Zhù Ying had been leafing through case files for a while when a minor official came in to boil water, make tea, and busy himself about the room.

Coincidentally, this one was also surnamed Huang. Zhù Ying said, “Old Huang, don’t trouble yourself. There’s only me here — I can manage the kettle on the stove myself. With so few people around, take a rest.”

The reason he was called Old Huang was because of his age — the old man was over fifty, even a bit older than Zhù Da. Zhù Ying was a pauper by birth, and having someone so much older wait on her made her profoundly uncomfortable.

Old Huang laughed cheerfully: “With so few people and little work, this counts as resting.”

Whenever someone was on duty there were never many people, especially during the New Year period. Zhù Ying had never experienced the Court of Judicial Review being so deserted in the daytime — just the supervising official, herself, two minor officials to follow her orders (one of whom was Old Huang), plus the jailers in the prison, numbering several men.

Zhù Ying shook her head and pointed at the things she had brought. “In there is lamb leg and broth — take it to the kitchen and heat it up. The packet of flatbreads — warm those up a bit too. That’ll be our midday meal.”

Old Huang replied and smiled. “The things Magistrate Zhù brought are certainly complete.”

Zhù Ying said, “Ha — they all prepared it for me.”

“Having people who think of you at home — that’s a fine thing.” Old Huang offered another piece of information. “Just heating these two things is plenty — there’ll be a meal allowance for noon, and year-end dinner rations in the evening.”

Zhù Ying smiled. “All the more reason we won’t go short.”

Old Huang said, “Very good!” He took the clay crock of lamb leg and the flatbreads off to the kitchen.

The Court of Judicial Review fell quiet again.

It was one of the departments that assigned a comparatively full roster on duty, given the prison it maintained. Some other offices had only one or two people. The whole imperial city, though festively decorated, had imperial guards and eunuchs coming and going, bustling about for the palace’s New Year observances, but the individual departments and offices within were as still as a wasteland.

Zhù Ying did not mind such emptiness. The quiet suited her — she could look through far more materials. She accepted the keys from the Left Registrar, which gave her free run of the Court of Judicial Review. After reviewing the files for a while and forming a mental picture, she stood up, stretched, kicked out her legs, and settled into a martial stance. She felt refreshed all over.

After working her limbs loose, she went — untroubled by the cold — out of the charcoal-warmed room to look in on the prison first. The jailers on duty that day were few; seeing her, each called out, “Little Magistrate Zhù, thank you for your hard work — may you be promoted and prosperous, our congratulations!”

Zhù Ying said, “Congratulations to all.”

The jailers worked harder and enjoyed fewer of the perquisites of office than the officials above them; they were also put on duty far more frequently. The case that had led to the dismissal, demotion, and reassignment of officials in both the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice had been attributed to “minor clerks causing mischief,” and a good number of minor clerks had been executed for it, keeping these jailers with their tails tucked between their legs for a long time afterward.

When Zhù Ying came to inspect, the jailers obligingly gave her a rundown of the prison’s current state: “All accounted for, no one ill, no one dead. Everything is clean inside. It was crowded before, but after the batch who were either exiled or executed, a good deal of space has opened up; it’s better than it was. All are the actual persons — no substitutes.”

Zhù Ying went from cell to cell for a look. Among these prisoners were some she had arrested and some she had interrogated; she remembered all their faces, and they were all indeed themselves. She also looked in on the prisoners in the adjacent cases. Gong Jie and his wife were still there; Gong Jie looked visibly aged, but his wife seemed to be sustained by some inner force, so that whatever she did — walking, sitting, resting — she appeared to be holding her chin up.

A remarkable woman, in her own way.

Zhù Ying finished her rounds and asked the jailers, “What are you eating for the New Year?”

“Thank you for your concern. We have our meal allowances, and we’ve all brought a bit from home; we wouldn’t dare shortchange their rations either.”

Zhù Ying shook her head with a rueful smile. “Am I really so hard-hearted?” She looked over what the jailers had brought — some flatbreads, a little meat — nothing much.

She said, “No drinking on duty.”

The jailers hastily said, “No, no — who would dare bring that in here? Even if there’s some elsewhere, we certainly don’t dare in these quarters.”

In the sparse, quiet atmosphere of this near-deserted imperial city, Zhù Ying truly understood why Zheng Xi had not lingered after issuing the promotion documents to celebrate with everyone — there was a barrier between high officials and low ones, between officials and clerks, that very few could bridge with ease.

Zhù Ying sighed, felt around in her pouch for some coins, and said, “None of us have it easy. I won’t be coming in here again unnecessarily — you all carry on at your ease. Keep sober these two days; once you’re back home, take this and buy yourselves some wine for a good drink.”

Only then did the jailers smile with genuine warmth. “Thank you, Little Magistrate Zhù.”

Zhù Ying said with mock reproach, “There you go with your tricks again — once you’ve got wine money it’s ‘Little Magistrate Zhù,’ but when you’re standing stiff-faced it’s ‘Magistrate Zhù.'”

The jailers no longer felt afraid. They said, “Well, we do have to read the room, don’t we? When you’re easy with us, we know to be familiar; if we were dealing with the kind who puts on airs, we’d know better than to make fools of ourselves.”

They were in fact a little afraid of Zhù Ying. She was the youngest and least senior official in the Court of Judicial Review, yet she had risen fastest and left the fewest holes in her work. The “classmate” she had entered with through the Ming Law examination had only just managed, on the strength of four newly vacated Evaluator posts freed up by this round of promotions, to advance to Evaluator. Zhù Ying was already at the sixth rank from above. Fifteen years old — sixteen come the New Year. No powerful father behind her, and only Zheng Xi as backing. Was that not remarkable?

Even more remarkable was the relentless drive with which she worked: set her to reviewing files, and she could read dozens of case folders in a day without missing a thing. Set her to interrogating a case, and arrests, property seals, and confiscations followed without hesitation. Set her to a confiscation, and her accounts were… truly to be thanked, for under her steady, unblinking supervision, a run of households had been confiscated in one go, yielding such a profitable year for the Court of Judicial Review that even the jailers had received a share.

Though many people called Zhù Ying simple or slow, the jailers saw more clearly than most — they had been standing by, watching, during every interrogation. Someone like this, who didn’t make their lives difficult, was exactly what the jailers hoped for. Zhù Ying also gave them tips, and their manner toward her became naturally warm. Who wouldn’t want to befriend such a person?

Zhù Ying made a circuit of the entire Court of Judicial Review — doors and windows shut, charcoal braziers lit only in rooms with duty personnel, no open flames left elsewhere — and finally returned to her duty room, at ease, to contemplate how to buy some modest farmland, and also how, while Huajie was still acquiring her basic skills over the next two or three years, she might work at cultivating good relations with at least a few herb shops and some nunneries.

She also thought: if Huajie’s reputation as a healer grew, and it attracted the attention of the Shen or Feng families — what then? She would need to think of another plan, and she would need to stay on good terms with the elder young master Chen.

While she was thus occupied, Old Huang came in. “It’s noon, Magistrate. The lamb broth and flatbreads are heated, and the meal allowance is ready.”

Thinking she’d like to invite them to eat together, Zhù Ying hesitated, recalling the jailers’ earlier manner, and said somewhat uncertainly, “The two of you — Old Huang and Old Guan — come eat in this room too? At least it’ll be warmer.”

Old Huang hesitated slightly. Zhù Ying said, “Nowhere else is as warm as here. Come in.”

Old Huang hesitated once more, then said, “Very good!” In no time he had brought over Old Guan, who had just been busy at the stove, and the two came together. Zhù Ying asked, “Is the stove fire out? Don’t let us have a fire breaking out on our watch.”

Old Guan said, “All extinguished — you needn’t worry. Our fuel here is all top quality. You can start the stove again whenever you’d like something hot in the afternoon.”

He and Old Huang set out Zhù Ying’s food table first — this was now a sixth-rank-from-above meal allowance, a notch visibly above what she used to receive. They brought over the clay crock of lamb broth, ladled a bowl for Zhù Ying, sliced a few pieces of the lamb leg and arranged them on a plate. Then the two of them set up their own table and ate their own meal allowances.

Zhù Ying was sharp-eyed; she saw their meal allowances were even lower in grade than her old Evaluator-level ones had been. Each man had brought a bit of pig ear and the like from home. She promptly shared her lamb meat, flatbreads, and broth with them. Old Huang said, “Oh now, we have plenty here.”

Zhù Ying smiled. “Look at all this — do you expect me to carry it all home tomorrow? Let’s finish it today. As long as no tasks are assigned to us tonight, we’ll celebrate the New Year too — I’ve brought all the dishes.”

Old Huang and Old Guan stopped refusing and helped themselves to broth and meat.

After the meal, the two men cleared the table and washed the bowls, while Zhù Ying turned some pages in her book. Wang Yunhe had given her a reading list, and she had bought two books to study independently. She read for a while, noted down questions that arose, and when she set down her brush for a sip of tea, Old Huang — who had finished tidying — added some fuel to the brazier and said, “Little Magistrate Zhù, would you like to pay your respects around the palace later?”

“Oh?”

Old Huang rubbed his hands together and said, “Forgive me — old age has made me garrulous.”

New Year’s Eve in the palace felt strangely desolate. The lively sounds of soft music drifted in from the inner palace; outside, firecrackers had begun after midday, the air thick with gunpowder smoke — one could easily imagine the vitality of the world beyond. This stillness of the imperial precincts stood in sharp contrast to what lay outside, and with someone considerate nearby, Old Huang ventured a few more words.

He was a veteran clerk who had seen much at the Court of Judicial Review over many New Year’s Eves. He said, “Every department in this imperial city has staff on duty. Making yourself known to them is no bad thing. Expecting one New Year’s feast to turn strangers into sworn friends is impossible; but a first encounter gives one an opening for future dealings.”

Zhù Ying asked with some interest, “Would they be willing?”

“At this hour, with so few people, everyone wants someone to talk to. Normally you’d need a pretext to approach them; on a day like this, the occasion is pretext enough. Little Magistrate Zhù, relying on yourself alone is exhausting.”

Old Huang had much more he wanted to say but could not. Zheng Xi was certainly a good man, but people — having more friends meant more paths open to you, and that was never a bad thing. Throwing yourself too completely at one superior was fine if that superior had a conscience; if the superior’s conscience proved even slightly lacking and they cut the string, you were a kite without a tether. This official Zhù still had a stubborn child’s quality about her — too guileless, almost painfully so.

Old Huang said quietly, “A person’s usefulness, besides their talent, also depends on their friends.”

That was all he could say.

Zhù Ying said, “Well, that’s wonderful!”

She was already well supplied with food. She called over Old Guan and Old Huang: “Pick out what you’d like and set aside two platters; the rest we’ll set out on a table.” She also had ten of the pig’s trotters split off for the jailers, along with half a pig head sent over to them. Old Huang and Old Guan chose none of the full banquet dishes, both declaring that pig’s trotters, pig’s head, and lamb broth were more than enough. Zhù Ying left all three for them: “If you have acquaintances on duty, invite them to come eat something hot with you.”

In the mid-afternoon, Old Huang reminded Zhù Ying: “You’d better move before others do — other quick-handed people may be doing the same.”

As it happened, among those on duty this time, the quick-handed ones were not too numerous. Among the duty staff across the various offices, some had been assigned this day because they were out of favor and had been sidelined; others were there because they were doing too well and their superiors had arranged it to blunt their colleagues’ resentment. When Zhù Ying issued her invitations, even some who had not been particularly inclined to come showed up.

The Court of Judicial Review was relatively important, but Zhù Ying had come through the Ming Law examination, which ranked below the Classics and Jinshi examinations in prestige. There were also officials who had obtained their posts through their family backgrounds — not that either group looked down on the other, exactly, but those of different origins did not mix very easily.

It was only because everyone was bored and lonely during the holiday that Old Huang and Old Guan, with a bit of running about, managed to gather a gathering on Zhù Ying’s behalf. Zhù Ying had originally only thought to spend New Year’s with the minor officials on duty at the Court of Judicial Review, for some mutual goodwill in the future. She had not expected Old Huang to assemble quite a party.

Those who came included staff from the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, the Office for the Reception of Foreign Guests, the Ministry of Rites, the Ministry of Revenue, and more; some from hereditary positions, some from examinations, old and young, including some who had risen from clerk to official. All the small officials who could be invited had been — except the palace guards, the chancellery drafters, and the Hanlin academicians. The guards of the imperial palace didn’t dare come; Zhù Ying sent the entire pig’s head to Lieutenant Li, who sent back two chickens in return.

The Court of Judicial Review on that New Year’s Eve became remarkably festive.

Those who came were all of roughly the same rank as Zhù Ying, yet they were also the backbone of the various central offices of the court. Zhù Ying exchanged greetings with each one. Everyone saw that she was young, not without looks — handsome enough at least — her manner polite, and remarkably, she had clearly come prepared, with a full table of banquet dishes.

Zhù Ying said, “Since we’re all on duty, I dare not provide wine — please forgive the oversight. I should have been alone at court for the holiday; I am grateful to have all of you here.”

Everyone said, “Little Zhù has been most thoughtful.”

They unanimously put Tian Pi, a Senior Secretary from the Ministry of Personnel, at the head of the table for his age; he demurred, but they pressed him into the seat. Tian Pi said, “Little Zhù is the host — how can you do this to me?”

Zhù Ying smiled cheerfully. “I’m the one on duty; it’s proper that you sit there.” She had noticed the undertone: Ministry of Personnel. Even had he not been the eldest, he would likely have been pressed into that seat.

The others arranged themselves by age; Zhù Ying took the seat next to Tian Pi as “host.” Once seated, with tea substituting for wine, someone said, “Little Zhù, young and accomplished — a brilliant future awaits.”

Zhù Ying said, “The fact that all of us are here together today already puts us ahead of most!”

Both inside and outside the palace, fireworks were being set off. This group of officials refused to let the cold deter them, and called for the table to be moved to the covered corridor; from the high terrace of the great hall, they watched fireworks blazing across the sky and had their New Year’s Eve dinner together with colleagues from various offices. Petty scheming, at least for the moment, was set aside, and everyone brought out a measure of genuine sincerity.

Old Huang, not claiming any credit, tidied the banquet tables with Old Guan. Zhù Ying said, “We’ve got a feast here — you’ve worked all day too. Take my meal allowance as well and share it among yourselves.”

The colleagues all said likewise, “You needn’t look after us — we’ll help ourselves; just have someone watch the stove to reheat things when they go cold. Everyone else go and eat too. Our meal allowances are yours — you’ve all worked hard, take them.”

Some of the guests, being experienced, had also brought extra dishes when coming on duty and contributed them to the table, producing a very generous spread. Though there was no wine, they played a drinking-game substitute — Zhù Ying’s bookish learning was somewhat lacking, so the literary rounds saw her lose often; but for finger-guessing, riddles, dice, or anything with a rule-based pattern, she won frequently.

None of the colleagues had brought much money, and without wine, Zhù Ying was made to drink cup after cup of tea instead.

At the hour of zi, a great thunderous sound broke out beyond the walls — the New Year had arrived!

Everyone rose to their feet, watching fireworks fill the sky, and bowed and clasped hands in mutual congratulation. Old Guan and the others reheated the lamb broth and brought it out; only then did the officials realize how long they had sat in the cold, and they praised Zhù Ying warmly: “What thoughtful planning.”

After drinking the hot broth, they all departed. Zhù Ying saw the furthest guests out and helped Old Huang tidy the tables. Old Guan said, “You needn’t lift a hand, Little Magistrate Zhù — we’ll take care of it.” Zhù Ying said, “The last of that broth — what will you do with…”

Old Huang smiled. “We’ve had our share too, and there’s still more than a full crock that we couldn’t finish.”

Once the dishes were washed and packed away, Zhù Ying produced two prepared red envelopes. “A year of hard work — thank you.” The two men accepted with smiles. Zhù Ying went to the prison as well and distributed red envelopes to the jailers. Since she wasn’t rushing to buy a house in the city, and wasn’t buying good farmland either, her spare cash had been accumulating, and she was generous for once.

The jailers offered their congratulations and said, “Far too generous.”

Zhù Ying laughed. “Next year I won’t be on duty on this day, so there’ll be nothing for you even if you want it.”

The jailers all laughed as well.

Zhù Ying’s New Year’s Eve was anything but bleak. The next day, before dawn, she was roused by the sounds of activity — officials, nobles, and members of the imperial clan were entering the palace to offer their New Year’s congratulations. She quietly rose, quietly left, and headed home to celebrate the New Year in joy.

She ate breakfast with Old Huang and Old Guan, completed the handoff with the colleague who had just been promoted to Evaluator and was taking the first-day shift, and then Old Huang carried her emptied food boxes and clay crock to see her off at the palace gate. He called out, “The New Year has arrived!”

Zhù Ying said, “Yes — a new year. Time for something new.”

At this hour, carriages were not easy to hire; the streets were full of people of consequence whose paths were best avoided. Zhù Ying and Old Huang slipped away along the wall. The streets were extremely crowded with people out for pleasure and to pay New Year’s calls. Though many shops were shuttered, small stalls selling all manner of things were plentiful. Zhù Ying took the food boxes and said, “You go home and celebrate too — I can find my own way.”

Her memory was excellent, and the city’s streets were already mapped in her mind. She picked smaller lanes that wound through with fewer people — far faster than the broad main roads.

Zhù Da and Zhang Xiangu had a table full of good food ready and waiting for her return. Zhang Xiangu had also specially prepared a jug of good wine.

The moment they saw her: “There you are finally! Starving, I’m sure! Come!” — Poor dear, and she can’t even drink wine.

Zhù Da said, “Shouldn’t you go pay respects to your superior?”

Zhù Ying said, “Him? He’s in the palace right now paying respects to the Emperor — it’s not our turn yet.”

Zhang Xiangu was laying out the feast when the door sounded again — colleagues had sent servants with New Year’s greeting cards. Zhang Xiangu said, “What should we do?” Zhù Ying said, “You were asking about Kitchen God offerings and ancestral rites — did you not ask how to celebrate the New Year?”

They had asked about it and prepared the food and other things. Zhù Ying said, “I arranged everything with Elder Brother Jin. For sending cards, he had his household’s servants help send mine along with theirs; the ones going to the Marquis’s residence and such places, he took along — it’s no trouble to carry two cards when you’re already carrying one.”

Zhang Xiangu was annoyed at herself for not having planned ahead, and vowed, “Next year I will absolutely prepare properly! I’ll hire a small attendant to deliver cards.”

Zhù Ying said, “Look at our family — can we fit another person living here?”

No, they could not! While dealing with colleagues at work was one thing, having a small attendant running loose through the house at all hours — what if he saw something he shouldn’t? That would be trouble.

Even Zhù Da, who had been thinking of getting someone to serve them, suddenly grew wary.

Zhang Xiangu said, “Then what about next year? We can’t keep borrowing the Jin family’s people forever.”

Zhù Ying said, “I’ll just deliver them myself.”

Zhù Da said again that this was not something a proper official should be doing; Zhù Ying said, “Minor officials in the capital all do this. That person I just met — his father is a fourth-rank official with plenty of servants at home, and he’s a hereditary official the same rank as me. Besides him, most of us are in the same boat.”

Only then did Zhù Da let the matter drop.

Zhang Xiangu said, “Come, eat and drink! Oh, you poor thing — a whole year outside and not allowed a drop of wine. I’ll drink some with you.”

The family of three drank and ate their feast, and Zhù Ying brought up the matter of buying modest rather than good farmland. Zhang Xiangu slapped her knee. “Exactly right!” Then she said indignantly, “Why are there bullies everywhere?!”

Zhù Da was a little flushed from the wine and said, “Who’d have thought it — even on New Year’s Day, we’d be having wine and a whole feast!”

Zhù Ying said, “In years past, when the temple fair happened to coincide, we’d have a feast of sorts.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “What kind of feast? Not as good as our own table now!” On those occasions some wealthy man at the temple fair would set out a table of four dishes — chicken, fish, meat, eggs — for the spirit-mediums and their helpers. The Zhù family’s table this year was beyond the reach of all but the wealthiest county gentry.

In the middle of the family’s meal, neighbors came to pay New Year’s calls, and they hastily set down their chopsticks to go out and return the greetings. Then they came back in and continued eating.

On the second day, Zhù Ying went out to hire a carriage, let Zhang Xiangu ride in it with gifts inside, and made the rounds of New Year’s visits. At her current station, most of her colleagues were not wealthy and did not stand on ceremony. She introduced her parents to her colleagues’ households, ate the New Year’s feast wine, and hosted some in return. Though Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da had a rustic manner, they were spirit-mediums well-versed in propitious words, perfectly suited to the season.

By the sixth day, Zhù Ying had set that day aside to visit Zheng Xi with her colleagues. Not that any of them had been unwilling to go earlier — it was simply that Zheng Xi’s more distinguished relatives had occupied the preceding days. Uncles, clan members, the father-in-law’s family each took a day; then there was a day for peers of the same rank. By the time subordinates could hope to see Zheng Xi on the sixth day, it already felt like good fortune.

Everyone paid their respects, presented their New Year’s gifts, and Zheng Xi said, “For the New Year, you needn’t go to all this trouble. If you are all faring well, that is enough to gladden my heart.”

Everyone praised him as a truly good superior, and Zheng Xi said, “This year I must ask for everyone’s continued cooperation and dedication.”

Everyone answered loudly that they would.

Zheng Xi also kept them for a meal; at Zheng’s residence they ate a further banquet, at which only light pleasantries were exchanged. Counselor Wang said, “Did anyone hear? I was drinking with Yang the sixth yesterday; he said there was a small incident with the palace guards, but it’s been suppressed…”

Everyone asked what had happened, and Counselor Wang said, “Drinking wine on duty — and Chamberlain Shi caught them.”

The Left Registrar said, “Ah well, no real harm then.”

“Hmm! Not so sure. Any of you on duty — you weren’t involved in that, were you?”

Out of the question! Zhù Ying thought. Nothing to do with me.

The group exchanged only this small piece of gossip; none of them dared stir up trouble at the Zheng residence. After the meal, they thanked Zheng Xi again and departed.

Zhù Ying’s visit differed from theirs: on the seventh day, she was dragged by Jin Liang back to the Zheng residence for another banquet — this one for the more closely connected “disciples and former staff.” They were all well acquainted with the Zheng Marquis’s household servants; the servants did not eat at the same table, but there was nothing distant about the banter.

Jin Liang and Tang Shan teased Zhù Ying: “You’re the youngest — shouldn’t you bow and kowtow to us?” Men a few cups into their wine were typically inclined toward three pleasures: pressing drinks on others, getting others to call them “father,” and making people bow to them. A fourth amusement of uncertain ranking was ribald humor. At a New Year’s feast at a marquis’s residence, some decorum was expected, so ribald remarks were largely off the table; pressing wine on Zhù Ying or having her call anyone “father” was similarly inadvisable. So Jin Liang went for the third option.

Zhù Ying actually pushed aside her cup and stood up — and immediately the room erupted in clamor. Those nearby, including Gan Ze and the others, pulled her back and now dared scold Jin Liang: “Elder Brother Jin, that remark was uncalled for — we’re all officials here, it isn’t fitting, not fitting at all!” Jin and Tang had only meant to get a verbal rise out of her; seeing her actually stand up, the wine almost sobered them in fright. Gan Ze and the others were, after all, servants of a great noble household — they understood the implications. Even a Chancellor who demanded an official kowtow to him publicly would be branded as insolent. What rank was Jin Liang? If Zhù Ying had genuinely bowed in public, she would have earned the accusation of being sycophantic and failing to maintain official dignity.

Zhù Ying said, “If anyone tries to force my head down by hand, I’ll jump up and smash that dog-head of theirs. As for you lot…”

She held out her palm. “Hand over enough New Year’s gift money first, and I’ll bow!”

Jin Liang laughed and cursed, “You sharp little thing!”

The commotion reached the upper floor, and the Marquis sent someone to ask what was happening. Gan Ze and the others smiled and replied, “Elder Brother Jin and Third Young Zhù are just having a joke.”

The Marquis summoned them both and asked, “What kind of joke?”

Zhù Ying said, “Children’s New Year’s mischief — nothing fit to reach the ears of elders.”

The Marquis was not displeased, and said, “What’s the fun in jokes? Come — let’s set up the archery target!”

Many households avoided needlework or scissors during the New Year, but one of the Zheng Marquis household’s New Year amusements was archery, with prizes to be won. The Marquis asked, “You, young one — are you up to it?”

Zhù Ying laughed. “I couldn’t very well say I’m not.”

The Marquis said, “Good — then you compete against him. If you lose, the forfeit is on me; if you win, the prize is yours!”

Zhù Ying glanced at Zheng Xi, who said, “If you can do it, do it. If not, don’t boast.”

Zhù Ying considered a moment and said, “With someone backing me up, I suppose I’d better be able to.”

The target was set up; the two of them each shot five arrows. Zhù Ying fell slightly behind. The Marquis said, “Not bad at all!” Jin Liang’s daily work involved exactly this sort of thing, while Zhù Ying’s days were spent confiscating estates and arresting people — beyond natural aptitude, skill still required practice. The Marquis said, “Don’t let that hand skill slip away!”

Zhù Ying said, “Yes, sir.”

Jin Liang said, “My lord, she can draw with both hands.”

The Marquis was delighted. “Is that so? Show me one!”

She truly could; her accuracy with either hand was comparable. When the quiver was empty, applause broke out all around. Most of the Marquis’s old retainers were men of military merit, and they looked on her — “just a young sprout” — with genuine admiration. This, in turn, raised Zheng Xi’s standing in their eyes somewhat.

The Marquis said to the Junzhu, “This young one is excellent! Even if she hadn’t followed our seventh son, she could have risen to prominence through military service alone!” The Junzhu had been married to him for many years and knew something of military matters; ambidextrous archery counted as a real skill. She said, “Talented people succeed at whatever they put their minds to. Don’t go talking a child into changing her course — what she’s doing now looks very fine to me.”

On the other side, Tang Shan was feeling the itch himself and stepped forward with a bow: “My lord, allow me as well.”

The Marquis turned to Zhù Ying with amusement. “What do you suppose he’ll show?”

Zhù Ying said, “I don’t know. Once Elder Brother Tang shows us, I’ll know.”

Jin Liang said, “That’s saying nothing at all!”

Tang Shan was already in position. His specialty was rapid successive shooting. Zhù Ying’s jaw dropped slightly; Jin Liang said, “What do you think now? There’s always someone stronger!”

When Tang Shan finished one round and was preparing the second, Zhù Ying watched his fingers carefully. The standard technique involved three arrows — it looked like pure hand skill, but it also demanded coordination of the arms and body, and a steady mind above all. Jin Liang murmured, “Struck with admiration?”

Zhù Ying said, “In a few days, let me come to your place — you have a bigger courtyard. Lend me the use of your target.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Didn’t you hear the Junzhu? What matters for you is serving as an official in the Court of Judicial Review and following our seventh son. The rest of this — we play together and I enjoy your company. But training at archery seriously? Forget it. You’ve practiced far less than I have, yet you’re already this accurate — I’ll freely admit defeat. Is that good enough?”

Zhù Ying smiled. “It’s the New Year — let me come to your place to visit. Is that all right?”

The teasing and laughter continued. The Marquis remained fond of Zhù Ying; last time he had given her a bow and quiver, and this time, for the New Year, he grabbed a handful of palace-minted gold coins and gave them to her. Weighing them in her palm — they’d exchange for several tens of guan of copper. Truly wealthy people!

The Junzhu was also quite wealthy and presented small gold and silver ingots, beautifully cast, in a small pouch. Weighing it — perhaps twenty liang, which when converted to copper coins at the rates for gold and silver came to nearly a hundred guan.

Zhù Ying left richly rewarded, and then thought: if they give gifts so freely, how much must they keep at home? Then she recalled that the recent round of confiscations had been conducted largely under her supervision, and felt at peace.

After the feast, Zheng Xi kept Zhù Ying behind.

Zhù Ying assumed she was to be questioned about the incident of the guards drinking wine, but Zheng Xi opened with: “Another year has passed.”

Zhù Ying paused slightly. “Yes — I’m sixteen now.”

Zheng Xi studied her and said slowly, “You’ve grown up a little more. A little taller too.”

“Yes.”

“From the day I first encountered you, you’ve always been a person with a plan. I hadn’t intended to say too much, but there are things that must be said. You were told to read — have you been reading?”

“Still working through the texts. I’ve finished the Zuo Zhuan.”

“Have you read the Analects?”

“I memorized passages from it listening in at a village school.”

“Do you understand the meaning?”

“I have a rough grasp.”

“Can you still recite Chapter Sixteen, ‘Ji Shi’?”

“I can.”

“The three things a gentleman guards against — what comes next?”

Zhù Ying thought: why does he ask this? But answered: “In youth, when the vital energy is not yet settled, he guards against the temptation of beauty; in the fullness of age, when the vital energy is at its peak, he guards against contentiousness; in old age, when the vital energy is already declining, he guards against acquisitiveness.”

Zheng Xi nodded. “Someone has told me again that you’re still running to nunneries, and that this behavior is unseemly.” In truth, those who knew about it were not particularly scandalized. A young man slipping into nunneries — what was so strange about that? But somehow the story kept reaching Zheng Xi’s ears. The more highly Zheng Xi regarded Zhù Ying, the more he lamented that she had not taken the Jinshi examination, and the less he wished to see her stumble into a trap in her official career.

Licentiousness was a very deep trap.

He said, “If you have someone you care for, bring her out! What is the point of leaving her in a nunnery? That shows no courage! What kind of places are nunneries? Apart from the few larger, respectable ones, the smaller ones are practically private brothels! And here you are running through nunnery after nunnery! The higher your rank, the more censors have their eyes on you. Let one of them file a memorial against you — does that sound good? It sounds thoroughly unseemly! Worse than corruption and bribery! And speaking of that — I am also saying here and now that you are not permitted to engage in corruption or bribery!”

Zhù Ying sighed. “Will this issue never just pass? What private brothels? Not only are there women selling themselves, there are also people-traffickers. And not only in nunneries — there are Buddhist and Daoist temples harboring bandits and murderers. Though Lord Wang of the capital prefecture maintains order, these are things we cannot afford to be ignorant of. When a major case arises, doesn’t it still get sent to the Court of Judicial Review for review? I’d wager that the gilded lotus crown stored beneath the Arhat statue on the eastern wall of the left hall of Bao’en Temple didn’t come from legitimate sources.”

She rolled her eyes. “You people really don’t understand! A case comes in, you grab someone and beat a confession out of them. Either you beat out the truth or you beat out a death. The work is too crude.”

Zheng Xi laughed. “You shameless rascal! What nonsense! Every interrogation follows the ‘five methods of judgment’ — what lotus crown? Don’t mention it again! Just quietly note it down.”

He genuinely found Zhù Ying admirable: solid in learning, prepared in action, intelligent, yet always grinding away at the practical foundations day after day.

Zhù Ying said, “Then from now on, can we stop bringing up the nunnery matter? If I’m made to think of nuns every time I see you, that wouldn’t be good. I’ve been diligent in my duties and haven’t caused any slips — that must be bleeding the hearts of those loose-tongued gossipers.”

She was fighting hard for the freedom to wander wherever she pleased!

In this world, everyone had their own domain. High officials and nobles rarely dealt directly with the likes of street toughs and gangsters — they gave the orders, and their servants handled it. When servants couldn’t manage, they’d invoke the name of a powerful backer and then reach out to petty officials or acquaintances — a constable chief like Zhang, or some mutual contact — who would in turn approach underworld figures like Old Ma.

Zhù Ying knew she could not operate like those high officials. She did not have enough subordinates to command. She needed to do her own reconnaissance, and to maintain personal connections with coroners, constable chiefs, and underworld figures like Old Ma.

Zheng Xi said, “Understood! Still, you will need to be more prudent.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

She thought for a moment and seized the opportunity to raise a suggestion. “Since you’ve already brought up serious matters on New Year’s, I’d like to raise one myself.”

“What is it?”

“The next time there’s a confiscation — if day-laborers hired by the household are found, have them all paid and released. These past few days I’ve been going around paying New Year’s calls and hearing people say things about my ‘good heart’ and ‘kind spirit’ until my scalp crawls.”

“What’s wrong with people praising you as a good person?”

Zhù Ying shook her head. “When people call you a good person, it means they think you’re approachable and plan to come asking favors before long. You’re formidable, so that doesn’t concern you. You be the good person instead. It’s just one word from you — no more, and people can only say that our Court of Judicial Review conducts itself properly, unlike others whose methods are unsightly.”

Zheng Xi said, “Agreed.”

“Then you must remind me when the time comes. Don’t forget!” She had thought it through: if she seized a case herself, she might come into conflict with a colleague; better for Zheng Xi to issue a blanket order, which would be far more convenient. The young man that Old Ma had spoken up for — his sister would then be able to go home smoothly, and the colleagues wouldn’t know that any arrangement had been made.

Zhù Ying was pleased to have resolved one more matter weighing on her mind. Now only one thing occupied her thoughts: how to spend the Lantern Festival talking with Huajie.