The Fulu County Guild Hall rotated its chairmanship each year, and this year it had changed hands again. The Xiang family were Fulu County people, and the county’s gentry had all come to know their faces. Moreover, because of the relationship with Xiang Le and Xiang An, the county’s wealthy households were all fairly polite to the Xiang family. Even without Zhù Ying accompanying him, they would not have made things difficult for Xiang Dalang.

His wanting to sell sugar through the hall struck everyone there as quite curious — the Xiang family, who had always made their living buying and selling by running goods and doing the legwork for others, when had they ever known how to sell sugar?

Geographically, sugar was mainly produced in the south and sold northward, and this region was in the south — normally this region bought sugar to sell outward. For Xiang Dalang, a merchant from a remote county, to come to the prefecture city to sell sugar?

The Prefect must have done something again!

The guild hall split into two groups — one surrounding Zhù Ying on all sides, the other separating Xiang Dalang from the rest: “Xiang Dalang — this sugar of yours… where did it come from?”

The Fulu County gentry were not strongly averse to commerce. In the past, their chances of entering officialdom had been negligible; they had made a tidy sum from selling oranges under Zhù Ying’s management, and having seen a money-making trade, of course they were interested. Now their sons might actually have a chance at official positions too — but that could be managed around; money was still needed.

Zhù Ying pointed at herself and the county magistrates and said: “We’ve just come to have a look. Any matters — go talk to Dalang.”

What Magistrate Guo and the others were more concerned about was this: since Zhù Ying had already promised not to keep the sugar-making technique secret, they would start growing autumn cane this year, and their first batch of homemade sugar could be on the market by spring or early summer of the following year — and they would need to use this Fulu Guild Hall channel. Building a new hall was not just a matter of cost; there was not even time to cultivate the necessary relationships.

So they raised this matter with Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying smiled: “Then take a stake in it.” Using the official reserve fund to purchase a stake in the guild hall — merchants passing through from any area could rent facilities there, and those from the same home region passing through could also lodge there. At the same time, following the model of the Southern Prefecture’s Fulu Guild Hall, they could develop some inn and warehouse business — the yamen would collect rent on the property but not interfere directly in operations, collecting steadily over the long term.

“Isn’t this better than putting reserve funds out as loans and not getting them back?” Zhù Ying said. “I’ve seen some people put official reserve funds out as loans without the faintest idea of how business works, then charge ruinous interest — loan-sharking, practically — until the borrowers’ families are ruined and the debtor is dead, the account canceled, and their own money gone as well. Isn’t this better? For one, people from this area who are out in the world can have a reassuring place to stay, fellow locals can gather and help each other; for another, the yamen can have a reliable long-term income. The principal in this fund is never to be touched, the property never to be sold, and everyone can have more consistent earnings.”

The official reserve fund was mainly at the senior official’s disposal. The prefecture yamen’s dividend would go to her; the county yamens’ dividends would go to their respective counties. The reserve fund and official farmland were both sources of income that those in local postings cared very much about. When she had first established the guild halls, she had not thought all of this through so carefully — the initial purpose was simply to make Fulu County a little more prosperous, and to make money transfers safer so that funds did not have to be physically transported back and forth, just a slip of paper to exchange. After running it for several years, experience had accumulated, and she had since worked out many terms and regulations.

Magistrate Guan was the first to agree: “As always, my lord leads the way — whatever you say, that’s what we’ll do!” And indeed: invest a little capital, then permanently count money alongside the Prefect — only a fool would decline.

In the past they had genuinely put money out as loans to merchants, and debtors frequently couldn’t repay. They would use official force to seize collateral, and in the end everything was in chaos, with people pointing fingers at them. There was money to be made, true, even with the cursing — what was unbearable was the collection process, which was extremely unpleasant, plus the occasional loss. The losses did not all stem from high interest — some officials borrowed against the official funds and then extracted additional favors from merchants, until eventually it all collapsed.

Now Zhù Ying was going to lay down the terms: how to take a stake, how dividends were distributed, how to collect, how to set the annual fee, when it was to be paid each year. The government would only collect money and not directly intervene in operations.

Zhù Ying said: “Once we are gone, the people who come after us may not be so honest. There will be those who sell off what their fathers built, and those who squeeze the people.”

Magistrate Wang said with feeling: “There are laws of the state to deal with them!”

Zhù Ying gave a quiet laugh: “And how long before that happens?” Her method was simple: throughout Southern Prefecture, she intended to cultivate as many scholars as possible, as many people capable of becoming officials as possible. As long as those people were there, when a local official came along and behaved outrageously, there would be local forces capable of pushing back.

That was two sides of the same coin — if local power grew too strong, a newly arrived official might find himself unable to overcome it, and instead find himself held in check. But there was no perfect system in the world; everything was mutual constraint. It was still somewhat more reliable than hoping that the court three thousand li away could oversee every detail and be all-knowing and enlightened. And even if you did rely on the court, you still needed people on the ground who could relay the information and make it heard, didn’t you?

She and the county magistrates sat down at the Fulu Guild Hall to discuss the details. Magistrate Mo said: “My lord, this guild hall is your labor and heart — it’s not my place to say anything, but… the foundation belongs to Fulu County. So isn’t it—”

Magistrate Guo said: “Of course it is — come on, we’re all partners.” Going into business with the Prefect and counting money together forever — you’d have to be a fool to say no.

Zhù Ying was responsible for the broad framework; the four of them began to argue over the specific figures, then came to shouting, then almost to blows. Zhù Ying sat back with her arms folded, watching in pure amusement.

Over to one side, Xiang Dalang had been cornered and was sweating all over: “I’ve only just gotten into this trade — I don’t know what I’m doing yet!”

Once the word “official” attached itself to anything, you had to be extra careful, even though the sugar works had been fully handed over to him. Zhù Ying had given him a very large operation — the advantage was “volume” — using volume to keep prices low and capture customers. Volume also meant that any lapse in attention could mean large losses. Xiang Dalang was both excited and nervous.

He was shrewd as a merchant: he had already factored in the guild hall, thought through venue rental, and had no desire to set up somewhere else from scratch. This sugar operation would need raw materials — the closer the source the better — so he could not afford to alienate the local gentry. To open up the market, the guild hall’s support was essential.

The “official” requirements had to be met: Zhù Ying required no excessive pricing, following the principle of “common goods at low prices and easy availability, rare goods at premium prices.” Xiang Dalang had to compress the prices of brown and white granulated sugar, while pushing up the price of rock sugar and keeping the price of the novelty shaped brown sugar blocks at the original level.

At large scale, his costs were pushed down. Being close to the raw materials, transport costs fell further. Even with relatively low prices, the margins remained handsome.

This year’s rotating chairman was Old Zhao. He said: “Dangling these things in front of us — are you trying to tempt us?”

Xiang Dalang smiled ingratiatingly: “How would I dare? I’m just having a little taste first — the real goods are still on the way. Besides — what’s the profit on your oranges? I haven’t said a word about that.”

Old Zhao thought of his own family’s trade with A’Su County, then thought of his father, and reflected: the Prefect is compensating him, probably.

He then asked Xiang Dalang how he was planning to advertise: “You’ve got something good, but people need to know about it. This time of year, last year’s oranges have all sold and the new ones haven’t come in yet — the hall doesn’t see many visitors. You’re selling at a low price — won’t the local dealers try to smash your stall?”

Xiang Dalang smiled: “I’ll distribute to small vendors. I’ll also set up my own stall for direct retail, priced slightly above what I sell to vendors, so the vendors can still earn something and won’t overcharge. Larger shops that want to take in stock, I’ll sell to them too.”

Zhù Ying lent half an ear, knowing this young merchant needed no more steering from her. When she heard the end of it she laughed — a rare moment of ease.

Xiang Dalang had a full system for attracting attention. How to make people aware?

Xiang Dalang said: “I’ve brought some sugar along. Since the weather is hot, I’ll treat the neighborhood to sugar water.”

That’s how he would sell the granulated sugar varieties. Cheap goods, earning their reputation among people with less money. Set up a stall at a street corner, give a bowl to everyone who passes — do it in the open, in front of everyone, a large pot, add a few ingredients, ladle in a big scoop of brown or white sugar at the end, everyone present gets a share. Treat people for three days straight, ten large pots a day — it would cost very little, but the reputation would be established.

At the same time as treating people, announce the price. Relatively low prices are the best advertisement. And the quality of the sugar was not lacking in appearance either.

Rock sugar was different — he thought of displaying a large piece of rock sugar on a big plate outside the sugar-water stall for people to see. This one was expensive.

There was also, of course, the matter of street roughs and “fees of respect” expected by local officials. This required not just the guild hall people to be dexterous in their dealings, but also Zhù Ying to intercede.

One of Zhù Ying’s ears gave a slight twitch, and she smiled: “By the time you think of it, would there be time? I’ve taken care of that already.”

Among the gifts she had brought for Leng Yun and the others this trip, there was Southern Prefecture’s sugar. She hadn’t said a word to Leng Yun about it, but she had raised the matter with several of the key officials in the inspector general’s office, especially the law and justice advisor.

Within the entire inspector general’s office, Leng Yun would give her face; the rest were mostly a little afraid of her. She had that much self-awareness. When Magistrate Lu was still in post, her reputation in the inspector general’s office had been as a very prickly sort of person. Whoever tried to knock over her stall, she would dismantle their house. Of course, that sort of thing should not come to pass.

She still had Xiang Dalang prepare a round of gifts to send around, along with some packets of sugar to distribute as well.

Xiang Dalang agreed immediately.

Zhù Ying left a name card at the guild hall, saying: “If there is anything, take the name card and go see Master Dong. If there is nothing, don’t go hovering around the front offices.”

Xiang Dalang and the others quickly agreed.

Zhù Ying also admonished them: “Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

Xiang Dalang was already cautious by nature, and that reminder earned an especially respectful and sincere reply.

Zhù Ying’s trip to the prefecture city was a complete success. After purchasing a few things as usual, she set off with Magistrate Guo and the others to return to the prefecture.

On the road, the four of them argued again. Zhù Ying remained relaxed and in good spirits. Everything so far had proceeded very smoothly. She looked at the four of them and thought: you may talk as big as you like right now, but when you get back you’re still doing it my way!

Her plans for the second half also included rules and regulations: in addition to giving priority to hiring widowers, widows, orphans, and the elderly, there were also regulations for purchasing sugarcane and the like. Just as with the guild hall charter — she would not set things too rigidly, only outline a general framework, to avoid being inflexible.

Upon returning to the prefectural seat, Zhù Ying said: “All right — each of you go do your own work. After the autumn harvest, we’ll start in on our next steps.”

Magistrate Wang, not wanting to fall behind this time, said: “My lord — even though the official sugar works in each county won’t be ready until next year, could we come and observe now? It would be too late to be learning it at the last minute.” Private merchants they could only tax and accept gifts from; the official sugar works were… different, weren’t they?

Zhù Ying said: “All right.”

She was at leisure at the moment, so she took them first to see the current Xiang family sugar works. These officials were just there to see the excitement. Magistrate Guo said: “This big?”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Of course — how else do you sell across the whole region, across all of the realm? Think about it: do people like to eat sugar? Make it so that once people have enough to eat they have the inclination to eat sugar as well — one person, one jin of sugar a year, not even a qian’s worth a day. Not so much. Keep my prices a little lower, let everyone be able to afford it.”

Magistrate Guo drew in a sharp breath: “That—”

Zhù Ying smiled: “The spaces you are preparing should not be too small.”

“The only worry is… the roads are difficult,” Magistrate Guan said hesitantly. Selling oranges had taken several years of effort before reaching its current level, and it had relied on Zhù Ying using official power as protection. Magistrate Guan’s main worry was that now the sugar had been made, it would be hard to sell it in other regions. And knowing Zhù Ying’s trajectory, who knew when she would be promoted and posted elsewhere.

“Then establish the brand name and let them come here to buy in bulk.” When it came to commerce, Zhù Ying was at least as sharp as Xiang Dalang, and sharper. Going out to sell meant paying your own travel costs! People came from the capital to shop for pearls and jewelry — why couldn’t the same happen here? If others came to buy, you could earn a little extra from their food and lodging!

The more outsiders came, the more contact between locals and outsiders, and the less alienation between them.

Magistrate Guan simply laid out his worries plainly.

Zhù Ying smiled: “Don’t worry.”

Magistrate Guan was reassured: “I’ll go back and find a suitable site and get the building ready first.” The others all said they would go get things done as well.

Zhù Ying said: “Grain fields are not to be touched.”

Magistrate Guo laughed: “How would I dare? We officials are assessed too, you know.” The court assessed officials on just a few criteria, and grain collection was a baseline point; even without Zhù Ying raising it, they would watch that the county people did not abandon grain to grow too much cane.

The most difficult situation was Magistrate Mo’s. He had fought as hard as anyone, but now truly regretted it — Fulu County was already planted with oranges, and finding room to grow cane as well was very hard. Magistrate Mo steeled himself: should he encourage opening up new land?

Then he worried that if he cleared the wasteland himself, he would be posted away before he got to enjoy any of the benefit, and the next man would reap the gains.

Truly difficult on both sides.

Zhù Ying finished giving everyone their assignments and said: “All right, everyone go back.”

She first summoned Magistrate Peng of the Public Works Department, since all craftsmen fell under his jurisdiction, and the official sugar works and craftsman matters were formally handed to him. Magistrate Peng had watched Xiao Wu running about busily before this, and while he dared not resent Zhù Ying, he had come to regard Xiao Wu as a competing rival. Now that Zhù Ying had given the task to him, his heart steadied. He said: “I will see it done.”

“I will be inspecting.”

Magistrate Peng beat his chest: “My lord is welcome to examine at any time.”

Zhù Ying, in a rare moment of leisure, went to the inner residence to check on the children’s lessons, then called for Chou Wen and put him through another round of questions, also asking him about conditions in the mountains. Chou Wen, who had fully “turned toward civilization,” answered everything asked, and when speaking of his own tribe showed a slight tendency to disparage it — he had clearly resolved that he was not going back. Zhù Ying made no criticism, and asked him about the various tribes, cross-referencing with what the Hua Pa people had told her, while also making some preparations.

She had now begun studying the Hua Pa tribal language, and was also preparing to make contact with other tribes. Different people in different positions described conditions somewhat differently — hearing multiple accounts was always better.

While she was at leisure enough to be studying languages, Magistrate Guo and the others were thrown into a flurry of work.

Magistrate Guo returned to his county yamen and first set about preparing the official sugar works — sugar was valuable, that much he knew. The official works first, the private ones could come later. It was then that he recalled: “Last year the Prefect set aside some of the official farmland to plant sugarcane! That’s why! This year, in addition to wheat, we’ll plant some cane too — next year we can supply ourselves!” Even if someone handed him a sugar works right now, he had no raw materials.

By the next day, the local gentry of the county came calling.

Magistrate Guo was in the thick of his enthusiasm for making sugar and had no wish to see visitors — but hearing that Honored Old Gentleman Jing was at the head of the party, he looked at the name card in his hand and said with reluctant resignation: “Show them in.”

Honored Old Gentleman Jing had not come alone. Since his son’s return for a visit, the old man had been quiet for a stretch and had stopped going out to show off as much. Today he had rallied a group of people, and it was unclear what he wanted this time.

Magistrate Guo looked over the people behind Honored Old Gentleman Jing: there was Jing Gang’s maternal uncle, there was that unfortunate Wealthy Squire Zhang, and then the Fang family that had been haunted by a “fox spirit” and others.

Magistrate Guo said: “What matter brings all our village elders here?”

Honored Old Gentleman Jing said: “My lord — ought we not to revise the local gazetteer?”

Magistrate Guo was baffled: “How did you come to think of this now?” The local gazetteer had originally been compiled on local initiative; later the court had noticed and decreed that one be done every five years, periodically submitted to the court as one of the court’s major sources of information about local conditions. By the timetable, it would not be time to revise it until next year.

Naturally there was much hidden in this. The quality of gazetteer revision in remote areas was far lower than in prosperous, cultured places — there was no financial or material capacity, and above all there were not enough people of sufficient learning to compile it. Southern Prefecture had also suffered war, and Fulu County had had precious few reliable scholars. The usual approach in remote places was to take the previous compilation and change a few things here and there, sometimes filling in with outright fabrications. After repeated revisions, the quality was quite poor — each revision added more absurdity. When there was nothing to say, but something new had to be added, “fox spirit” legends were known to make their way in. Local “family scandals” would of course never appear.

Officials posted from the capital, having looked up two or three gazetteer volumes beforehand to get a feel for local conditions, frequently found on arrival that nothing matched the description. Zhù Ying herself had wandered all over the county for a long time before she had begun to sort things out. Though the geographical descriptions in gazetteers tended to be relatively trustworthy.

There was also a benefit to revising a gazetteer: it allowed the names of local worthies to be transmitted to posterity. The literate were the ones who compiled it, and those without the means to study had very little chance of writing books; what went into the gazetteer was decided by the local officials and gentry.

Honored Old Gentleman Jing said: “My lord — these past two years have brought daily progress and a clean, wholesome atmosphere to our region. Doesn’t that deserve to be written down properly?”

Magistrate Guo said: “Then add to the current one.”

Honored Old Gentleman Jing finally stated his real purpose: “And the county gazetteer aside — ought we not also to revise the prefectural gazetteer?”

“Mm?” Magistrate Guo hesitated for a moment, then it dawned on him suddenly. “Oh! Jing Elder, you are brilliant! Yes, yes — let’s revise it, by all means!” As the seat of the prefectural government, Nanping County was the ideal place to make such a proposal!

Yet something puzzled him: the Jing family had suffered at Zhù Ying’s hands, so why would they propose this?

Honored Old Gentleman Jing said: “Autumn is here — the second half of the year. Time to send the children to school.”

Honored Old Gentleman Jing was not unintelligent, just not particularly gifted either — it was simply that because his eldest son had studied and come out as an official, the whole family had developed a fixation on “reading,” believing there was no problem that studying and becoming an official couldn’t solve. The idea of “guaranteed admission” had been planted in his heart ever since it was mentioned, and it refused to leave.

His eldest son was already an official; Jing Wu was hopeless. It seemed on the surface that this matter had nothing to do with him. But among his extended relatives, there were a number of younger members. Whatever happened, flattery first!

Magistrate Guo, thus reminded, thought exactly the same. Even if in the end it came down to taking an exam at the prefectural school first and then sending the top candidates to the Imperial Academy — didn’t that still free up a couple of spots? Besides, could there possibly be no other good things ahead? Looking at Prefect Zhù, she was certainly not someone content to sit still and do nothing! Proximity to the source brought the greatest advantage; as long as they served her well, Nanping County would certainly stand to gain the most!

Flattery! Flattery with full force!

Magistrate Guo said: “Good — I’ll speak to the Prefect right away. It’s time to revise the gazetteer!”

Zhù Ying was over there studying the Hua Pa language, while Magistrate Guo here was already composing with the local gentry every word of praise to include about her.

The people who had come to see Magistrate Guo all had some learning, and Wealthy Squire Zhang said: “For the Prefect, what need of exaggeration? Just write down all the practical things she has actually done, and that is news beyond belief. If I hadn’t experienced it myself, I wouldn’t dare believe there was such a person.”

Magistrate Guo said: “Both her achievements in governance and her role in civilizing the people!”

Honored Old Gentleman Jing asked: “How was the gazetteer revised when the Prefect was in Fulu County? Why not first obtain a copy for reference?”

Magistrate Guo frowned: “I haven’t seen it.” What proper person read the neighboring county’s gazetteer? He didn’t even enjoy reading Nanping County’s.

They agreed: quickly obtain a copy to study, identify all the points for flattery, and get them ready. Zhù Ying had served in Fulu County for over five years — she must have revised the gazetteer once already.

Magistrate Guo immediately sent someone to get the gazetteer, intending to meet with Honored Old Gentleman Jing and the others to work out the flattery points, then have the draft submitted to Zhù Ying for review. This was the best method they could devise for sending Zhù Ying good reviews — the gazetteer was submitted to the capital, after all. Give her universal praise from the people — and would she really have the heart not to do even more for Southern Prefecture and its gentry?

Magistrate Guo immediately sent people to Fulu County. The gazetteer was not popular reading material — few copies existed. The county yamen had one, certain wealthy households kept copies, and the county school had one as well. All three of these groups had been trained up by Zhù Ying: an unfamiliar person coming around asking for the gazetteer and even paying for it? Something was off!

Accordingly, a student reported it to Magistrate Mo, and Magistrate Mo thus found out. Magistrate Guo’s plan was no longer a secret. Unable to come to Nanping County to curse Magistrate Guo for his cunning, Magistrate Mo simply sent letters to Magistrates Guan and Wang informing them. All three sent letters to Magistrate Guo to let him know they knew. Magistrate Mo sent off his letter and suddenly thought: wait — how was the Fulu County gazetteer actually written?

He was in trouble!

He hadn’t included any flattery!

When Zhù Ying had revised the gazetteer back then, she hadn’t made a big production of it. She had mainly tidied up the products and geography, cut all the jumbled legends and ghost stories, and added a little private content about the female constables and about the A’Su family. She had never thought to praise herself.

Magistrate Mo regretted it deeply. How had he not thought to raise this matter himself back then?

He hurriedly drafted an official document to send to Southern Prefecture, requesting instructions from Zhù Ying: by chance he had looked at the county gazetteer and recalled that next year was due for another revision — could they start preparing in advance?

Zhù Ying approved: yes.

By the time Magistrate Guo had failed to obtain the Fulu County gazetteer and, sensing the matter was about to leak, rushed in with Honored Old Gentleman Jing and the others to request approval, Zhù Ying said: “How did everyone come to think of revising the gazetteer?”

Magistrate Guo quickly asked: “Has someone else thought of it as well?”

“Oh — Fulu County also wants to do a revision a little early.”

Magistrate Guo privately cursed Magistrate Mo roundly as a complete schemer who would never amount to more than a county magistrate — nothing but scrounging off other people’s ideas! The more he thought, the angrier he got: others stole ideas, but Magistrate Mo picked the words right out of his own mouth!

Magistrate Guo quickly said: “Since we have some leisure, why not also revise the prefectural gazetteer?” Getting a gazetteer done properly rather than slapping something together was no small undertaking. The literate people Zhù Ying could draw on in Southern Prefecture were mostly from Nanping County; Magistrate Guo was glad to help with the compilation.

Zhù Ying said: “How can I have you pay for it? The prefecture yamen is not without funds.”

Wealthy Squire Zhang said: “It is a heartfelt gesture from all of us villagers.”

Zhù Ying said: “That won’t do either — I’ll cover the costs. Let’s start getting it organized. The county gazetteers from the Fulu days were indeed somewhat hasty; this is a good chance to revise all the prefectural gazetteers properly — remove all the ghost and spirit tales and properly organize the climate, products, and the like. Oranges, winter wheat, sugarcane — all introduced in the past couple of years, not in the old gazetteers at all — these specialties need to be added.”

The maps should be redrawn as well.

Magistrate Guo said: “Since we’re revising the county gazetteers anyway, let’s recruit the people to work on both at once.”

Zhù Ying said: “Fine. Mm — bring a few prefectural school students to help, good practice for them.”

“Yes!”

Zhù Ying had no idea they were planning to flatter her, allocated the funds, and headed off to inspect the official sugar works.

The official sugar works was built by the water, using hydraulic power to drive the roller presses. The craftsmen had no experience making sugar, but the entire process had been laid out in written steps. Zhù Ying noticed that the three Xiang siblings were quite capable in business management, and had Xiang An come over to supervise and monitor the work using the record book as her guide.

This young woman had spent more time close to Zhù Ying’s side when they were in Fulu County; since coming to Southern Prefecture, her time helping out in the inner residence of the yamen had increased. Zhù Ying thought: Xiang An was someone who had been traveling on business ventures since a young age — if she stayed cooped up in the inner residence for too long and grew dull, that would be a waste. She pulled her over and had her take charge of this operation first.

Xiang An was registered under Zhù Ying’s name as a female constable, so the assignment was proper.

After Xiang An took over, the official sugar works was quickly brought into good order. The first run of sugar was already done, and the quality seemed reasonable.

Compared to what Master Tang and his four apprentices had produced, both this workshop and the one handed to Xiang Dalang were slightly below — Xiang An had figured out that the issue was simply that the craftsmen on their side were not yet practiced, and that once they grew familiar it would catch up.

“Our side has consistency!” Xiang An said.

She greatly admired Zhù Ying’s thinking: breaking the process down this way meant each worker had only one task to master, and it was easy to become proficient quickly. Every step was fixed in place — if any step went wrong, the next step would catch it. Every process step had a standard to follow.

It was like stocking a kitchen with measured ingredients — use this many vegetables, use this much salt, follow the recipe, no need for personal improvisation. Production was stable.

And the price was still low!

Xiang An said: “Thin margins, high volume — it’s just a little bit of a shame not to earn all the profit that’s there.”

Zhù Ying laughed: “Just think — some people go through their whole lives without tasting more than a few mouthfuls of sugar. If the price is lower and they can finally have some — wouldn’t that make you feel it’s not a shame at all?”

Xiang An looked at Zhù Ying and nodded. That was true.

Zhù Ying said: “Pack twenty jin and send it home — I want to try something.”

She had deliberately kept prices low on brown and white granulated sugar as a matter of intention. Now she wanted to develop something expensive. Like casting it into forms, for instance. Or preserved fruits.

She brought two jars of sugar back home, took out some fruit, and found the molds.

When Zhang Xiangu saw her ducking into the kitchen again, she followed her in: “In this heat, all this smoke and fire — what are you in here for again? Even the servants — after meals I don’t have them standing around in this misery.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Would you like some sugar candy?”

Zhang Xiangu said: “Yes — I can afford sugar candy. I’m not destitute.”

Zhù Ying said: “What about preserved fruit?”

“You want some? I still have some of my own — don’t make it yourself.”

Hua Jie and the others had followed in too. Hua Jie asked: “What kind of preserved fruit do you want to make?”

“Honey is much more expensive than sugar. I don’t have much honey, but I have a great deal of sugar now — I want to try switching honey-curing to sugar-curing.”

She also took out her notebook — this time she was trying it herself. In terms of cooking, she did know a thing or two, and she was confident that once plain cheap sugar was available, she could improve on its uses better than the craftsmen could.

Qiao’er quickly said: “If the Prefect wants that, let me do it — I know how too. Just substitute sugar for the honey? That’s easy enough.”

Zhù Ying asked: “And do you know how to make any other sugar confections?”

Qiao’er said: “A few things.” Her father was a cook, and she had taken no small advantage from the yamen kitchens — she had never suffered much where food was concerned.

Zhù Ying said: “You make some and let me watch.”

Zhang Xiangu said: “Don’t all stand around in here — doesn’t the heat bother you?”

Zhù Ying worked things out herself, trying to melt the sugar down and make something else. Plain white was a bit monotonous — coloring it and casting it into a form sounded like a good idea.

Since the sugar works had opened, the whole yamen had sugar every day. Zhù Ying would take the pieces that hadn’t turned out well, smash them up, put them on a plate, and leave them in the main kitchen — whoever wanted some, help themselves. Some people took pieces home for their children. Everyone who ate it said it was sweet.

Sugar really was a wonderful thing.

Zhang Xiangu, though also happy about it, still couldn’t help scolding Zhù Ying: “Such good stuff — don’t waste it. Having it to eat is enough; we don’t need all these fancy shapes.” She had lived a hard life before — sugar had only come into her life regularly after her daughter became an official and was earning. Watching Zhù Ying now handle large quantities of sugar in such a casual, experimental way, she ached over it.

Zhù Ying said: “I have uses for all of it — it’s not being wasted.”

Zhang Xiangu said: “And I hear Hou Wu told a funny story. That big plate just sitting there, anyone picks it up with their hands, and there are black fingerprints pressed all over it — how are people supposed to eat that?”

Zhù Ying, hearing this, took note. She went to the yamen courtyard, climbed up into a tree by the kitchen, and watched the constables coming and going. Qiao’er’s father was interesting — when someone came in for a meal they could take one piece to go, and he watched them: you were not allowed to take more. While scolding them he rapped their hands with his chopsticks: “You — yes, you — last time you took the plate and everything! The people after you had nothing left! One piece only!”

The man reached into the plate to pick and choose, and sure enough left black fingerprints on the white sugar.

Zhù Ying tilted her head and thought for a moment, then jumped down from the tree, picked up the plate, and looked it over carefully — startling every single person in the kitchen and dining hall, sending bowls and chopsticks clattering across the table.

Zhù Ying said: “Nothing to worry about — I just came to have a look. Carry on eating…”

In the past, as a child, she had never much minded such things — having something to eat was already good enough. Now that life was better, she had developed a regard for cleanliness.

Mm, mm, mm…

Zhù Ying wandered out behind the kitchen and pulled a handful of wheat stalks. Back in the inner residence she washed the stalks clean, cut them into segments about two cun long, and cut a large handful. She took out the molds, first poured the sugar liquid in, then pushed the wheat stalk segments in halfway, leaving the other half sticking out. When the sugar liquid solidified, she held the stalk and drew the piece of sugar out, then put it straight into her mouth.

Perfect.

She carried a handful of sugar pieces through the inner residence, handing one to each person she passed. The last one she pushed straight into Zhang Xiangu’s mouth: “There — now there’s no worry about it being dirty.”

Zhang Xiangu said reproachfully: “Who told you to spend more thought on this? Aren’t you tired enough?”

Zhù Ying was mystified: “What — what’s tiring about this?”

“Go do your proper work!”

“I have no proper work,” Zhù Ying said.

“My lord — Commandant Mei has come to call.” Hu Shijie appeared silently at the mother and daughter’s side.

Zhù Ying: …

Zhù Ying went to the front study, where Commandant Mei was already waiting. His rank was lower than Zhù Ying’s, and the people of Zhù’s household dared not treat him carelessly — he had soldiers under his command.

Commandant Mei had not come in his official robes or armor, and in plain clothes looked something like a wealthy landowner.

Zhù Ying said: “A rare visitor.”

Commandant Mei smiled broadly: “My lord is too kind. The duties of my post require me to remain stationed at the camp, and I am not able to come and seek the Prefect’s guidance often. That is also a source of regret for me.”

“The Commandant is too formal — please sit.”

They sat and drank tea. Commandant Mei said: “Lu Mei has returned.”

“That’s good.”

“That old rascal — well past the time he should have been back.”

“He came back, that’s what matters.”

The two of them talked at length around the subject, and Commandant Mei finally could no longer contain the real point: “My lord — I hear Southern Prefecture has fine sugar? Yesterday when I went home, the household set out a number of sweet things. Quite tasty.”

“We’ve only just made it. The Commandant need not buy it — let me give you some.”

“No, no, no — how could I accept that?” Commandant Mei rubbed his hands together. “That is — some of the land around the camp is lying fallow, and it could be planted with cane, but this matter…”

Zhù Ying said: “If the soldiers aren’t drilling, that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

Commandant Mei said: “My lord — I understand your desire to build real accomplishments. I won’t take advantage for nothing! These children of mine — as long as there’s no full mobilization of the army, everything else: you may use them however you like. Whatever is mine is at your disposal. If you have any need, just say the word.”

Zhù Ying said: “Commandant — if over a mouthful of sugar we let military readiness decay, neither of us could bear the consequences.”

Commandant Mei laughed: “That goes without saying — it’s our very foundation!”

“What is it the Commandant actually wants?”

Commandant Mei said: “I know there’s an old sugar works in the garrison fields that has fallen apart — and I can’t find any craftsmen. I want to grow sugarcane!”

“The Commandant is truly a remarkable person!”

Commandant Mei did not, it turned out, want to set up a sugar works himself — he only wanted to sell cane. He was not like Zhù Ying and these local officials, carrying the enormous burden of grain taxes over their heads. Even with two rice harvests a year, the court would correspondingly increase the grain tax, and farming land could not be significantly reduced to grow cane instead. Commandant Mei was different — that was military farmland, an entirely separate matter from the local administration. He could easily conceal a portion of the acreage.

He only had to mention it to Zhù Ying — he would grow cane, she would purchase it, ensuring him a profit. That was all he needed.

Zhù Ying said: “The product must be good.”

“You can count on that.”

Zhù Ying nodded: “Fine.” If everything went according to plan, Southern Prefecture would indeed need large quantities of cane, and she had no reason to refuse.

Commandant Mei was delighted: “Many thanks to the Prefect for your support. From now on, if you have any need, just give me the word.” He had not had no thought of opening a sugar works himself — he had turned it over carefully at home, and he simply didn’t know how to run one. The garrison’s sugar works — why had it failed? Because it hadn’t been run well.

Zhù Ying said: “I will have to rely heavily on the Commandant in the future.”

“Where, where — the Prefect is too gracious!”

Commandant Mei’s assessment of Zhù Ying fluctuated between high and low.

At this moment, it was at one of its higher points.