The closer it came to returning to the capital, the busier Zhù Ying found herself. There were many matters she needed to arrange — even with Hu Lian’s duties handed off to Luo Sheng, Zhao Su, and Su Zhe for receiving the Hu envoys, she still had no shortage of things to attend to. The staff of the former headquarters needed to be settled, the approaching autumn harvest required close attention, and this year’s weather had been far from ideal — it could only be called “barely adequate” at best.

Beyond that, the female soldiers under Zhù Qingjun’s command also needed to be placed. Zhù Qingjun couldn’t have fought so effectively relying solely on the few dozen women Zhù Ying had transferred from the private estate — among the troops recruited in the northern territories, there were also some under Zhù Qingjun’s command. Even if no official post could be arranged for them, they still deserved a proper accounting.

Transferring the entire unit away was not very realistic either. Zhù Ying planned to offer two options: either allocate them some land, or distribute them among the various prefectures and counties as female clerks or similar vacancies. The choice would be entirely theirs.

Then there were the ordinary Hu people who had attached themselves to the army — people who simply wanted to live their lives in peace and had come south to farm. But the northern territories harbored a blood feud with the “Hu people” as a whole. They too needed to be properly settled.

And then there were the old soldiers who had been clearing wasteland…

She had only been here for two years in total, and time was genuinely not enough!

Zhù Ying had a thought of her own: every additional day I stay, at least this year’s tax burden will be a little lighter.

Watching the crops in the fields that were still touched with a hint of green amid the yellow, Zhù Ying found herself longing for them to ripen fully come tomorrow!

Zhù Ying was crouching at the edge of a field, looking at the plump, drooping grain heads, when the old farmer beside her said with a smile: “Better than last year. We can wait calmly for the grain to ripen before harvesting and drying it properly. Last year the harvest was rushed, and quite a few scattered heads were left in the field without time to collect. By the time anyone went back to gather them, strangely enough, many had already sprouted.”

Zhù Ying said, “A good harvest is what matters.”

The old farmer smiled, his face creasing into a mass of wrinkles, his eyes brightening.

The two were chatting without any particular purpose when suddenly a rider came galloping from the distance. Xiang Yu called out: “My Lord, an imperial envoy has arrived!”

Zhù Ying looked up from her crouch: “What?”

Xiang Yu dismounted and said, “He says there’s an urgent summons for you to return to the capital. Mister Chen Fang is managing things just now. My second uncle sent me to fetch you.”

Xiang Le had dispatched several groups of people to fan out and find Zhù Ying — Zhù Ying, being who she was, wandered freely in her idle hours, and without sending out several search parties it was easy to miss her.

The old farmer who had been smiling just a moment ago now looked stricken. He stood up alongside Zhù Ying and stared at her anxiously: “My Lord, are you leaving now?”

Zhù Ying let out a quiet sigh. If someone had come from the capital to summon her, it was most likely impossible not to go.

The old farmer said, “You haven’t even tasted this year’s new grain yet…” — for some reason, when those last few words came out, something soured in his mouth; he raised a hand to rub at the tip of his nose, and kept sniffling.

Zhù Ying said, “I’ll go take a look at things back there. Keep a careful watch over things here.”

“Alright. Wait!” The old farmer suddenly called out.

He bent down, plucked a few small, still-greenish grain heads from the field, cupped them in his rough hands, and rubbed away the husks — left hand to right, right hand back to left — blowing as he went. Finally he rubbed out a handful of plump kernels and held them out to Zhù Ying, saying: “They’re still raw, but sweet all the same — have a taste?”

Xiang Yu blinked and turned his head away, not daring to say a word. Zhù Ying raised her hand and took the offering, popped half the handful into her mouth, and chewed. Kernels that hadn’t fully ripened or been sun-dried had a certain chewiness to them without being too hard on the teeth, carrying a clean, grassy fragrance alongside a faint sweetness.

“They’re quite good,” she said. “Don’t pull any more off — leave them to ripen and eat properly. It’ll make for thicker congee.”

“Just a mouthful or two,” the old farmer muttered vaguely. “You’re really leaving just like that?”

“I’ll go and have a look.”

——

On the way back to the field headquarters, the tip of Xiang Yu’s nose was still red. Seeing Zhù Ying wearing a cold expression, he had no heart to say anything to comfort her.

Zhù Ying dismounted; attendants took her horse off to be watered and fed. As she walked inside, Xiang Le came out to meet her and said, “The imperial envoy has just arrived, and judging by his appearance, there seems to be some urgency. Should we inform Prince Consort Luo? If anything comes up, he ought to at least come and say a word.”

Luo Sheng might not be very capable, but his status was what it was.

Zhù Ying said, “No need just yet.”

Zhù Ying arrived at the main hall and found Chen Fang, Jing Gang, and others keeping company with a young man whose eyes had glazed over with exhaustion, clearly having rushed here at breakneck speed.

Zhù Ying recognized him. Due to differences in age, she had little contact with the younger people in the capital these days and could only recall the faces of those she had personally met. This particular young man had something of a pedigree: he was the grandson of the current Emperor’s maternal uncle.

When the current Emperor had ascended the throne, his birth mother had already been dead for several years, and there was currently no Empress Dowager in the palace. Even so, the Emperor had not forgotten his mother’s family. This young man now before her was only half Zhù Ying’s age; by a close reckoning, he was a cousin to the Crown Prince on the maternal side, and he held a post in the Imperial Guards — roughly the same position Chen Fang had once occupied. Ceremonial though it was, he was a genuine member of the Son of Heaven’s personal guard.

He was in the midst of a lively conversation with Chen Fang.

Seeing Zhù Ying arrive, he didn’t presume on his position and rose to greet her properly before saying: “There is an imperial edict.”

He carried a handwritten directive from the Emperor — a very brief “edict” — ordering Zhù Ying to return to the capital at once. Chen Fang caught Zhù Ying’s eye and gave a slight, deliberate nod.

Zhù Ying received the edict and said, “Even if I must set out, it will have to be first thing tomorrow morning. Let the imperial envoy rest for the night; we’ll depart at dawn. Even if I could simply drop everything here, I still need to give Prince Consort Luo a proper briefing.”

“I have no intention of pressing you, my Lord. Tomorrow is just fine — only, we should travel quickly on the road.” The envoy’s voice was barely there; his legs were still visibly trembling, showing just how hard he had pushed himself on the journey.

“No pressing,” “set off tomorrow,” “travel quickly on the road” — Zhù Ying indicated that she would personally escort him to his quarters. As they walked, she said: “Has some urgent matter broken out in the capital? Could you give me some sense of what it is? Otherwise, charging back with no idea what we’re running toward — what good does that do?”

The envoy hesitated. Zhù Ying watched him patiently. He walked with a slightly unsteady gait, glanced left and right, then lowered his voice: “When I departed, His Majesty… had fallen gravely ill…”

“What?”

The envoy’s expression was grave: “He was unconscious for an entire day and night. When he came to and saw me, he dispatched me to bring you back.”

Zhù Ying gave a single nod: “Good. I understand.”

She looked him up and down: “Are you fit to travel?”

“Whether I am or not, I must be.” The envoy gave a bitter smile.

“Very well. We leave at first light tomorrow.”

Zhù Ying didn’t even have time to arrange a proper welcoming banquet for the man. He had driven himself too hard on the road — not only were his legs shaking, he walked like a duck, and his hands shook so badly he couldn’t grip his chopsticks. He ended up staying in his room and letting a servant feed him.

Zhù Ying could only hastily arrange various affairs: she paid Luo Sheng a late-night visit, left Zhao Su and Su Zhe behind to assist him, and also left behind Bao the clerk and others to help the headquarters settle its remaining business, with Wen Yue and company handling the final settlement of the official troops — all matters she had originally planned to personally oversee for half a month. Now she had no choice but to let go.

She didn’t even have time to summon Gu Tong and the others to assign tasks; she could only dash off quick notes to Luo Jiaxiu, Gu Tong, Yao Jingxia, and a few others. She also jotted down a brief settlement plan for several matters, kept at it until well past midnight, and then managed only two short hours of sleep.

Early the following morning, she set out with Zhù Qingjun and the others under the escort of Jin Liang, sweeping up the envoy who had delivered the edict, the whole party riding hard out of the prefectural city.

The envoy had thought himself sufficiently driven. Though not of particularly noble birth, he had grown up in comfort and luxury, and to have steeled himself to endure such hardship — he had considered himself rather admirable. Little did he imagine that a “middle-aged senior official” pushing herself would put him utterly to shame!

Zhù Ying had accumulated no real possessions in the northern territories and brought back nothing in the way of local gifts. In a single day and night they covered two hundred li, and by day’s end the envoy was left as limp as a dead dog, collapsing into bed the moment he touched it. First thing the next morning, Zhù Ying was in high spirits — ate breakfast, rested only briefly, then pushed to get back on the road. The envoy’s face had gone the color of a wilted vegetable, and by noon he couldn’t eat a bite.

Zhù Ying still encouraged him: “Eat something. You won’t have the strength to keep riding otherwise.”

The envoy shakily shoved a chopstickful of stir-fried pork into his mouth, then let out a sound and turned aside to spit it back up, clutching the teapot and drinking in frantic gulps. Between gulps he waved his hand: “I — I can’t, I can’t eat — you go ahead and eat, don’t mind me.”

Finally, just when he felt certain he was going to be worked to death, the capital came into view!

The whole party arrived trail-worn and dust-covered. Zhù Ying at last gave the word that they should first wash up at the relay station twenty li from the capital and restore themselves before making a proper entrance into the city.

Throughout the journey the envoy had been too exhausted to pay attention to anything else. Zhù Ying, however, had already received word sent by various means from the capital by Zheng Xi, the Leng Marquis, Chen Meng, and others — the Emperor was ill, but had improved somewhat; two days prior he had even held an audience with the Leng Marquis and the Chief Ministers.

It was precisely because she had received this news that Zhù Ying permitted herself to rest at the relay station. Had things been otherwise, she would have dragged this young man’s body behind her and pressed into the capital regardless of the cost.

For now, she first roused the envoy back to his senses, then said: “Since we have arrived, we should first present a formal memorial. Otherwise, the two of us rushing back like this — if it falls under the eyes of those with ulterior motives, who knows what rumors they’ll spread.”

The envoy’s hands had spent days hauling at the reins and were trembling like a sieve; his spoon kept up an incessant “tap-tap-tap-tap” against the porcelain bowl like a woodpecker at work. He gave a rueful smile: “I, your junior…”

Zhù Ying looked at his hands and said, “It’s all right — let them shake. A shaking hand can be explained. But you still need to write.”

The two of them composed a memorial, dispatched it ahead to the capital, and first thing the next morning, properly dressed and equipped, they entered the city together.

Jin Liang bellowed out loud: “Raise the garrison commander’s ceremonial procession!”

The envoy was thoroughly in awe. A thousand-li sprint, and they still had the ceremonial trappings with them?

——

Zhù Ying’s return to the capital was nothing like the Leng Marquis’s. The Leng Marquis had received full honors for a “great and triumphant return.” Zhù Ying had come racing back at speed, the whole thing had been sudden, the Emperor was still unwell, and the court was in no frame of mind to mount any grand welcoming ceremony for her. Zheng Xi had not forgotten to arrange at least a simple ceremony to welcome her into the city.

The Leng Marquis stepped forward of his own accord: “I’ll go myself!”

The Leng Marquis had returned in triumph, been elevated to the rank of Duke, had his food stipend increased, received rewards of gold and silk from the Emperor, and been granted the privilege of extending imperial patronage to one additional grandson — all very tangible benefits. The campaign had gone smoothly in no small part because Zhù Ying had known her place and worked in concert with him, and now the Leng Marquis was glad to do her this courtesy.

It was entirely appropriate for him to come forward. The two of them had jointly resisted the enemy, which made them something like fellow soldiers. The Leng Marquis brought along a retinue of generals and officers, and the occasion was suitably lively. Even Leng Pinghui’s face had lost its habitual gloom — he had been reinstated to his former post on account of the final battle.

Zhù Ying and the Leng Marquis exchanged courtesies. Once the surface pleasantries were over, they rode side by side, and the Marquis said quietly: “His Majesty is somewhat improved — he still trusts you, you know!”

“Oh?”

The Leng Marquis said, “Summoning a border commander back to the capital is either a sign of exceptional trust or exceptional suspicion. For you, it is trust.”

Zhù Ying said, “I shall take that as a good omen from you.”

The Leng Marquis said, “Don’t dismiss it — if this were the late Emperor, perhaps there might be another interpretation. But our current Emperor is a simple and guileless man. When the moment came, the first person he thought of was Liu Songnian, and the second was you.”

Zhù Ying said, “Was things truly that dire at the time?”

“First an entire day and night without regaining consciousness, then seven consecutive days unable to rise. Prince Qi even came from outside the palace to tend to him in his illness and hasn’t left since.”

“And now?”

“He made a public appearance yesterday — briefly.”

Zhù Ying said, “That’s good, that’s good.”

The two of them exchanged a glance, both their minds going to the scene when the late Emperor had passed. Zhù Ying felt nothing but gloom: so much effort poured in by so many people — one refusing to die, the other suddenly about to — how much has been lost because of it.

The city gates came into view, and both fell silent, assuming expressions of unconcerned calm.

Zhù Ying went directly to the palace for an imperial audience. From the palace gates to the throne hall, people nodded to her in greeting at every turn, though none quite dared to smile.

Zhù Ying ascended the steps to the great hall, took in the Imperial Guards and eunuchs standing in attendance, and made a quick assessment. She might not know every guard by name, but the Emperor’s personal escort she recognized to a man, and the Emperor’s close-serving eunuchs were all familiar faces — the Emperor’s inner attendants had not been replaced. Things were not fundamentally wrong.

She entered the hall, let her eyes adjust to the light, and performed a full kowtow.

The Emperor granted her a seat. Zhù Ying noted that his voice sounded somewhat feeble, offered her thanks, and sat.

“Seeing you arrive, I can rest easy!” the Emperor said.

His breath was a little weak, and his white hair had grown considerably more abundant; his eye bags were particularly pronounced. Zhù Ying said, “How has Your Majesty come to be like this?”

The Emperor had no wish to discuss that topic and said instead, “You’ve had a hard journey all the way here.”

Zhù Ying quickly performed the proper expression of loyalty, saying that upon hearing the Emperor had fallen ill she had been “burning with anxiety” and had not dared speak of hardship. Now that she could see the Emperor had recovered, she was finally able to breathe easy. She urged him to “take good care of himself,” and since “the north was gradually settling,” went on to briefly outline conditions in the northern territories.

The Emperor did not seem particularly interested, and upon hearing the word “peaceful,” simply waved his hand: “Understood.”

Du Shien found a moment and gently urged, “Your Majesty, it is time for your medicine…”

Zhù Ying took her leave, and the Emperor said, “Don’t go far!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor thought for another moment, still not fully at ease, and said: “You have rendered merit! You shall be rewarded!”

The Emperor quickly issued orders: titles and stipends could wait for the moment, but first he bestowed upon Zhù Ying a residence so close to the Imperial City that she could walk to morning court without being late.

The Emperor hesitated, words forming and then stopping. His sudden illness had left him badly shaken, and upon waking he had immediately turned his mind to how to respond. Weighing all possibilities, he felt that Zhù Ying in her current role bore some resemblance to Liu Songnian in the late Emperor’s time, which gave him comfort. The Emperor’s deepest wish was for Zhù Ying to sleep within the palace itself, but that ran against propriety. He could only settle for the next best thing.

Zhù Ying gave thanks for the imperial favor, watched Du Shien attend the Emperor with his medicine and help him to rest, and then proceeded to the Hall of Governance.

In the Hall of Governance, only Dou Peng remained.

Zhù Ying showed nothing on her face, and greeted Dou Peng first. A blister had pushed its way through Dou Peng’s moustache and sat prominently on his upper lip. He said: “You’ve finally come back. Free and easy up there in the north — had you forgotten about the capital?”

Zhù Ying briefed him on matters in the north. Dou Peng said, “I’ve read all your memorials — when it comes to getting things done, there’s no one who doesn’t trust you. Settle yourself in and come back to morning court as soon as you can!”

Zhù Ying said, “Ah? Yes, of course.”

Dou Peng gave her a listless look and said, “From here on out, there will be no rest for you! The Leng Marquis can have leave — you cannot!”

“How — ” She hadn’t meant to ask, but something wasn’t right. Wang Yunhe was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Zheng Xi.

Dou Peng said, “Minister Wang has fallen ill again. Minister Zheng… submitted a memorial this morning at court declaring his period of mourning.”

“What? Wasn’t that rather sudden?”

Dou Peng said, “He should have been in mourning long ago. He only deferred because of the northern campaign. Now that you’re all back, of course he must observe the mourning period. From the time the Leng Marquis returned, there have been people submitting memorials urging him to go home and keep vigil. Without him here, there’s no one to hold those demons back.”

When Zheng Xi was present, he could keep not only Xian Jing and his ilk in check, but also Zheng Yi and the others from leaping about recklessly. Once Zheng Xi was gone from the court and unable to suppress them in time, and with Zheng Yi, Leng Yun, and the rest free to do as they pleased, Dou Peng could scarcely bear to imagine what that scene would look like!

Wang Yunhe, the same — the moment the old man fell ill and could not attend court, there were people scrambling about, pressing Zheng Xi to go home and observe mourning as well.

One punch, one kick — when would it ever end?

Zhù Ying said, “Then let me first go to call on Minister Wang in his illness.”

“Just hope you don’t get thrown out the door,” said Dou Peng, with some discontent. Wang Yunhe’s illness had sent Xian Jing and company into an anxious frenzy, and they had given him no end of trouble.

Zhù Ying said, “You jest.”

Neither of them smiled as they spoke. Seeing that Dou Peng had no wish to say more, Zhù Ying took her leave with appropriate discretion.

The autumn sky was crisp and high, the heavens a brilliant blue — the natural world utterly unmoved by the sorrows of those below.

Zhù Ying rolled her neck and went on foot toward the Court of Judicial Review.

Word that she had returned had already reached those with sharp ears at the Court of Judicial Review! Shi Jihang led a group out to welcome her and called out laughingly, “Garrison Commander!”

Zhù Ying said, “I’m relieved of that post the moment I’m back! That’s not very kind of you — mocking me like that.”

Shi Jihang said with a laugh, “It’s joy! Now that you’re back, we have someone to rally around!”

Everyone at the Court of Judicial Review was delighted. When the Emperor had suddenly fallen ill with Zhù Ying away, they had been at a loss. Originally, while Zhù Ying had been gone for two years, the Court of Judicial Review, though not what it had been under her, was running normally enough under Shi Jihang, who was quite capable — Shi Jihang had considered himself fully competent.

Then the Emperor had suddenly collapsed. Everyone at the Court of Judicial Review looked to him, and Shi Jihang’s first instinct had been to go home and ask his father what to do. That was when Shi Jihang discovered where his own deficiency lay.

At this critical juncture, Zhù Ying had returned, and Shi Jihang, too, let out a breath of relief.

Zhù Ying did not ask about official business first, but exchanged pleasantries with everyone, and told them all that she would be back at morning court tomorrow. With that, no one was in a rush to lay out their grievances.

Zhù Ying next went to the Court of State Ceremonial, where she briefed Leng Yun in person on an overview of the Hu people’s affairs, and produced several sheets of paper: “These you must read through several times and commit to memory. When they bring it up at court, you’ll at least have something to say.”

Leng Yun took them over and said with a grin, “Got it! Just back and already you can’t rest — that’s you, a born workhorse! If you ask me, hurry home, rest as many days as you can. If you don’t rest now, there probably won’t be another chance!”

“Why do you say that?”

Leng Yun said breezily, “You believe they could come to blows again? And the vassal princes, they’re not being quiet either.”

“Old or young?”

Leng Yun said, “Who can tell them apart? Go see the Seventh of Zheng — he…”

“Understood.”

Zhù Ying also stopped in at the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of War, informing each that she had returned, and that given the haste of her return, the formal handover of her discharge from duty would be handled later. In passing she also communicated with both offices about the candidates she still wished to recommend for official posts.

She completed a full circuit of the Imperial City before heading out to call on Wang Yunhe.