Zhao Su sneezed.

The winter in the capital was far colder than in Fulu County. He pulled his cloak tighter and kept talking to the person before him — a young man with a nose red from the cold, speaking while stamping his feet. This was someone Zhao Su had met before, a fellow surnamed Huang, whom everyone called Xiao Huang.

Xiao Huang said: “So the Crown Prince is truly gone?”

Zhao Su nodded.

Xiao Huang sighed at length: “What a pity.”

Zhao Su said: “The most frantic days have passed. Go home and visit your family first. And don’t rush to send things to the Zheng Marquis household either, or press to pay your respects at the Wang Chief Minister’s residence. They are all occupied these days — let’s first feel out the situation.”

Xiao Huang, having grown up in the capital, nodded with understanding and produced a letter: “This is a letter from Daren for the Young Master. And this is a list — please acknowledge receipt. Tomorrow Xiao Liu and I will come back to await your instructions.”

He and Xiao Liu went through Zhù Ying’s delivered items with Zhao Su, who had people carry everything up to his own lodgings. He arranged a time to meet again with Xiao Huang and Xiao Liu, saw the two of them off toward the Zhù household, then came back and read through the entire stack of letters once more. There were not only Zhù Ying’s own letters but also family correspondence she had passed along. Zhao Su read all of them with great care.

The letters had been written before the Crown Prince’s death and contained nothing about that matter. From the tone of Zhù Ying’s writing, certain things she was leaving to his own discretion, giving him considerable latitude. Zhao Su thought it over: the Zheng family would most likely not be hosting celebratory events any time soon, so he decided to store that portion of goods in the upper room of Zhù Ying’s personal quarters at the rear court. As for the other gifts, they would have to wait a few days before being sent — the entire capital was uneasy over the Crown Prince’s death. Who knew what changes might come?

As the son of a remote corner of the realm and a student, he had no genuine grief for the Crown Prince, nor any real sorrow — only anxiety about the uncertainty that the Crown Prince’s death brought. His adopted father’s backing came from the Zheng Marquis household; Zheng Xi had been close to the East Palace, and now that the East Palace was gone, what lay ahead?

Zhao Su hesitated, then picked up Zhù Ying’s name card to examine it. With the Crown Prince’s death, the National Academy and similar institutions had also suspended their coursework. The capital’s mourning observance was far more prolonged than outside the capital, which meant he still had a little time.

Now that Nanfu’s people and gifts had arrived, presenting calling cards could not be put off.

The next day he brought Xiao Huang and Xiao Liu along with his own servant, and set out first to pay a call on Gan Ze. This Gan Da Lang was Zheng Xi’s trusted manservant, and also on good terms with Zhù Ying — owing her a favor because of the Cao Chang affair. Now that Gan Ze had started his own family, his wife and children did not live entirely within the Zheng household. Zhao Su first went to the Gan house to sound out Gan Ze’s thoughts and inquire whether it was appropriate to seek an audience with Zheng Xi at present.

Gan Ze was not at home. His wife said: “He has been at the mansion in attendance these past several days. Clothes were sent over just a few days ago, and nothing else was said.” Zhao Su left behind a gift for Gan Ze, explained it had been sent by Zhù Ying, and since Gan Ze was occupied, said he would not intrude further.

He then went to the Jin household. Jin Daniangzi was home with only a few servants. Hearing that Zhù Ying’s adopted son had come to call, she received him warmly. Zhao Su presented Zhù Ying’s gift, and Jin Daniangzi said: “Remembering us from so far away — Sanlang has always been so thoughtful. But I say — send word to him not to be thinking about us. From now on, put more effort into sending presents to the upper officials in the yamen and at court.”

Zhao Su felt another small wave of genuine warmth — Jin Daniangzi was a kindhearted person. No wonder Zhù Ying’s whole family remembered her. He accompanied her in some pleasantries; she asked after his life in the capital, whether there was anything inconvenient, and said: “When Sanlang first came to the capital, he stayed in our home. Time truly flies — in the blink of an eye more than ten years have passed, and now he already has an adopted son. Anything you need, just tell me. He calls me elder sister-in-law, so we are all one family.”

Zhao Su gently raised the subject of visiting the Zheng Marquis household: “As Bomu knows, since my adopted father sent someone, he certainly won’t forget the Zheng household — only I am not sure whether it is appropriate to go there now. I am young and do not know the conditions at the mansion…” In his mind he was already mapping out an alternate route, in case this approach was not open — he could go to Yue Huan’s household, was that not Zheng Xi’s brother-in-law’s family?

But Jin Daniangzi immediately agreed: “Didn’t you find Old Gan? That makes sense, he’s occupied. Wait for me — we’ll go find Old Tang together.”

Tang Shan — a trusted figure beside the Zheng Marquis, and on even better terms with Jin Liang. With Jin Daniangzi as an intermediary, Zhao Su was quickly brought by Tang Shan into the Zheng Marquis household. As they made their way in, Tang Shan said: “On any ordinary day you could come straight to the gate and leave Sanlang’s calling card. But things are rather awkward right now, and caution is needed. The Marquis and the Marchioness must keep their doors closed to visitors.”

Zhao Su said: “I came to ask precisely because I saw how unsettled the capital seemed.” Since hearing of the Crown Prince’s death, he had first been held in the National Academy with everyone else for the communal weeping; when they were finally allowed out after several days, the outside world had already transformed.

He had brought only the list of gifts this time, not the physical items themselves. Inside the mansion he first met the Zheng Marquis, who had just attended the Crown Prince’s funeral rites and was now resting at home; Zheng Xi had been summoned into the palace.

Zhao Su had met Zheng Xi only a handful of times and had even fewer occasions to deal with the Zheng Marquis. He said only: “My adopted father wrote when the Crown Prince was still alive. Now that this great change has come, I have no idea what to do and have presumed to call on you.”

The Zheng Marquis took Zhù Ying’s letter and the list, and chatted with Zhao Su for a while, saying: “I trust him. But you — in these days, keep yourself clear of all entanglements and simply attend to your studies. The year-end social calls and the new year visits can proceed as usual. As for everything else — stay out of it entirely. Among your fellow students, there are several restless spirits who understand absolutely nothing yet think themselves able to put the world to rights! Little wretches — they all deserve a lesson! Do not mix yourself up with them.”

Zhao Su replied respectfully: “Yes.”

The Zheng Marquis and he were not close; at a glance he did not find the young man particularly congenial, though he noted that the fellow’s conduct was reasonably thoughtful. He asked where Zheng Chuan was, and upon hearing that Zheng Chuan had gone to the Gaoyangprincess Commandery, told Tang Shan and the others to entertain Zhao Su well.

The Zheng Marquis household had accepted the gift list; Zhao Su also explained that he would send the actual gifts in a few days. Tang Shan said: “In this regard you do remind me a little of Sanlang — both equally meticulous.”

Having completed his most pressing task, Zhao Su had obtained no particularly solid intelligence. From the Zheng Marquis’s tone, more difficulties lay ahead. But he was not afraid. Behind him was remote Fulu County, and wild, frontier Asu County — whoever came to power would still need those places for a gesture of prestige. He was in no hurry; he would wait and see. As long as his adopted father was not caught up in the trouble, there was nothing to worry about.

Rationally, he told himself as much — yet his mind still raced: Daren Zheng has been summoned to the palace? For what? The Crown Prince had died in the prime of his life; surely even these great personages did not have such short lifespans as the people of Fulu County? What had actually happened?

……

To reenter the imperial city was to feel the world had shifted irrevocably. Zheng Xi had never felt the words “the world is impermanent” more keenly than he did now.

A trace of grey had crept into his temples. The years had deposited in him a faint melancholy, which gave his whole bearing an even greater elegance.

He ascended the steps and entered the great hall to pay his respects to that maternal uncle of his.

The Emperor had grown markedly older, which filled Zheng Xi with deep concern — he feared that the very next moment this uncle might also “pass from the dragon’s governance.”

The Emperor looked at this nephew and felt the weight of time. Zheng Xi too had long since shed the radiant confidence of youth. Both had withered considerably under the blow of the Crown Prince’s death.

The Emperor said: “How long has it been since we have seen each other?” Without waiting for a reply, he went on: “He is gone — and has left me behind!”

In the face of an aging father who had outlived his son, any person should have felt considerable sympathy. Yet Zheng Xi pressed down hard on the question burning at the back of his mind: So now are you satisfied?

What pressure had the Crown Prince borne in his lifetime? The older the Emperor grew, the more demanding he had become toward the Crown Prince.

Zheng Xi made another full prostration. When he raised his head again, tears were streaming down his face.

The Emperor said, his voice catching: “All the care we poured into him has come to nothing. You were the most attentive — when you were in the East Palace, all was well with him. The moment you left, he too…” A pause. “I am entrusting his affairs into your hands as well.”

Zheng Xi blinked. The Emperor said: “I need you to give careful attention to constructing his tomb.”

As he spoke, he choked up as well.

Zheng Xi had been reinstated.

Zheng Xi said: “Yes.”

The Emperor’s lips moved, then pressed together again. Zheng Xi looked at him with concern. The Emperor said: “You may go. Wait — first go to the Office of the Chief Ministers.”

“Yes.”

Zheng Xi did not yet know what post he had been assigned. Going first to the Office of the Chief Ministers was reasonable enough. He followed the familiar path and arrived. There, Shi Kun and Wang Yunhe were already present — both seeming somewhat diminished, lacking their usual composure and certainty.

Shi Kun said: “You’ve come. The Emperor’s intent is for you to take the position of Minister of Rites. But for now your first duty is to oversee the construction of the Crown Prince’s tomb.”

Zheng Xi said: “The Ministry of Rites?”

With the East Palace appointment gone, a position as Minister of Rites was, for him, good news. There was much to unpack in this: first, funeral rites might relate more closely to the Ministry of Rites, though the actual tomb construction was a different matter; second — was the Minister of Rites not Zhong Yi? He had not heard that Zhong Yi had died!

Wang Yunhe pointed: “Him.” He indicated another desk in the Office of the Chief Ministers.

Zheng Xi said: “So he has finally achieved his goal.”

Shi Kun said: “Never mind him for now! Come here — there are things to discuss.”

Zheng Xi came forward and the three of them sat down. Shi Kun went through his usual opening: “All under heaven is at peace — do not stir up trouble! You must not allow any missteps in constructing the Crown Prince’s tomb! The Crown Prince’s sudden passing has the court physicians saying it was apoplexy, but the Emperor does not believe it, and suspects someone has been practicing sorcery. He nearly convened a great purge!”

Zheng Xi’s heart lurched: “What?”

Wang Yunhe fixed both eyes on him: “What of it? Surely you are not about to say there was sorcery involved?”

Zheng Xi understood what the two men meant. Neither of them wanted to make anything of “sorcery,” nor did they want anyone else doing so. Anyone of sound judgment, confronting the late years of an emperor’s reign, should not allow such a scourge to take hold — no one could know how it might unfold once begun.

Zheng Xi said: “The Crown Prince first fell into a coma and could not be roused; medicine was of no effect. This…” He made no attempt to conceal that he still had access to news from the East Palace. The Crown Prince’s case had been strange indeed — he had suddenly collapsed, lay still and unmoving, then there was simply nothing more to be said. He had died just like that.

One could hardly blame the Emperor for his suspicions; Zheng Xi himself had some.

Wang Yunhe said: “The Crown Prince naturally was not killed by a curse. A holy son of heaven has divine protection; a son of the son of heaven is equally so shielded. Do you recall the three earthquakes in past years?”

Zheng Xi’s mind jolted. Wang Yunhe smiled bitterly: “The Crown Prince fulfilled his appointed calamity. You must not dwell on it further. I have already given the Emperor the same explanation, to dispel his suspicions. You are a minister of the court — think carefully before every action.”

Zheng Xi thought for a moment, then said: “Yes.”

They discussed at length how the Crown Prince’s tomb was to be constructed. Properly speaking it ought to be handed directly to Zheng Xi, but the two Chief Ministers were far too uneasy to proceed without first aligning their accounts. Zhong Yi’s appointment as Chief Minister would delay certain formalities for a few days, and they needed to arrange many things before Zhong Yi arrived. Zhong Yi was not young — he was even older than Wang Yunhe — and now ranked below Wang Yunhe entirely because of the Emperor’s “trust” in his old retainers. The situation was not ideal.

The three of them reached agreement: there were precedents enough for royal tombs. The Crown Prince’s tomb would need to be somewhat larger than the standard scale, but must not approach too closely the scale of a full imperial mausoleum. Zheng Xi would draft a general proposal and present it first to the Emperor — primarily to gauge the Emperor’s reaction.

Wang Yunhe said: “Very well. You have been resting for quite some time — it is time to rouse yourself.” Then he frowned. Zheng Xi was excellent in all respects, save one deficiency: he had never held a local posting. Well, let it pass for now.

Zheng Xi had barely returned home when the imperial edict arrived. His mother, the Commandery Princess, was simultaneously dabbing at her tears and cursing the Emperor under her breath: “Why couldn’t he have issued the edict sooner? He left my seventh son in an awkward position when weeping at the funeral.” As former Chief Administrator of the East Palace, Zheng Xi had been obligated to attend the mourning rites. The occasion had been rather difficult.

A splendid future lay ahead — and taking blame for the East Palace was well worth it. But with the East Palace gone, the post was gone too, and what followed was uncertain. Zheng Xi had endured a deeply painful period.

The whole household showed traces of smiles, yet dared not celebrate too openly. Some were freshing up Zheng Xi’s court attire and court implements; some were preparing the various garments in which he would receive guests; some were inventorying his calling cards…

After this rise and fall, Zheng Xi returned to court without the vigor of his former self.

For ahead of them lay the great matter of selecting a new heir apparent.

The Crown Prince had held the position for more than thirty years with a firmly established foundation. He had produced no spectacular achievements in that time, but had been steady. Now that he was gone, counting through the remaining brothers, none was of comparable stature — that was concerning. And the Crown Prince had left behind a son; strictly by the laws of legitimate succession, this grandson was the primary heir, but the child was unfortunately very young.

Zheng Xi reiterated his earlier standing order at home: “No one in this household is to discuss court affairs!” Then he asked whether anything had been going on at home. He had only been out a short while — presumably nothing had happened.

That being so, Zhao Su’s visit was rather conspicuous. Zheng Xi heard the report and said to Gan Ze: “Run an errand for me — tell him and the others not to be running about the capital.”

Gan Ze went promptly to deliver the message.

On his own side, Zheng Xi accepted the edict and began planning how, in the course of constructing the tomb, to bring the Ministry of Rites fully under his control. Whenever he did this kind of work, he missed his time in the Court of Judicial Review — everything had been at hand and to his satisfaction.

Zhù Ying — no. Not the moment to bring her back. Her affairs were at a critical juncture; let her see them through properly and return in glory.

The likelihood of finding another Zhù Ying was low. Zheng Xi had no choice but to spend more effort himself — managing personnel with one hand and the Crown Prince’s affairs with the other.

……

“Daren Zheng the former Chief Administrator overseeing the Crown Prince’s tomb construction? Ha — in my view, they intend to establish the Crown Grandson.” In a teahouse, a few idlers were gnawing over the matter.

Zhao Su had received Gan Ze’s relayed message and refrained from running about. He found a teahouse to settle in and listen to “popular opinion.” The capital really was something — even these men in narrow-sleeved short jackets could analyze the broad strokes of a major affair with considerable fluency. Zhao Su said nothing and just listened.

A man with thick mutton-chop whiskers said: “Not necessarily! The Emperor might just not want people saying he was cruel to his own son. The Crown Prince had quite a hard time of it these past few years.”

Even an emperor was not keen to carry a reputation for having “killed” or “hounded to death” his own son.

Another with a clean-shaved chin said: “Then it all depends on whether the tomb is large or small. If they intend to establish the grandson, the Crown Prince’s tomb will be built to a grander scale. Otherwise, smaller.”

Zhao Su listened for a good long while without hearing anything conclusive. They were also speculating about the cause of the Crown Prince’s death, and someone had a story about how his own third wife’s maternal nephew’s wife’s father-in-law had, just the other day, seen the Lu Prince riding out with a smile on his face.

Zhao Su thought: if only my adopted father were in the capital! He would certainly know what to do. But they were separated by mountains and rivers, too far apart for news to travel, with no firm intelligence to send in any case.

……

Zhù Ying sneezed, and in front of the proprietor’s gaze, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her nose: “So you would be paying the same taxes as they do now?”

The proprietor said: “Of course! Not a single coin less!”

Zhù Ying was somewhat astonished. She asked: “When did you register your household? When did you begin paying taxes? How are the taxes calculated — one part in thirty, one in fifteen, or one in ten? Has anyone tried to extort you?”

She was thorough in her questioning, because commercial taxation was considerably harder to manage than land taxation. Land did not run away; goods and transactions were difficult to track. For precisely this reason, there was ample room for private arrangements and collusion. And in the terms she had negotiated with the Asu family for the tributary arrangement, mountain dwellers were taxed at a preferential rate.

The proprietor said: “Why are you asking all this? Who are you?”

Zhù Ying said: “If anyone tries to extort you, come to the prefectural yamen and find me.” She set down her calling card.

The proprietor could read. He leaned forward and accepted it with suspicion, then looked — and startled: “You can’t be an impersonator, can you?”

Xiang Le, who had come out with her, said: “In our territory, who would Daren need to impersonate? Haven’t you seen the business from a few days ago on the street?”

He flashed his yamen token at the proprietor, who immediately recognized it: “So Daren is truly here!” He hastily made to give a full bow.

Zhù Ying steadied him and said: “Elder Sister came to buy medicinal herbs here and said you were reliable in your goods and reliable as a person.”

The proprietor sniffled. “I can’t recall now which niangzi that was.” He quickly invited Zhù Ying inside and called for his wife and children to come and pay their respects, and was about to heat water to make tea.

Zhù Ying said: “Please continue your business — I’ve only come to take a look. How are things on the streets? Safe enough? How is it I stepped outside and immediately ran into thugs? How much have they been bothering you?”

The proprietor said: “Not too much, really — everyone gets about the same. People grow on you once you’re used to them. Here in the market, I don’t have much trouble with the Asu folk either. You can see from how I look — I fit in. It’s only those who dress poorly or stand out too much who get a little grief now and then. On the whole things have been quite fine.”

Zhù Ying said slowly: “People always look for someone ‘different’ to bully.” The proprietor had probably not said the whole of it. There were kind people everywhere, and unkind people too; some who looked after outsiders and some who specifically targeted them — it could not all be as good as he claimed.

The proprietor looked at her in surprise. She had spoken in Liji!

The proprietor asked: “Daren speaks Liji?”

Zhù Ying nodded and asked his name. He declined to give his old name and said only: “Before I registered my household I chose a new name myself. Please call me Qiu Wen, Daren.”

Hammer had listened closely and thought to himself: then I want a new name too. He tilted his head back to glance at Zhù Ying. Zhù Ying asked: “What is it?”

Hammer shook his head and smiled just slightly: “Nothing.”

This child also spoke Liji? Was this official a Liji person? No — impossible. It was unheard of for a Liji person to hold official rank. Last time anyone tried to make a move toward that, they were all burned alive!

Zhù Ying caught sight of a man across the way in a shop wearing Liji garments. He was selling game — wild chickens and the like, all bound with rope, hanging in strings. She asked Qiu Wen: “Is that person easy to talk to?”

Qiu Wen said: “Daren is welcome to have a look — there’s no difficulty in that. Only… he’s an obstinate sort! Look at that head of his and that fine beard — up on the mountain, who knows when someone might chop it off to offer as a sacrifice! And yet he still pines for the mountain, still thinks about the village. Hmph!”

“People love their native soil.” Zhù Ying said fairly.

Qiu Wen said: “Only if it’s a good place worth being attached to.”

That, Zhù Ying felt, was reasonable. She had not one drop of fondness for Zhùjia Village, and felt no pull toward that place whatsoever. She did not say Qiu Wen was wrong, but asked instead: “What happened to your elders on the mountain?” From the way he spoke, she guessed it related to the beard — perhaps his father or grandfather had been beheaded.

The Ying people’s clans were always bleeding each other; the Liji clans probably also cut each other’s heads off.

Qiu Wen said: “Pah! When there weren’t enough outsiders’ heads, they’d take their own people’s. What kind of ‘own people’? My grandfather’s head was used to pray to the sky, and it still didn’t bring rain. I will never want to return there again in my lifetime.”

He ground out the words through clenched teeth. Were it not that he had no other livelihood in the lowlands, he would not even have wanted to continue in this trade. The lowlands were better — the sacrifices here didn’t require living people.

Zhù Ying put some money in his shop; Qiu Wen said he would not take it. Zhù Ying said: “Elder Sister will be coming here for herbs in future — put it on an account, and she spends a good deal.”

Qiu Wen made a careful note of the account.

Oh — he could write! Zhù Ying took Hammer and Stone and crossed over to the shop opposite.

That shop’s owner was also welcoming, speaking in the local dialect with more of the accent of Nanping County — trade had shaped it that way. Zhù Ying looked over the game, bought a string of wild chickens, all bound together and flapping their wings. She used the opportunity to exchange a few more words with the proprietor.

This owner appeared considerably older than the one across the way: dark, lean and wiry, wearing a full beard, seated on a low stool. Zhù Ying praised him for still bringing in such an abundance of game at his age. He smiled and said: “I only set traps nearby for small things. The larger ones are hunted by my children on the mountain and brought down.”

Zhù Ying then asked how his family had come to trade in the lowlands. The elder said: “I just live better down here.”

Zhù Ying asked: “Is the mountain not good?”

The elder stroked his beard and said: “It’s fine in every way, fine in every way. Heh heh.” He reached behind him into a large sack and pulled out a handful of bright-colored feathers to give Hammer, letting him play with them. Hammer saw the elder’s hands and thanked him in Liji. The elder was slightly startled, and asked Zhù Ying: “What family are you of?”

“He is of my household,” Zhù Ying said. She also asked the elder about the current state of the Liji people — how many families, what the temperaments of the leading figures were. She could see that this elder had a shop, did trade, wore clothing without patches, and spoke with clear logic, all suggesting his family circumstances were decent — the right person to ask for information.

The elder asked: “Why does the young official ask?”

Zhù Ying said: “For trade to last, one always needs to understand the landscape.”

The elder then spoke roughly: “The chieftain’s grandfather was burned to death. He is very angry, and he himself dislikes the lowlands greatly. If he sees something from the lowlands being brought to the mountain, he beats the one who brought it. Yet he also likes fine lowland knives and good lowland bows and arrows — he praises them as useful when he hunts.”

Still the sins of generations past creating trouble today! What a profound lack of virtue that had been!

Zhù Ying lingered in the market for several days, cross-referencing the elder’s accounts against Qiu Wen’s, and encountered two more people from different tribes among the “mountain peoples” in the market. She also made inquiries of Su Qingtian, adding more detail to what she knew. Because they lacked written language, the feuds and entanglements among the tribes were difficult to record; the court side had written records but poor familiarity with them, and its accounts were often muddled.

From her observations, the Qixia — that is, the Ying people — based their clothing on shades of blue, while the Liji favored more black garments. At the market she also noticed someone wearing clothing in a dark shade, but different from either of the other two tribes — the women had embroidered cloth wrapped around their heads. Their name, in translation, meant “Flower Headscarf.”

The various peoples here did not operate on the principle that anyone not of their clan must be fought to the death; Su Qingtian had heard about Qiu Wen and had said nothing about wanting to kill anyone. The children’s hatreds and affections were in some ways purer even than those of adults.

Qiu Wen provided Zhù Ying with considerably more detailed intelligence. According to him, the Liji were divided into several families; they did not exclusively intermarry within their own group, but also married women from the Flower Headscarf villages, and sometimes gave their own daughters in marriage to other Ying villages. The intermarriage with the Asu family, it seemed, was something from long ago, mostly forgotten by everyone now. As for the chain of events from that intermarriage to mutual slaughter, neither side could clearly explain any longer. The elder, however, did mention that Su Mingluan’s mother had in fact been the daughter of a family from the Flower Headscarf people — that, he knew.

Zhù Ying spent several days in a row making the rounds of the market, and confirmed conclusively that the market superintendent was reasonably fair and not excessively extracting taxes. She also visited other stalls to inquire about price manipulation and protection money.

Nanfu’s campaign to clean up the streets had continued for many days. Half a jailhouse of people had been arrested; in the end even vagrants and idlers were swept up into a large common cell.

Li the Legal Registrar had those who deserved beating beaten and those who deserved fining fined. Seeing that the authorities were serious, more citizens came forward to lodge complaints. The more people came forward, the further the threads led — they followed one trail to another and uncovered a small gang running a rigged gambling operation. The gang had no fixed location or ledgers; they rotated venues and cheated fools into gambling with them. Li the Legal Registrar handled them according to the gambling case standards established previously, and found himself in excellent spirits.

He came to Zhù Ying with a stack of concluded case dossiers to report — only to find Zhù Ying nowhere to be found. He startled and asked a passing runner: “Where is Daren?”

The man said: “Daren has gone back to the rear quarters. If you’re reporting, you’d better hurry — I just heard Xiang Er and Ding Gui saying they were packing luggage; looks like Daren is about to go to the Inspector’s office.”

Li the Legal Registrar slapped his forehead. That’s right — before the end of the month for the year-end report, it was time to go to the Inspector’s office.

……——

As the year-end approached, Zhù Ying set aside the Liji question for the moment, preparing to go and see Cold Yun while also gathering intelligence. Based on travel time, if there were anything Cold Yun needed to be aware of, the Leng Marquis’s courier should have arrived by now.

She pulled out two dossiers from Li the Legal Registrar’s stack — both written up as suspects who had escaped — and told Li the Legal Registrar to issue wanted circulars asking neighboring prefectures and counties to be on watch. In all likelihood, local fugitives would not flee too far north; the language barrier would give them away.

The circulars sent out, the four county magistrates had all arrived. Zhù Ying took them once again to the Inspector’s office. This time her report to Cold Yun had nothing particularly exceptional — just a full-year summary and a report on the growth of the winter wheat.

Along the road at the first post station, the four county magistrates huddled together; then the three of them pushed Magistrate Guan out toward Zhù Ying. Magistrate Guan shot the other three a reproachful glance, half-bowed, and asked softly: “Daren, about… the East Palace…”

Zhù Ying said: “What shouldn’t be asked, don’t ask.”

Magistrate Guan was rebuffed. When they separated to rest for the evening, he complained bitterly about the other three, and then all four continued their journey in anxious hearts.

Arriving at the prefectural capital, the party checked into their lodgings, and Zhù Ying proceeded first to the Inspector’s office to call on Cold Yun. For this trip to the prefectural capital, Hu Shijie and Xiang An had traded places — Xiang An remained to manage things at home while Hu Shijie accompanied Zhù Ying.

At the gate of the Inspector’s office, Xiang Le and Hu Shijie were both held up at the entrance. Someone called Director Guan came to take them for tea and refreshments. Hu Shijie said: “I don’t need any.” And she moved to follow Zhù Ying in.

Zhù Ying said: “It’s fine — it’s safe here.” She went in to see Cold Yun with her short blade at her side.

Cold Yun was warming himself by the fire. Seeing Zhù Ying arrive, he waved her over: “You’re here? Come, come and sit.”

Zhù Ying sat down to warm herself alongside him and asked: “Where is Xue Xiansheng? I don’t see him.”

Cold Yun gave a cold laugh: “I’ve sent him back to the capital with my official dispatches! Using me as a puppet! Where did he find the nerve?! Doing your job well, I’ll reward you — but using me as a screen for your own ambitions — hmph!”

Zhù Ying asked: “So he’s not coming back?”

Cold Yun gave another cold laugh.

Zhù Ying said: “Then in this office —”

“Two-legged frogs are hard to find, but two-legged people are everywhere. What use is someone who can’t hold their own outside the nest? Enough about him — and you? What have you been busy with?”

Zhù Ying said: “Cleaning up the streets, rounding up some ruffians.”

“I see you’ve kept your composure,” Cold Yun said. “Everyone else — with the Crown Prince gone, they’re all walking around as though their souls have been stolen!”

Zhù Ying could see that Cold Yun’s own soul was not entirely intact, and said: “A development of this magnitude — it would be hard not to feel uncertain.”

“What is there to worry about? Do your duty as a subject — what is there to fear?” Cold Yun spoke with great conviction.

Zhù Ying said: “That is the right attitude. But even worrying is wasted energy without solid ground under your own feet.”

Cold Yun said: “You’re right, I’m genuinely anxious. The Crown Prince…”

Zhù Ying heard him reverse course within three sentences, confirming that he too was at a loss, and said: “Fortunately, His Majesty remains clear-minded as ever. From the recent dispatches, there is to be another Chief Minister.”

“Him? He’s long past his prime.”

“His Majesty values old retainers.”

Cold Yun said “enough about him” again and asked Zhù Ying: “And you? What’s next for you? You’re not going to take on more ruffians, are you?”

Zhù Ying said: “I was hoping to spend a few extra days in the city to find some sugar-making craftsmen and produce some good sugar.” She had not found suitable craftsmen herself and hoped to borrow some of Cold Yun’s influence. She was not afraid of others copying her methods. She had understood over these many years: knowing a plan and being able to execute it were two different things. She had ways of accomplishing what others could not — she was not worried about competition.

Cold Yun said: “You think of everything. The East Palace used to be very fond of this sort of thing — make more of it. Oh, I should also have them order some; for the hundredth-day offering, we can use it as a tribute.”

Zhù Ying had no idea the East Palace had liked sweets! She could only follow his lead: “Only I don’t know what kind they preferred. I haven’t any skilled craftsmen over here — might I borrow a few from Daren?”

Cold Yun said: “Of course. Just remind me before you head back.” There were many registered craftsmen in the prefectural capital, and tracking them down was straightforward. Unlike Zhù Ying, who had to search among scattered individuals on her own and had still come up empty.

Turning to the Crown Prince again, Cold Yun launched into the same circles as before: “We only need to follow our own conscience — then we need not be panic-stricken like the others! I don’t suppose you know — in the capital right now, quite a number of people are already calculating who the new heir apparent will be. I think they have a death wish. In any case, it’s better that we’re stationed farther away. Nothing to entangle us. As for Zheng the Seventh — he’s been drawn back in.”

Zhù Ying said: “He and the Crown Prince shared a bond of ruler and minister. To see him off properly is only right. His Majesty has suffered the grief of losing a beloved son, and yet in the depths of his sorrow has still arranged things for him —”

“Hmph! Don’t go gossiping about His Majesty behind his back. Don’t presume to guess the imperial mind.” Cold Yun lowered his voice. “In the near future, don’t go doing anything unusual! His Majesty nearly suspected the Crown Prince had been killed by a curse, was about to convene a ‘sorcery inquisition.’ Word has it Wang Chief Minister talked him out of it. Now everyone is to say the Crown Prince fell to a predestined calamity. You understand?”

“Yes.” Zhù Ying was startled and was about to ask further —

Cold Yun was off again: “Sigh — the capital is so far from here. All news arrives late! Maddening! Why am I not in the capital?”

Zhù Ying said: “And yet you do have news, do you not? I know only that the Crown Prince has died. You know a good deal more. Please, enlighten me a little more — otherwise, we in the lower positions wear ourselves out, and when the time comes to report merit, we pick the wrong moment and end up flattering the horse’s hoof instead of its flank.”

Cold Yun was amused: “What ‘horse’s hoof’? Just run that brain of yours a little slower and you’d be fine! The Crown Prince, that day in the morning — suddenly collapsed and never rose again. He lay there for a few days, like a man still alive but already dead. No wonder His Majesty suspected someone had cast a spell. I suspect it myself. But what Wang Chief Minister said also makes sense. In any case, don’t get involved in this matter — just go and plant your wheat in peace. By spring, as long as there’s no crop failure, you’ll be secure!” He, Cold Inspector, would be secure as well — one more year, and three years served, he would fight to the death to get back to the capital!

Zhù Ying said: “The body is still there, the physicians’ case notes are on record, the court physicians are available, the maids and eunuchs are all accounted for — surely determining the cause of death cannot be that difficult?”

“You’re taking this seriously? The attendants together with the physicians have been put to death by His Majesty. Where would you begin investigating? Do your own work and stop poking about.”

Zhù Ying said: “Yes.” She turned Cold Yun’s words over once more in her mind, sorting out which were his own and which had been relayed from the Leng Marquis’s lectures to his son, and passed on by Cold Yun to her.

Cold Yun came back around again: “Good — today’s conversation is not to be mentioned to anyone else!”

“That goes without saying.” She had no intention of telling anyone that the Crown Prince had seemingly fallen under some spell and died.

Because of the East Palace matter, Cold Yun had no heart for the meeting. He listened to the summaries without raising objections, asked everyone to pay attention to the winter wheat, and then dismissed the gathering.

From him, Zhù Ying also obtained a sugar-making craftsman along with three apprentices. She purchased a few items in the prefectural capital, then took her leave of Cold Yun and turned back for the prefecture.