The bumper harvest was a joy.

The whole of Fuluo County was immersed in an atmosphere of elation and happiness, with brightness and high spirits visible from top to bottom.

After issuing her orders to Shan Ba, Zhù Ying did not hover over him watching his every move — she had her own share of busy affairs. The water conservancy and road projects were one matter; the oranges were another; and then there was also an old piece of unfinished business.

In the spring planting season, the county office had arranged for draft oxen to be rented to poor households that had none, with the understanding that those who could not pay the rental fee in grain at the time could have the county office advance the cost on their behalf, to be collected — with a modest interest charge — after the autumn harvest when the county office carried out its general collection.

The rent and taxes owed to the court and the government had been collected. Now it was time to pursue this second set of payments. This task involved considerably less effort than collecting taxes and levies, and the runners in the county office did not find it particularly onerous. There were some who genuinely could not pay, and some who were deliberately trying to take advantage and simply refused to pay.

Zhù Ying examined each case individually. For households with many mouths to feed who could not afford to pay, she assessed each situation on its merits: if a family could pay back the principal but not the interest, the interest was waived. This gave such a household a fresh start for the year. For those who could not pay due to serious illness and the like, she kept a record for them rather than immediately forgiving even the principal. As for those who were deliberately refusing to pay, she had their farmland confiscated. If they could not afford to farm, then they should not farm. Did they think they could take advantage of her? Not a chance!

When the runners actually came to the door to take away the land, those harboring devious thoughts quickly came to their senses and dutifully handed over the rent. Zhù Ying then wrote down these individuals’ names; in future, whenever the county office took the lead in organizing or advancing funds for anything, these people would not be included. Since the rental fees had been advanced by the county office at the end of spring planting, there had been no need for the wealthy households to dispatch anyone to press the tenant farmers for this debt after the autumn harvest, sparing them considerable trouble.

Old Master Gu, already smarting from having to hand over a considerable sum for the land he had privately occupied, had been in a sour mood. Seeing that this trouble had been spared him, he found himself feeling that Zhù Ying was not so bad after all. With the autumn harvest concluded, Old Master Gu, as the local power broker in the county seat, issued invitations to the gentry living in town for a small gathering at his home, ostensibly to celebrate the good harvest.

The county seat had a great many prosperous households. During the harvest, some had gone back to their home villages to oversee the grain collection, some to settle accounts with their tenant farmers, others to prepare their storage facilities, and so on. After the harvest, they had gradually returned, and Old Master Gu’s residence was full of distinguished guests.

Old Master Gu wore an expression containing just the faintest trace of a smile. Zhù Ying had been decent enough toward him — the collection for his land had not been made a public spectacle, allowing Old Master Gu to act as though nothing had happened. It was Deputy Magistrate Guan’s punishment that several well-informed people had heard about; and seeing that Old Master Gu had not invited Deputy Magistrate Guan today, more than a few present were privately speculating.

Someone with a loose tongue voiced it: “Why do we not see Old Master Gu inviting Deputy Magistrate Guan?”

Old Master Gu cleared his throat and said, “Don’t make unfounded guesses!” — which in effect confirmed that he did have something on his mind.

Old Master Gu could see through Deputy Magistrate Guan but could not quite read Zhù Ying. Yet from Zhù Ying he had learned a thing or two about “appearing cryptically deep.” He said, “The harvest is finished. Shall we not do right by the county magistrate and get the matter of the oranges properly sorted?”

The local gentry responded with one voice: “Goes without saying!”

Old Master Zhao said, “This magistrate is a capable person. We had a good harvest this year — let us consider the additional two-tenths of our yield as our contribution to playing along with the magistrate’s game. Even if it is all lost, it is not a great loss.”

Master Zhang said, “What is this talk? Just the fellow-provincial club alone has already been a gain! And perhaps there is even more to be made. You know, having a good county magistrate does bring some inconveniences, but some things benefit us too. Old Master Zhao, your Zhao Zhen got into the prefectural academy, after all.”

Zhao Zhen had passed on his own merit, not through the back door to obtain an impressive-sounding title. The difference in prospects was substantial, and the local gentry all had to acknowledge that Zhù Ying had genuinely brought them advantages.

Old Master Gu said, “Gentlemen, please, everyone! I have something to say — may I have your attention?”

Everyone said, “Old Master Gu, just say what you wish. What is there to be formal about? We are all listening.”

Only then did Old Master Gu speak his piece: “This county magistrate of ours, though young, has ideas. Her promotion of farming and silk-weaving and the civilizing of the barbarian tribes are proper business and benefit the local community — we should certainly assist. The matter of the oranges, I expect everyone has a sense of it. It cannot be called impossible, but neither can it be called certain to succeed. Old Zhao’s words may be a jest, but the point is sound. In truth, the county has built granaries and repaired roads and really done a number of solid things — better than the magistrates before her, and we all recognize this, yes?”

Seeing everyone nod, Old Master Gu pivoted to his actual purpose: “But this business of the oranges — it is the magistrate’s idea. Oh, and what Old Zhang said about the fellow-provincial club — quite right, we have all benefited from that. Without the magistrate taking the lead, we could never have twisted ourselves into such a thick rope on our own. We acknowledge this favor. But returning to the oranges — this is not farming; we have to rely on the county office. Ought we not to have our own arrangement among ourselves?”

Those with sharper wits had understood what he meant: he was proposing that they form a united front.

Someone said, “The magistrate has not been unkind to you, and you are about to…”

Old Master Gu hastily said, “Do not talk such nonsense! How would I dare show disrespect to the magistrate? My meaning is that this is something the magistrate cares deeply about — ought we not to sustain it for the long term?”

Lei Bao looked around and said, “Hey, the Lao boy is not here. We can speak freely.”

Widow Chang, long at odds with Lei Bao, found their families no longer brawling now, but she still wrinkled her brow.

Master Wang said, “Everyone acknowledges the magistrate’s good heart. Since the magistrate arrived, the unified planning has brought us many benefits — irrigation, roads, and the like. That must be recognized. Of course there have also been some inconveniences: interest on loans has had to come down a bit, some corvee labor cannot simply be imposed, and as for rent and taxes…”

Old Master Gu coughed and cut off Master Wang’s plain-spoken words before they went any further. Everything Old Master Gu had mentioned resonated deeply with all the gentry, and needed no elaboration. All in all, they had less latitude to throw their weight around, but had also been spared a good deal of trouble. Things were on balance satisfactory. It was just that everyone could not help wishing to have both the fish and the bear’s paw.

Old Master Gu said, “Farming is the foundation. Magistrate Zhù has made it clear: anyone who destroys farmland will be destroyed in turn. In ordinary affairs, she is heavy-handed with the runners and the county ruffians, but remarkably even-tempered about everything else.”

Lei Bao said, “Is Old Master Gu suggesting we make our move on the matter of the oranges?”

Widow Chang said, “What move? The trade has not even started and you are already talking about undermining it? In any business venture, losing money in the first two years is perfectly normal. Take opening new land — you lose money the first several years. If you want to see profits, you need at least two or three years for any sign of promise. Talking about making moves now — isn’t that a bit premature?”

Lei Bao said, “As if I don’t know that!”

Seeing the two on the verge of bickering again, Old Master Zhao quickly stepped in: “Both of you, hold on. Nobody is talking about undercutting the magistrate. But the magistrate is capable — sooner or later she will be promoted. To prevent the situation from collapsing the moment she leaves, with some new troublemaking magistrate coming in and ruining the magistrate’s good work, we ought to prepare in advance.”

Widow Chang felt a pang in her heart. The harvest had concluded, and next year would be the magistrate’s third year in Fuluo County! How much longer could she stay?

Old Master Zhao’s words had struck all the gentry to the heart. Lei Bao said, “Old Zhao is right! Old Master Gu?”

Old Master Gu had meant precisely this. The county seat’s official personnel came and went like flowing water — they had to look out for themselves.

Old Master Gu said, “Everyone knows the first two years will involve some loss. We cannot be absorbing losses on behalf of others. We must prioritize our own oranges first, and only then take in those of smaller growers…”

They quickly agreed on a united front. They were all large landholders — whether in rice paddies or orchards, their operations dwarfed those of the poor, making things far more convenient. With profits thin at the start, they could not be bankrolling others. But they were all well aware that Zhù Ying was actually someone who looked out for the smaller growers.

They discussed a price among themselves: they would get ahead of things by buying oranges from the smaller growers at a low price, pocketing the difference. The oranges from smaller growers tended not to be of the highest quality anyway, and smaller growers found it hard to get top price on their own. Better that the gentry take over! Compared to last year’s rate of ten oranges for one coin, buying at five for a coin was a high price, was it not?

As for selling them on at ten coins apiece — what business was that of anyone else?

Lei Bao said, “Transport, storage, labor — don’t those cost money?”

“Exactly!” everyone echoed together.

Old Master Gu said, “Then it is decided?! This concerns all of us here, and no one may back out!”

Everyone said, “Of course not!”

Old Master Gu looked around and said, “There are some who did not come today, and there is no need to press them. They all follow the same line of thinking anyway. How they handle it is up to their own luck.”

The assembled gentry all said, “Very well!”

Widow Chang left Old Master Gu’s residence as night had fully fallen on her walk home. She tossed and turned for half the night, and early the next morning she announced, “I am going to the temple to burn incense.”

A woman going to the temple to burn incense was the most unremarkable thing imaginable. Widow Chang went with her maidservant, and upon arriving, looked around and said, “Odd — has the Zhu grande dame not come to dispense medicine today?”

The maidservant said, “I just asked — she won’t be here until the afternoon. She has something on at home in the morning.”

Widow Chang said, “Ah, she is always this way — how much money can she have to give? ” She also mentioned that she intended to eat a midday vegetarian meal at the temple.

After a lunch of temple vegetarian dishes, sure enough the afternoon brought Huajie.

With the autumn grain stored, Huajie was actually busier — household matters were few, but outside matters were many. Widow Chang greeted her warmly, saying, “The grande dame looks very busy — is there anything I can help with?”

Huajie said, “Widow Chang. I can still manage, it’s just that there are quite a few sick people. During the busy farming season, even if someone was given medical care and medicine, the farmers were reluctant to lose any time from the fields. Now all the ailments have come out at once.”

Widow Chang sent her maidservant to help Huajie carry things and distribute medicine, then said to Huajie, “Yesterday, Old Master Gu invited a number of people to his home and spoke about the matter of the oranges.”

Huajie was startled, “You?”

Widow Chang nodded, “I saw no malicious intent, but everyone agreed to…”

She did not go back on what she had agreed to. She simply passed along a piece of intelligence.

Huajie said quietly, “You have told me — will this not bring you trouble?”

Widow Chang said, “I am a native of this county, but I am also a widow. A woman who is marginalized.”

She was different from the others. She was both “local gentry” and a woman, and her experience under Zhù Ying’s governance was very different from that of ordinary gentry members. If Zhù Ying faced fewer restraints in Fuluo County, Widow Chang felt she herself could live better. She did not want Zhù Ying to be hemmed in by Old Master Gu and the others, bringing more marginalization upon herself along with it.

Huajie said, “Thank you.”

Widow Chang nodded, then went to the main hall and drew a fortune lot that came up “moderately auspicious.” She did not bother with the temple attendant’s interpretation, just took the lot, brought her maidservant, and left.

On her side, Huajie finished distributing the prepared medicines and also returned to the yamen, waiting until Zhù Ying came home from work and ate dinner, then going to the study to go over the accounts with her. Qi the young lady, though the natural daughter of Qi Tai, had learned a bit of the family’s inherited talent for accounting, but the Zhù household accounts were still managed by Huajie herself.

Income from external postings tended to be higher than in the capital, precisely because an external posting — especially as the chief official of a locality — offered far too many avenues for profit. There were the legitimate earnings from public farmland, the possibility of adding a little to the taxes, and all manner of visible and less visible revenues. After the autumn harvest, Zhù Ying had taken out a sum to purchase more gemstones and pearls. Even so, her household still had a considerable surplus.

Huajie said, “With what you have bought, plus some local specialties, the New Year’s gifts are more than sufficient. Our household can put away even more savings, and we could buy a few more mu of farmland in the capital.”

Zhù Ying said, “Good.”

Huajie said, “But there is something — I ran into Widow Chang today, and she said…” She relayed to Zhù Ying what Widow Chang had told her.

Zhù Ying said with a smile, “So that’s why Old Master Gu’s residence was so lively last night.”

“You knew?”

Zhù Ying said, “Come with me.”

She took Huajie by the hand and went to the courtyard, fetched a long ladder, propped it against the eaves, and climbed up first. She reached a hand back down to Huajie, “Come up!”

Huajie slowly climbed, and when only one rung from the top, Zhù Ying pulled her up with one hand. The autumn breeze ruffled their hair. Huajie looked out at the scattered lights of the county seat and said, “So this is the view from up here.”

Zhù Ying pointed to a spot below and said, “See — that is Old Master Gu’s residence. The lights were lined up in a row there last night. Heh heh.”

Huajie said, “You have a plan?”

Zhù Ying stretched out on the rooftop and said, “At bottom, smaller growers cannot earn much to begin with. The rich grow richer and the poor grow poorer — this is very common. This is called consolidation. Farmland can be consolidated; why can an orchard not be? Why can the orange trade not be?”

Huajie squatted beside her and said in a low voice, “You had already anticipated this.”

Zhù Ying said, “I saw the dense lights at Old Master Gu’s residence, yet I have not thought of a fundamental solution to consolidation.”

Huajie said, “Don’t rush — don’t rush. They are not exactly cutting off everyone else’s livelihood.”

“They are simply banding together to speak with a louder voice,” Zhù Ying said with a smile. “Understood. Never mind.”

Huajie said, “Then…the oranges?”

Zhù Ying said, “We must continue. Shan Ba and his people have been ploughing the fields these past two days, and the winter wheat has not yet been planted. I do not know how the harvest will turn out, and I must look for other sources of income. An extra few hundred coins a year, and the common people can eat a couple more meals and have meat at the New Year. That is the most I can do. Grain is the very foundation of existence!”

The two spoke quietly for a while longer, until Du A’Jie called out from below. Only then did they climb back down the ladder. Old Master Gu and the others were still unaware that Widow Chang had sold them out.

Zhù Ying kept her expression perfectly neutral, yet put up another notice board, recruiting people to manage the storehouses — as always, not restricting by sex, but she arranged it so that those working at each storehouse did not work alongside the opposite sex. A storehouse managed by men would be staffed entirely by men; one where women sorted the oranges would be staffed entirely by women.

When the oranges were still showing just a touch of green, harvesting had begun everywhere. Green oranges went on sale and people bought them; by the time the oranges fully ripened, the color and flavor would be something else again.

The oranges Fuluo County grew were not few, but in previous years there had been no such fanfare around them. This year it was almost like a second “autumn harvest.” The weather had turned cooler by this time. Su Mingluan had once again come down from the mountain, and she now had something of a command of Mandarin. She and Zhao Su flanked Zhù Ying one on each side.

Zhù Ying enjoyed strolling through the market, liked wandering the streets, lanes, and farmland. Both Su Mingluan and Zhao Su followed her all over the county. Su Mingluan had come down this time for tea. The autumn tea had been harvested, and she had kept two tea-making masters at considerable expense. The masters’ skills were much better than those of the people in her village. The same tea leaves, processed by different hands, could produce a finished product with quite different flavors.

She had brought down some of the newly made autumn tea to let Zhù Ying taste, and to discuss sales channels.

Teaching one’s apprentice made the teacher redundant — the tea-making masters were reluctant to take on apprentices. Su Mingluan strolled and talked simultaneously: “If they were willing to move their households down here, settle in the county seat first — would that work?”

Going up the mountain was certainly something they would never agree to. The county seat was worth a try.

Zhù Ying said, “Why wouldn’t it? It just takes money in the county seat.”

Su Mingluan said, “I’ll give them money!”

Zhao Su said quietly, “Having their household registration transferred here would be the safest arrangement.”

“Oh?” said Su Mingluan.

Zhao Su said in a low voice, “Wherever the household registration is, that is whose jurisdiction one falls under. Of course some people do flee, but they have skilled trades and live well — they would not willingly become vagrants…”

The cousins whispered back and forth. Zhù Ying had already come to stand before an orange stall. In remote areas, the market was full of such roadside stalls — a husband and wife with a carrying pole, sitting on the side of the road selling oranges. These oranges were already turning yellow, and looked to be of decent quality.

What caught Zhù Ying’s interest was the rough plank propped in front of their pole, on which, in characters written crookedly with a charred stick, were several words: “Jú zi — five for one coin.”

The couple noticed someone had stopped at their stall and looked up, calling out in the local dialect, “Come buy some! Finest oranges! Last year even the magistrate bought from our family…” Then both of them froze: “My lord?!”

The two quickly knelt on the spot. Zhù Ying crouched down in front of them and asked, “No need to kneel. Just tell me — this character here, who wrote it?”

The man said with embarrassment, “This humble man wrote it… Did I write it wrong? This humble man will never write again.”

Zhù Ying said, “I am not blaming you. Go ahead and keep writing. Are this year’s oranges sweet or sour?”

The man said, “We tended to them carefully this year, thinking your lordship might buy from our family again. Fertilized well, and the graft shoots are good too — sweet!” He then plucked up his courage, pushed one whole basket of oranges toward Zhù Ying and said, “These are a gift for my lord.”

Zhù Ying said with a laugh, “Openly offering a bribe, are you?”

The man had not quite caught the meaning of “bribe,” but said, “This year’s good harvest is all thanks to my lord. Eating a few oranges is only fitting.”

Zhù Ying still insisted on buying rather than accepting a gift. She dug two coins from her pocket. The man took the money and tossed it into a small pouch at his wife’s waist, saying, “Two fives are ten — count out ten.”

The woman said, “He learned a few characters from the literacy stele and can figure a bit. We don’t need more than that — we have no use for it either.”

Zhù Ying pointed to the board and asked, “Did you also learn this character from the literacy stele?”

Both said firmly, “We did!”

Zhù Ying was certain that the character for “jú” written on their board could not have come from the literacy stele. Su Mingluan also said, “That is wrong — this character is not on it.”

“But it means orange!” the woman said indignantly to Su Mingluan. “It is written exactly like this.”

Su Mingluan was not entirely sure of herself and asked Zhù Ying, “Uncle, does this character truly exist? I thought I had learned it differently.”

Zhao Su also shook his head, “It is wrong. There is jiē straw stalk, there is jié Chinese bellflower, there is no jú orange in this usage. The pronunciation is also incorrect. There is no such usage.”

Su Mingluan said, “Then I was not mistaken. I was afraid I had misremembered.”

“Now there is,” said Zhù Ying.

Both cousins were astonished.

Zhù Ying said to the woman, “Will you sell me the board? I will also buy this whole load of oranges. I will give you one string of cash.”

The woman was embarrassed, “My lord, we are rough country folk, and fear we may have written the character wrong. Two baskets of our own oranges are not worth much. We have had enough to eat this year, and would not dare ask for too much.”

Zhù Ying said, “Very well then. I will put this one string of cash on your account, and deduct it from your taxes next year — or I can deduct it as a bolt of cloth. Next year you can pay one bolt of cloth less.”

The woman said with delight, “Oh! But…it is not worth a whole string of cash.”

Zhù Ying said, “I say it is worth it, so it is worth it. From now on, I think this character can be written this way.” She took the board in hand, looked at the board, looked at the orange, looked at Su Mingluan, and thought to herself: this is truly wonderful!

With the oranges purchased, Zhù Ying stopped browsing and brought Su Mingluan and Zhao Su back to the main office, where she asked, “What did you both notice?”

Zhao Su asked, “Foster father, is this truly not a wrong character?”

Zhù Ying said with a smile, “What is a wrong character, exactly? Hmm?”

“Erm…”

“I say it is not wrong, then it is not wrong. Look — it has the character for ‘auspicious’ in it. Quite good.”

Su Mingluan clapped her hands, “Uncle is thinking about selling oranges again.”

Zhù Ying said, “Poverty leaves no choice.”

Su Mingluan said, “How much trouble you take.”

“Hmm. All yields come from trouble. You two — each write me an essay.”

Neither of them understood why she had suddenly leaped from “the wrong character” to “essays.” Su Mingluan asked, “What topic?”

Zhù Ying said, “You are always saying that the meaning of Qi Xia is beautiful jade — what is the story behind this name? Your clan has no official historians, but you must have elders who tell the old tales. Write about this. Da-Lang — pick whichever kind of poetry or prose you feel strongest at and compose one piece, in whatever form you please.”

Both said, “Yes.”

Having assigned Su Mingluan and her cousin Zhao Su their homework, Zhù Ying summoned Old Master Gu and the other local gentry.

Old Master Gu and the others knew there was nothing worth summoning so many people for at this point other than the orange matter. They all came in with a confident air. No matter how capable the magistrate was in local administration, she was still just one person, while they were many. Conducting business in this county still required making use of them.

Old Master Gu and the others waited for Zhù Ying to speak.

Zhù Ying acted as though she had no idea they had been plotting together and instead produced the newly purchased board: “Who can recognize this character?”

The local gentry, since Zhù Ying’s arrival, had made remarkable strides in their Mandarin, and said in their half-polished Mandarin, “Could this not be the character for orange?”

In the local dialect, the two pronunciations were nearly indistinguishable. Their Fuluo-accented Mandarin still rendered both characters clearly enough.

Zhù Ying said, “Auspicious. Very good.”

She picked up her brush and wrote the character on a sheet of paper, then said, “From now on, write it this way!”

The local gentry had far more experience than Zhao Su, and as one they exclaimed, “Magnificent!”

Fuluo County’s oranges were already sold on novelty and prestige — a little more in the way of auspicious detail would not hurt. Piling on lucky touches was fine by them!

Zhù Ying then inquired about the storage situation, asked about the quantity of oranges, but said nothing about purchasing or sales. Old Master Gu and the others had an uneasy feeling; they looked at each other and let Master Zhang take the initiative: “My lord, what is to be done with these oranges next?”

Zhù Ying said, “What do you mean, ‘what is to be done’? As agreed before — first send a smaller quantity to the fellow-provincial club. Take it slowly — do not rush! We have storehouses; next year we will still have oranges to sell. New oranges have just come to market and the price has not peaked yet.”

“Yes.”

Old Master Gu did not believe Zhù Ying had missed the implication. He steeled himself and asked, “My lord, regarding the price of these oranges…”

Zhù Ying said, “Give me a figure — what are your costs? What kind of orange?”

Old Master Gu said, “It depends on the variety. There are different types, large and small, sour and sweet…”

He named a low figure — farm-gate pricing. Large oranges, like the ones Zhù Ying had bought before, came to roughly seven to the catty, one coin per catty. Then there was a particularly sweet small variety that cost three coins per catty at source. Though the board said five for one coin, he still said, “There is storage, transport, labor — all of it costs money.”

Zhù Ying said, “When grain prices fall, it harms the farmer. When orange prices fall, it also harms the orange grower.”

Old Master Gu asked, “And my lord’s meaning is?”

“Price stabilization,” Zhù Ying said. “You go ahead and collect yours. The county will allocate funds to also purchase a portion at market rate. This is to serve as a price stabilizer.”

The government did maintain price stabilization mechanisms — for staples like grain and cloth it was essential, and the county would maintain corresponding controls over other major local commodities as well. This price would lag a bit behind the market rate and was not primarily aimed at profit, but mainly at maintaining price stability.

Old Master Gu felt as though someone had seized him by the back of the neck, and dutifully said, “Yes.”

“There is one more thing. You have large quantities in hand, and for price stabilization you need to keep this in mind. Apart from this county, do neighboring prefectures and counties not also grow oranges? The oranges there carry no label! Put the effort into the brand — either sold through the fellow-provincial club counts as the genuine article, or think up some other differentiating story.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying handed over the sheet she had just written: “This new way of writing the character ought to be adopted across the board.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying, showing nothing on her face, dismissed Old Master Gu and the others — as though she had no idea Old Master Gu had been scheming behind her back to quietly seize control of this trade and make a government official do all the hard work for their benefit.

Her gaze swept over all the assembled gentry, without the slightest flicker of emotion. Yet Widow Chang still had the feeling that Zhù Ying’s eyes had rested on her just a fraction of a moment longer.

Zhù Ying’s thoughts at that moment were not on Widow Chang. She was thinking about Su Mingluan.

Su Mingluan was the person her father intended as his successor, yet for a girl to take charge of the household was truly so difficult — she still had four elder brothers! The idea Zhù Ying had come up with for the A-Su chieftain, of offering allegiance to seek an official court enfeoffment as a backing for Su Mingluan, was not entirely for the sake of her own accomplishments. It was even more for the sake of giving Su Mingluan a name and a title.

And though the court, given the “barbarian” origins involved, would not impose its ritual propriety standards too strictly on the Ying clan’s affairs, Zhù Ying still intended to prepare a narrative for the court.

She carefully recalled the content of all the earlier memorials she had submitted to the court. The original texts had all been written by Zhao Su, and indeed nothing had been said about ancient legends or origins.

This, then, was where she could work something out.

Su Mingluan completed her assignment quickly and submitted it the next day; Zhao Su was still contemplating and polishing a fine piece of prose.

Su Mingluan’s calligraphy was still not much to look at — roughly on a par with Zhù Ying’s own work just before her legal examination. But the story itself flowed quite smoothly, almost like the verses of a song. On the page she had written of the ancestors of the Qi Xia clan — now the Ying clan — who had come out of a gourd.

There had been a great flood, and a gourd floated along in the waters. One day the waters receded, and the gourd was left on the shore. The sun shone down upon it, and suddenly it burst open, and from inside emerged a man and a woman — these were the ancestors of the Ying clan.

These two, a man and a woman, married and had seven sons together. The seven sons each founded their own families, multiplying into seven clans. The A-Su family was one branch. Later, warfare broke out among the brothers, three branches disappeared, and now only four remained.

Zhù Ying wrinkled her nose reading to the end, and said, “Is this what you wrote?”

Su Mingluan asked, “Is something wrong?”

Zhù Ying said, “Why seven sons? Why not seven children who multiplied into seven branches?”

Su Mingluan said, “The legend as passed down says… it says…”

She looked up in astonishment at Zhù Ying’s eyes. Zhù Ying said, “What are you looking at me for?! Go rewrite it! Then go back to the village and revise it gradually — in three to five years, no one will be able to sort out which version is correct anymore. The words you put down are the A-Su family’s history, the Qi Xia history, the Ying clan’s epic. Your clanspeople will feel that you taking charge is right and proper, that they accept you, that this has been the custom handed down from the ancestors. I write the petition requesting an official enfeoffment. When both are in alignment — is that not enough?”

Su Mingluan was breathing in great gulps of air, “Uncle?! This is… this can work, yes?”

Zhù Ying said in a baffled tone, “Why not say it this way: this is ‘restoring the original’? Since the seven sons can be revised to seven children, why could it not be that someone, somewhere along the line, sang it wrong and turned seven children into seven sons? The brush is in your hand! If the Ying clan can only multiply through sons, what use are you?! Does your father’s blood not flow in your veins?”

She picked up her brush and wrote the character, saying, “Let us make a bet — let us see whether this character can spread.”

Su Mingluan said, “I am not betting. I am going to go write right now. Heh heh.”

Zhù Ying clicked her tongue twice and said, “Foolish child.”

Hearing those words, Su Mingluan actually did not leave but sat down right there in the main office, “I’ll write here, and when I’m done Uncle can look it over?”

“Go ahead and write.”

Su Mingluan rewrote it along the lines Zhù Ying had laid out. The beginning remained the same, but the brush then turned: she changed “sons” to “children” and expanded the sections dealing with female ancestors. Originally each of the branch families’ heroes had their own deeds — shooting down the sun, shooting down the moon, slaying tigers, slaying eagles, and the like. She revised a few of these stories.

She took the story of “two strange beasts — one male, one female — who swallowed the sun and the moon, and the hero who shot them down” and expanded it: she wrote of a brother and sister who together each shot down one beast, thus rescuing the sun and the moon, so that from that time forward both day and night had light.

And so on in similar fashion. She wrote from morning until afternoon. Everyone who came to see Zhù Ying for official matters spotted her in the main office writing with furious concentration and thought: this young person from the Ying clan may be a barbarian, but she certainly has a scholar’s spirit!

As the light gradually faded, Su Mingluan was still composing with absorbed pleasure, and said, “I have done my best to restore things as they were. What a pity… ah, just think — my aunt too was a decisive and capable woman, I myself am able to make trips on my father’s behalf — how could our ancestors have been women who did nothing but bear children?”

“Hmph!” Zhù Ying, hearing mention of “bearing children,” rolled her eyes.

Su Mingluan also recalled having “visited” her that night, and pulled a face at Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying said, “Let me see it.”

A charlatan — and a well-read charlatan at that — who wanted to “embellish” a series of mythological stories found it almost effortlessly easy. Zhù Ying shook her head and said, “No good, not good. You have clumsily split one deed down the middle and assigned half to each of two people. It is too heavy-handed. Just as female characters in the earlier epic were entirely without agency — that is not good either. Write in some wisdom.”

Su Mingluan asked, “How?”

Zhù Ying guided her patiently: “Right then — the beast swallowed the sun and went into hiding. Someone had to find it. Who found it? How did they find it?”

Su Mingluan received the inspiration, “I understand now!”

Zhù Ying continued, “Also — do not clumsily split even the wrongdoings in two and assign half to each. Write in the knowledge of right from wrong, and the capacity to correct mistakes.” She imparted her guidance, Su Mingluan humbly absorbed every word, and by dinnertime Zhù Ying said, “All right. Go eat, and come back tomorrow. There is no rush.”

Su Mingluan said, “I will go and write more! I’ll hand in my homework to Uncle again tomorrow!”

Then she calculated: returning home to write, she would want Xiao Jiang’s help composing the melodies in the Qi Xia language. She remembered that Xiao Jiang was a woman who could sing, then hesitated — she herself was currently presenting as a man. She walked a few steps, turned back, and said to Zhù Ying, “Uncle, may I borrow the Jiang dame for a few days?”

“What for?”

“To help me compose the music.”

“Tsk tsk. Go ask her yourself.”

“But what about the ‘propriety between men and women’?”

Zhù Ying said, “Fine — I’ll arrange it.”

“Thank you, Uncle!”

Su Mingluan labored to record the epic of her clan. Zhù Ying was not idle either. She read the official gazette again and again, and still there was no news of her acquaintances. It did not quite add up, since no letters had arrived either.

She carefully wrapped the board, wrote several letters, and summoned Xiao Wu and Cao Chang: “The time has come to set out for the capital with this year’s New Year’s gifts. Xiao Wu, you have traveled the road before with Old Hou. This year I’ll send the two of you — Old Hou will stay here to keep watch. You can both take the opportunity to visit your parents and family at home.”

Two thousand seven hundred li; if traveling with a carriage, traveling for a month or more and reaching the capital in the twelfth month was perfectly normal. After staying in the capital to gather news and handle some business for Zhù Ying, it would be the New Year.

Zhù Ying specifically designated the board as a gift for Liu Songnian. It was truly something she owed him — without him, a farmer in a remote backwater would never have had even the opportunity to write a wrong character.

She then attached to the letters the essays Su Mingluan and Zhao Su had written. Su Mingluan’s had gone through several drafts and she was still not fully satisfied with any of them. In the end Zhù Ying made the call, “Never mind. Your people have no written language; it is entirely normal for the sung version to have different words in different tellings. Send this version out. You keep writing.”

As for Zhao Su’s essay — Zhù Ying always felt it lacked a certain flavor. She asked Liu Songnian to take a look: knowing it was not good, you look it over; if you are willing to make corrections, then any correction at all counts as a form of mentorship.

With everything packaged up, she told Xiao Wu and Cao Chang to choose an auspicious day to set out.