Zhù Ying finished writing her letters and could not be certain her requests would be approved. What she could be certain of was that both Wang Yunhe and Zheng Xi should be able to read the meaning between her lines.

After finishing the letters, she revised the wording over and over, doing her best to make herself appear more “devoted to the public good.”

Then she split what she had intended as one memorial into two. One was the primary memorial, covering the “submission” of the Talang family. The other was a secondary account, written by herself based on Chou Wen’s draft, describing the situation of the Liji tribe and the Talang family, with a brief mention at the end of other, more distant tribal groups deeper in the mountains.

Chou Wen was literate, but he wrote slowly, and his format and vocabulary did not remotely meet the requirements for a formal memorial. He would need her guidance and revision. This would take some time yet, so she began in the meantime to work on drawing a map.

Following the Asu family’s precedent, Lang Kunwu was willing to accept the idea of presenting a map, but his was also quite rough. What Zhù Ying now needed to do was to draw the map of what she had personally charted — distances and orientations being one matter, but the primary concern was giving each mountain some kind of description. Something like “very high,” “high,” “medium,” “low,” or “a gentle mound,” with certain mountains further annotated with “steep” or “circuitous mountain paths.” She knew that some people were capable of measuring an approximate elevation, but she had not yet learned how to do that, so she could only mark what she had observed and make corrections later.

This self-made map she did not intend to present to the court just yet.

By now it was summer. The weather was hot and humid, and both Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da found it too unpleasant to go outside. Since Zhù Ying also remained in the prefectural office, the elderly couple, seeing her not running off anywhere and able to see her every single day, said nothing more. Both of them had taken an interest in some of the things Zhù Ying had brought back from the Talang family. Zhang Xiangu held up one item and asked Zhù Lian and Zhù Shi: “What is this? Do you recognize it?”

Both boys shook their heads. Having barely lived on the mountain themselves, and given that Lang Kunwu had prepared fine goods for Zhù Ying, even if the two had spent a few years on the mountain, they would not necessarily have been familiar with such things.

Both Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da felt a certain sorrow at this, yet they were both careful to keep Su Zhe away from the sight, so as not to upset the young girl when looking at items from a “foreign tribe.” Su Zhe was pleasant-looking and not at all difficult to get along with — she simply had trouble seeing eye to eye with the two small companions when it came to anything Liji-related. During the stretch of days when Zhù Ying was not at the prefectural office, the elderly couple, in addition to worrying about her, had been at a loss watching the two groups of children bicker, unsure how to intervene.

Zhù Da felt rather close to Zhù Shi, and would have liked to protect the two boys. But he also knew “mountain people” could not be trifled with, which left him very frustrated. Now that Zhù Ying was back, he quickly said: “You go off and take on students, and then don’t even teach them properly — you just leave them here at home. What were you doing out there wandering around?”

At this moment, Gu Tong proved his worth. He appeared as if from nowhere before Zhù Da: “Look at me — I’m a student too, and I’ve been here longest. Teacher had to teach me first.”

That effectively stopped Zhù Da’s mouth.

Zhù Ying said to Gu Tong: “Come with me.”

Gu Tong followed with a bounce in his step. Zhù Ying gave him a task: “Write me a draft of the previous agreement.”

She herself still had other matters to attend to and would let Gu Tong write the draft, then review and finalize it herself. It was all legal clauses and details — things she had already negotiated with Lang Kunwu. She intended this to serve as a template, so that in future contacts with other tribes, this could be used as the basis for negotiation. Gu Tong’s knowledge of law and statute was not deep, but being from Fulu County, he had a reasonable familiarity with mountain customs, and drafting an outline would not be likely to contain any major blunders due to ignorance of the other party’s taboos.

Gu Tong’s brush moved quickly at first, then his brow began to crease. What Zhù Ying required was for it to be “simple, accurate, easy to remember, and with not too many clauses” — and that would take considerable effort to refine.

Zhù Ying, for her own part, summarized the entire process from initial contact to loose suzerainty with the Asu family and the Talang family, listing the major matters to be handled along the way and various points to bear in mind, to serve as a blueprint for future outreach to other tribes and groups.

While awaiting Chou Wen’s draft, Zhù Ying also went out in Southern Prefecture to locate two Huapa people, and had someone quietly look into whether there were any Xika or Jima people as well. Whether or not she had the time right now, she wanted to identify people first. She planned to at least learn some basic conversational phrases for communication. Southern Prefecture was far larger than Fulu County, and there were many more settled “Liao people” there.

For ease of communication, ideally they would all learn one common spoken language and script — which was obviously not feasible now. Zhù Ying had no choice but to begin learning herself, compiling a large notebook with phonetic notation for the pronunciation of each tribe and written explanations of vocabulary.

Chou Wen burned through oil burning through the night and finished his draft in two full days and nights. On the morning of the third day, he delivered a sizeable notebook. He had been waiting outside the prefectural office from early morning. At this time, Zhù Ying was presiding over the prefectural office’s daily schedule. During the stretch when she was away, while there had been no major incidents, there were several minor matters. Zhang Jiong had handled them all very competently. Zhù Ying did not stint on words of praise, warmly commending Zhang Jiong. Zhang Jiong returned a flattering remark, complimenting Zhù Ying on doing an excellent job of “soothing the remote peoples.” The two of them exchanged compliments all around, then jointly praised the diligence and dedication of the various prefectural officials. As for those with minor lapses, both of them afterward called each aside to deliver quiet warnings.

Chou Wen waited until he saw a constable come out to relieve the gatekeepers, knowing Zhù Ying’s small meeting had concluded, and asked to be admitted.

Zhù Ying had been waiting for him. She said: “Please bring him in.”

…

Chou Wen was a little nervous. He had written to the best of his ability, but once it was done he found it unsatisfactory and did not know how to improve it. He brought it out regardless.

The fact that Zhù Ying had managed to get Lang Kunwu to agree to abolish living human sacrifice was something he had never expected. As he had imagined it, the best outcome was escape — getting away from that place, yearning for civilization and enlightenment, finding it a pleasant surprise if the lowland authorities could accept him. Changing his people had never occurred to him. Now it seemed as though a great door had been opened, and he had developed, perhaps, a small measure of confidence in the “Liao people.” Small, but something. Enough to make him willing to write something down.

He came to the signing room. Ding Gui poured him tea. He dared not yet drink it. First he respectfully presented the notebook: “Prefect, I have written everything I know. I do not know whether it is adequate.”

Zhù Ying took the notebook and looked through it quickly. Chou Wen’s handwriting had clearly been practiced — not particularly beautiful, but very neat, and the phrasing occasionally slipped into the colloquial. But the structure was entirely clear. Zhù Ying said: “Limiting yourself to being a merchant doesn’t allow you to fully put your abilities to use.”

Chou Wen said: “I already feel quite content.” He was still hoping for Zhù Ying to give him some feedback.

Zhù Ying did not give feedback first, but asked: “If you were to return to the stronghold, could you get along with the other people there? Could you avoid being harmed?”

Chou Wen said: “Does the Prefect mean—?”

“Lang Kunwu cannot read, and it’s a bit late to start learning. If he receives an imperial appointment, he will also need subordinate officials. Would you be willing to become an official?” The Asu County precedent meant that the Talang family would eventually need to ask the court to appoint subordinate officials as well. Chou Wen would be well suited.

Chou Wen hesitated for a moment, then shook his head slowly: “I don’t like it there. It would be better to remain in the city as a merchant.”

Zhù Ying said: “Very well. But you still need to keep writing.”

Chou Wen said: “I am willing to serve the Prefect.”

Zhù Ying said: “The memorial is not written this way. Come — I’ll teach you.” She kept the explanation simple. Chou Wen only needed to understand format and conventions to be avoided for now. Literary polish could wait. The more “plain and unpolished,” the better.

Zhù Ying said: “Neither rhetorical flourishes nor classical allusions are things one can fully learn in a short time. Take it slowly. There is no shame in not knowing them. The first requirement of a memorial is to explain the matter clearly. The second is to ensure one’s own requests are approved.”

Because the requirements were modest and the explanation simple, Chou Wen quickly grasped the essentials. Zhù Ying also circled the errors in his draft: “Write it over.”

Chou Wen’s face reddened: “Yes.”

“Don’t be in too much of a hurry. Once you’ve written a final version, you still need to read it aloud to Lang Kunwu. After he confirms it, we submit it. Gu Tong’s draft of the clauses is nearly done as well — have them both heard together at that time.”

“Yes.”

“Is your business very busy at the moment?”

Chou Wen said: “Whatever the Prefect requires, I will comply.”

“Then come by for an hour each day.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying had Ding Gui see him out, and then told Niu Jin: “Go and find another desk and chair and have them brought to the study. The adult-sized kind.”

Niu Jin received the order, went and placed a desk and chair in the study, and found a set of books to put there as well.

Having completed the arrangement, he went back to the outer office to report, and at the door ran into Xiao Jiang and Jiang Zhou. He smiled: “Jiang Niangzi? Long time no see. Where have you both been?”

Jiang Zhou said: “You’ve been in the prefecture and don’t know — we this time really…”

As the two of them were in mid-conversation, Xiao Huang came walking over from outside: “Hey, have a conversation inside if you need to — blocking the door like this is no way to behave.”

Xiao Jiang said: “Since you got back from the capital, you’ve got even more to say.”

Xiao Huang grinned: “Coming home makes me happy!”

They all walked in together. Niu Jin asked Xiao Huang: “What were you going out for?”

“The Prefect sent me to check on Master Tang.”

Jiang Zhou asked: “He hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Xiao Huang said: “The Prefect isn’t in a hurry.”

They all went in, and reaching the outside of the signing room, Xiao Huang said: “You two first. Prefect, Jiang Niangzi and the others are back.”

Xiao Jiang and Jiang Zhou did not stand on ceremony and entered the signing room first.

Zhù Ying said: “You’re back? How did it go?”

The two of them had been collecting remains in the mountains, piecing bones together, and had only just now returned. Xiao Jiang said: “It was quite an education.” As she spoke, she very naturally took a notebook from her bag and handed it to Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying flipped through it. It contained all of her notes from this session of putting remains together. She had pieced together thirty-six relatively complete skeletons in total, along with several dozen incomplete ones. To keep up with the schedule, the two of them had had to put together several sets each day. Xiao Jiang said: “There should have been more, but some of the bones had rotted away, or been carried off by wild animals. Even among those I pieced together, there are probably some that are mixed up. The complete ones were all bundled and given a proper burial, each with a wooden grave marker. I’m afraid that given enough time, no one will be able to find them again.”

Zhù Ying nodded. What the Asu family had used for sacrifice over the years was certainly more than this — having this much back was already something.

She noticed one entry in Xiao Jiang’s summary that was particularly interesting: it said that southern-born and northern-born people had fairly distinct differences in their bones. Not just in shape and size — the skulls, for instance, showed differences in the forehead and jawline. The bones alone could be used to roughly identify a person’s regional origin.

Zhù Ying said: “Very good. I’ll give you three days off. And do drink a detoxifying herbal decoction.”

Xiao Jiang said: “We were burning medicinal herbs every day we were in the mountains.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then good.”

Xiao Jiang hesitated for a moment, then laid two pages of written notes on Zhù Ying’s desk — a summary of features characteristic of female remains — and took her leave with a bow.

Xiao Huang, watching them depart, then came in to report on Master Tang: “Master Tang says — just a little more. Prefect, is he actually a swindler?”

Zhù Ying said: “Nonsense.”

Ding Gui also drifted over: “Prefect, my cousin can’t hear that man’s name without wanting to scratch his head. Look — developing something new, spending some extra time — that we understand. But spending so much money — truly we don’t understand! The prefecture’s finances are finally not so strained, and you’re not easing your own life or showing respect to the Old Patriarch and Matriarch — all of it going to some cantankerous old fellow. What kind of thing is that? You’ll be going back to the capital eventually. And your capital house — it’s not even big. Capital property is expensive!”

Zhù Ying said: “What else did Xiao Wu tell you?” Ding Gui was perfectly mimicking Xiao Wu — obviously repeating what he had heard.

Ding Gui stuck out his tongue: “Nothing, nothing, nothing… nothing more…”

Zhù Ying said: “No one is to bother Master Tang. And no one is to say unkind things to him.”

“Oh…”

“Go and get to work. If you have nothing to do, go brush the horse.”

Xiao Huang said cheerfully: “There’s Xiao Liu for that.”

“Then you go do it instead.”

Xiao Huang dared say no more, and went off with a doleful face. Barely a moment later, Xiao Liu was relieved and came over — bringing with him Gu Tong, who had finally abandoned all pretense and brought the few clauses he had written to show Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying read his draft carefully. The general direction was correct, but some of the details had not been thought through. She said to Gu Tong: “This is intended for both parties to read. The tone cannot be too instructive and prescriptive.” Gu Tong was after all a conventionally educated lowland scholar. If Zhao Su had written this, the tone would have been far more to Zhù Ying’s liking.

Zhao Su… Zhù Ying thought. He had been in the capital several years now. She hoped he could keep his patience and not rush to seek an official appointment.

…

In the capital, at the National Academy.

Zhao Su wore an expression somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. He quickly buried his face in both hands, let his features go through a brief contortion, then raised his head again, his face once more composed and unreadable. Around him, his fellow students were in animated discussion: “What? The court truly approved it? All prefectures will have recommended places? How many would that be?”

“One or two hundred in total, probably?”

“That’s not many at all!”

“It’s not a small number! How many people are there right now?”

“Tsk, a whole cohort of poor scholars coming in.”

“Next it’ll be that officials need to be placed in every prefecture and county, I suppose? Utterly absurd! The court’s selection of officials is not a winter soup kitchen ladling out charity rice.”

They went back and forth — some said the court’s move was excellent and would help educate the more distant regions; others said it would drag down the National Academy’s standards.

As though the National Academy was free of deadwood to begin with! Zhao Su thought with inner scorn.

“The National Academy itself was never entirely composed of pillars of state — there are plenty of disappointing sons.” A sharp voice spoke up. This was a young student, regarded by his classmates as one of the more capable scholars, who deeply resented the way the idle rich among their classmates dragged down the National Academy’s reputation.

Of course — the National Academy oversaw many schools beneath it, and a good number of students had been admitted on the strength of their fathers’ or grandfathers’ positions. Wastrels were not in short supply.

“Who the hell are you talking about?” And immediately, someone started cursing. Both sides quickly rallied support, and a fight broke out. Brushes, inkstones, paper, and inksticks went flying. In the grand National Academy, students brawling was no different from country schoolchildren making a scene.

Within moments, instructors and scholars-in-attendance all came running. The two sides were separated, the appropriate punishments delivered. Zhao Su shook his head, slowly pacing back to his own desk, looking over the notes he had been taking. This matter was something his adoptive father had submitted a memorial to bring about. Among the National Academy students, some felt it was good, some felt it was not, and some didn’t care one way or the other. But the National Academy officials and teachers were pleased about it, and one expected that the various prefectures across the realm would be pleased too.

Only, from now on there would be more competition for official appointments…

Getting an official post was not easy at all. Those who came out through formal examinations still could not immediately receive an appointment. Students like themselves, compared with those who had made a name for themselves through the examination route, had a somewhat harder path still. Beyond this, there were the local scholars and recommended students from each region, who also had to pass assessments before they could become officials. Scholars from remote places were generally of lower caliber — as he himself had once been — considerably less well-informed and experienced than others. Simply sent straight to the capital, they generally couldn’t compete.

But if some of the cleverer ones among them were given a chance — to spend two years at a place like the National Academy, gaining not only scholarly knowledge but also familiarity with the capital’s human networks and systems of practice — their chances of passing the assessment and securing an official post would increase enormously.

Zhao Su was somewhat uncertain — should he make a move now, before this new cohort arrived? Or should he wait?

He regretted that he had only just come back for classes, and still had eight days before the break. He spent those eight days barely paying attention in class, taking notes at random. When the break finally came and he was released from the National Academy, his very first act upon returning to the Zhù residence was to write a letter asking Zhù Ying what he should do. He truly could not make up his mind.

The letter was written. Then he found himself unable to locate anyone heading south to carry it. Xiao Huang and the others had gone up to the capital to deliver the New Year gifts and had already returned. The letter he had written last time had been taken back with them. He had several servants with him, but was not confident enough in any of them to trust them with this particular letter. He was momentarily at a loss.

While he was still hesitating, there came a knock at the door.

The young attendant went to answer it: “Uncle Gan?”

Zhao Su came out of his room: “Is it Gan Dalang? Please come in.” After Godfather had brought him around to call on various households, Yue Huan had shown him particular care, though neither of them ever actually asked him to do anything. It was Gan Ze and Jin Liang and others like them who were warm-hearted, dropping by occasionally to look in on him.

Gan Ze said: “Is the young gentleman comfortable here?”

Zhao Su said: “Living in Godfather’s home — could anything be more reassuring?”

Gan Ze said: “Today, as it happens, I’ve come to find you about a matter.”

Zhao Su immediately asked what matter. Gan Ze said: “The Seventh Young Master wishes to see you.”

“Me? But Godfather’s matter…”

Gan Ze said: “You’ll understand once you arrive.”

Zhao Su was anxious. He said a quick word or two and went with Gan Ze to the Zheng Marquis’ residence. This time he was again given the “enter immediately” treatment, following Gan Ze directly to Zheng Xi’s study.

He made his bow, and stood respectfully. Zheng Xi did not let him stand long, and said: “Sit down and speak.”

Zhao Su thanked him for the seat, worked hard to keep himself looking calm, and asked: “My lord, regarding Godfather…”

Zheng Xi said: “You are a good child — still thinking of him.”

Zhao Su was even less certain what to make of this. Zheng Xi asked: “There is a matter — do you know of the Talang family?”

“The Liji people? Have they been disrespectful to Godfather?!” Zhao Su nearly rose from his seat — the wretches! He would go back and have every one of them seized and bled as a sacrifice to the heavens!

Zheng Xi pressed both hands downward: “Young man — learn to keep your composure. Can your Godfather be stopped by the likes of them?”

Zhao Su’s heart settled back into his chest. He listened as Zheng Xi asked him about the general situation of the Liji tribe. He thought to himself: Godfather asked me about the Liji tribe a few years back as well — everything I knew, I told him. Godfather also wrote about it in the memorial when petitioning for Little Sister’s official position. Why is he asking now?

He grew even more cautious, and said: “Although my mother was from the Asu family, I did not have much contact with them. The various tribes also have some old grievances among themselves. My family were law-abiding commoners and did not participate in the affairs of the strongholds.” He did not know what had happened between Zhù Ying and the Talang family, and dared not make rash accusations. He could only bring up things that had previously been mentioned in the memorial — information already known to the court. That should not create any complications. He knew the business of writing memorials meant you could not say everything, and in answering Zheng Xi now, he similarly held something back.

Zheng Xi asked at length, noticed that he had withheld certain things, and simply stated it plainly: “Tell me the truth.”

Zhao Su let out a little of the unflattering side of the Talang family — things like how they were somewhat hot-tempered and uncivilized.

Zheng Xi said: “I see.” Then he shifted topics to the subject of recommended places for the various prefectures and asked about the situation in Southern Prefecture.

Zhao Su said: “With Godfather there, things will be much better.” In his mind he thought: The court has already approved this. What is the point of asking about it now? The court had quarreled a good deal over this proposal of Godfather’s. This Minister of Rites had naturally been in favor of it. Their quarrel had focused mainly on the specific operational details of “how to guarantee the recommended candidates are people of talent.” Whatever the case — it had passed.

Zheng Xi then asked a few more casual questions, then let him go: “Settle your heart and study hard.”

Zhao Su was certain — Zheng Xi had mainly been asking about the Talang family, not about the matter of recommended places. He made his respectful farewell, and Gan Ze saw him out.

At the door, Gan Ze said: “The Seventh Young Master is sending me south with some business. I’ll be setting out before long. Do you have anything you wish to pass along?”

Zhao Su quickly asked: “Won’t I be taking up your time for your proper business?”

“My proper business is finding the Third.”

Zhao Su said: “Then please wait a moment while I write Godfather a letter.”

Gan Ze said: “No hurry — I’ll come for the letter tomorrow.”

Zhao Su had the letter already written, but chose not to say so, instead saying: “Tomorrow I have to go back to class. I’ll leave the letter at home.”

The next day, Gan Ze came to the Zhù residence. He collected Zhao Su’s letter, sealed with wax, and carrying Zheng Xi’s commission, once more set out heading south.

…

Gan Ze traveled by day and rested by night. This time his destination was Southern Prefecture, which was somewhat closer than Fulu County had been. He brought no great quantity of luggage with him — no large carts or heavy loads. With only two able-bodied men from the household as companions, all three of them carrying a single pack each, he took just over a month to arrive at Southern Prefecture.

At this time, Southern Prefecture was blazing with summer heat.

Zhù Ying was not at the prefectural office.

News from the capital reached Southern Prefecture ahead of schedule by several days. The court had approved Zhù Ying’s memorial. The formal imperial reply was still on its way, but people in the capital had already seen it in the official gazette. Capital students knew about it before Zhù Ying herself did. Opposition within the court to Zhù Ying’s proposal had been sparse, and the court’s discussions focused mainly on how to ensure that those recommended were truly talented individuals. Half the court had their own networks of family connections and hereditary positions to think about — safeguarding those was one thing. The main concern was that those sent up through the recommendation system would eventually become officials, so how could their caliber be ensured, and how could corruption be prevented?

After several days of debate, the only measures they arrived at were: “disclosure of three generations of ancestry,” “a guarantor,” “joint liability for the recommending local official if the recommended person turned out to be unfit,” and “official appointments would also require passing an examination.” Not much different from the requirements already in place for local scholars and tribute-students. The court passed the implementation of this matter to the Ministry of Rites and the National Academy. Zheng Xi was very pleased with Zhù Ying’s proposal. He also took the opportunity to cultivate a few new subordinates, tightening his hold on the Ministry of Rites by another degree.

Zhù Ying learned of this news while Gan Ze was still on his way. She naturally took Zhang Jiong and the others to the Southern Prefecture Academy and conveyed the imperial order to the academy. Then she sent the written notice down to each of the counties below.

From that day forward, the academy fell into a state of restlessness, as though the next day someone among them was headed for the capital, and once in the capital, they would immediately receive an official post.

Zhù Ying read through the regulations the court had drawn up carefully. They were fairly detailed, and included a specified timeline. Like the system for tribute-students, selections would be submitted to the capital each year at the year’s end, in time for the spring term. From now until the selection was complete, there were still several months. Zhù Ying decided she would spend those months vigorously drilling the students, so they would not embarrass themselves when they arrived in the capital.

Even among recommended students, she intended to select only the best one to be sent. The best students Southern Prefecture had produced in the past could not have been guaranteed admission to the National Academy.

Zhù Ying said to the academic director: “Why are they so unable to keep their composure? They’re being sent to study — no one’s guaranteeing them an official post.”

The academic director said: “Prefect, you didn’t send tribute-students to the court last year!”

Zhù Ying was momentarily at a loss. It was not that she had not wished to — it was that Southern Prefecture had no students worth putting forward. And no self-taught scholars who could pass the examinations. What was she supposed to send? She was not going to send someone just to humiliate Southern Prefecture. When she sent oranges to the capital, she made sure to select large, sweet ones with no moldy spots. Was she supposed to submit warped and second-rate specimens of human talent? Once sent, it would be she who got reprimanded by the court. That she had managed to produce a Zhao Su at all had been no small feat!

The academic director sighed: “Even from the whole prefecture, there are not always outstanding students to send in a given year. Even those sent to the capital are not guaranteed to be selected for an official post. Prefect, what you have done here is a kindness beyond measure to these students!”

Zhù Ying said: “Even so, they need to study properly. All of them need to settle their minds. Those who don’t study well — I will not send a single one.”

The academic director said earnestly: “Yes, yes — I will certainly enforce strict instruction!”

After this, the prefecture academy became another addition to Zhù Ying’s regular inspection circuit. Each month she personally administered examinations.

On the day Gan Ze arrived, she was in the academy overseeing an examination.

When Gan Ze came to the prefectural office, all the people around Zhù Ying recognized him. Xiao Wu came running out to receive him: “Gan Dalang! What brings you here? The Prefect has gone to the academy. I’ll go tell the Old Patriarch and Matriarch!”

Very quickly, Gan Ze was shown into the inner quarters. Su Zhe and Zhù Lian were both absent — Zhù Ying had brought them along to the academy for an early taste of the experience. Gan Ze paid his respects to Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da, who received him with tea and a meal. Gan Ze noticed how spacious the prefectural office was, and saw female servants come out to serve tea. He said: “The Third has finally taken on a few more attendants.”

Zhang Xiangu smiled shyly: “More mouths to feed, and the kitchen couldn’t keep up.”

Gan Ze said: “He should have done this long ago. We always used to say — seeing how simply the Third lived, it seemed almost sinful that the rest of us had servants.”

Zhang Xiangu said Gan Ze had gone to a great deal of trouble, and asked how Cao Chang was getting on. Gan Ze said with a helpless air: “He went home and got married. The household was generous — gave him a fair bit of money. He bought a bit of land, found a match, and is soon to be a father.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Zhang Xiangu made a mental note to find some good cloth for Cao Chang when the time came.

They talked for a good while, and then Zhù Ying, having received word, came back from the academy. She entered and said: “Wait a moment for me.” She went and changed out of her red official robes, came back out in plain cloth garments, had the small children go and rest, and brought Gan Ze to the study out front.

…

Gan Ze looked around the study and said: “The Third is now a Prefect — and still lives so plainly?”

From Zhang Xiangu’s quarters to this room, everything was bamboo furnishings. Wealthy families, beyond the garden scenery, rarely used bamboo furnishings.

Zhù Ying said: “I’ll replace the furniture eventually — that’s quick. Once you’re used to it, it’s all the same. You certainly didn’t come just to talk to me about furniture, did you?”

Gan Ze said: “Certainly not.” He brought out a letter, holding it respectfully with both hands.

Zhù Ying took it, looked at the envelope — on the cover, in Zheng Xi’s handwriting, the words “For Zizhuang’s eyes only.” Gan Ze gestured, and Zhù Ying broke the seal and read it slowly. Zheng Xi’s letter was written in a fairly formal register. The salutation was “Zizhuang.” The content was also very practical. He began by saying Zhù Ying had worked hard, that her achievements over these years had been seen by all, and then encouraged her to press forward and continue in service to the court.

The main content covered several matters. The first was the matter of recommendations. Zheng Xi told Zhù Ying: this proposal had been well made, but it should stop here. She should not move any further toward the question of “selecting officials.” That matter was sensitive.

The second matter concerned the Liji tribe. Zheng Xi had been writing when Zhù Ying’s new memorial had just arrived. The Emperor and the Council of State were currently discussing it. Zhù Ying had again “brought in” a foreign people, which was a handsomely executed matter, and the court was most likely to approve it. He asked Zhù Ying to “act within her means,” not to exhaust herself, and not to be distracted. Maintaining the achievements in winter wheat cultivation was of foremost importance. She must be clear about priorities — solidifying the credit for winter wheat was the top priority. If there was energy to spare, she could pursue other matters. Because the situation of “the various non-Han peoples” appeared rather complex. If Zhù Ying rapidly drew in a large number of people but then could not manage them and they erupted into chaos on her watch, however large her previous achievements, the subsequent errors would be of equal magnitude. Better to honestly farm the land.

The third matter concerned Zhù Ying’s career plan. Past worries about the southern climate were resolved, now that Zhù Ying had clearly adapted well and was doing distinguished work there. The advice was to continue building up achievements and reputation in the south. Do it solidly — one solid step, accumulate capital, then rise one rank and return to the capital. She was currently in a position where going back to the capital was not quite equal to being a significant player — she could not yet exert very much influence.

The fourth matter mentioned Leng Yun. Zheng Xi said without any compunction in his letter: stop caring so much about Leng Yun! He asked Zhù Ying to first take care of herself. She had already done more than enough for Leng Yun and need not continue to be at his service. Any extra energy would be better spent on Southern Prefecture.

The fifth point told Zhù Ying that for the next few years, there was no need to send elaborate gifts. She should not worry excessively about material things. Her career had not been built on flattery and gift-giving, and neither Wang Yunhe nor he himself had ever valued her for the gifts she sent. The goodwill was noted — that was enough. She should not let people find a handle on her for gifts. She should return to the capital “clean and beyond reproach,” as someone known for getting things done.

The final summary urged Zhù Ying to stand firm, and for her to be seen as someone they could raise up and have people call a “pillar of strength.” In all matters, she and he needed to keep their composure.

To be burned after reading.

It was a rambling, lengthy letter — quite thick.

Zhù Ying read it through, then read it through again. Not a single word in it touched on the Emperor, the late Crown Prince, or the various princes. Yet it was less revealing on this front than the letter Zhao Su had written in his last message — in which he had mentioned that a certain official had been dismissed for advocating the establishment of a Crown Prince. Read carefully between the lines, however, and every sentence was about exactly this.

Zhù Ying took the middle pages of the letter and burned them, keeping the first and last pages.

Gan Ze waited quietly while she did all this, then handed over letters from Zhao Su and the others as well. These Zhù Ying did not read immediately. She asked Gan Ze to sit: “Has my lord given any other instructions?”

“It was all in the letter.”

Zhù Ying then asked: “How is the household doing?”

A faint smile crossed Gan Ze’s face: “Could you imagine — the Seventh Young Master steps down from the East Palace, and all the visitors at his door dry up. One day back at the Ministry of Rites and it’s crowded again. Visitors swarming.”

“That’s a good phrase — ‘visitors swarming.’ Your learning has grown.”

“Don’t tease me, Third! In times of difficulty, you see who is truly loyal — and only the few of you are there through fire and flood.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “It was my lord who first gave me a helping hand. That is not something I could ever repay with a word. I didn’t understand until I came to Southern Prefecture how hard it is for someone from a small place to make it, how difficult it is to push one person upward. I owe Prefect Zheng a debt — that is not something that can be wiped away with a word.”

Gan Ze said: “It’s also because you have a kind heart, and because you have ability. Anyone else, with so many fine men born in the capital — so many prodigies who grew up wearing official robes — at your age, with a fifth-rank post, none of them had that.”

“Getting more literary by the day.”

Gan Ze laughed: “One last word from the Seventh Young Master — do not get involved in matters pertaining to the East Palace.”

“Didn’t you say there were no additional instructions?”

Gan Ze said: “What I heard and am passing on to you — does that count?”

“Now that sounds more like the thing!”

The two of them laughed.

Gan Ze said in a low voice: “A’Chang — he just wasn’t fortunate enough. And really — if he had become an official, he might have died without ever knowing how it happened.”

“Why such a sudden feeling?”

Gan Ze said: “The capital is a mess. Even someone like me, who occasionally catches a word of guidance from the Seventh Young Master, finds it all too murky to see clearly. Someone like him… sigh. People still prefer to gamble their lives for the privilege of officialdom.”

Zhù Ying said: “In my view, Prefect Zheng is a man who knows what he is doing. He sees it clearly.”

Gan Ze said: “Indeed he does!”

Zhù Ying said: “You’ve been traveling a long road. Rest well! Stay here with us — I have a decent cook now.”

“Oh my, that would be wonderful!”

Gan Ze and his companions stayed in a small courtyard in the inner quarters, in the set of rooms just before the small building Senior Sister Hu occupied. Gan Ze was very curious about Senior Sister Hu, but felt awkward asking about her. She was too plainly dressed to be a guest of distinction, and if she was a servant, she would not be lodged in such a place.

By dinnertime, he tasted the food and found it passable. The flavor, however, was still not particularly excellent. He sighed again at what low standards Zhù Ying had for “decent,” and wondered whether she was truly the easiest person in the world to please.

He asked as if by accident: “That niangzi with the slightly duck-footed walk — is she the new cook?”

“She is Xiang Er’s senior sister.”

“Ah.” Gan Ze, still not entirely sure what this meant, did not ask further. After dinner, he went to rest early.

Early the next morning, Gan Ze was up at first light and discovered that almost everyone in the inner quarters was already awake. Senior Sister Hu was standing on a plum-blossom pole with her arms folded, watching him.

Gan Ze’s face gave a slight twitch. He thought to himself: Every woman in the Third’s household is astonishing in her own way!

Zhù Ying came from behind: “What are you standing there lost in thought for? Come on — shall we go and walk around the streets today?”

Gan Ze said: “Better not — I came quietly, and I should leave quietly. At this particular time, it would not do for anyone to use the word ‘conspiring’ about us.”

Zhù Ying said: “Take it slowly on the road back.” She wrote a reply letter to Zheng Xi, and also wrote to Zhao Su and the others — likewise reminding Zhao Su to be patient and keep his composure.

And so Gan Ze quietly departed with his companions, and along the road, he happened to pass a messenger delegation coming the opposite direction to deliver an imperial appointment. Gan Ze put on the guise of a traveling merchant, lowered his head as the delegation passed, then continued on his way.

The imperial appointees bearing the edict confirming Lang Kunwu’s appointment had arrived.