Hou Wu had been running for his life the entire way, both frightened and exhausted. By the time he spoke with Zhù Ying, all the color had drained from his face. Cao Chang did not fully understand the circumstances, but seeing Hou Wu’s expression — the look of a man who had committed some terrible blunder — he felt a twinge of pity. Without a word, he took the hot tea from the courier’s hand, first poured a cup for Zhù Ying, and then poured one for Hou Wu.

The tea was still scalding, and Hou Wu could not bring himself to drink it. Zhù Ying said, “Fetch him a couple of pieces of fruit — anything will do — just to wet his throat.”

When Wang Yunhe had issued his orders, he would never have bothered to explain himself to someone like Hou Wu. Sensing something was wrong, Hou Wu had gone on his own initiative to seek out Jin Liang, but Jin Liang was not at home. Left with no other option, he had waited until he could make his way to the Zheng residence, where Zheng Xi had dispatched him. Zheng Xi, for his part, would not explain himself to Hou Wu either. And so Hou Wu had spent the entire journey in a state of anxious bewilderment, hurrying along in a state of dread.

Cao Chang scrounged up two tangerines from the courier station master and peeled them for Hou Wu, but Hou Wu stuffed them into his mouth too hastily and broke into a fit of violent coughing.

Zhù Ying said, “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

Hou Wu’s nose reddened, and he said in a muffled voice, “My Lord, I’ve caused trouble.”

Zhù Ying shook her head. “It’s nothing. Take your time heading back — there’s no need to rush on the return journey. Once you’re home, follow A’Jie’s instructions and get to work. Get along well with Xiao Wu, and have him keep an eye on any developments at the yamen while you keep an eye on what’s happening outside. Tell A’Jie everything about your encounter with Chief Minister Wang — only A’Jie, mind you. Keep it from everyone else. Can you do that?”

“Yes!” Hou Wu’s voice trembled slightly.

“Don’t panic,” said Zhù Ying.

When she had asked Jin Liang for someone, Hou Wu had come along as a doorman and, in effect, someone to live out his retirement. He was nearly fifty, and putting him to use at all had already exceeded her expectations. Every one of the servants around her had their small shortcomings — she had long since kept a private accounting of them all.

The two cases had already brought trouble to her doorstep regardless. It had been more than two years since she left the capital, and returning for a visit was actually not a bad thing. She said, “Let’s all eat and get to bed early. Don’t wear yourselves out.”

“Yes.” Hou Wu’s voice was a little choked.

Zhù Ying reminded him again and again: “No need to rush home either. Especially once you’re back in Fulu County — it’s spring plowing season, don’t alarm anyone there. If anyone asks, tell them I’ve returned to the capital and know what I’m doing. Have you got that?”

Hou Wu, flustered, worked hard to repeat the words three times until he had memorized them. At last he said, “My Lord, is everything really going to be all right?”

Zhù Ying could see that he was far too tense for any joking, so she gave a calm, steady nod. “Of course.”

Hou Wu felt somewhat reassured and went off to his room to rest.

Zhù Ying turned to Cao Chang. “Once you’ve eaten, go rest as well. I don’t need you to wait on me. Save your strength for the road. Starting tomorrow, we’ll only eat two meals a day — morning and evening — so we can reach the capital sooner.”

Cao Chang made no objection. Two meals a day? That had been his way of life before. He was sure Zhù Ying wasn’t deliberately being harsh on him — it was simply for the sake of the journey, and he could endure that much.

Zhù Ying tallied up her schedule again. Because she had spent an extra ten days in the county, she now had only fifty days for a journey of two thousand seven hundred li. From south to north, spring plowing had begun, and the spring rains had started in many places — she would also need to account for bad weather along the way. It would be best to arrive three to five days before the final deadline: one for rest, one to gather some information and have a clearer picture. Working out the math, she would need to cover about eighty li per day to leave herself comfortable margin.

It was fortunate that she had run into Hou Wu — knowing the reason she had been summoned to the capital meant she no longer needed to worry. She could focus entirely on getting there. It was not too grueling; she could manage it.

With a clear plan in mind, Zhù Ying turned the whole sequence of events over in her head once more, then went to sleep with a settled heart.

The next morning, when she rose, both Cao Chang and Hou Wu had already gotten up. Cao Chang hurried off to ask the couriers for hot water and breakfast. Zhù Ying reminded Hou Wu one last time: “Don’t panic. And when you get back, don’t panic then either. Don’t alarm the people of the county.”

“Yes.”

After breakfast, Zhù Ying had Cao Chang eat a little extra, then waited at the station for another two quarter-hours before the two of them mounted their horses and rode off at a gallop.

From then on they ate two meals a day. After the morning meal they always waited to settle their stomachs before setting off, and after finding lodging for the night they also waited before eating — two meals a day, but both generous and good. They traveled by day and rested by night, halting whenever there was heavy rain on mountain roads to avoid the danger of rockslides. Twice along the way they encountered roads that had washed out: once they waited two days, once three. And on one occasion, a downpour allowed them to cover only thirty li for the entire day.

The most important cargo on this journey was the wheat. Zhù Ying was exceptionally careful, inspecting it at every lodging and wrapping it in oilcloth along the way as protection against the rain.

In all other stretches, the road went smoothly, and before long the capital came into view.

Lan Liangzhi and Sun Yidan were both clerks serving in the Council of State. Working in that office gave a clerk more clout than a sixth-rank official elsewhere in the country. In public, they wore expressions of upright dignity; in private, among colleagues at the Council, they were perfectly capable of cracking irreverent jokes.

Lan Liangzhi poked Sun Yidan. “Any news yet?”

Sun Yidan said, “Which one are you asking about?”

“The one who’s still on the way, obviously! The other one’s already arrived — and weren’t you the one who drafted the summons?”

“What’s the rush?”

“Ahem! It really is different when you have a good father, isn’t it?”

They were whispering about Duan Ying, who had arrived in the capital not long before. Duan Ying’s father was Duan Lin, the Grand Master of Imperial Sacrifices — one of the Nine Ministers. His son had likewise “voluntarily requested” to be posted to a harsh frontier region. With the establishment of the Eastern Palace’s heir, Duan Ying had submitted an exceptionally fine essay and had people speaking well of him besides.

The Emperor had given his verdict: “For writing like this, it seems a pity to keep him out there.”

Within two days Duan Ying had been recalled to the capital and posted to the Bureau of Historiography as a Supernumerary Historiographer — a position of the junior sixth rank, and quite a prestigious one at that. How many years had Duan Ying even been in office? He had gone out for a turn and come back to a post like this. The position was tied to the compilation of the dynastic histories — a fine credential for a man of letters.

People commonly joked about “the two ings” — though there was a playful edge to it, it came with the assumption that the two were somewhat evenly matched and might put on an amusing show of rivalry. Now it was apparent that one of them had come back after two years to a comfortable post, while the other was returning under a cloud of suspicion to answer for herself.

Sun Yidan said, “You really can’t compare one person to another.”

The two of them muttered on for a while. Lan Liangzhi glanced toward the main hall and lowered his voice. “I wonder what Chief Minister Wang’s intentions are?”

Sun Yidan said, “That one is at a disadvantage in terms of birth. If Chief Minister Wang were her father, things would be different.”

“Ha! If that were the case, there’d be no rivalry to speak of.”

“Who knows where she is now. Chief Minister Wang just said one word and she was recalled to explain herself — I wonder if he’s angry. If he is, things could get difficult. And Lord Zheng is still lying low himself. I think the signs are ominous.”

“Indeed. And let’s hope she doesn’t miss the deadline — if she’s late, that’s another piece of trouble on top of everything else.”

Neither of them felt any particular closeness to Zhù Ying. It was simply that, watching Duan Ying’s triumphant return, they couldn’t quite suppress a small twinge of something.

The two of them were still murmuring together when another colleague came rushing over. “She’s here! She’s here! Ha! Heh!”

Lan Liangzhi snapped, “What are you grinning at?! Who’s here?”

“That one — the other ing has entered the capital! And you’ll never guess how she came!”

“Don’t tell me someone ambushed her on the road? The Duan family wouldn’t be that brazen, would they?”

“No, no, no!” The man mimed as he laughed. “Ha ha ha ha! She — she — ha ha ha ha — she’s in her mid-twenties and she’s come back with a completely bare chin! Ha! One look at her chin and I couldn’t help thinking of old Duan Zhi!”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” The three of them collapsed against each other in laughter.

“Truly one of a kind!” they all cried.

Their appetites for spectacle thoroughly whetted, the three said as one, “Hurry, hurry, go look! Quick, quick, let’s look!”

Lan Liangzhi rubbed his hands together. “Where is she? Has she passed through the palace gate? Wait — once an official is posted outside the capital, their gate registry is canceled. How did you know?”

Zhù Ying had been pushing hard the whole way, and at the courier station thirty li outside the capital, with three days still remaining before her deadline — close enough to her own estimate — she stopped to rest for the night. Jin Liang was waiting for her there in person.

Zhù Ying had planned to rest there an extra day before entering the city, but when she saw Jin Liang she asked, “Is something the matter? Do you need me to enter the capital now?”

Jin Liang said, “You have a nerve! When Gan Ze and the others came back two days ago they were worried sick! If it weren’t for the Seventh Master saying you always know what you’re doing and telling us not to push, I’d have been sent out to rush you along.”

The two of them sat down. Jin Liang said, “Duan Ying is back in the capital — Supernumerary Historiographer.”

Zhù Ying said, “I saw it in the court gazette on the road. The position suits him.”

“You’re not bothered?”

“I feel relieved for the people of his county, that they don’t have to live under him.”

Jin Liang laughed so hard his whole body shook. “That mouth of yours is something else. Even so, he’s near the Emperor now — you, on the other hand —”

Zhù Ying said, “You’re strange. Why would I compare myself to him? I haven’t finished my own business yet. If Lord Zheng changes his plans for me because of Duan Ying, I’ll have lost respect for Lord Zheng as well.”

Jin Liang no longer took offense when she spoke of Zheng Xi that way. He grinned and said, “That temperament of yours.”

After exchanging a few laughs, Jin Liang lowered his voice and said, “You ran into Hou Wu, I take it? The Seventh Master says both cases are minor — it was Chief Minister Wang’s idea to call you back, and it’s actually for your benefit. Just explain things honestly and you’ll be fine. As for the Emperor’s presence, the Seventh Master can’t intervene there, but fortunately Lords Lan and Jiang will be on hand. They’ll speak up for you.”

Zhù Ying and Duan Ying were indeed hard to compare. Duan Ying had a real father — even when Duan Lin couldn’t be in the Emperor’s presence at every moment, seeing Duan Lin naturally reminded the Emperor of Duan Ying, and Duan Ying was genuinely a fine young man. Zhù Ying, on the other hand, had nothing she could set before the Emperor to keep herself in his thoughts.

Though Lan Zhen and Jiang Zhi both belonged to Zheng Xi’s circle, over the past two years they had reduced their open contact with him. Everyone was lying low, and being able to stay near the Emperor was as good as winning.

Zhù Ying said, “I understand.”

“The Seventh Master also said to finish your official business first; come see him when there’s nothing else pressing. Oh — the old Marquis has been thinking of you too. Also, you’re to ask Chief Minister Wang for guidance.”

“Understood.”

“And Liu Songnian. The Seventh Master thinks you might just get along with him.”

Zhù Ying couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be exasperated. “What he means is he’s found someone who won’t take offense at me and he wants me to go take a scolding.”

Jin Liang laughed.

After they had dealt with business, Jin Liang moved to small talk. “We’ve all missed you terribly these past two years! I ran into Commander Wen the other day — he was asking after you, and his wife misses Huajie too. As for your house, we’ve been going to check on it regularly, so no one would think they could take advantage of old Cao Chang’s parents just because they’re getting on in years…”

Jin Liang noticed that Zhù Ying had brought only Cao Chang with her, and shook his head at how simply she traveled. He also said, “Hou Wu is only good for keeping the door — he’s not up to much else. How about I put in some effort and find you a few more people?”

Zhù Ying said, “I want to come back exactly like this. When I’m short of people I’ll come to you — until then, don’t trouble yourself.”

“Very well.”

Jin Liang said nothing about Su Kuang, which told Zhù Ying that she was still to handle Su Kuang the way things stood: not deliberately making things harder for him, but not exerting herself to clean up his mess either.

There were only thirty li to go. The next morning she didn’t need to rise early. Zhù Ying slept until daylight, then rode into the capital with Cao Chang.

When they reached the city gate, the line of people waiting to enter had already shortened considerably. As an official of rank with an official document, Zhù Ying did not need to queue with ordinary people. She presented her credentials and went straight through.

Zheng Xi had not asked her to visit the Marquis’s residence first. She herself did not go home either, and instead headed directly for the imperial city. Whichever office of the central government had issued the summons for her to return and explain herself, all such offices were within the imperial city — and since her gate registry had lapsed, she would first need to apply for entry.

Standing before the imperial city gate, she was recognized at once by members of the Imperial Guard — the Jin Jun. Though their duties prevented them from letting her in without authorization, and propriety meant they could not break into noisy greetings, those who knew her all came over to say hello. Some off-duty guards even ran into the Court of Judicial Review to tell their colleagues, “Little Lord Zhù is back — she’s right there at the gate!”

Zhù Ying, aware she was being watched, did not engage with any of them first. Instead, she presented her credentials to the guards: “I was summoned back to explain myself.”

Wen Yue happened to be in the palace — he was responsible for inspections — and arrived at the gate before long. “What is everyone crowded around for?” He dispersed the guards back to their posts and personally registered Zhù Ying himself. “Let me send word inside,” he said. He filled out a form and sent it in, then dispatched men to inform the Censorate, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Council of State.

While they waited for a response, he stood there chatting with Zhù Ying. The sight of him apparently at leisure drew the onlookers drifting back.

Cao Chang had a powerful impression of the imperial city gate, and gripped his horse’s reins very tightly. Wen Yue noticed him too, and tilted his chin toward the horse he was holding. He asked Zhù Ying, “Why did you bring those two sacks along? Shouldn’t he have taken the luggage home first? Wait — that doesn’t look like luggage.”

Zhù Ying smiled. “I wanted to come here first and hear what’s what, so I can set my mind at ease. Then I can go home and rest in peace.”

Wen Yue said, “You’ve worn yourself out on that road.”

There were people all around, so Wen Yue said nothing confidential. Before long, Li the captain and other former acquaintances drifted over as well. Some said, “You’ve grown taller.” Others said, “You’ve gotten thin from exhaustion.” And someone said, “Where’s your beard? Why aren’t you growing a beard?”

Zhù Ying had never in her life had a beard.

Fulu County was hot but humid, and Zhù Ying didn’t spend every day baking in the sun, so she hadn’t noticeably darkened. However, this stretch of road had genuinely worn her thin — she was lean and willowy, fair-skinned and bare-chinned, with something of the look of a youth of sixteen or seventeen.

Everyone took a long look at her, recalled her beard situation, and burst into another fit of laughter. “Ha ha ha ha! You mischief-maker! We thought you’d go off three thousand li and come back dejected — who knew you’d still have that same temperament.”

Zhù Ying said, “Don’t insult people to their face. What’s wrong with my temperament? Everyone knows I have the best temperament in the world.”

They couldn’t help it — she just reminded them of the other traveler who had arrived in the capital recently: the elegantly composed Duan Ying. Two years in the frontier had not made Duan Ying ugly; rather, the wind and sand had given him a faint masculine weathering, a very slight darkening of the skin that lent him the desolate air of a literary man who had taken up the sword. He had grown a thin mustache above his lip, adding just a touch of masculine vigor. Not yet thirty, with extraordinarily handsome features — anyone who laid eyes on him was captivated.

And here, standing before them, was this young scamp.

The Imperial Guards fell into another peal of laughter — and so did the bystanders who had come running at word of the spectacle.

The whole imperial city was filled with a spirit of merriment — the Court of Imperial Sacrifices aside.

With friends in high places and the Imperial Guards themselves eager for the show, Zhù Ying’s gate registry had lapsed, but permission to enter was approved with remarkable speed.

Even the great General Ye told his personal guards, “Let me know when she passes by — I want to take a look as well.” Specifically going out of his way to observe a young official’s facial hair would have been beneath the old general’s dignity, but catching a glance as she passed by was perfectly acceptable.

The Court of Judicial Review had been unsettled in its spirit for the past few years, and when word came that Zhù Ying was back, everyone’s mood lifted at once. Intimidated by Dou Peng’s strictness, no one dared leave their post — but they collectively designated two minor clerks to disguise themselves as passersby and go have a look. While they were in the midst of pushing the volunteers along, Leng Yun dropped the book in his hand and sauntered out of the Court of Judicial Review with a casual elegance. He needed no one’s permission to leave.

Then there were people from the Ministry of Personnel who wanted a look, and the Censorate, having received the formal notification, sent someone over to negotiate with the Council of State about who should hear her explanation first. The Council of State itself was already aware — Wang Yunhe had been the one to summon her, and they needed to see her as well.

The imperial city was suddenly buzzing with life over the arrival of an inconsequential minor official. Most people were pointing at Zhù Ying’s beard situation — or rather, the absence of one. Those with patience recounted for any newcomers the story of Duan Zhi hiring assassins years ago, only to be killed by his intended victim in return.

A few voices murmured, “Covered all that road and still didn’t forget to shave — there’s something to be said for this person.”

Someone argued back: “They had a close shave with the gates of hell. Never got to drink Granny Meng’s brew of forgetfulness — of course they haven’t forgotten anything.”

All kinds of things were being said, and none of it stopped anyone from enjoying the spectacle.

Over at the Censorate, Senior Censor Yang heard the guards’ notification and asked, “Why did no one inform me of this? Never mind — have the person brought over. Be courteous.” Senior Censor Yang had seen a great deal of the world. As far as the accounts of the Court of Judicial Review were concerned, it had nothing to do with Zhù Ying in any meaningful sense — Su Kuang had done evil, and she had been caught up in it by chance.

The Censorate sent out a censor, but not before Leng Yun — moving faster — had already reached the palace gate. His first glance told him everything: Zhù Ying looked exactly the same as before. Many men, once they came of age, grew a beard as a kind of grooming flourish — a beard could conceal imperfections on the face, and a fine beard lent a man the air of proper masculine dignity. Some men found, however, that beards made them look worse, and would delay growing one as long as possible, then shape and trim it carefully to compensate.

And then there was Zhù Ying, who simply never grew one.

Leng Yun laughed first. When he had laughed enough, he bounded forward and assumed the manner of a wise elder, saying, “Hm, hm — you’ve been tempered by experience, I see!”

Zhù Ying said, “I pay my respects, Deputy Chief.”

“Good, good!”

When Leng Yun had first received Zhù Ying’s letter back then, he had not been especially pleased — it was rare for him to seriously set out to rescue someone. But now that she was actually here, he felt his fondness return: “You came back on your own!”

Zhù Ying said, “Just coming to answer some questions.”

“Bah! I said it all along — what does that case have to do with you? You’re the one who was wronged! All that hard work, and some useless creature ruins it all!”

Zhù Ying said, “Let’s not — he hasn’t ruined me yet.”

Leng Yun said, “Come on, I’ll take you to the Censorate! Hey — once you’ve finished there, come back to the Court of Judicial Review and we’ll talk.”

The censor knew perfectly well what Leng Yun was like, but could not afford to show weakness. “Lord Leng, Little Zhù is supposed to come to us to give her account.”

“Exactly. I’m not keeping her — I’m going with her.”

The onlookers all knew that him going along meant nothing but chaos, but no one said a word of discouragement. They had known Zhù Ying’s return would produce a good show, but hadn’t expected quite this much.

Before either of them could continue their argument, an emissary from the Council of State arrived with a summons: Zhù Ying was to present herself there first.

Leng Yun didn’t dare go to the Council of State — he was genuinely frightened of Wang Yunhe. In Wang Yunhe’s actual estimation, Leng Yun was the least dissolute among the dissolute scions of the capital’s nobility, and Wang Yunhe neither discriminated against him nor looked down on him. Yet Leng Yun felt, whenever he stood before Wang Yunhe, that he was a complete waste of a human being who had accomplished nothing — and so he feared him.

He made an awkward face and gave Zhù Ying a look, then stepped aside. “Ahem! Well then — go speak honestly with the Chief Ministers.”

Zhù Ying said, “Yes.” And then, with one hand each, she lifted the two large sacks.

Sun Yidan asked, “May I ask, Lord Zhù — what is in those?”

Zhù Ying said, “Something I’ll need when I give my account.”

Captain Li said at once, “Why are you carrying those yourself? Are you all blind? Come on, someone step up!”

Two guards sprang forward, one apiece, shouldered the sacks, and followed along. As they walked, they muttered to each other that it felt like carrying half a sack of wheat each.

In the Council of State, Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun had already returned from the Emperor’s presence. They had not yet formally begun the day’s business when laughter drifted in from outside.

Shi Kun frowned. “This is improper.”

Wang Yunhe said, “Send someone to find out what’s happening.” After summoning Zhù Ying to the capital to explain herself, he had kept the matter in mind, but he also knew she could handle it — he didn’t need to watch over her closely. Once the official business was concluded, he planned to call her in for a separate conversation, so that others would see he was looking out for her.

Since sending a cohort of young officials out to regional postings two years prior, the strengths and weaknesses of each had become visible. Wang Yunhe assessed their performance records with complete dispassion, and it had to be said that Zhù Ying had outperformed them all. She was worth the extra gesture of a private meeting — so that others would know not to trample on her carelessly.

Before long, Sun Yidan returned to report. Shi Kun said, “This young person — steady in business, mischievous in conduct. That needs to be addressed.”

Wang Yunhe changed his mind in an instant. “Have her come in and give her account.”

Sun Yidan went to fetch her.

Zhù Ying, with two guards carrying sacks behind her, walked in with unhurried ease to the Council of State. Sun Yidan said, “Lord Zhù, please wait outside while I announce you.”

Zhù Ying said, “Thank you.” She glanced around and noticed several clerks peeking at her from behind the pillars. She gave a small smile and said to the guards, “Those are a bit heavy, aren’t they? Put them down. You’ve worked hard. When this is done, find Captain Li and ask him for your trouble money — tell him I’ll settle up with him when I get back.”

Both guards laughed. “That’s our Little Lord Zhù. We’ll wait here — Little Lord Zhù will need these sacks when she goes in to give her account; someone’s got to carry them in.”

Zhù Ying said, “Fine.”

Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun were, of course, managing a thousand affairs at once. During the time Sun Yidan went to collect Zhù Ying, the two of them had not been sitting idle for a moment — they were attending to the business at hand. Sun Yidan waited a full quarter-hour, until both men had finished discussing an Eastern Palace matter, before going in to announce her.

Shi Kun said, “Show her in.”

Zhù Ying straightened her robes, entrusted the sacks to the guards, and stepped into the Council of State.

The central chamber of the Council of State had ministerial desks to either side. Zhù Ying was led by Sun Yidan into the chamber on the left, where both Shi Kun and Wang Yunhe were present, seated facing each other on a low platform, taking a midpoint break over tea.

Zhù Ying paid her respects. The two men looked her over — a completely smooth chin, indeed, though her complexion was a touch pale and she had lost some weight, in the way one does from genuinely working hard. Shi Kun no longer bothered to mention the beard. Instead he asked, “Was the road all right?”

Zhù Ying said, “We ran into a few rainstorms and lost several days.”

Wang Yunhe asked, “Do you know why you were summoned?”

“Yes!” Zhù Ying reached directly into her sleeve and produced a document. She had prepared it well in advance.

First came the handover document from the time she had left the Court of Judicial Review — six pages in total, listing precisely what she had turned over when she departed, with the signature of the Vice Director who had received the items and the seal of Hu Lian as witness.

Wang Yunhe said, “Good — very thorough.” He passed the document to Shi Kun. Shi Kun glanced it over and saw that it was laid out with crisp clarity: not only a page of properties, but also a count of how many dossiers she had turned over and the like. Shi Kun read it with a feeling of quiet satisfaction. “Acceptable. Now, Su Kuang’s case — what is your view?”

Zhù Ying reached into her other sleeve and produced another document — a slightly thinner one, only four pages. Wang Yunhe asked, “What is this?”

Zhù Ying said, “This is the inventory from when I took over.”

Both Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun read it through. Comparing the two, it was plain that while Zhù Ying had been managing the Court of Judicial Review’s miscellaneous affairs, she had genuinely built up a considerable amount of property for the court. Shi Kun thought to himself: I always knew she was capable — I didn’t realize she was capable to this degree. No wonder Old Wang thinks so highly of her. I’m almost jealous myself.

Wang Yunhe stroked his beard and smiled. “And the garrison at Fulu County — how do you explain that?”

Zhù Ying produced another document. “These are the accounts.” After presenting them, she explained the timeline of the garrison’s arrival: even if the land had been good farmland, the spring plowing window had already passed when they arrived, meaning there would be no harvest that year. Starving soldiers were certain to cause trouble, so subsidies had been unavoidable. As for the farmland, it was technically “cleared wasteland.”

She said, “If you look at the back — the budget was set at the maximum, projected out over ten years. After ten years, their land will be properly cultivated, and the subsidies will end.”

Shi Kun said, “You’ve planned ten years ahead?”

Zhù Ying said, “I don’t dare leave problems for whoever comes after me. Before I leave office, I will have this expense prepared in full. I won’t dig pits for my successors.”

Shi Kun said, “Nonsense — how was your exemption from the land tax arrears granted? Not falling into debt with the court would be impressive enough. Fulu County actually has a surplus to sustain this for ten years?”

Wang Yunhe was equally curious. “You’re not the kind of person who squeezes the people dry. How exactly do you plan to manage this amount?”

Zhù Ying said, “I hadn’t intended to say anything about this just yet, but… I’ll ask both Chief Ministers to be seated firmly before I show you something.”

“Oh? What is it?” Wang Yunhe looked toward her sleeve.

Zhù Ying said, “It’s outside.”

Sun Yidan bowed. “Chief Ministers — Lord Zhù arrived with two sacks.”

“Bring them in.”

The two guards generously shouldered the sacks and carried them in, setting them down on the floor before the ministers with two heavy thuds. They clasped their hands respectfully toward Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun. “Chief Ministers — it’s all in here.”

Whether or not that display had any effect was unclear — Wang Yunhe did not so much as glance at them. “Open them.”

The two men worked the rope loose and rolled down the tops of the sacks. Both let out a startled “Oh!”

Zhù Ying scooped up a handful of wheat and held it out to Shi Kun. “Chief Minister — will this serve as a surplus?”

“What surplus is this? Hm? Wait a moment —” Shi Kun suddenly felt that something was off, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Wang Yunhe shot to his feet and walked briskly to the sacks, scooping up a handful himself. “This… new wheat? Where did this come from? Isn’t Fulu County a rice-producing region?”

Zhù Ying said, “I began trial cultivation in Fulu County last year. Other crops either conflicted with the planting schedule or couldn’t adapt to the soil and climate, and the summer-season wheat never took hold either. Only the winter wheat I planted last autumn had a harvest — which came in the second month. Once the winter wheat was harvested, the spring plowing went ahead to plant the rice…”

“Ahh!” Shi Kun cried out, and leapt to his feet as well, striding over to take his own handful.

Two Chief Ministers, each standing guard over a sack of wheat, pouring the grain back and forth between their hands in amazed admiration. Wang Yunhe said gravely, “This matter must not be boasted about.”

Zhù Ying produced from her other sleeve a thick sheaf of bound notes. “I would not dare put a single word of falsehood before you, Chief Ministers — please have a look.”

Wang Yunhe set the wheat back in the sack, dusted off his hands, and accepted the notes. Reading the cover — “Trial Cultivation” — he opened to the first page, which was a map showing the layout of several plots of land, with Fulu County’s location annotated beside them. He flipped quickly through the pages: records of bean cultivation, records of millet cultivation…

Zhù Ying said, “Keep flipping. If you’ll permit.” She stepped forward, turned to the entry on “Winter Wheat,” and let the two men see: it was recorded in painstaking detail — how many mu had been planted, the exact dates on which the wheat was sown, how deeply the soil had been tilled, what the weather had been like, when the ears of grain had formed, when it had ripened, how the harvest was gathered.

At the end was the yield — one and a half shi per mu.

Wang Yunhe was overjoyed. “Extraordinary! One moment — Shi Gong?”

Shi Kun also had a light in his eyes. Both men had direct practical experience in governance, and both knew that the difference between real and false accomplishment came down to detail — there were things you simply could not know unless you had done them yourself. Zhù Ying’s record was solid and thorough. Wang Yunhe, who had personal knowledge of farming, read it with close attention: how water channels had been diverted, how the wheat had been dried and for how many days. All of it was concrete detail.

The two men read and questioned Zhù Ying at the same time. She answered everything in turn. Pointing and cross-referencing with maps, they called for a geographic chart and discussed over it at length — if it worked in Fulu County, what about the counties surrounding Fulu County? They debated, and at last exchanged a smile and nods, their eyes resting on Zhù Ying with unusual warmth.

Zhù Ying reached out and took the notes back. “There is one matter.”

Wang Yunhe’s voice, unusually, held a slight tremor. “What matter?”

“This was only a trial. Had it not been for the need to give an account before the Chief Ministers, I would not have spoken of it at this juncture.”

Shi Kun asked, “Why not?”

Zhù Ying said, “The harvest we achieved came about first because the seed stock was good, and second because I had specifically designated public-service farmland for the wheat cultivation. There were draft oxen, farming tools, and good irrigation.” She turned to another page of the trial cultivation record — the entry on “Winter Wheat” — and said, “This here was planted on a poor-quality plot — the yield there was only one shi per mu.”

“Fulu County lies deep in the south. In places that are too hot, this crop cannot be grown at all. Beyond that, the farmers of Fulu County are not experienced with wheat cultivation. Growing two harvests per year also demands that the soil’s strength be replenished — fertilizer must be accumulated…” She went on at some length about the practical complications. Both Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun were satisfied that the wheat had genuinely been grown.

Zhù Ying continued: “So the per-mu yield is not necessarily one and a half shi — something closer to one shi would be a more reasonable estimate. After husking and milling, if one is eating grain boiled whole, there’s still a bit more, but once it’s ground into flour — can even a good field yield a full shi of flour? A poorer field would give only a few dou. As for the tax assessment — perhaps we could refrain from levying taxes on the wheat harvest for the time being…”

Wang Yunhe suddenly burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha ha, you! — Bring your wheat, and let’s go see His Majesty. Shi Gong?”

Shi Kun said, “Indeed! Let the Emperor share in our happiness!”

Zhù Ying said, “Yes.”

The two guards also felt the excitement rising, exchanging glances, eager to step forward and help. Shi Kun said, “You two — stop standing there idle.”

The two men hurried forward, re-tied the sack tops securely, shouldered them, and fell in behind the group.

Between the outer imperial city and the inner palace lay another gate. Wang Yunhe said, “All of you wait here!”

Zhù Ying and the two guards stopped. By now it was already afternoon. Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun were inside for perhaps a quarter of an hour when a troop of young eunuchs came running out: “Where is Zhù Ying?”

Zhù Ying stepped forward. “Zhù Ying is here.”

The lead eunuch said, gasping for breath, “Quickly! His Majesty wishes to see you! Where is the wheat?”

The two guards said, “Right here!”

The eunuch said, “All right — give it to us. You two may go.”

This shut the guards up rather abruptly.

Zhù Ying gave them a glance, and the two swallowed their irritation and left, fuming inwardly: wretched palace lackeys!

Zhù Ying walked side by side with the eunuch, two other eunuchs following behind with the sacks. The eunuch said with a smile, “Congratulations, Lord Zhù.”

Zhù Ying said, “On what occasion?”

“His Majesty is in very good spirits — keep your wits about you when you present yourself!”

“I will. Thank you for the warning. May I ask your name?”

The eunuch smiled. “I won’t tell you now — if we have occasion to meet again, you’ll know then.”

Zhù Ying asked no further.

The eunuch asked, “Lord Zhù — do you still remember the court etiquette for an imperial audience?”

Zhù Ying said, “I’m fortunate not to have forgotten.”

“Good.”

The procession did not go to the hall where court assemblies were held, but passed to the side and came to a different palace — the hall where the Emperor conducted his daily governance. High on its terrace stood five connected chambers, the central one hung with a plaque reading “Diligent Governance.”

The Emperor had not been in a particularly good mood — by afternoon, when there was no major business, he could usually rest and enjoy himself. But knowing that Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun were not the sort of men to make something out of nothing, he had received the two Chief Ministers after all — and from them he had heard extraordinary news: a harvest of both rice and wheat in the same year.

If it could be extended to even one county, it meant in effect that he possessed one entire additional county’s worth of farmland. If extended to a whole prefecture, it meant an entire additional prefecture’s worth of grain and revenue.

He found it hard to believe such good news. “Is this genuinely true?” he asked.

Wang Yunhe said, “Zhù Ying is just outside the palace. Your Majesty may summon her for questioning.”

Shi Kun said, “She has brought the winter wheat she harvested along with her.”

“Summon her!”

Zhù Ying followed the eunuch into the Diligent Governance Hall. Following the court etiquette she had learned before, she performed the full ritual prostration before the Emperor. The Emperor said, “Rise.”

Zhù Ying rose in the prescribed manner — which gave the Emperor a favorable impression. Though an official trembling with awe might serve to enhance imperial majesty, officials also needed to project composure and steadiness, especially one who had accomplished something of this magnitude.

The Emperor asked, “The two Chief Ministers have told me of your winter wheat cultivation — is it true?”

Zhù Ying said, “I would not dare deceive Your Majesty. I have indeed conducted a trial planting. The seed stock was limited, so I planted only twenty mu, and the yield was acceptable. The wheat is right outside.”

“Bring it in!”

The Emperor had initially remained seated with perfect composure, waiting for the little eunuchs to bring the wheat over — but as they drew closer and closer, he suddenly found he could not sit still. He shot to his feet and strode forward to meet them.

The little eunuchs were startled and scrambled to open the sacks. The Emperor himself scooped up a handful. “It is wheat! Was this truly grown in Fulu County?”

Zhù Ying said, “It was.”

Wang Yunhe said quietly, “Your Majesty — this is the new wheat of this year, certainly not more than two months old.”

The Emperor was thrilled. He asked Zhù Ying again, “Do you believe this is achievable?”

Zhù Ying quickly repeated to him everything she had said to Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun, finishing with: “The planting has not yet been widely extended, so the yields are not yet established. As for the tax assessment — perhaps…”

The Emperor said, “Ah — you’re worried about falling behind on the land tax arrears again. I remember now!” The white pheasant incident. Suddenly another memory surfaced. “And — the literacy stele — that was your doing as well, wasn’t it?”

Zhù Ying said, “The literacy text was written by Liu Songnian. I merely had it carved.”

The Emperor said, “You’re a practical-minded person. Liu Songnian has had things to say about you — he complained that the piece you submitted to him was no good, and yet you really did write one? And had it carved?”

“Well…”

The Emperor was in high spirits. He sent someone to summon Liu Songnian. “I’ll sort this out between the two of you — it’s obviously a good thing! He insists on quarreling with a young person over it. What’s wrong with being praised?”

Liu Songnian was already in the palace. He had heard early on that Zhù Ying had arrived, but was holding himself to a pose of dignified indifference and refusing to go gawk at the spectacle. When the Emperor summoned him, he was still in something of a sulk — the Emperor really was interfering with his ability to hear interesting gossip at its source. When he arrived at the Diligent Governance Hall, he still had to pretend he was not displeased. He performed his court rituals, looked up — and came face to face with Zhù Ying.

Liu Songnian rubbed his eyes. The Emperor said, laughing, “You’re not allowed to be angry — I was the one who called you!”

Liu Songnian was genuinely rather pleased inside, but now he had to maintain his facade of displeasure. Deliberately he said, “I have always been a good-tempered person.”

The Emperor laughed. “Yes, yes, your temper is the best of all.”

He then had Zhù Ying thank Liu Songnian to his face. Zhù Ying did so sincerely — she was genuinely grateful that Liu Songnian had stooped to lend his help, and her tone was especially heartfelt.

Liu Songnian said, “All right, all right — if you want to do it, then do it.”

Still bent in her bow of thanks, Zhù Ying twisted her head upward and said, “Actually, you were willing all along, weren’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have written it!”

Liu Songnian made as if to hit her. Zhù Ying straightened up instantly, leapt back two steps, and slipped behind Wang Yunhe.

The Emperor interceded to make peace. Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun also stepped forward to play peacemakers in jest. Wang Yunhe said, “No hitting — no hitting. This time she has genuinely accomplished something of great benefit to the country and the people.”

“Is that so?”

Shi Kun said, “Would we be this happy otherwise?”

Zhù Ying said quickly, “Your Majesty, there is something I wish to say, and I hope Your Majesty will hear me.”

The Emperor was merrily “mediating the quarrel” and, holding Liu Songnian’s sleeve, asked, “What is it?”

Zhù Ying said, “The wheat has not yet been widely planted. May I ask Your Majesty to grant a grace period of a few years on the grain tax — Fulu County is very remote, and it is a place of miasma and pestilence, and the people there suffer greatly. I have one further thought…”

“Hm?” The Emperor frowned. “Say it.”

Zhù Ying said, “I’ll begin with the Ying people. I have also been thinking — if it is possible — of teaching them to farm.”

Shi Kun said immediately, “That must be handled with care!”

Zhù Ying said, “I understand — the worry is that we would be cultivating a threat.”

Liu Songnian harrumphed. “If you know, why do it?”

Zhù Ying said, “It isn’t for that reason. Hear me out — just one word.

Our trade with the Ying people brings great profit to us, little to them — more to one side and less to the other. It has always been true that discontent comes not from having too little but from having unequal shares. When all things flow into one person’s hands, do the others submit completely — or do they seek to take it back by force? My thought is this: let them be able to sustain themselves, so they are not driven by desperation to take desperate measures.

The same thinking underlies my words about the tax. Wealth flows like water — always gathering in the low places. I have studied the histories, and it has always seemed impossible to prevent the rich from growing richer while the poor grow poorer. The reason is that the wealthy can absorb greater blows — they survive adversity and emerge on level ground. The poor, at the first setback, lose everything, flee, or perish. If wealth remains constant, we will soon face the calamity of consolidation.

If water gathers in one place, the flowers and trees elsewhere wither and die; the fish, birds, beasts, and people — they all die of thirst. And so the Lord of Heaven issues his decree: the rain master, the wind lord, the dragon kings of the four seas take up the water and spread rain upon all things.

Drawing from the rivers and the sea is difficult work — so instead, it must flow up from springs in every place, without running dry. One additional harvest per season is one more spring feeding the earth, one more buffer against the suffering of consolidation.

Your Majesty — spreading rain and clouds is not easy work. It would be better to truly open the sources. Whether after five years or ten, allow the people to perfect their cultivation before setting the tax rate based on yields — that would be a contribution for ten thousand generations.

This is merely a foolish notion of mine. I ask Your Majesty to pardon me for my presumption.”

So saying, she bowed low before the Emperor.

The Emperor stood for a moment in thought. Then he said, “These are words of counsel for the state.”

He looked at the people assembled before him, and thought: this one is truly the timber of pillars and beams. No wonder even Liu Songnian regards them with such particular esteem.