With both cases concluded, the great spectacle had come to an end. For the yamen, what remained was nothing more than writing official documents and filing case records; for the people of the prefecture city, it meant another half-month of dense gossip fodder, along with topics to bring up casually in idle conversation.

Seeing how things had settled, the gentry of the prefecture city ceased their agitation as well. They returned home to visit friends, call on relatives, and attend to their household affairs as they pleased. The winter wheat in Nanping County fell outside Zhù Ying’s direct jurisdiction, and Magistrate Guo’s approach differed little from hers — he too had first sought out some wealthy households to plant a trial crop and see how it fared.

司马 Zhang had avoided embarrassing himself, and Jing Gang had returned without being able to overturn anything, so everyone went back to whatever they had been doing before. In the first year of planting winter wheat, field management still required close attention, and they would periodically summon their stewards for reports, occasionally going out to the fields themselves to take a look. Some with more active minds had already begun preparing gifts.

Before long, the prefecture city had returned to its usual state, with no trace that anyone had ever surrounded the yamen.

Zhù Ying was quite busy herself these days.

On the very day the cases were closed, she had no sooner returned home than the women of the household surrounded her. Zhang Xiangu asked: “Well? How did it go? I heard the ‘fox immortal’ was a person in disguise?”

Zhù Ying said: “Yes, it was a man.”

Zhang Xiangu spat in disgust: “Pah! What a wretched thing!” Noticing Su Zhe nearby, she held back further questions about the person’s sex, deciding to ask again when the child was not around.

Su Zhe, upon hearing it had been a person in disguise, immediately lost interest, puffed out her cheeks, and ran off to play on the swing — she had recently taken a liking to that game again.

Zhù Ying did not stop her, but instructed a maidservant to keep watch and ensure she came to no harm. Su Zhe said: “I’ll only play for a little while.”

Zhù Ying said: “Playing a good while longer wouldn’t hurt anything.” As long as the child finished her lessons, it was fine. At Su Zhe’s current pace, she would not be starting serious study until next year at the earliest.

After changing her clothes, Zhù Ying sent Xiang Le to deliver a calling card to Commander Mei, as she intended to pay a visit to the military camp in a couple of days. Commander Mei, like Commander Ding of Fulu County, had a decent residence in the city but ordinarily lived in the barracks. Commander Mei had a large number of soldiers under his command, and also oversaw the largest convict labor camp in Nanfu Prefecture.

That place had grown into something resembling a large town. Not far from the barracks stood fodder depots, granaries, and the like. Whether it came to provisions and pay or promotions, their affairs ran along a different track from the local administration, though there were points of intersection in certain matters — the convict labor camp, for instance.

People held there were eligible, once they had served a certain number of years, to have their household registration transferred into the local rolls. Since Zhù Ying’s arrival, she had not yet received a large influx of such people to bolster Nanfu’s population. She had a roster in her possession and had taken the opportunity to study it after her arrival. Now she wished to request a few craftsmen whose registrations had not yet been transferred, in order to put them to use.

When Xiang Le returned, he brought back Commander Mei’s reply: “I await your esteemed presence at your convenience.” Zhù Ying decided to go the very next day.

That evening, Zhù Ying reviewed the list once more, then summoned Xiao Wu: “Prepare some rooms.”

Xiao Wu quickly asked: “What sort of rooms does the official require? What kind of people will be staying? I’ll need to know in order to prepare.”

Zhù Ying said: “Nothing difficult — we’ve done it before. Craftsmen from the convict labor camp.”

Xiao Wu said: “Consider it done! Rest assured, sir, I’ll take care of everything.”

Zhù Ying said: “Make sure there are guards ready as well.”

“Yes. Do we need to hitch a few more carts tomorrow? The people you need likely have some skill, and like those stonemasons from before, might have their own familiar tools. I’ll have food ready too — don’t you worry. I can follow the same method as last time.”

Zhù Ying laughed and scolded: “If you want to prepare, then prepare. Why all the chatter?”

Xiao Wu replied with a drawn-out: “Yes~”

……

The next day, Xiao Wu had several carts hitched up and accompanied Zhù Ying to Commander Mei’s camp. Zhù Ying glanced at the cart tracks and asked: “Did you bring things along?”

Xiao Wu said: “We have the carts — wouldn’t it be rude not to bring a little something? Just a bit of wine and food, nothing much.”

Zhù Ying nodded with satisfaction: “Let’s go.”

“Right away~”

The party arrived at the barracks without much delay. Commander Mei’s entire camp had benefited from Zhù Ying, and upon hearing of her arrival, everyone straightened up and made a good showing. Commander Mei came out smiling to receive her: “Zhù Daren, it has been too long.” With her rank being higher than his, he dared not be presumptuous.

Zhù Ying said: “Sorry to impose.”

“Not at all, not at all, please come in!”

“Xiao Wu.”

Xiao Wu obligingly went to arrange matters with Commander Mei’s staff, smiling as he said: “At the official’s instruction, we’ve brought along some wine and food.”

Commander Mei offered polite thanks, and Zhù Ying said: “It would hardly be right to visit empty-handed.”

Commander Mei said: “Now that you put it that way, I feel rather embarrassed — I often come before you with empty hands myself.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then what will you give me in return this time?”

“Whatever does the official desire?”

Zhù Ying said: “Shall we talk at leisure?”

“Of course! Come!”

Commander Mei had arranged an inspection formation in Zhù Ying’s honor and invited her up onto his “command platform.” Such platforms were found in many barracks — a large raised platform on one side of an open training ground, high enough to give a clear view of the soldiers below drilling, maneuvering, and forming formations. When instructors taught, they demonstrated from the platform above, allowing soldiers to see clearly from below.

“Command platform” was the customary name, though here it was something of a misnomer. The highest-ranking officer in the camp was Commander Mei, currently a full Sixth Rank; he would need to reach the Senior Fifth before being addressed as “General,” but that threshold — like the civilian official’s “sitting at Six, eyeing Five” — was a barrier that stopped many men for life. There were no generals in this camp to be commanded.

Zhù Ying stood alongside Commander Mei on the platform with great interest, watching as a junior officer waved a flag while soldiers below fell into formation and let out a shout. The flag moved rapidly, and one junior officer ran out from the center, came to the foot of the platform, and saluted with clasped hands: “Commander, the formation is complete.”

Commander Mei began his address: “Today Zhù Daren honors us with her presence — look sharp, all of you!”

The soldiers responded in unison. When so many male voices sounded together, even the syllables grew indistinct — it sounded something between “Yes,” “Good,” and a guttural “Augh.”

Zhù Ying estimated she could not produce quite so loud a sound herself, so she simply raised her sleeve and waved it twice, then gave a proper bow. She then said to Commander Mei: “You are far too courteous.”

“Not at all, not at all — please take your seat. Alright, begin!”

The junior officer exchanged the two flags for a pair of long triangular ones. One held upright, one laid horizontally — and the soldiers immediately broke into motion. Commander Mei said: “This is the Single Serpent Formation.”

The flags changed again, crossing each other. Commander Mei said: “And this is the Eight Trigrams Formation.”

The patterns shifted again and again. Zhù Ying watched through eight different military formations in all, quite broadening her horizons. She had dealt with the Imperial Guards before but had never witnessed anything like this, and could not help asking: “Are the Imperial Guards trained this way as well?”

Commander Mei said: “That I cannot say with certainty — has the official never seen it?”

“I spent all my time checking their waist tokens at the gate.”

Both of them laughed.

Zhù Ying asked further: “With drills this rigorous day after day, can their food and provisions keep up?”

Commander Mei said: “They can eat their fill — but once they’re fed, they have to train. We dare not…” He lowered his voice and said to Zhù Ying, “I’ll say more later.”

After the soldiers had completed their formations, Commander Mei and Zhù Ying rode on horseback through the ranks, and Zhù Ying observed carefully throughout. At the conclusion, the two returned to the command platform, and Commander Mei declared the drill finished before inviting Zhù Ying into his “command tent” for conversation.

Commander Mei’s “command tent” was not a real tent — it too was a conventional name. He occupied the best quarters in the camp. The two entered and sat down, host and guest each in their proper place. Hot tea was served, and only then did the formal meeting truly begin.

Zhù Ying had come with several matters to discuss. First, she wanted to survey the barracks and at least form some impression of things. Second, she wished to discuss with Commander Mei the matter of the convict labor camp. She had looked into it before: among those in the camp were a number of craftsmen as well as some criminal types, and more troublingly, there were also some exiled officials. Those officials who still held hope had in some cases been unwilling to register their households there, still anticipating either a general amnesty or a fresh appointment. Officials committed offenses of all kinds, and if something like the Gong case came up again, such a person would not be suited to being transferred to the prefectural yamen for preferential treatment.

The specific details still required discussion between Zhù Ying and Commander Mei.

By now she had a firm enough hold on Nanfu, and her next aim was to make contact with the Liji people. There were small numbers of Liji in the prefecture city, but their presence was largely spontaneous, unlike the Asu chieftain’s gesture of sending his younger sister down the mountain into marriage. By comparison, the Asu family was relatively inclined toward dealings with the court; the Liji were somewhat more unyielding. If she were to make contact, Zhù Ying felt she would still need some backing behind her — and that backing was Commander Mei. She had no intention of “provoking a border incident.” Having studied the previous “burning of the mountain peoples” incident, she knew that a former prefect had somehow managed to gather dozens or even over a hundred people and burn them alive — which showed the thing was not impossible. Military deterrence was one factor; the goods of the lowlands were another. The Liji should currently have similar exchange needs as in those earlier days, while also fearing the court’s military power, and lacking either the will or the capability to start a war. So Zhù Ying felt the prospects of easing relations were quite good.

The first several matters were easy enough to discuss. Commander Mei said: “As for the convict labor camp — whoever you’ve identified, just name them! However, this subordinate also has a request.”

Zhù Ying asked: “What matter?”

Commander Mei said: “I have a clerk here who has served many years — excellent calligraphy, excellent writing. Unfortunately, he ran afoul of something in his day and was exiled here. When he left, his mother back home was already quite advanced in age. Word has come recently that his mother passed away, and he wishes to return home. I would trouble you to write out a travel document.”

Zhù Ying said: “How many years has he been in Nanfu?”

“A good five or six — oh, let me think — seven years ago.”

Zhù Ying said: “Is he still before the Commander? Might I see him?” If the man was a criminal official sentenced to exile, she might well have heard of him back in her days at the Court of Judicial Review.

Commander Mei said: “Of course! He claims he was taking the blame for someone else — something to do with accounts and a legal dispute.”

When the man was brought in, Zhù Ying recognized him at once: “Lu Mei?”

Commander Mei said: “You know him?”

Lu Mei was a man of about thirty, though the harsh conditions of Nanfu had turned his hair prematurely gray. He had known Zhù Ying had come here, yet had never expected she would still remember him. He gave a rueful smile: “Zhù Daren — to think we would meet again here, of all places.”

Lu Mei had been a bright and capable young man — of humble origins, he had made his way by his own abilities. After rising in the world, he had not abandoned his first wife, and was filial to his parents — seemingly without flaw. But he had one enormous problem: no patron. Someone entering officialdom and hoping to advance invariably needed some connection with a superior. Either win the appreciation of a superior, or obtain a superior’s daughter in marriage, or… perform certain deeds that could not bear the light of day for a superior. Zhù Ying herself, having neither married a superior’s daughter, had nonetheless managed the other two. Even so, Zhù Ying had counted herself fortunate, for from the very beginning she had been brought to the capital by Zheng Xi and treated as one of his own people by Zheng Xi. The most pitiable cases were those who had performed the unspeakable deeds, shouldered the guilt, yet had no idea when — if ever — they might rise.

Lu Mei was exactly such a person.

In his day, the case had been adjudicated by the Left Vice Chancellor, a man of seasoned shrewdness, who had seen clearly what Lu Mei’s situation was. Yet he had been unable to do anything about it, for Lu Mei simply refused to implicate his superior. Pressure came from above, and Zheng Xi gave his indication — in the end, Lu Mei bore it all. At the time, Zhù Ying had been managing the day-to-day affairs of the Court of Judicial Review and had glanced over the case on a couple of occasions. Hence she knew.

Zhù Ying said: “So it was you. Is your household registration in Nanfu?”

Lu Mei shook his head. Zhù Ying said: “Still hoping to return?”

Lu Mei smiled faintly. His hope in his superior had dimmed greatly — after all these years, no one had called for him to come back. But the Emperor had been on the throne for more than thirty years now, and he was waiting for a general amnesty. That he dared not say aloud, and so he remained silent.

Zhù Ying said: “It’s not that it can’t be done. Commander, let him come to my place to collect the document.”

Commander Mei was greatly pleased: “Then many thanks!”

Zhù Ying said: “Gather your belongings now. Since this is to visit family, the sooner you leave the better — any later, and the wind and snow on the northward road will only grow worse.”

Commander Mei said: “Zhù Daren thinks of everything. Let it be so. Lu Xiansheng, first hand off the documents in your care to another.”

Zhù Ying said: “Come back once you’ve settled things at home.”

Lu Mei said: “Now that Zhù Daren has recognized me, where would I have to hide? I’ll go and return promptly.” He bowed deeply to the ground and went to pack his things.

Zhù Ying then discussed other matters with Commander Mei, who agreed to them quite readily. As for the convict labor camp — whoever Zhù Ying wanted to draw out and put to use was fine by him. He had his own thoughts on the matter: word had it that Zhù Ying had managed the convict labor camp and barracks of Fulu County quite well. The convict labor camp of Nanfu had grown increasingly filthy and disordered over the years. He himself had been skimming benefits from the convict labor camp — where there were people, there was profit, things like sending them out as forced labor and pocketing their wages, all sorts of that. As time went on, it had become less smooth-running. Zhù Ying wanted to take it in hand; Commander Mei even had a mind to hand it over to her for sorting out. From his dealings with her these past months, she was unlikely to cut him out entirely. At worst, they could split the accounts together!

Zhù Ying said: “Let’s work it out together.” For now she was most hoping Commander Mei could provide people of a more “reliable” sort — temperamentally acceptable ones, preferably. Commander Mei said: “That poses no difficulty.”

The two quickly finalized their selections. Sugar-making craftsmen had previously included two, but once their three years were up, the men had left for the prefectural capital — there was sugarcane here, plenty of sugar workshops, and it was easy enough to find a living. So Zhù Ying had to make do with rounding up only some stonemasons, carpenters, and smiths.

When the conversation finally turned to the Liji people, Commander Mei shook his head like a rattle drum: “Daren! By no means should you entertain such notions! Surely you are aware? It was because of the previous prefect that fighting and catastrophe broke out! There may well be merit in having a battle to win merit by, but one must actually survive to the end, mustn’t one? Before we took up our posts here, among all the instructions we received, the very first was that we must not provoke incidents! Why else would so few be stationed here, and I be only a Commander? I drill these men every day precisely to keep them without the energy to go out and stir up trouble.”

Because of those past events, the court’s standing policy was: keep the “mountain peoples” in check, but do not seek large-scale annihilation in a single blow, nor attempt to drive the mountain people down to farm the land.

Zhù Ying said: “I am not speaking of any military action. What I mean is — Fulu County has already opened a trading market, and one market is hardly enough. But where there’s money, there will be disputes, and if fights break out, I will still need the Commander to keep watch.”

Commander Mei said: “My charge is garrison duty — nothing beyond that!”

“And mine is the prosperity of the people in this locality.”

Commander Mei said: “Very well, then.”

Zhù Ying said: “So shall we leave it at that for now?”

“Agreed.”

Commander Mei wished to keep Zhù Ying for a meal, but she laughed and declined: “No, no — I brought so little with me. Shall we stay until we’ve eaten through everything I brought?”

She went to the convict labor camp, bundled a few craftsmen into the carts, and left.

The moment she departed, Commander Mei turned to a trusted soldier: “Keep a close watch on the paths into the mountains. If anything stirs, come report to me immediately.”

Zhù Ying had no idea that Commander Mei had already begun guarding against her. She now had empty quarters on hand, and settling the craftsmen there, she proceeded to carry out her plans. She would push forward another step in the matter of the literacy steles, and press for faster progress in He’dong County as well. Then there were the farm tools — many poor farmers could not even provide their own.

Zhù Ying did not intend to simply give them away. The yamen would provide funds and craftsmen to produce the tools, and poor farmers would lease them on credit, with the rental payments collected together with their taxes at harvest time. After three consecutive years of leasing, a further small payment would make the tools the lessee’s own property. The quantity each household could lease was capped, and those leasing more would face progressively higher rents.

Zhù Ying summoned Xiang An and Xiang Le to discuss pricing and feasibility.

Xiang An asked: “Three consecutive years of rental?”

Gu Tong stood to one side — he had been about to ask the same thing, so when someone else voiced it, he simply listened. Zhù Ying said: “Stretching the time out is the only way to prevent people from playing tricks. Consider: if someone could obtain a few hundred fraudulent poor-household registrations, they could carry away everything in a single year. Then what? Would they rent them out at high prices? Am I supplying working capital for their little scheme?”

Whenever the government tried to benefit the people, it always had to guard against clever people exploiting the openings.

Two years prior, she had considered offering low- or no-interest loans to poor households to help them through difficult times, but ultimately had not done so — partly because funds were limited, partly because she had foreseen exactly this sort of problem. When she set about doing anything, the first thing she asked herself was: if I were the one looking for a loophole, how would I exploit this? Only after answering that did she work on plugging the gaps, and only then did she implement. Hence the measures she enacted had consistently proven effective.

Implementation remained the most difficult part. One had to rely on the great households while also guarding against their mischief, and the same applied to various petty clerks, headmen, and clan elders. Dragging out the timeline raised the cost for anyone hoping to take shortcuts, grinding away at most of their motivation — once that was achieved, the matter was roughly half-won.

Gu Tong and the Xiang siblings fell silent. Gu Tong found himself thinking of his own grandfather and the late Magistrate Guan’s division of the garrison’s farmland between themselves. The Xiang siblings, being merchants, had only needed Zhù Ying’s reminder to think of schemes for drawing on low-interest loans. If such an opportunity arose, they could not honestly guarantee their own family would have the self-restraint not to do the same.

Zhù Ying said: “All right, let’s leave it at that for now. Say, have any sugar-making craftsmen come yet?”

Xiang An said: “What about having the various guildhalls look out for them?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Zhù Ying said.

Gu Tong went to convey this to his uncle, and on his return, he encountered at the yamen gate a man who had been stopped by the runners. Since Zhù Ying had reaffirmed the gate restrictions some time back, idle persons could no longer enter freely. He saw that the newcomer had the air of a cultivated gentleman, quite unlike the ordinary sort, and asked a question. Upon learning the man was Lu Mei, Gu Tong said: “Please wait a moment.”

He went in to report, then led Lu Mei inside. Zhù Ying here issued a travel document, then had Ding Gui fetch some travel expenses from the back to give to Lu Mei, and reminded him to return on time.

Lu Mei said: “Daren may rest easy. If I were to flee, everything I have suffered before would have been for nothing.” He bowed deeply to the ground.

Zhù Ying recalled that this was just the season when oranges were being shipped out, and said: “There are people transporting oranges outward — if you’re not in a great hurry, you could travel along with them. They’d be able to carry you part of the way and provide some company. Beyond that, you’ll be on your own.”

Lu Mei was delighted: “That would be a stroke of great fortune.” He offered his sincere thanks once more. Given his status, he could not make use of the post relay stations; having a merchant convoy to hitch a ride with was more than welcome.

Gu Tong escorted him back out, thinking to himself: the path through officialdom is truly no easy road!

……—

Zhù Ying felt no particular emotion about this. If something like that had fallen to her, as long as it stopped short of demanding her death, she would have done the same thing. She still remembered that old case — Zheng Xi had chosen not to pursue it to the fullest, and in the end it had been Lu Mei who bore it all. Whoever it was who stood behind Lu Mei owed Zheng Xi an enormous debt of gratitude.

Zhù Ying headed toward the inner quarters, Hu Shijie following alongside. She asked Hu Shijie: “How were the soldiers’ martial skills today?”

Hu Shijie said: “It looked like performance for show.”

Zhù Ying was not asking about the military formations — Hu Shijie genuinely did not understand those. But in terms of combat skill, she had some ability to judge. Hu Shijie said: “They don’t look as capable as Old Uncle Hou.”

Over the past couple of days she had already sparred a few rounds with Hou Wu. Hou Wu had vast experience, and his every move went straight for the kill. He had told her: “Though your style is no empty showmanship, against someone like me, you cannot afford to hold back. Those of us who have been in battle — we strike to kill from the first blow.” The soldiers she had watched demonstrating today were nothing like that — but then, soldiers were also younger than Hou Wu, and Nanfu was not exactly peaceful territory, with small bands of mountain bandits making an appearance now and then. It was not possible the soldiers had never seen blood; most likely they had been putting on a show for Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying said: “If you were to engage them in combat?”

Hu Shijie said: “As long as I’m not pinned at close quarters, I could win. At close range I couldn’t say.”

The difference in physical strength between men and women could not be ignored. With relentless training, she could close the gap with an ordinary man, and some slovenly soldiers would not match her. Against ordinary men, it was true she could handle eight at once. But if a man had trained just as hard, his strength would give him the advantage at close range, and once locked in grappling, she would be sure to lose.

She glanced at Zhù Ying and, remembering that this one was also a man, swallowed the first part of what she had been about to say and spoke only the second.

Zhù Ying nodded: “That is already very good.” She was only an ordinary prefect, and having Hu Shijie by her side was already more than enough. In handling cases, one rarely encountered opponents more formidable than Hu Shijie — sufficient for the purpose.

The two of them were walking toward the inner gate when both paused at the same moment. They had heard the sound of quarreling from within. They exchanged a glance, and Hu Shijie reached out and knocked on the door.

Hou Wu’s voice called: “Who is it?”

Zhù Ying said: “Me.”

Hou Wu pulled the door open, grinning: “They’re brawling in the back.”

Zhù Ying quickened her pace to the second courtyard and found Hammer and Stone engaged in all-out battle with Su Zhe and her young attendant — three small girls against two small boys fighting in a heap. Though Hammer’s side numbered only two, Stone was older than the others and considerably bigger, so two against three had not left them at a disadvantage.

Both sides were fighting while hurling insults in their own respective native languages, quite oblivious to each other’s words, and Stone and the two attendants were also spitting at each other.

Zhang Xiangu was shouting: “Quick, quick — separate them! Oh heavens, how did this start? Old man? What are you just standing there looking at?! Hurry up!”

Huajie was calling out: “Sister Du, hurry — you take one and Qiaoren takes one! And you, you’re old enough to know better, stop making things worse!” That last line was directed at Su Zhe’s older attendant.

Hou Wu called out from the doorway between the two courtyards: “The official is back.”

The fighting ceased.

Zhù Ying walked over slowly. Both sides had red-rimmed eyes, and the moment they saw her, tears streamed down in floods.

Zhù Ying said: “Everyone wash your faces, then come and tell me slowly what happened.”

Sister Du and the attendants led the children away to wash up. Zhù Ying asked Huajie: “What happened?” They sat down in Zhù Ying’s main room, with Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da also following in.

Zhang Xiangu said: “Stone and Hammer were playing outside — I thought, half-grown boys are at their most restless, keeping them cooped up indoors all the time would drive them to mischief. So I let them two go out to play. I don’t know what started it, but the girls over there suddenly flew into a rage. Strange — they’d never been like that before!”

Huajie said: “Zhe didn’t strike first. It was only after she heard Stone call out something that she got angry too, and then the two sides started fighting.”

Zhù Ying said: “Wait until they come over before we say more.”

Both groups were brought in together. Zhù Ying said: “Everyone tell me — what happened?”

Stone tried to speak, but his tongue had always been slower than others his age. On Su Zhe’s side, one of the small attendants snatched the first word: “They’re Liji people.”

Stone said: “And so I am!”

In the ensuing quarrel, Stone spoke Liji and the little attendant spoke Qixia, each berating the other in their own language without interference.

Zhù Ying stopped them and had Su Zhe and Hammer speak. She let Hammer go first: “Zhe arrived afterward — Hammer, you tell us: how did it start?”

Hammer, in already-somewhat-passable official speech, said: “Daren, I was outside playing with Stone. Then they came over suddenly and started scolding us.”

Su Zhe said: “They were scolding us too!”

These two were somewhat more coherent than the other pair, and Zhù Ying eventually pieced together the whole story. Stone was slow with language, and when he and Hammer were together it was easier to speak Liji — they were just playing, after all; who thought about learning to talk? So they had been speaking Liji, playing at martial combat with little sticks. Then the little attendant had been passing by to bring something to Su Zhe and overheard the sounds of their hated enemies’ language, which she could not restrain herself from reacting to.

The reason this particular attendant had been chosen for Su Zhe was that her grandfather’s head had been cut off and carried away by the Liji, and her father had been injured in skirmishes with the Liji. Hers was a family of loyal suffering. Hence Su Mingluan had selected her for her daughter’s service as a mark of special consideration.

The little girl had not understood what the two boys were specifically saying, but the sounds told her it was Liji speech.

Stone and Hammer had absolutely no sense of the blood feuds between the two peoples. Neither had experienced the intertribal killings — they had, in fact, been sold down from the mountain by their own tribespeople. In the household they generally spoke little and knew Su Zhe was a guest, so they kept their distance; the two sides had coexisted peacefully.

Caught off guard by the sudden scolding — though they could not understand a word of it — when the little girl stood there with one hand on her hip and one hand pointing at them, they knew something was wrong.

Stone had shot back with something as well, also in Liji. That stirred up a hornet’s nest!

As is universally known, insults are the quickest things to learn and the easiest to remember. The little attendant and Su Zhe did not know Liji, yet given the history between the two peoples, they had retained a very clear memory of exactly how the Liji insults directed at their people sounded. Stone and Hammer were likewise — though they did not know what the girls were saying, from earliest childhood they had known that the other side’s words were assuredly nothing good.

If one were to ask Zhù Ying — who was familiar with both languages — the meaning of the mutual insults was roughly “material fit to be pinned down and bled out” and “livestock we keep fed for our use.” To an outsider the words sounded unremarkable, but their actual weight carried dozens of generations of blood feud, and for either side, hearing them was like setting a spark to kindling.

At the outset, Su Zhe had not intended to get her own hands involved — she watched first, and only when she heard that it was not a good word did she step in to help her attendant fight.

Zhù Ying said: “So that’s what it was all about. All clear now. Neither side was without fault here — striking with the mouth first and striking with the hands first are both wrong, and this must not happen again. Stone, Hammer — you were wronged this time. You knew to fight back when you were hit — that’s commendable. But earlier, when people were trying to stop the fighting, why didn’t you listen? It wasn’t as though only your hands were being held back, not theirs.”

Hammer said cleverly: “Daren, I was wrong.”

Zhù Ying nodded, then said to the small attendant: “I do not blame you — you carry a family grievance. But going forward, think a moment longer before striking. Zhe — I speak to you alone. Come here.”

Su Zhe stepped forward, looking very aggrieved: “A’Weng, I did nothing wrong.”

Zhù Ying said: “Was it because they insulted you that you struck, or because they were Liji people that you struck?”

Su Zhe said: “It’s all the same thing.”

“It is not the same,” Zhù Ying said. “If you’ve been insulted, first you must determine whether it was actually directed at you, and then consider how to respond.”

The little attendant murmured: “Liji people deserve to die!”

Zhù Ying glanced at her. The girl shrank and began to breathe rapidly.

Su Zhe asked: “A’Weng, are we not allowed to hit Liji people? They are our enemies. Mother says that being a chieftain means leading the people of your mountain village to defeat your enemies! Don’t you stand with us?”

Zhù Ying said: “It’s not that you cannot fight them — it’s that you must not assume that merely by hitting them you become a hero without asking any questions first.”

Su Zhe looked thoroughly bewildered.

Zhù Ying patted her head and said kindly: “Think of it this way — if it were that simple, your elder uncle would already be chieftain.”

Su Zhe did not quite grasp the reasoning, but that one sentence was enough to stop her from arguing. She said a little forlornly: “Then… then what should I do?”

Zhù Ying said: “You’ve only just come to me — everything cannot be taught in an instant. Let’s go through it one thing at a time. First: you and Hammer and Stone were not on a battlefield today. Second: you heard only one thing and did not know the full situation. Therefore, you could not simply start fighting. Remember these two principles: whenever there is no urgency, always understand the situation before acting. If there is urgency, trust the person you trust. She is your companion — you helped her, you trusted her — and so I will not punish you today. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Now say it back yourself — what did you remember?”

Su Zhe said: “When there is no urgency, understand the situation before acting. When there is urgency, trust the person I trust.”

“Good. I will now tell you what kind of people Hammer and Stone are. They have lived on the mountain’s foot all their lives and do not know what a mountain village looks like. They only happen to speak Liji. They are not enemies.”

Su Zhe nodded vigorously: “All right.”

Zhù Ying also comforted the little girl: “I do not blame you.”

She then declared: from now on they need not yield to each other, but spitting and striking to injure were strictly forbidden. Anything else was fair game.

Zhang Xiangu said: “Oh my, but how can that be? This is just…”

Zhù Ying said: “Every single one of them is fuming — Hammer, don’t pretend otherwise, and Zhe, don’t put on a performance. Alright — go and play.”

Zhang Xiangu watched anxiously as Hammer and Stone went off with Zhù Da, and Huajie escorted Su Zhe back to her room. She asked Zhù Ying worriedly: “Will this truly be all right?”

Zhù Ying said: “This is nothing. Wait until the adults from the two tribes meet, and then see.”

Zhang Xiangu startled: “Surely it won’t come to that?”

“Why wouldn’t it? All manner of people live in the city.” Not just those two tribes — the Suoning family also had members in the lowlands. When Fulu County was engaged in the exchange of enslaved people, the Asu family paid no mind to these “outsiders.”

Zhù Ying said to Zhang Xiangu: “Don’t make too much of it. None of them are bad children — as long as the grudges don’t keep building, things will improve.” All she needed from the two tribes was a surface cordiality. People of the same tribe slaughtered each other all the time; when all was said and done, were the Zheng and Duan families any different when they gathered their people to brawl? As long as they weren’t screaming for blood the moment they heard the other’s name, that was good enough.

Set the bar low enough and it could always be met!

Zhù Ying then went off on her own to the kitchen to press out some cane juice. She was musing that the problem must lie with the “juice” itself — if the juice were purer, the resulting sugar would come out far whiter. As to how, she had no clear idea yet.

For now, she could only hope that a larger city like the prefectural capital might have better techniques, or more gifted craftsmen. She wanted only the most skilled artisans — sought with generous payment, given tools and raw materials by her, to do nothing but experiment and refine! It was like reading and writing: given enough brush and ink and paper, given enough practice, one would inevitably improve. Even the most talented person — she herself — had been scratching out characters like dog’s paws at thirteen, simply because no supplies had been provided.

She thought: if she was willing to spare no expense in finding people, she could surely lure a few talent-poachers. She would wait patiently for good news from the prefectural capital, since by experience, the larger the place, the higher the likelihood of skilled craftsmen and talent of all kinds emerging.

Within a few days, a rider came galloping along the main road toward the prefectural capital and charged straight for the yamen, shouting all the way: “Urgent report!”

He was stopped at the yamen gate. Niu Jin was the officer on duty that day, and he asked: “Where are you from? What is the matter?”

The man said: “I must see the Prefect of Nanfu — urgent dispatch from the prefectural capital! Quickly! If there is any delay, you’ll pay for it!”

Niu Jin hastily reported: “Daren, a message has arrived from the prefectural capital.”

Zhù Ying thought to herself: Could it be the sugar-making craftsmen? “Send him in at once!”

Niu Jin brought the man in. The messenger was still seething from being stopped at the gate, and even after two bowls of tea from the doorman, his temper had not much abated. He strode in with large steps and raised the leather tube in his hand —

Zhù Ying’s expression changed. She had written to the fellow-townsmen’s guildhall to request people; the reply should not be coming from a proper government courier in official livery. She noticed the white cloth tied at the man’s waist, and rapidly prepared herself emotionally to weep over the Emperor’s death…

“The Crown Prince has died!”

Hearing that it was the Crown Prince who had died and not the Emperor, Zhù Ying immediately asked: “This cannot be a jest! Is it true?”

The courier presented the leather tube. Niu Jin, his face stricken with panic, took it with both hands and brought it to Zhù Ying with faltering steps.

Zhù Ying broke it open and read. It was indeed an obituary notice forwarded from the prefectural yamen. The Crown Prince — was dead.