The seventh month’s summer heat blazed relentlessly.

According to the imperial almanac, the weather should have begun to cool by this time. Yet the Southern Prefecture still sweltered unbearably, and only after the autumn harvest would it grow somewhat cooler. Though Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da had long grown accustomed to the Southern Prefecture’s climate, they still complained of the heat, spending their days shut inside and refusing to venture out until after the sun had set and the courtyard had been doused with well water for an evening of cool air.

For this very reason, Zhù Ying’s antics at the prefectural office rarely reached Zhang Xiangu’s ears — she assumed her daughter was simply occupied with proper official business.

Before long, the eighth month arrived, and the autumn harvest began in earnest. The household grew all the more convinced that Zhù Ying was busy and dared not disturb her. Zhù Da loved nothing better than spending time with Zhù Shi, while Zhang Xiangu busied herself making shoes, socks, and clothing for her daughter. Zhang Xiangu had always held firmly to one conviction: no matter how high an office Zhù Ying attained, she remained a woman, and wearing men’s clothing was inherently uncomfortable. Women and men were simply different — men’s garments were cut for men’s frames, and no matter how fine the official fabric bestowed by the court, it would never fit properly. Only something made by one’s own hands would sit comfortably.

When she wasn’t dozing, Zhang Xiangu occupied herself making all manner of clothing and accessories for her daughter. Even if appearances had to be maintained in public, at least at home one ought to be comfortable.

Seeing that each member of the household had their own pursuits, Zhù Ying was glad they had no time to pester her, and gave instructions that they could arrange things at home however they pleased. Autumn harvest and tax collection did not add greatly to her burdens, and even the sugar factory had settled into a steady rhythm. Though the factory showed vigorous momentum, it was still its first year — preparations for craftsmen, raw materials, and the like were not yet sufficient — and however fierce its growth, the scale had not reached proportions that astonished her.

What truly occupied Zhù Ying’s attention now was the various “tribal peoples” dwelling in the mountains.

The Elder Madam Su and the Elder Madam Lang were both women of the Flower-Cloth tribe, and both hoped to secure official recognition from the court for their natal families. Zhù Ying also hoped to reach agreements with the various tribes, drawing them all under loose imperial suzerainty. She took advantage of her subordinates’ work to free up time for learning the languages of the “tribal peoples.”

Beyond the Flower-Cloth tongue, there were languages like that of the Jima tribe and others. The Suoning family, being of the Qixia tribe, actually saved her some trouble in this regard — no extra study required.

None of these languages possessed written scripts, eliminating one category of things she needed to learn, yet adding a slight difficulty: she transcribed everything in phonetic notation and could not afford to confuse them.

By the eighth month, shortly after the Mid-Autumn Festival had passed, Su Mingluan sent a messenger down from the mountain. Su Qingtian arrived with the messenger to request an audience with Zhù Ying — Su Mingluan’s maternal uncle’s family had asked their niece to inquire on their behalf: when would Zhù Ying be willing to meet with them?

The “tribal peoples” were not greatly given to celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival. When they were at leisure, they would bow to the moon whenever it happened to look round, whichever month it fell in. In the past, when spirits ran high, they might even kill a person or two as a lunar sacrifice. Now that human sacrifice had been set aside, the sight of the full moon still stirred certain feelings, and sending a letter to inquire was perfectly natural under the circumstances.

Beneath the same moon shared across the world, Lang Kunwu also sent Wolf-Brother to the prefectural office to ask — when might Zhù Ying be willing to meet with Lang Kunwu’s maternal uncle’s family?

Receiving both requests for an audience at once, Zhù Ying furrowed her brow, and a plan immediately came to mind.

The sixteenth day of the eighth month was not a rest day. She summoned all the officials and clerks of the prefecture and assigned duties: “I shall be going on an inspection tour. The Marshal will manage the prefecture’s daily affairs in my absence. The rest of you are to remain at your posts.”

Zhang Jiong was the first to respond: “By your order.”

The remaining officials followed suit.

Zhù Ying was nothing like those local officials who merely listened to music in their offices or took leisurely outings to the countryside — she made frequent tours of the territory, and the prefectural staff had long grown accustomed to it. Being the height of the harvest season, it would be no surprise if she suddenly descended on some county to take stock of the situation. The constables silently began calculating their odds: who would be taken along this time? Wives were tiresome at home and children noisy; following the prefect out for a bit of fresh air wouldn’t be bad at all, and there’d be a few days’ leave on return — even better.

Zhù Ying’s actual plans diverged somewhat from their imaginings. She intended to make a trip to both the Asu and Talang households, meeting the maternal uncles of both families to discuss the matter of bringing the Flower-Cloth tribe under loose imperial suzerainty. An undertaking, once it gathers momentum, proceeds like splitting bamboo — the beginning is always the hardest part, but once it flows smoothly, the rest comes in quick succession.

The Flower-Cloth tribe stood at precisely that critical juncture between a difficult beginning and smooth sailing ahead, and the moment was significant.

She selected ten able-bodied constables and ten young and vigorous unpaid laborers, instructing them to prepare. Those chosen felt a quiet pride; those passed over were left rueful.

“All of you go and pack your things, and await orders to depart,” Zhù Ying said.

The constables and unpaid laborers answered loudly in unison, the latter’s voices especially boisterous. They served their labor terms without pay and held no formal position in the yamen — they were simply there to work. Under Zhù Ying, however, even unpaid laborers received a small stipend and did not serve for nothing, which greatly diminished their resentment at “missing the home harvest.” All were glad to make this journey with her.

Having finished her assignments, she gathered her trusted associates: Hu Shijie was an absolute requirement for any trip — Zhang Xiangu had insisted upon it. Then came Xiang Le, Gu Tong, Ding Gui, Xiao Liu, and others; the remaining staff were left at the yamen. Xiang An was needed to oversee the sugar factory; Hou Wu would watch the house.

Zhang Xiangu assumed Zhù Ying was going to inspect the autumn harvest across the various counties and chattered on: “Finish up this busy stretch quickly so you can get some proper rest.”

“I’ve already been resting for more than a month,” Zhù Ying replied. “My bones are rusting — I need to get some exercise.”

Zhang Xiangu, projecting her own feelings onto her daughter, worried only that she was overworked and had no idea that Zhù Ying felt not the least bit tired. She first led her party through Hedong County for a look. She still remembered from her previous incognito visit to Hedong County that several villages had appeared to be concealing household registrations and acreage, and this time she deliberately passed through those same villages.

The one matter currently occupying Magistrate Wang’s mind was twofold: grain and sugarcane fields. He therefore went along willingly and launched an investigation: “What locations did the Prefect pass through? Why are they absent from the records? Investigate!”

Borrowing Zhù Ying’s authority as his own banner, he had found an excellent pretext and began a thorough clearing of hidden farmland.

From Hedong County, Zhù Ying made a circuit and pressed on to Fulu County, which presented an altogether different picture. Since her departure, Magistrate Mo’s abilities had fallen considerably short of hers; though he followed established precedents, he still fell short in certain respects — yet at least he had not created fresh troubles, and the people managed their own affairs smoothly enough.

Magistrate Mo, upon receiving word, came out to welcome Zhù Ying to the Qingfeng Tavern for rest. “You need not look after me,” Zhù Ying said. “Attend to your own affairs — I leave for Asu County tomorrow.”

“So soon!” Magistrate Mo exclaimed.

“I’ve flattered enough superiors in my time,” Zhù Ying said. “There’s no need for us to stand on ceremony. Finish your proper work — I don’t care for empty formalities between us.”

Magistrate Mo was indeed eager for formalities — he wanted a larger share of the sugar trade but lacked any plan that would balance sugarcane against the Fulu orange, and desperately hoped his former superior might offer some counsel. He wanted it all.

Zhù Ying, however, had her own thoughts: Fulu County possessed a distinctive specialty, and if that were taken to its fullest potential, it would prove enduring.

She therefore did not linger long, and after a brief rest pressed on toward Asu County, leaving Magistrate Mo to sigh at her retreating figure.

The road to Asu County was one Zhù Ying knew extremely well, and the mood of her companions was quite relaxed — nothing like the tense wariness that had accompanied the escort of Wei Bozhong to the Talang village in times past. By experience, they would reach the Asu family’s main stronghold in two to three days at most, and several of the smaller villages along the way were ones they had stayed at before, with small village chiefs all well acquainted with them.

Unexpectedly, when they were still half a day’s journey from the main stronghold, Zhù Ying was in the midst of conversation with Su Zhe when a voice ahead suddenly called out in Liji: “Is that the Prefect?”

Su Zhe had been seated in front of Zhù Ying, the two of them sharing a horse, chatting about how she intended to give her “A’Weng” a proper welcome once they reached the stronghold. At the sound of Liji speech, the little girl started as though her tail had been stepped on: “Someone from Liji! Why have they come to our home?!”

Both Zhù Ying and she looked toward the sound. It was a young man from the Talang family, a flower pinned to his headscarf — not the one who had nearly caused trouble the last time. Zhù Ying recognized him as one of Elder Madam Lang’s capable attendants, the one who had fought with particular bravery during the brawl with Lady Lang’s people.

“What are you doing here instead of guarding the Elder Madam?” she asked.

The young man urged his horse forward, grinning. “My lady! I was delivering a message to our old maternal uncle and lost my way following the sound of singing. I thought I’d wasted the trip and the effort — but who would have thought I’d run into you, my lady? Not a waste at all.”

Su Zhe pursed her lips. That old fellow’s smile is so fake.

Zhù Ying pointed out a path. “Take this road and you’ll reach Talang. Don’t wander off it again.”

The young man kept smiling. “Seeing you, my lady, I couldn’t go astray. I’d better hurry back — our old maternal uncle will be arriving soon. He’s come specially to the stronghold, waiting to meet you.”

“Has he reached Talang already?”

“He has!”

“Then I’ll be making a trip to Talang in a couple of days.”

“Then it’s settled! I’ll go back and tell our chieftain right away.”

Zhù Ying smiled and nodded. The young man whipped his horse and galloped off. Su Zhe said quietly, “He was definitely waiting here for us.”

“But how would he know we’d be coming through at this particular time?”

“They’re crafty.”

Zhù Ying raised her hand and patted the girl’s head.

She understood the Talang family’s intentions and knew the Asu family’s thinking as well, though she had no wish to favor either side. She brought Su Zhe first to the Asu family’s stronghold. The mountain harvest had not yet begun, and Su Mingluan was relatively free. Having already received word from a smaller village of their approach, she had prepared well in advance, waiting at the trailhead below the mountain to greet them.

The moment she saw Su Mingluan, Su Zhe called out first: “A’Miao!”

Mother and daughter both smiled with great happiness. Zhù Ying was pleased as well. “Why have you come so far to meet us?”

Su Mingluan laughed. “Godfather hasn’t visited in so long — of course I had to come! Besides—” She pointed to a man not far behind her and said that was her maternal uncle, her mother’s younger brother.

Zhù Ying looked where she indicated and saw a middle-aged man gazing in their direction. He wore a more ornate headscarf than those of the other tribespeople, and his clothing combined dark blue and black with red-and-green embroidered borders — somewhat different from the colors worn by the Asu family. “What is his name?” Zhù Ying asked.

“This is the Long-Hair branch,” Su Mingluan said. “Godfather, please come.”

Zhù Ying allowed Su Mingluan to make the introductions and greeted this maternal uncle.

The Flower-Cloth tribe was divided into various branches. Su Mingluan’s uncle’s branch was the “Long-Hair” people — they called themselves the Long-Hair Tribe, and prized black, long, thick hair as the mark of beauty in women. Lang Kunwu’s maternal family was called the “Pale-Face” people, whose men and women alike appeared comparatively fair-skinned.

Su Mingluan’s uncle’s name, rendered phonetically, was “Luguo,” meaning “Abundant Harvest” when translated.

Zhù Ying looked at Luguo’s beard and thought: thankfully he hadn’t come face-to-face with the Liji people.

Luguo’s eyes held both nervousness and suspicion. Zhù Ying slowly greeted him in the Flower-Cloth tongue, and his eyes widened slightly. “How… how do you do, my… my lady?”

“Godfather knows Flower-Cloth speech?” Su Mingluan asked.

“It seems I made myself clear enough?” Zhù Ying replied.

“More or less,” Luguo said.

Su Mingluan gave a light cough. “Godfather, please.”

She did not yet broach the matter of “suzerainty” or “official appointments,” keeping to pleasant conversation. First she spoke of Su Zhe, then of Elder Madam Su, and finally turned to Luguo: “Uncle, you see? A’Miao and I didn’t mislead you, did we? Godfather is a man of his word — when he says he’ll come to the mountain, he always does.”

Luguo had already made up his mind to agree, but seeing the reality of it before him, he couldn’t help assessing the situation. He arranged his face into a polite smile and said, “You say so, so it must be so. I’ve never heard of an official coming into our mountains — those who come are soldiers.”

Su Mingluan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This uncle of hers — of the two sentences he’d just spoken, the second half of both were entirely unnecessary!

With no choice but to smooth things over, she asked, “Did Godfather come with just these people?”

“Enough is enough,” Zhù Ying said. “If I weren’t transporting goods, I’d have preferred to bring even fewer.”

Luguo’s ears perked up, eager to know what goods were being transported. Su Zhe had already revealed the answer: “A’Weng has lots and lots of delicious sugar!”

Luguo was a man of few words. Su Mingluan continued: “Could it be the crystallized sugar Qingtian mentioned? She said she hadn’t been able to buy any.”

“The Xiang family has a sugar factory,” Zhù Ying said. “There’ll be some at the trade market.”

The group continued talking as they walked. Neither Zhù Ying nor Su Mingluan made any deliberate effort to draw Luguo into the conversation — they simply talked among themselves, occasionally asking him a question or two. And so they arrived at the Asu family’s stronghold.

Elder Madam Su had already prepared a feast inside, with the fire in the hearth piled high and blazing warmly. She dispensed with pleasantries and said directly: “Brother-in-law, my younger brother is here too. You all just go ahead and talk about your business — I’ll keep the food and wine coming.”

Luguo coughed twice and glanced at his niece. Su Mingluan, acting as intermediary, said, “Godfather, Uncle is also inclined toward the court.”

Zhù Ying nodded. “That’s very good news.”

“Uncle,” Su Mingluan said, “speak plainly — Godfather has always been a man of his word with us. And Uncle, you must also be a man of your word: ask whatever you like, make sure you understand clearly, and once you’ve agreed, you cannot go back on it.”

Luguo looked at Zhù Ying and said, “My lady, my brother-in-law entrusted his family to your care, and you have cared for them well. I’m willing to trust you. My little sister has become an official and I don’t see her being mistreated. I wonder — would our Flower-Cloth tribe be treated the same way?”

“Of course,” Zhù Ying said. “But first I need to know how many people you have, and how much land.”

“I have the information!” Luguo said eagerly.

“Uncle,” Su Mingluan said, “go ahead and take it out.”

Luguo hesitated, then produced a piece of cured hide. “It’s all drawn here.”

This branch of the Flower-Cloth tribe lived deeper into the mountains than the others and had less familiarity with the flatlands below. Su Mingluan could see this was going nowhere and took the crudely drawn map from her uncle to explain it to Zhù Ying. Though primitive, it had been drawn by someone who had grown up in that very terrain, and it was closer to reality than any map Zhù Ying had obtained through multiple layers of hearsay.

“Is this map accurate?” Zhù Ying asked Su Mingluan. “There appear to be other tribes in the surrounding areas beyond your own — if the boundaries don’t match up when the time comes, disputes will arise.”

Elder Madam Su said, “Then let them settle it by ability.”

Meaning: by force.

Zhù Ying smiled. “If we can manage things through peaceful discussion, it’s better not to shed blood.” She compared the map against what she had already memorized mentally, pointing to several locations to ask whether a particular spot was said to be Suoning land, whether another was Jima territory, and how large this area was.

Neither Luguo nor Su Mingluan could give very precise answers. Luguo said with a touch of disappointment, “Wasn’t it said that if I provided you a map, I could be given an official post?”

After all the food and drink had gone without being touched, and the conversation had stretched deep into the night, Zhù Ying asked patiently, “Would you be willing to guide me further into the mountains so I can have a look for myself?”

“I’m not deceiving you!” Luguo said.

“The mountain paths are difficult,” Su Mingluan added.

“I’m not saying he’s deceiving me,” Zhù Ying said with a smile. “The maternal uncle of the Talang family over there is also of the Flower-Cloth tribe and has expressed the same interest. I need to see for myself before I can make a proper judgment.”

Luguo said sullenly, “If you want to listen to him, why bother asking me?”

Su Mingluan tried to pacify him.

“I’m not simply listening to any one person,” Zhù Ying said. “I need to see things with my own eyes and let what I observe speak for itself — only then will what I say be credible to others. I will not favor any one party, nor will I harm any one party.”

Luguo let out a long sigh. Su Mingluan said, “Uncle, you’ve had quite a bit to drink tonight. Get some sleep — we can talk properly tomorrow.”

Luguo shuffled off, head hanging.

Zhù Ying had not been drinking, so Su Mingluan could not use the same excuse to urge her away. Once the attendants and servants had tidied up the room, she brought the elder brother and the shaman to Zhù Ying’s quarters, intending to have a thorough talk with her.

Su Mingluan desperately wanted to see this matter through, yet did not want to compromise herself on her uncle’s behalf. She asked tentatively, “Godfather, if the Flower-Cloth tribe’s population and territory are smaller than Asu County’s, will they not be eligible to have their own county magistrate?”

Zhù Ying turned the question around. “How many people does he have? How much land?”

Su Mingluan hesitated. Zhù Ying said, “You must be honest with me. I can see his map differs greatly from yours and is not very accurate.” Su Mingluan frowned and said, “His people are fewer than mine, but the territory is not small. Godfather knows we have no written language and are not skilled with numbers — we cannot keep very complex records. Territory one can roughly see, but as for population, we only know whether one group is larger or smaller than another, not actual numbers.”

“Then how large is his territory exactly?”

Su Mingluan thought for a moment. “Somewhat smaller than mine. And Asu County only has an approximate figure itself — I couldn’t say precisely how large the Flower-Cloth tribe’s territory is.”

After pressing her several times, Zhù Ying confirmed one key fact: the Flower-Cloth tribe’s combined territory was roughly the same as that of Asu County alone. Tribal sizes varied considerably — not every family occupied an entire county’s worth of land. The Long-Hair and Pale-Face branches combined amounted to roughly the same as either the Asu or Talang family alone.

“The court establishes counties based on population,” Zhù Ying said, “and that is not something anyone can simply change at will.”

“The population figures in the mountains are inherently imprecise,” Su Mingluan replied.

“I know. But the Long-Hair and Pale-Face branches are not always at war with each other — they can negotiate.”

The shaman said, “The Talang family’s maternal uncle will certainly contend for the position of county magistrate.”

“That too is something that can be discussed,” Zhù Ying said with a smile.

“I’m afraid they won’t be able to reach an agreement,” Su Mingluan said. “Neither side will be willing to concede.”

“Why should they have to concede?”

The elder brother said, “There is only one county magistrate.”

“There’s always a way to accommodate them,” Zhù Ying said. “Your concerns I understand — and you may set them aside. I will always find a solution.”

“If the territory cannot be made into a county…” Su Mingluan began.

Zhù Ying smiled and shook her head. She had thought through this question as well and had done some prior research. The matter of the Flower-Cloth tribe had its contingency plan. The court’s counties were ranked in three tiers — upper, middle, and lower — and the same could apply to suzerainty counties. A county like Asu County would rank as an upper suzerainty county; the Long-Hair branch would count as a lower county. As for smaller tribal groups that couldn’t fill a county on their own, one option was to merge several such groups into a single county and have them take turns governing. Those not currently in office would be granted nominal official ranks — and there would be no great need for the court to actually pay them salaries.

“Suzerainty” ultimately amounted to nothing more than “not forcibly altering existing customs” — first drawing everyone into the court’s framework, and then handling the rest as it came.

For now, she would not make firm promises to Su Mingluan. She needed to wait until she had also met with Lang Kunwu’s maternal uncle, and only after weighing both situations together would she speak. She needed to preserve room for negotiation.

“Since you trust me,” Zhù Ying said, “it would be worth telling me more of the truth. The more I know, the better I can plan. Whatever becomes of Luguo’s situation, my regard for you remains unchanged.”

The sound of a relieved exhale was clearly audible in the room. Zhù Ying smiled. “If Luguo is unwilling at present, I can also host him with a banquet at the yamen and discuss things further when he comes down.”

The elder brother said, “Exactly — let him see how large and prosperous your domain is. He’ll understand you have no designs on his stronghold.”

Zhù Ying shook her head. “Don’t think of it that way. Having a larger domain doesn’t mean a person isn’t greedy. That reasoning won’t convince anyone. But I am willing to trust A’Jie and little sister, and I’m willing to have a proper discussion with Luguo.”

“I’ll speak with my uncle again,” Su Mingluan said.

“Good.”

Su Mingluan had not expected her uncle to be so difficult.

The Flower-Cloth tribe’s influence was weaker than that of both the Qixia and Talang tribes — if they could have fought their way forward, they wouldn’t have retreated deeper into the mountains. For all that they were kin through marriage, their dealings had always carried a faint undercurrent of relative strength and weakness. Su Mingluan had assumed this matter would be relatively straightforward, but Luguo proved far less agreeable than she had anticipated.

She first consulted her mother, but Elder Madam Su was unwilling at this juncture to force her natal brother to submit. “That is your uncle’s family,” she said. “You cannot make decisions for him.”

Left with no choice, Su Mingluan went to her uncle herself.

Luguo had not yet gone to sleep. He was pacing back and forth by lamplight, and the moment he saw his niece, he spoke first: “Little sister, you were the one who said we could become officials. You said—”

Earlier, Su Mingluan had used her own situation as proof and told Luguo of all the benefits that came with accepting suzerainty — the court would not interfere in their affairs, and though they would pay some taxes, they would gain access to far more in return, along with many means of strengthening themselves from what could be obtained from the flatlands.

Now that Zhù Ying had not immediately agreed to Luguo’s terms and allowed him to become county magistrate outright but had instead asked for more detailed information, he felt somewhat put out.

“That’s true,” Su Mingluan said quietly. “Godfather also needs to explain things clearly to the court. Uncle, the fact that Godfather is willing to come into our mountains at all shows he is different from officials of the past. The Pale-Face family from the mountain is also competing for this.”

“That official post — wasn’t it said we could still negotiate on it?” Luguo asked.

“Then let me accompany Uncle down the mountain,” Su Mingluan said.

In the end, Zhù Ying was unable to reach an agreement with Luguo during their time at Asu County, and she arranged with Su Mingluan and Luguo to meet again at the prefectural yamen in ten days.

Su Mingluan felt a touch of embarrassment as she saw Zhù Ying down the mountain. “Godfather… I failed to handle this well.”

“This wasn’t your matter to handle,” Zhù Ying said, “and I never assigned it to you as a task. If you were to use your own uncle as a token to prove your loyalty, I would be the one unable to trust you. This is better — it’s preferable to having grievances hidden and left to accumulate until suddenly erupting in anger.”

“I’ll do my best to persuade my uncle.”

“Don’t force him.”

“Understood.”

Zhù Ying departed Asu County and had not gone far before Lang Kunwu again sent someone to greet her by the roadside. This time it was Wolf-Brother who came. He saw Zhù Ying and laughed: “My lady truly is as good as your word — you said you’d come, and here you are! I thought the Asu family might have kept you.”

“Who could keep me?” Zhù Ying said.

As at the Asu family’s home, after Zhù Ying arrived at the Talang stronghold, Lang Kunwu’s maternal uncle, Xijin, turned out to hold the same views as Luguo. Both wanted to become county magistrate immediately, yet had no particularly clear picture of their own circumstances — no written records of household registration, maps that were even rougher than the Talang family’s, and a situation more vague than anything Zhù Ying had encountered among the Talang people.

Xijin, like Luguo, lacked his nephew’s decisiveness. When he heard Zhù Ying say she wanted to go into the mountains for a look, his instinct was wariness: “The mountain paths are not easy going.”

In the end, he too made the same arrangement as Luguo, agreeing to come down to the prefectural yamen in a few days’ time for further discussion with Zhù Ying.

Lang Kunwu was also somewhat anxious — even more so than Su Mingluan. Su Mingluan had, after all, recognized Zhù Ying as her godfather and had spent more time with her over the years. Lang Kunwu had only recently made her acquaintance and their relationship was not yet deep; he worried that his uncle’s obstinacy might damage his rapport with Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying, as easygoing as ever, said, “To say nothing of the fact that it took me several years of negotiating with the Asu family before things were settled — even with you, it took months, didn’t it? I’m not upset, and I’m not in a hurry. Better to speak plainly first than to make rash promises, rush everything to a conclusion, and then have regrets later.”

“I’ve spoken with my uncle many times,” Lang Kunwu said. “Mother has spoken to him too.”

“But those were your words, not mine. I only met him today — how is he supposed to trust me? No need to rush.”

Zhù Ying said she was not in a hurry, and she meant it. She had no desire to hastily stack up two more suzerainty counties merely to make her record look impressive before the end of her term — only to leave a mess for her successor to sort out.

Coming down from the mountains with the same serene composure she’d maintained throughout, she made a detour through Sicheng County to observe the autumn harvest. By that point, the harvest was nearing its end, and the yields appeared to match those of previous years — no particular increase in production. This already satisfied Zhù Ying greatly: so long as there was no decline.

When she returned to the prefectural yamen, Zhang Xiangu and the household saw she had come back safely and said only a word or two about it, no longer pursuing her with warnings about “the dangers of entering the mountains.” Zhù Ying was glad for the quiet.

On her third day back, Su Mingluan arrived at the prefecture with Luguo. Because Luguo was with them, Zhù Ying had Xiao Wu arrange their accommodations at the post inn. Luguo had never before set foot in the prefectural capital, and upon seeing its tall city walls, his first reaction was astonishment: “It’s bigger than any of our strongholds! No wonder we can’t win in a fight.”

When they reached the inn and he saw the furnishings inside, he remarked to Su Mingluan, “Not bad at all.”

Luguo’s own home in the stronghold was not small, and it contained a fair number of valuable items from the flatlands — yet it still fell somewhat short of the inn’s matched sets of fine porcelain and the like. The Long-Hair branch was indeed a step below the Asu family.

“In a moment they’ll be serving dinner,” Su Mingluan said. “Uncle, would you prefer to try the food from the flatlands, or something more to our taste?”

“I’ve eaten flatland food before,” Luguo said, “but I might as well try some.”

Shortly after, the food was laid out and uncle and niece sat down to eat. Luguo spoke between bites: “Does it truly take such a long time?”

“Yes, it’s always like this.”

“I’m not set on getting this official post,” Luguo said, “and I’m not meaning to pressure your godfather. Your mother said he’s a good man, your father said he’s a good man — I believe you. What I don’t trust is Xijin and his crowd. I need to move faster than them.”

“Why are you in such a hurry, Uncle?”

“The one who moves swiftly wins the beautiful little lamb.”

“Hmm?”

Luguo sighed. Both his nephew and Xijin’s son were competing to court the daughter of another family, and that courtship was itself an important piece of leverage.

Su Mingluan was about to say something when the corridor outside suddenly grew lively. She asked, “What’s happening? Who’s arrived?”

A servant came hurrying in: “The Talang family is here!”

Lang Kunwu too had treated securing this advantage for his uncle as a matter of great importance. He had rushed his journey, arriving at the prefectural capital almost simultaneously with Su Mingluan. This time there was no chance encounter on the road to race through, yet they found themselves colliding at the inn.

Su Mingluan and Luguo both rose and walked to the doorway to look across. Lang Kunwu was speaking with Wolf-Brother when he suddenly felt a prickling sensation on his back and spun around sharply — meeting Su Mingluan’s gaze head-on. Xijin had already walked over with a hearty laugh: “Luguo, so you’re here too!”

The relationship between their two families was nothing like the situation within the Qixia tribe between the Asu and Suoning families, where a moment’s carelessness might lead to the grabbing of persons and the drawing of blood. Though friction was common enough and the young men of both sides came to blows from time to time, the deep hostility simply wasn’t there.

Luguo stepped out the door and called back with a loud laugh: “Aren’t you here yourself?”

The phrase “one tribe, one family only” may have been a rumor, but with the two of them now face-to-face, both had lost their certainty and both were thinking the same thing: I need to get this settled as quickly as possible.

They each withdrew to their rooms, their appetite for the meal suddenly diminished. Luguo turned to Su Mingluan and said, “That official — if he wants to enter the mountains, let him! Your family already agreed to let him have a look, and my family has nothing to hide either!”

Su Mingluan smiled. “Didn’t Godfather let Uncle see his home here as well?”

At the very same moment, Xijin was saying to his nephew, “That old scoundrel Luguo is here too — we can’t let him get ahead of us! When the Prefect wants to enter the mountains, I’ll be the guide!”

“I’ll accompany them into the mountains as well!” Lang Kunwu declared.

Neither pair of uncle and nephew had yet met with Zhù Ying, yet both had already made up their minds and would waver no more.

Su Mingluan and Lang Kunwu had been recognized by many people during their previous visit to the prefecture, and this time each had brought people along with them. Those who lived in the flatlands couldn’t tell the mountain tribes apart, only noting that these two had come again, and failing to distinguish Xijin and Luguo as newcomers. They simply wondered: wasn’t it harvest season up in the mountains? What could have brought them down at this time?

The officials and staff of the prefectural yamen also muttered among themselves, though they all knew that Zhù Ying placed great importance on “pacifying the tribal peoples” — it was a significant factor in her prospects for promotion.

The following day, both parties delivered their calling cards at the prefectural yamen, and the gatekeeper dared show no negligence whatsoever. The constables, with practiced perception, noticed the two groups appeared to be on unfriendly terms and assigned one person to each group, who separately collected their cards and reported inside. From within, Zhù Ying gave a single word: “Admit them.” Two constables then emerged, one left and one right, each saying to their respective group: “Please follow me.”

The two symmetrical groups were thus ushered into the small reception hall.

Zhù Ying stood at the foot of the steps to welcome them: “All of you are people of your word — you said you’d come, and here you are. Please, come in.”

Xijin and Luguo took in the room as they entered. From the front gate to the reception hall, they had passed through several gates and several walls, the walls and gates all tall and imposing. Compared to this, their own strongholds looked decidedly less impressive. Outsiders tended to labor under a misapprehension, imagining that the architecture of other peoples was rougher and more expansive in scale. In truth, the size of a building had little to do with which people built it — it was entirely a matter of the skill of the craftsmen. Undeniably, the craftsmen of the flatlands possessed a higher level of skill, and the prefectural yamen’s design was not modest, which made it appear more imposing than anything in the mountain strongholds.

The two uncles entered the reception hall and seated themselves on left and right. Zhù Ying took the seat of honor and ordered tea. “You’ve had a tiring journey — did you sleep well? Are you weary?”

“Very well,” Luguo said. “Not weary at all. If the Prefect wants to enter the mountains, I’m ready to guide you this very moment.”

Xijin, feeling a flash of irritation, scrambled to speak over him: “Our home is closer! To reach his place you’d have to pass through mine first — let me be the guide.”

Zhù Ying glanced at these two men, then at Su Mingluan and Lang Kunwu. Su Mingluan’s expression was one of helpless resignation.

Zhù Ying answered immediately: “Very well!”

The two men promptly began arguing over which home should be visited first.

“Let’s draw lots,” Zhù Ying said. “Whoever draws the longer stick goes first.” She reached into the flower vase and pulled out two stems, stripped off the flower heads, leaving two bare stalks. She snapped one in two — one long, one short — and held them in her fist, letting the two men each choose one.

Xijin and Luguo each drew a stalk. The result: Luguo’s home first, then Xijin’s. Luguo showed a flash of satisfaction and declared loudly: “Then that’s settled!”

Zhù Ying turned to Xijin. “I won’t be visiting only one family.”

“My wine will definitely be better!” Xijin declared.

Lang Kunwu’s vision went briefly dark.

Zhù Ying smiled. “Then by all means prepare. You’ve only just come down from the mountains — please rest today, and tomorrow we’ll set out. Does that suit everyone?”

“Agreed!” said Xijin.

Zhù Ying had the two of them seen back to the inn, then went to the inner quarters herself to prepare her luggage. This journey would take her farther than before, requiring more supplies — she estimated twenty days round trip. She would also need more people: in addition to constables and unpaid laborers, she arranged to borrow twenty soldiers from Marshal Mei, then summoned Peng Sishi and instructed him to find additional craftsmen.

The following day, Zhù Ying made her preparations and set out once more. The capital’s residents had long since stopped finding this remarkable. She first went to the inn to rendezvous with Su Mingluan and the others before departing through the city gates into the mountains.

But she had barely left the yamen gates before a group of people blocked her path.

Xiao Liu was standing nearby holding the horses, waiting. Zhù Ying waved him off and looked toward the approaching group. “What is this about?”

Zou Jinxian and several schoolmates formed a barrier across the road. “My lady,” Zou Jinxian said, “I hope you’ll forgive the impertinence — are you on your way to the tribal mountain strongholds?”

“Today is not your day off,” Zhù Ying said.

Zou Jinxian said, “If scholars only bury themselves in their books without concern for the realm, what is the use of all this reading? A gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. You, my lady, are the cornerstone of the Southern Prefecture’s safety — please reconsider, and do not venture into dangerous territory.”