Zhang Xiangu was utterly delighted. She and Zhù Ying sat in the seats of honor, and the two rows of seats below were filled with familiar faces—adults and children alike. The children, while being properly mannered, still let out the occasional strange little sound characteristic of their kind, making for a warm and lively meal.

At the table, nobody spoke of serious matters, and nobody brought up the assassination attempt either—only chatting about Huajie treating several more patients, and about the unusual customs Zhù Ying had witnessed in Gan County. The children listened with rapt attention, and Jiang Zhen couldn’t help but cut in with a question: “They haven’t changed those customs yet?”

Huajie said, “They’re already under our Prefect Zhù’s rule—of course they’ve changed.”

The words “Prefect Zhù” were delivered with no small amount of playful irony, which earned Huajie a roll of Zhù Ying’s eyes; Huajie pressed her lips together and laughed.

What they were discussing were some of the old customs of Gan County. After more than a decade of transforming ways and correcting customs in Wuzhou, the children here had never witnessed the brutalities of the old rituals—hearing about them now was like hearing tales from another world.

The adults were patient and indulgent, chatting with the children back and forth, and it became apparent before long what situation each child was in. Lang Rui’s younger brother, the one nicknamed A’Pu, spoke court language rather poorly. The Jiang sisters spoke it fluently and conversed with Zhao Ji without any barrier. Xiang Yu’s younger brother, Ting, fell somewhere in between—accented, but still largely intelligible.

Even if all of them were to stay on as students, A’Pu would have to be placed two levels below the others to first study language and writing—or at the very least have a teacher give him remedial lessons.

In her head, Zhù Ying had already sorted them into categories. She said nothing aloud, but inwardly she had already begun connecting these children to the school’s “restructuring,” and to the broader plans for talented personnel throughout Wuzhou and the westward expansion. She kept up a pleasant conversational surface and asked, “Where are you all staying? How have you been settled?”

Xiang Yu said, “Fourth Brother is staying with me. As for A’Pu—”

A’Pu did have an uncle, but that uncle was Lin Feng, and Lin Feng himself was a guest here, without any official position in Wuzhou yet.

Zhù Ying said to Lin Feng, “Why don’t you stay on? You’ve followed an army on campaign before—stay and try your hand at commanding troops. A’Pu can stay with you for now. Oh, haven’t you gotten married?”

Lin Feng scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin, rubbing his palm back and forth on his thigh. “Yes—but, well—my father said to come first and then bring her over later.”

Zhù Ying said, “Is that so? You’re a newlywed—I should prepare a new house for you. Before your wife arrives, you two can stay here, and once the house outside is ready, you can personally go and bring your bride over, look the house over, and if she’s satisfied, move in.”

“Great!” Lin Feng answered happily, and went back to joshing around with A’Pu.

Huajie said with fond exasperation, “Even after the bride is satisfied, A’Pu should still stay with us—those two are newlyweds, after all.”

This single remark drew ambiguous smiles from Qi Niangzi and the others. Zhù Ying, hearing Huajie put it that way, went along with the arrangement naturally. A’Pu was no ordinary boy—though he was not the Talang clan’s heir, Lang Kunwu had taken several settlements that would have been given to A’Pu as spoils of war and folded them into Gan County instead. When A’Pu was grown, some kind of accounting would have to be made to him one way or another.

Keeping him in the household was, in every way, the most fitting arrangement.

After dinner, Qi Niangzi and the two Jiangs all expressed warm concern for Zhù Ying and Huajie: “You’ve just returned—please rest.” And they took the children home.

The whole household, as if afraid of startling Zhù Ying, quickly fell into slumber.

———

The next morning, Zhù Ying rose at her usual hour. Summer had arrived, and sunrise was early; by the time she was dressing, the sky was already bright, and two young women knocked on the door carrying a washbasin and the like: “Prefect, are you up?”

Zhù Ying said, “Just leave it there—I’ll manage myself.”

“That won’t do,” Du Dajie said, appearing at once with an armful of clothes. “Before now, I thought you simply weren’t accustomed to having people about while you dressed—so I let you tire yourself all this time without help. But now that you’re home, we should be waiting on you properly. You just focus on the important things.”

Zhù Ying teased her: “I’ve been back for a while now—what took you so long to think of this?”

Du Dajie said with complete conviction: “You’d been away on a long trip—you were tired!” And besides, if she was being honest, it was the advancing years. Today, Huajie had moved a little slowly getting up, and in that moment Du Dajie was startled into clarity—their mistresses were getting older!

Zhang Xiangu had already had Jiang the Widow and two little maids attending to her personal needs for several years now. Huajie and Zhù Ying had always managed on their own; the household had grown used to it. Huajie had her students nearby, and it wasn’t as though she directed the students to wait on her personally. Among the maids who swept the courtyard, those with the sense for it—like Qingjun—might carry a tray or fetch water alongside Du Dajie; that was separate from formal service.

Then today it struck her like a thunderbolt: how had this slipped her mind?! Three proper household mistresses, and she had not been attending to two of them!

That would not do!

She promptly arranged two sharp, capable girls specifically for Huajie to attend to her personal needs, and found two more equally brisk young women to place in Zhù Ying’s room.

This was practically her life’s great oversight. How could she have forgotten? She thought back to when she had first come to the Zhù household—the old madam had been younger then than Huajie was now.

None of these thoughts reached Zhù Ying, who could still leap to rooftops and thrash ruffians, and had absolutely no idea why Du Dajie was looking so guilty. She casually asked, and Du Dajie insisted, “It’s too quiet back here in the inner quarters. Since I’m in charge, I will manage it properly.”

Zhù Ying made a sound of acknowledgment and decided to find a moment to ask Huajie about it and make proper arrangements from there. Seeing that Zhù Ying had nothing more to say, Du Dajie felt this hurdle was cleared, and sent her off to wash and dress.

As usual, Zhù Ying practiced her forms for a while, then went over to Zhang Xiangu’s quarters to share breakfast. Today there were many people, so they all ate together—Lin Feng, A’Pu, and Huajie included—with everyone gathered before Zhang Xiangu. After breakfast came the morning briefing. She had many plans, but none of them needed to be announced today, so everyone went back to their duties in summary.

Only Zhao Su did not leave after the meeting was dismissed. He followed Zhù Ying to the study and briefed her on the month’s events. Nothing of great importance had occurred while she was away, and the lands below the mountains had also been peaceful. What Zhao Su was most eager to discuss was the examination: “There need to be more specific regulations.”

Zhù Ying gestured to a chair for him and said, “And not only that—there are other matters.”

Zhao Su listened attentively. The previous day, Zhù Ying had given him only the broad outline, and the westward expansion and the establishment of a military governorship had been things Zhù Ying had mentioned before. The details had yet to be thoroughly worked out.

Zhù Ying held up two fingers. “Two things—attract talented people from outside, and train people ourselves. Neither can be let go.

Even though opening the examinations is meant to bring in outside talent, we can’t rely entirely on that. They’ve read the writings of the sages; their thinking may not be to my mind. I can already predict it—great talents from all under heaven are unlikely to come, and even proper scholars willing to make the journey will be very few. Women may show up in some numbers, but whether they can actually reach this place remains to be seen.

And even if someone does come, their intentions and conduct must be assessed. If there are things that need correcting, they must be corrected. Those who cannot serve me, or who want to turn the tables and push their own agenda—we can’t have them.

In the end, it comes back to training people ourselves. We can’t put all our hope on what comes from outside.”

Zhao Su said, “Yes.”

Zhù Ying said, “Ten years to grow a tree, a hundred years to cultivate a person—you said it well. But how to cultivate matters. The school lacks both teachers and time. In all of Wuzhou, only a handful of us know even a little more than the basics. The way I see it—we can’t let Dajie carry the load alone. She focuses more closely on the medical students; for the rest, let Xiao Jiang and the others keep on with their literacy songs. From the outside, Wuzhou looks good—people can read, better than elsewhere—but one step further up, we fall far short. The people we can use must be trained, must improve. Among ourselves, we must all serve as teachers—especially you! I can’t teach students.”

Zhao Su laughed. “You can’t teach? Everyone who came through the Fulu County school went straight up in the world.”

Zhù Ying said, “That was simply managing their careers. I’m helpless when it comes to young children. And besides, what to teach and how to teach it must be thought through carefully. If we ever have someone truly skilled at teaching come to us, let her become a teacher, and we can free up our own hands.”

“Yes,” Zhao Su said. “It would be acceptable to produce dutiful children. But to educate men for the court’s loyal officials—that would be working against ourselves.”

Zhù Ying said, “Exactly.”

But the court’s curriculum had formed and consolidated over hundreds and thousands of years into a self-contained system. Setting up an entirely new one of their own was not the work of a moment. The two could only explore what to teach and what shape to give it.

Zhao Su said, “I watched Old Hou training the new soldiers—the approach wasn’t bad. When you came back, the personal guards at the estate accepted it without question and simply listened. Although Qingjun played a role in that, the foundation Old Hou had laid was genuinely solid. We might draw on it.”

Zhù Ying said, “He was conditioning guards for ‘my estate.’ When you eat your master’s food and live under your master’s roof, loyalty to the master is only natural. What sort of person the master is, that’s secondary.

What we need to teach next—that’s not the guards of a single household. If it all centers on me alone, there will come a day when I die, and then what? Whether we’re talking about legitimacy, loyalty, or ‘civil and enlightened governance’—compared to what lies beyond the mountains, Wuzhou still falls short.

We cannot follow their rules. By their rules, we are women—we are barbarians. We would never be fit to sit at the table.”

Zhao Su grew serious as well and said quietly, “Things as they stand are very good. You can bring peace to Wuzhou, and Wuzhou’s people will support you.”

He had been thinking about this for a long time. From the moment he made up his mind to follow Zhù Ying and bring his whole family south, he had been turning it over.

“Practical is best.” Zhao Su said this. Having served at court, he understood the gap in relative strength between them all too clearly.

Zhù Ying gave a small nod. From the fact that Zhao Su did not oppose opening examinations to both sexes, she knew he was someone with whom certain things could be discussed. She had worked hard for thirty years, and many of the capable hands she had gathered during those first thirty years—people like Gu Tong—were now people she could not use with full confidence in the present moment; their beliefs were simply different. The women of Wuzhou were, in a sense, walking the same path as her, but over these thirty years, constrained by various circumstances, they had not been able to engage more directly with governance, and their abilities and perspectives had not yet been fully developed.

Only Zhao Su had a trace of rebellion in him, and had been tempered by experience in the court itself—shrewd and capable.

Zhù Ying said, “First have the notices distributed throughout Wuzhou, then carry the word beyond the mountains. The date is set for next spring. As for the examination subjects—there’s no need to write poetry and rhapsodies, but a little history must be read, and they must be able to write and calculate…” She demanded nothing as grand as the classical six arts—practicality was all. The focus was on writing, arithmetic, and other useful skills.

“Yes.”

The next item was something Zhù Ying had thought through at length: the law.

Wuzhou had no proper body of law. There was only the covenant she had once established with the headmen, and its provisions were rough and sparse.

Zhao Su heard this and shook his head first. “Broad rather than fine—what’s needed now in the mountains is simplicity. Too detailed a code of law wouldn’t be suitable. Besides, there are so many large undertakings to see to, and our capable hands are truly too few to spare for this!”

Zhù Ying said, “I know. I’m not asking to produce a complete law code right now—when the court formulated its laws, it took a gathering of many experienced senior ministers and learned scholars to accomplish it. What I mean is this: compile the case rulings into a volume. Let people follow the precedents when settling disputes going forward. First let things adjust to that.”

That was an excellent approach, and a convenient one for memorization as well. Zhao Su said, “That’s good.”

Zhù Ying had another idea in mind as well—she could use this very avenue, through precedent, to shape much more.

The two then went on to discuss the overall strategy for the westward expansion, primarily a question of timeline. Zhù Ying hoped to spend roughly two to three years consolidating Gan County, and then: “Without requiring those counties to send troops—just with the strength of the two counties in hand, push west again. How long it will take to reach the western tribes’ borders depends on this year’s and next year’s reconnaissance. Ideally within ten years—take the territory, establish a military governorship, then spend another ten years pacifying the region. If that succeeds, the great work will be done, and we’ll be able to hold our position. After that, it all depends on how many more years heaven allows me.”

Zhao Su thought for a moment and said, “Little sister—she would likely be willing to do her part.”

Zhù Ying said, “Only a pity that I can no longer parcel out territories to distribute.”

Zhao Su asked, “Would people from Asu County also be permitted to sit the examinations?”

“Certainly.” Zhù Ying answered without hesitation.

Zhao Su asked one more question: “If we’re short of troops at some point and use soldiers from the various counties—can we award land and houses as rewards for merit?”

“That goes without saying.”

The furrow in Zhao Su’s brow eased. He said, “Then I have no more questions. I’ll go and draft the notice.”

“Go on.”

After Zhao Su left, Zhù Ying cleared her large writing desk and spread out a vast length of unbleached silk. She began sketching a map—charting out the routes she had explored over this past month, laying down a rough draft first. The finer detail would require more careful attention in the time ahead.

On the other side, Zhao Su drafted an outline. Knowing full well how startling the contents would be, he weighed every word, and by noon had still not finished. He had lunch and kept writing. Two days later, he brought the draft to Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying read it through. The logic was clear, the requirements unambiguous, the dates correct. He had even written: “Between such-and-such month and such-and-such day, travel to a particular market in Fulu County and report to a particular person—you will then be escorted into the mountains for assessment.” And further: “If selected and kept on, room and board will be provided; if not selected, those with a practical skill may stay if they wish and will be given housing and settlement. Those who wish to return home will be issued travel permits and travel money.”

Zhù Ying read it and said, “Well done.” She began stamping the seal for distribution.

———

Because of the roads, news traveled slowly. Zhù Ying settled in at the manor, drawing maps and handling administrative affairs, keeping Zhang Xiangu company, finding moments to teach a class at the school or take her usual wandering strolls through the streets. She divided the school into sections: Huajie, the two Jiangs, and even Zhou Wei were all recruited to teach the classes at A’Pu’s level and the entry-level courses. Wu Ren and Zhao Su taught the more advanced material—Wu Ren primarily handling arithmetic and the like, at a level comparable to Zhù Ying’s own teaching: dry and tedious. Zhao Su was better; students preferred his classes.

Meanwhile, the notices began spreading in curious ways.

Within Wuzhou’s borders, things went smoothly—the chief here was a woman, and life was good for everyone.

Beyond Wuzhou, the notices spread less officially. Zhao Su sent people to slip a few copies to merchants trading into the mountains, who would carry them down and onward. He also sent people to Fulu County to have his father distribute them.

His parents were sharp-minded people. They sent household servants first to Ji’yuan Prefecture, putting up the notices and distributing them at inns and other gathering spots. Ji’yuan Prefecture, ever since Zhù Ying had developed it, had seen a constant flow of merchants passing through, and when they saw this peculiar notice seeking talented people, they all talked about it with great interest.

The Prefect of Ji’yuan did not know of this at first. Three days later, hearing his bailiffs discussing it, he found out and ordered them to go collect the notices. The bailiffs went to the inns and came back empty-handed half a day later. “My lord, we found no notice of any kind.”

“Nonsense! You were the ones who said there was one!”

The bailiff rubbed his nose. “We only heard about it.”

The Prefect of Ji’yuan was deeply suspicious that they still harbored loyalty in their hearts for his predecessor of however many terms ago, and were deliberately concealing the truth. He was furious and threatened them with a flogging. The bailiffs begged mercy for one another. Commissioner Pang gave the Prefect of Ji’yuan a significant look and made a show of urging restraint. Only then did the Prefect of Ji’yuan compose his anger; he and Commissioner Pang retreated to a private room to discuss the matter—they would simply go and look for themselves. No bailiffs to bring along; just their own household servants and personal attendants!

The moment they left, the bailiffs began grumbling at each other: “There you go—more trouble.”

“The innkeeper has looked after us well over the years—had to try to hold it back. Alas—hurry, go send word!”

But the word was sent too late. The Prefect of Ji’yuan charged straight to another inn, tore down the recruitment posting from the wall, read it at a glance, and went pale with alarm. The two men stared at each other, sharing the same thought: this is trouble. This is not something we can handle on our own!

The two rushed back to the prefecture, wrote a joint memorandum, attached the notice, and submitted both to the capital for the Grand Council to decide. This matter was beyond their management. They also implored the Grand Councillors to reach a decision quickly—given the circulation of merchant traffic, if they didn’t act soon, the news would spread out of Ji’yuan before long. It was quite possible, in fact, that merchants who had already finished their purchases had already taken this bizarre piece of news with them when they left Ji’yuan.

With the memorandum written, the two waited in anxious uncertainty. They made no further moves to collect other notices, simply pretending the one they had was the only copy in all of Ji’yuan.

The Prefect of Ji’yuan paced back and forth in the prefecture, wishing he could be transferred away from this posting the very next day!

“I knew it! I knew it! Being neighbors with that woman is the punishment for all my sins in a past life!”

Commissioner Pang was also sick with worry. “What is she trying to do? She may be a loosely governed territory, but she is still a court official—how dare she act on her own authority like this? She acts as though the court doesn’t exist! This is beyond outrageous! And besides, men and women can both sit the examination? This—this has gone too far? Nothing like this has ever been done before!”

“Hush—” The Prefect of Ji’yuan quickly shushed him. “I know, I know, I know all of it! But what can you do about it? Wait and see what the court does. Aiyah… this court—there’s no reading it. I’ve no idea what the Grand Councillors are thinking. She’s provoked them time and again—how is it that they never seem to do anything?”

Could it be that they were biding their time, planning to let her run and then, when the moment was ripe— The Prefect of Ji’yuan’s mind began spinning in all directions.