and opened it I was furious—one chest of scrap wood, one chest with four zithers in it… Since I’m living at home now, they set up a music room for me, and I’ve no idea who dragged those things out. I don’t even play the zither—what do I know about ‘Chengyue’ or ‘Benlei’—you really thought I take lessons at home?”

At this, he tossed his head smugly. “His Majesty didn’t know either—it’s just that he handed me those two chests of junk…”

Chen Dasheng reached over and clapped a hand over his mouth, then tilted his head toward Kang Rui.

Kang Rui bolted up and checked the corridor again.

Chen Dasheng said, “If you want to get yourself killed, don’t drag me down with you. Find somewhere safe to say things like that from now on. In this you’re not even as careful as A’Man—some things A’Man would let rot in his stomach before he’d let slip half a word.”

Li Jingui pursed his lips, reached over to clink cups with Chen Dasheng, and said with a laugh, “Heh heh, sometimes I really do hate this kind of life—can’t speak freely at home, and it’s no better outside… forget it…” He looked up at Kang Rui. “Come back and keep telling us about that heirloom belt of his.”

Kang Rui, holding the door shut, said very earnestly to Li Jingui, “The inlaid gold gemstone jade-coral wide belt, made for the former court. This Wu Xiu had worn it out several times when an out-of-town merchant took a liking to it—first offered him three hundred strings, he wouldn’t sell, and the price kept climbing until it reached a thousand strings…”

Chen Dasheng’s hand, halfway to picking up a mushroom, grew heavy.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew, until he untied the leather pouch from his waist and flung it onto the table with an air of throwing caution to the wind, saying bitterly, “Forget it—I’m paying for this meal today!”

Li Jingui had no idea why Chen Dasheng was so worked up, but plucking feathers off an iron rooster was the happiest thing in the world, so he grinned, reached out and took the pouch, undid the gilded clasp, and turned it upside down—out spilled a whole pile of copper coins.

Chen Dasheng took a deep breath looking at the pile of coins, then reached out and scooped a dozen or so back, saying, “Leave me a few.”

Everyone burst out laughing at once. Li Jingui couldn’t stand it and stuffed the coins back into Chen Dasheng’s hands, even hanging the pouch back at his waist for him, saying, “Brother, keep it all! Not a single coin of yours needed! Look at the life you live—managed into this state by your little sister-in-law, can’t even wear silk, can’t even spend a coin. Are you her draft ox, beaten and scolded at home?”

Chen Dasheng glared at him. “What nonsense are you talking? My wife isn’t like that at all! My wife treats me very well!”

He reached down, undid his belt, and lifted his robe to show off, underneath, a sable-fur lining that was anything but ordinary. “See this? My wife’s got me lined all the way through.”

Everyone recognized quality when they saw it—this sable fur was clearly no ordinary thing. Sable came in black, white, yellow, gray-black shades commonly enough, but purple sable was rare to find even one pelt of, and top-grade purple sable rarer still—the very finest purple sable, taken after the autumn-winter molt, was something the world could scarcely produce.

And here this fellow had at least eight pelts sewn into his lining, every one matched so evenly in color and tip that it looked as though they’d been peeled straight off some enormous sable spirit.

Everyone stared, speechless. Wei Xuanhe, the most particular of them all, was practically furious—if he had fur like that, he’d have found the finest craftsman to make it into a stunning stole and shown it off to the whole city. And here this fellow had gone and sewn it all inside his lining where no one could see it.

But he had no idea—these several sable pelts weren’t a palace reward, nor were they something She Qingling had given his son extra. Qiqian’er had simply gone wandering in the back hills when she had nothing better to do, and hunted them herself.

A thrifty young wife like her never bought expensive things in the city if she could help it—money not spent was money saved.

And it wasn’t just these few sable pelts—the big fur coats at home, the wolf-hide rugs, the bearskin mats—tiger skin was too showy, so she hadn’t dared take that on—but in short, once winter came and the animals had grown their good winter coats, she’d been kept plenty busy.

Wei Xuanhe reached out and pulled Chen Dasheng’s robe shut. “All right, all right, your wife dotes on you, we get it, don’t want to hear any more about it! Don’t go showing this off to anyone else from now on!” Having said this, he turned to Kang Rui with an utterly despairing look. “Get on with your belt story! That inlaid gold gemstone jade-coral wide belt made for the former court!!”

Kang Rui laughed until he could barely speak, then slowly picked up the story of Wu Xiu.

As it happened, Wu Xiu had a belt passed down through his family, which he often wore out to show off, and it caught the eye of a wealthy merchant in the city. The merchant tried several times to buy it, but Wu Xiu wouldn’t sell, so the merchant set a trap, arranging for Bai Mudan of the Yanchun Tower to act as bait.

Even before this business with the belt, Wu Xiu had already been infatuated with this Bai Mudan; once such a beauty crooked her finger, Wu Xiu fell straight into the snare. Just the other day, when the wrestling arena opened a game in the marketplace, Wu Xiu went too—he’d booked Bai Mudan to keep him company that day, and the merchant went and booked her too. The two men, sizing each other up, kept raising their bets higher and higher until, in a fit of temper, they laid a wager.

Wu Xiu put up that heirloom belt; the wealthy merchant put up this year’s tea cakes brought in from out of town, both valued at a thousand strings of cash. It was supposed to be a private, unlicensed game, and the merchant had rigged it, waiting to catch Wu Xiu in the trap—but as luck would have it, not long after the game began, the merchants’ guild inspectors arrived on their rounds, and that spelled bad luck for the wealthy merchant instead.

Just as the state had its Ministry of Justice to oversee criminal law, so too did the merchant guilds have their own inspectors to ensure fairness in trade.

Wu Xiu himself hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but the guild inspectors saw at once that something was wrong. In the end Wu Xiu lost, but the inspector ruled that, since they were all there to do business fairly, one couldn’t simply rig a game to trap someone just because you’d taken a fancy to something of theirs—if this were allowed, gambling dens in this city might as well shut down, since this struck at the very root of fair trade.

The matter caused a great stir; the guild wanted to strip the tea merchant of his license to trade in the capital. Afterward the merchant found connections and pleaded guilty, and it was only then that the guild ruled the merchant pay Wu Xiu five times the wager as compensation. And so Wu Xiu came into a windfall of five thousand strings of cash.

Once Kang Rui finished, his face was full of genuine envy. “Truly, one man’s fortune is his fate—that fellow’s had his lucky break. He’s been shopping for a big mansion in the city these past few days, saying he means to buy one worth at least three thousand strings. Ugh, you can’t help but envy him… that fellow…”

Before he could finish envying, a shout rose from the street below: “Help! Someone’s ambushing the prison carts…!”