Lin Feng followed close at Zhù Ying’s heel, afraid of missing a single word. Su Zhe noticed his tension, found it quite remarkable, and looked at him several times before he even noticed. When she finally did, she slipped up beside him and poked him twice. “What is the matter with you?”

Lin Feng’s feelings at that moment were difficult to put into words. He simply shook his head slightly.

“That is even stranger,” Su Zhe muttered.

Zhù Ying turned her head. “You two — what are you doing?”

Both of them responded and quickened their pace to fall back in line. Neither the new city nor the old city had a proper place to put Zhù Ying up, so she was again making camp outside the new city. Since she had been away, the spot where she had camped before was now occupied by Lin Feng. Now Lin Feng had to clear space for her to camp again.

This stretch of encampment had originally been Zhù Ying’s bivouac during the western campaign. On either side were tents housing West Prefecture’s civilian population — packed full of people. They had brought their whole families and were spread out in no particular order; there was no telling where one could begin to move them.

Lin Feng quickly said, “I will have them move aside.”

Zhù Ying said, “No need. Let us find another place to stay. Come, let us look at their encampment.”

As they entered the camp, they became objects of curiosity. The able-bodied young men had all gone out to work; what remained were the elderly, the weak, women, and children. Some were cooking, some mending clothes, some quarreling. They were still thin, but at least no longer mere skin and bones. Children gathered around to gawk, and Zhù Ying did not mind in the least, smiling and asking them a few questions — nothing more than where they lived, whether they wanted to move into the city, who was still in the family, that sort of thing.

The children still remembered her and were a little dazed in her presence. Two pieces of candy loosened their tongues. The adults nearby made no great rush to drag the children away and keep them from causing trouble, yet they were not entirely at ease either. Zhù Ying had killed the chieftain who had oppressed them, but in their eyes Zhù Ying herself was also a kind of “chieftain,” and it never hurt to be a little careful.

Zhù Ying seized the opportunity when a young woman reached out to take back the child who had been talked into chattering, and struck up a conversation with her, asking how the food situation was these days.

The young woman said, “We can eat grain now.”

In the past, slaves could not eat such things. Even when rations were given, impurities were mixed in — sometimes it was nothing but crushed husks stirred in. Now at least there was no need to eat husks.

Zhù Ying asked, “Was it because not enough grain was produced that you used to go without it? I see that the fields here are not bad. Is it the climate?”

“The weather here is good.”

Zhù Ying reached into her pouch and produced a silver ring. “Tell me more.”

Seeing that there was a reward on offer, the adults nudged the children aside, their faces showing willing expressions. Zhù Ying took it all in and understood clearly. Once the young woman had finished speaking, Zhù Ying announced: “Anyone who has knowledge of the weather, the land, the local produce — anything to do with Ji Ma, West Prefecture, or the Western Tribes — is welcome to come and tell me. I will compensate everyone.”

People immediately raised their hands wanting to speak. Zhù Ying said to Lin Feng, “Have someone record their names. Those whose information is useful will be rewarded; those who talk nonsense and try to deceive me will be penalized.”

Lin Feng scrambled to take note, and Zhù Ying said, “Why are you in such a flap? Call the person responsible for this section of the camp, and let them pass the word.”

“Yes!”

Lin Feng spun around, and right there not far behind him was the very “neighborhood headman” he needed. He called the man over, and the headman said, “Commander, I heard everything. I will go and spread the word at once.”

Zhù Ying noticed that Lin Feng’s manner was off, and she soon left the encampment.

She chose to set up camp at some distance from the residential tents — partly because the camp’s order was a little chaotic, and it was better to stay further away; partly because the newly chosen site was closer to the new city, which was more convenient for inspection and oversight of the construction.

Zhù Qingye led people to pitch the camp. Zhù Ying, meanwhile, went to inspect the new city. Lin Feng stood about helplessly. “The construction is progressing slowly.”

Zhù Ying had assigned the people in these camps to labor service, but the main purpose had been to “give restless elements something to do.” As such, the pace of progress over this period was not her primary concern — as long as the quality was acceptable and work had not stopped, that was enough.

She told Lin Feng, “In everything you do, you must first think about why you are doing it. Of course I want the city built, but for these past months the purpose has been ‘pacification.’ If you can keep the newly incorporated people settled and quiet, that is already a fine result. There is no need to be this tense.”

Lin Feng let out a slightly relieved breath.

But once they entered the new city, he grew tense again. The new city, like the residential camp he managed, had order — no one was out of control; people were still going about their lives and their work — yet it was not truly organized either, and carried a lingering sense of muddle.

Zhù Ying looked carefully and saw that Lin Feng had done exactly as she had instructed before her departure, not changing a single thing — exactly as it had been when she left, that was how it continued to be done.

Zhù Ying stepped in then and there and began assigning duties: “Wu Ren, go audit the materials and accounts; Su Zhe, go count the people and divide them by area; Qingxue, go survey and measure the land — we cannot wait until the walls are finished before planning the city interior. None of you need to move yet. The workers are in the middle of their tasks, and you do not all speak their language well, nor are they used to taking commands from you. If you go in now, you will create confusion. Tomorrow morning, when the morning shift begins, you will each take one section, one at a time.”

Zhù Ying had a rough plan in her mind, but construction requires precision. Before building the residences, a fresh survey was needed to establish the exact coordinates of the new governor’s secretariat.

Once everything had been delegated, the entire large construction site immediately became more organized.

Lin Feng began pulling out his notebook to record things. He had never taken such careful “notes” before; now he was terrified of missing a single character.

Seeing how seriously he applied himself, Zhù Ying said a few additional words for his benefit: “I left you here to watch over things, and ‘watch over’ includes a certain idea of ‘steadiness’ — you are not expected to make dramatic changes, only to hold things stable. If you can do that, you are qualified. I know you would not do anything reckless. Another person in your place might have been tempted by some bold, flashy idea to make a name for themselves. But if you have simply continued in the same groove as before — going through the motions, not correcting problems when they arise — that does not look well on you either, as you yourself can see.”

Lin Feng nodded.

“So you cannot just make do with however it was organized before. You have to keep going and keep improving. ‘Steadiness’ can be achieved in many ways, and so can ‘change.’ It is not the words themselves that matter, but how you put them into practice.”

Zhù Ying never said more than was necessary in a single sitting. Seeing that Lin Feng had more or less finished taking notes, she moved on to the old city.

In the old city, it was Zhù Xinle who had been managing things — but Zhù Xinle had been dispatched to guard a checkpoint at the border with the Western Tribes. The two who remained there now were a pair of thousand-men commanders, one from Zhù County and the other a midway convert from the Western Ka tribe. When Lin Feng sent word that Zhù Ying had arrived, the two of them were in the middle of a lesson — one teaching, one learning to write characters.

The old city had not yet been demolished; some people still lived there, and the two commanders stationed their troops there partly to guard the granary, partly so that the old city could serve as a fallback position in the event of any sudden trouble from the Western Tribes. Neither dared stray too far from the old city, and they waited just outside the gate.

When Zhù Ying and her party arrived, they exchanged greetings, and Zhù Ying said with a smile, “Practicing your writing?”

Both of them looked at Lin Feng. Lin Feng was baffled. “I did not say anything.”

Zhù Ying thought privately: their hands still have ink on them that hasn’t been wiped off — who could fail to notice?

This time she resisted the impulse to say something clever, and simply pointed at their hands. Which only made things worse — you could not wipe ink off that easily; you needed water, and there was none nearby. They nearly wanted to spit on their palms and rub…

Zhù Ying said, “All right, all right. Practicing writing — very good. Let us go inside and take a look.”

The old city had its old foundations to rely on and looked rather more presentable than the new city and the camp alike. The large open areas that had been cleared were not built over again, which gave it a spacious and tidy appearance. Zhù Ying asked how many people were still living there, and the thousand-men commanders answered earnestly, “One thousand three hundred households. They go out to work every morning as well. For the ones staying here, we have the children memorizing literacy songs too. My lord — we would not dare ask for paper and brushes, but — could you possibly send over some books?”

Zhù Ying smiled. “That will have to wait a few more days — they need to be printed fresh. How many do you need?”

“That is wonderful, that is wonderful! Ah — two hundred. No — one hundred — fifty volumes would do, but no fewer than that.”

Zhù Ying smiled. “When they arrive, your section gets first priority.”

The thousand-men commander smiled with profound contentment — and then found Su Zhe staring at him in a way that made his scalp prickle. He squirmed and twisted about, found nothing obviously wrong with himself, and took advantage of a moment when Zhù Ying was speaking with his partner to ask in a low voice, “What is it? What is wrong with me?”

Su Zhe rubbed her chin and said, “You still have people here. Are they registered in the census? Are they going to the new city to work? Let us talk later. Little Wu, come here~~~”

Wu Ren walked over without a word. Though they were all from Zhù County, Wu Ren and this thousand-men commander were not well acquainted, so she stayed silent and simply followed along in Su Zhe’s wake to ask the commander for the household registers.

Zhù Ying watched all this with a quiet smile.

It was an exceedingly full day. By the time dusk was falling, Zhù Ying returned to her main tent and convened a small meeting to confirm the day’s arrangements. During the day, she had only broadly assigned who would do what; the specific details of how to do it, and how the various parties were to coordinate, needed to be discussed more carefully.

The main work was for the others to discuss while Zhù Ying listened, stepping in to correct when there were problems. Su Zhe and Wu Ren’s first task was to sort through the resources at their disposal. Su Zhe’s plan was to go through the residential camps first, and then address the work sites. Wu Ren’s job was simpler — she mainly avoided dealing directly with people.

Lin Feng would continue as acting supervisor for the new city, while simultaneously cooperating with Su Zhe to organize the camps.

Zhù Ying asked, “And what else?”

“Hmm?”

Wu Ren abruptly spoke up: “Spring plowing!”

“Oh, right!”

The group reconvened to discuss this, and two of the women hundred-commanders joined in as well. They were in the middle of discussion when the food was brought, and they ate. And then word came that people from outside were waiting — Western Prefecture elders whom Zhù Ying had requested.

In a place without written records, “elders” were a treasure trove. Their accumulated experience could spare Zhù Ying a great many costly mistakes.

The two parties talked deep into the night with great mutual pleasure.

Zhù Ying did not sleep, so the others dared not sleep either. Su Zhe and the others gathered together and talked in low voices. The thousand-men commander appealed to Wu Ren for a favor: “Those books — please, whatever you do, remind my lord for me.”

Lin Feng spoke quietly with Su Zhe: “I wonder how A’Lian and the others are getting on.”

“Why would you worry about him?”

“I just want him to come back soon. I am not doing well with all of this on my own. If he were main official, I could be his assistant — that I think I could manage.”

“Oh, you…”

Lin Feng frowned. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Su Zhe laughed. “Now that is more like you. That nervous, cautious person earlier — that was not you at all.”

Lin Feng said, “Not like a foolish young kid anymore?”

Su Zhe stopped laughing. “Being able to live a few days of blissful ignorance — that is not so bad.”

The two of them sighed at the same moment. Nearby, Wu Ren never talked much with strangers, and she felt awkward around the thousand-men commander. She simply ignored him and walked straight over to join Su Zhe and the others. Left standing there, the thousand-men commander’s partner sidled up to him: “What happened? They ignoring you?”

“What are you all talking about?” A clear, bright voice rang out.

Both men spun their heads around and found themselves looking at a young girl smiling cheerfully at them — Wu Shuang.

Never mind what Wu Shuang and the two hundred-commanders were chatting about; Wu Ren had found her tongue again among familiar company: “For spring plowing, we need to take stock of who is fit for the work. With both city construction and farming to be done at the same time, they may not all know how to farm. Let us sift through the household registers again first and identify anyone who does…”

Lin Feng let out a moan of despair. “When is A’Lian coming back?”

The Zhù Lian who was being lamented was on the verge of moaning himself.

Whether it was the Emperor or the Council of State, their attention was fixed entirely on “military governorship,” “official ranks,” and “titles of nobility.” This was because Wuzhou had originally been governed under a loose administrative arrangement — it was not assessed for tax by the standard household registration method. The tax it produced was minimal, and it often failed to pay even that; the court had more or less stopped counting it.

The men who had risen to become Grand Chancellors possessed minds sharp enough. This included Xian Jing — all of them could find no shortage of lofty justifications to wear Zhù Lian down.

For instance: the list Zhù Ying had submitted — she herself was a woman, and that could not be helped. The two prefectural governors beneath her were men, which was acceptable. But among the officials at every lower level, four in ten were women. The court found this difficult to accept. Was that not far too many?

To all of this, Zhù Lian consistently replied: “We are barbarians. Survival comes first, everything else second.”

Then Yao Chenying arrived and said he intended to collect taxes: “She cannot go on paying nothing for years on end.”

Zhù Lian said, “That can be arranged. Once the roads are passable, Wuzhou will resume payments as before.”

Yao Chenying then said, “There should be some distinction between a military governorship and a mere prefectural governorship.”

“This is newly incorporated territory, and we have only rough maps to show for it so far. As for the population census — as you know, that takes time. We barbarians have no written script whatsoever, so we are starting from nothing. You will need to allow us a few years.”

“A few years?”

“Five? Ten? Consider this — people need to be taught to read first.”

Yao Chenying was not about to be taken in by that: “Short on staff? I have plenty of people.”

“I am afraid they would fall ill from the climate down south. As you know, northerners who travel south frequently die of sickness.”

Although each exchange could be deflected with some reasonable argument, as far as Zhù Lian was concerned, Yao Chenying was far more troubling than the Council of State. Because Yao Chenying had decided: “Very well. Let us go through this one prefecture at a time! To establish a prefecture, you need a sufficient population. If the population is not sufficient, why would we establish a prefecture?”

It was enormously vexing.

Zhù Lian was beginning to think about trading places with Lu Danqing. Lu Danqing carried a trace of the “chieftain’s daughter” about her, and when she squared off against Yao Chenying, she was no pushover. Zhù Lian was starting to resent his own inability to put on a cold face.

The two sides sparred from before the New Year through the New Year, and it was not until the end of the second month that they reluctantly reached an agreement. The Emperor finally agreed to the name “Annan” rather than changing it to something like “Zhen Nan.” Zhao Su received the Wuzhou Prefectural Governorship after all. It was something of a triumph that Zhù Lian had held firm on this: either accept everything or accept nothing.

Of course, there was a price — taxation.

Three years of exemption, but after three years, the territory would be taxed according to the Wuzhou model.

What followed would be the court dispatching envoys to Annan for the formal investiture ceremony. Zhù Lian understood this procedure well, and after coming to terms with Yao Chenying, he and Lu Danqing parted ways — Zhù Lian to call on the residence of Chancellor Zheng, Lu Danqing to call on Chancellor Chen.

The envoy had to be “one of their own,” or at minimum someone willing to speak favorably on behalf of Annan.