Zhù Ying returned to the dining room to find Jing Gang still not finished eating. He hadn’t had much of an appetite to begin with, and having assumed that Zhù Ying would spend a good while talking with her students, he’d been in no hurry to finish — he had been eating slowly, taking a bite, then drifting into a blank stare.

And then Zhù Ying came back.

Jing Gang held a chopstick-pinch of small smoked fish in midair, eyes wide. “You’re already…”

Zhù Ying sat back down. The attendant maidservant nimbly added a bowl of savory congee before her. Zhù Ying watched it being placed in front of her and said to Jing Gang, “Came back to eat.”

Jing Gang said, “No parting words for them? It’s hardly the same situation as before.”

Zhù Ying said, “What’s the use of saying more if they won’t remember it? Whatever needed teaching and could be said has long been taught and said. They’ll remember it once they’ve been knocked around out there. Why worry about it now?”

Jing Gang considered this. “You have a point.” He slowly resumed eating his breakfast.

By the time Zhù Ying had eaten her fill, he had just then set down his chopsticks. Zhù Ying was certain he had something on his mind. She invited him to take a walk outside, and he silently agreed. The two of them wandered casually along the streets. Jing Gang was dressed in plain clothes, and those on the street couldn’t readily tell he was in mourning — they were only mildly curious about the rather well-dressed stranger.

Seeing Zhù Ying walking down the street with someone unfamiliar, people hailed her from a distance but didn’t come over to intrude.

Jing Gang watched Zhù Ying exchange scattered greetings with people along the way, and took in the fresh newness of Xizhou around them. He ventured an opening: “Wherever you go, you’re able to make something flourishing. There are far too few people in the world like you.”

Zhù Ying said, “I hear that often, but in my own experience, there aren’t so few. Ever since I entered officialdom, I’ve kept encountering people like that.”

Jing Gang gave a slight shake of his head. “Yet it grows ever harder to see such people rise to high office.”

Zhù Ying gave him a look. “You look this worn out — it doesn’t seem entirely due to family matters.”

Jing Gang let out a faint, bitter smile that made him look older still. “When I was young I feared nothing, charging ahead on sheer drive. The years are not kind — these past few I’ve found myself growing more exhausted by the day. When my father passed, I felt not the slightest reluctance in taking mourning leave. I thought: perhaps it will be good to go home and rest for a while. Little did I know that on the road…”

He gave a shudder.

Zhù Ying asked, “What happened on the road?”

“There was a flood. Then civil unrest…”

Jing Gang looked at the people around them. They kept a wide berth, walking with purposeful strides. Only children too young to understand would stop and linger. Yet people kept being called away — with the harvest nearly over, the children had no school to attend, and were needed in the fields to help glean whatever grain had fallen. It was the kind of work that was time-consuming but yielded little — just right for small hands.

Their clothes were a mix of new and worn, every style imaginable, strongly infused with a “frontier spirit,” yet the faces of the people held a vitality of their own. Utterly different from what he had seen on the road.

On his way back, he had had the misfortune of encountering a flood — the scale of it uncertain, but the postal road had been severed for a time. He had witnessed all manner of horrors. Water disasters and drought are not quite alike. Drought brings crop failure, yet one’s stored grain, one’s possessions, remain intact; what water there is may be scarce, but the stores accumulated beforehand can keep you going for a time. But when floodwaters come, they can sweep away everything you have — grain, clothing, livestock… if you can’t climb to a rooftop, it’s all washed away and ruined.

During a flood, water surrounds you on all sides, and yet none of it can be drunk — because you don’t know what’s been soaking in it. Muddy water is the best case. The drowned, both human and animal, are all floating in that same water.

Zhù Ying said, “You’d never seen anything like this before?” She herself had relatively little exposure to disaster. In the decade or more after she arrived in Fulu County, the seasons had been unusually kind — even in lean years, the pressure was not severe. Though she recalled some poor harvests in her childhood hometown, those hadn’t been too serious. In recent years, however, natural disasters across the country seemed to have become more frequent. Jing Gang was older than her, and should have seen more. He had, after all, passed his examinations out of Jiyuan Prefecture, without a powerful family background, navigating the ups and downs of officialdom — he ought to have seen a great deal. This degree of visible emotion from him was not normal.

“I knew of such things, but had rarely witnessed the tragedy firsthand. Days passed, and the local authorities remained utterly indifferent — heartless, seemingly incapable of concern. The relief efforts were a complete mess. They only pushed back saying their stored grain had been soaked and ruined, that there was nothing to give. It was only through local gentry and clan elders, or through the people organizing their own rescue, that things held together. Otherwise, it would have come to cannibalism.”

He had never seen anything so terrible before.

Zhù Ying’s lips curved in a cold smile. “A certain locality, you say? That place has quite a few irregularities in its accounts! The floodwaters did it quite a favor. Unpaid rents, hidden households, deserters, concealed farmland, unlawful private settlements of legal cases… all the documented evidence of these — a flood could wash it all away. It’s not only fire that erases traces. Water does the same.”

Jing Gang fell silent. He was not without understanding of what lay behind all this. The severity of those horrors was very likely connected to the local officials’ attention being elsewhere rather than on disaster relief.

What pained Jing Gang even further was what came next. The floodwaters gradually receded, but the postal road had not been restored. Food and drink in the area were scarce, and the price of rice had shot up steeply.

They decided to return home by a smaller road.

They hadn’t gone far before they were robbed. The first time, his guards held them off — the only loss was a trunk of bulky household items. The second time, the bandits came armed with blades. He lost two of his capable manservants. It was only because he acted decisively in the moment — abandoning the heavy luggage, while his wife scattered a bundle so that copper coins scattered across the ground drawing people to scramble for them — that they had the chance to escape.

After that, they dared not take the small road again. They cut across country and rejoined the official road. After several days of travel looping back the long way, they found they had bypassed the damaged section of road entirely — small mercy amid misfortune. Only then did he have the composure to take stock: most of the savings accumulated during his years in office had been lost, and one of his wife’s maidservants was missing as well.

He was in no state to pursue any of it further. He hurried the rest of the way home. Fortunately the remainder of the journey passed without incident.

“Is the court showing signs of decline?” Jing Gang asked, with something like anguish.

Zhù Ying gave a nod. “A little.”

Jing Gang said, “When I returned home, I found Jiyuan Prefecture still maintaining something of its former character, and I kept doubting myself, thinking I must have misread things. The realm is vast — surely not every official across the land is incompetent? Yet whenever I tried to discuss the times with someone, there was no one to talk to. Jiyuan was peaceful and content — who would listen to an old man making alarmist talk? I thought: if there is anyone in the world who can see what I see, it must be you. So I came, wanting to speak of it with you.

“Having now arrived in Annan and compared it to what’s outside — this place is a paradise on earth. You’re not richer than the land beyond the mountains, but you’re like a child, growing a little taller and stronger with each passing day. The land beyond the mountains is wealthy, yet it resembles a person past fifty — growing older by the day. What is to become of things in the end? I feel utterly helpless. Am I simply to watch the situation deteriorate, until catastrophe finally arrives?”

“You’ve been grieving — that’s what’s made everything look darker than it is. A nation doesn’t collapse so easily. It took the Huan and Ling Emperors forty years of misrule to bring about the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and even that was suppressed. The present ruler hasn’t reached that point yet. That place you just mentioned — it’s where Gu Tong is headed. A great flood serves a purpose — it clears the old accounts! Let’s see what he makes of it.”

“The stature of a chief minister — still thinking of mending the realm. Your position today was built by your own two hands. And the court toward you… you’re still willing to…” Jing Gang let the second half of the sentence blur. In the end he said nothing against the Emperor or the court.

“What sin have the common people committed?”

“Indeed…” After his sigh of feeling, Jing Gang grew serious again and asked, “Can it still be saved?”

Zhù Ying said, “With difficulty. Growing more difficult by the day.”

“Even for someone like you?”

“Minister Wang once tried to save it. You saw how that turned out.”

Jing Gang stopped walking. He stood at the side of the street beneath a tree, and tears ran down his face. The cry of a newborn infant startled him back. He turned toward the sound and saw a young woman holding a baby, stepping with a touch of bashfulness into a house not far away.

He said, “I am older than you — I will certainly die first. If heaven is merciful and does not make me witness the chaos of a broken world with my own eyes, then that is my good fortune. My children and grandchildren may not be so lucky. If that day ever comes, this place of yours will be a land of peace and refuge. I beg you, for the sake of the years gone by in Wuzhou, to extend some protection to Jiyuan Prefecture — to spare it from the calamity of war.”

Zhù Ying said, “Why speak of this now? You are experienced and widely traveled — you shouldn’t be so mournful and weak.”

Jing Gang smiled bitterly. “I always thought myself to have a certain measure of composure and discernment. Yet the world is never simply black and white — there is always so much that blends and blurs. In recent days I’ve suddenly come to realize that the state of things is even more murky than I had imagined. As one grows older, one tends to think more and more — turning over the past, again and again, dwelling on every awkwardness and shortcoming in oneself. And then the fear and dread rises to the surface.

“Please, give me your word. Jiyuan Prefecture lies right beside Annan. I know you always act with method and reason, but it is my own home after all — I can’t help wanting some assurance. The elders of Jiyuan have always kept you in their hearts. Please show them your mercy.”

“All right. I promise you.”

Jing Gang raised his sleeve and wiped his eyes. “I’ve made a fool of myself. Ah — once upon a time, Jiyuan Prefecture was just like what Xizhou is now. These days it has taken on something of a rigid, stale quality.”

Zhù Ying said, “Jiang Zheng is a good official.”

Jing Gang gave an agreeing nod. “Though he’s rather blindly devoted to the court.”

Zhù Ying said, “If he weren’t so single-minded, he couldn’t do his job well.”

Jing Gang said, “Jiyuan was never rich and fertile land to begin with. He initially tried to cut down on trade, which was quite baffling — fortunately, you later talked him around. Otherwise… He keeps his eye on the court, so the local area inevitably suffers some losses; having suffered those losses with nowhere to make them up, it builds frustration.”

“When the critical moment comes, he holds firm. There are no losses now, so that’s what matters.”

“Everyone understands the reasoning. But the heart and grand principles are two different things. The elders of Jiyuan all miss you terribly — they only resent that you can’t come to Jiyuan again, and that traveling into the mountains themselves is so difficult.”

Zhù Ying smiled. “It means a great deal to know they care. I think of everyone there as well. In a while I’ll be making a trip to Wuzhou, and when I do, I’ll send invitations for everyone to come to Wuzhou for a feast.”

Jing Gang said, “I wonder whether I might be allowed to join the gathering?”

“Of course! You’ll be the first invited.”

Jing Gang finally laughed outright. “That’s a promise!”

“A promise.”

Jing Gang stayed in Xizhou for several days, and when the weather turned cooler he took his leave of Zhù Ying. He had to return home to observe mourning and could not linger away indefinitely. He departed — but “left behind” a gift list: beyond the pearls and curiosities, there was also one particular item — the elders of Jiyuan Prefecture had jointly presented Zhù Ying with a share of their profits.

The official reason was that whatever Jiyuan Prefecture was today, it all rested on the foundation that Zhù Ying had laid through her administration years ago, and the local gentry kept this in their hearts. Years back, the Xiang family had held a portion of the estate assets in trust; later, when Zhù Ying went north, she withdrew from that arrangement. When Zhù Ying came south again and Jiang Zheng arrived to take up his post, the Xiang family gradually withdrew from some of those assets too.

After deliberation, everyone agreed this arrangement would not do. Now that Zhù Ying had been formally recognized by the court as military governor, and trade was no longer restricted, what was owed ought to be given. This time, however, they no longer went through the Xiang family — they sent it directly through Jing Gang. Each year a set quantity of sugar, grain, cloth, and various southern goods would be delivered to Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying understood perfectly well that this was the “protection money” being paid by Jiyuan’s gentry. With Jiang Zheng still there and still capable, a good many of the gentry’s activities were subject to constraint. For some things — concealing farmland and households, for instance — constraining them was correct. But for other things — hiring more women workers, trading with the mountain communities — what exactly was the point of restricting those?

When necessary, the gentry also used her as leverage against Jiang Zheng.

She accepted this protection money without the slightest twinge of guilt. She needed money right now! Annan had no shortage of fine resources and mineral deposits, yet there was no shortage of places to spend money either. The roads weren’t finished, the irrigation channels weren’t finished. The construction in Xizhou City was still in its final stages; Zhù Qingjun’s cavalry needed to be maintained; next came reinforcing, expanding, and strengthening the passes, then every city in turn would need renovation. Places like Bozhou and Daizhou had no proper prefectural cities to speak of — didn’t those need to be built?

Oh, and schools needed to be built too. That cost money as well.

Beyond labor, enormous quantities of grain and funds were needed. This trickle of protection money was nowhere near sufficient, but fortunately Annan hadn’t been required to remit funds to the court for several years.

In any case, Zhù Ying set this protection money aside with a perfectly easy conscience, and her treasury grew a little fuller. Come the end of the autumn harvest, when newly harvested grain entered the newly built granaries, things would look even better.

Zhù Ying was calculating that the labor conscription levied this year could be cut somewhat from the previous year — a gradual reduction, perhaps ten days fewer than last year, which should be manageable.

But this would need to be deliberated and calculated with Wu Ren first, and the final accounting would have to wait until Zhao Su, Zhù Yan, and the others came over in the tenth month.

She had adopted a system in Annan similar to the court’s — an annual review, each year setting targets, with accounting to follow at year’s end. Beyond grain and forced labor, there were also justice and penal affairs, schools, and the like.

This was the first year of the review, and Zhù Ying was particularly attentive to it. Counting the days, they should be arriving soon.

Zhù Ying called for Zhù Qingxue: “Go to the back and tell Sister Du to prepare a few more rooms — Yan and the others will be staying in the residence.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Qingxue ran off. A short while later, Zhù Ying set down her brush and looked toward the doorway. “When did you get here?”

Zhù Qingjun’s footsteps were distinct from Zhù Qingxue’s — heavier, crisper, landing with a sharp clack-clack.

Zhù Qingjun pressed her lips together. “Grandmother! The frontier peoples are stirring! They sent a small probing force first — Zhù Xinle and the others drove them off. Now they’ve massed more forces and are attacking the pass!”

Zhù Ying said, “So they’ve come after all.”

“Yes, they’ve come! And — Zhù Xinle says he spotted Chief Pusheng among the enemy. He apparently isn’t dead!”

“Zhù Xinle didn’t act rashly?”

Zhù Qingjun said, “No. He’s furious, but still thinking clearly. Even so, I’m not entirely at ease — I want to go in person.”

“Take enough people with you… As for provisions and supplies — they’ll follow immediately.” It seemed that the labor conscription reduction this year would be rather difficult to manage after all.

“Yes!”

The two of them looked toward the doorway at the same moment. Zhù Qingxue had returned. Zhù Qingjun said, “Go find Qingtian — have her keep a close watch on the merchants, especially any who’ve come from the Western Tribes. From now on, all merchants traveling west are to be stopped.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying then had Zhù Qingye summon Wu Ren, Su Zhe, Lin Feng, and the others. She turned to Zhù Qingjun: “Who do you want to take with you?”

Zhù Qingjun said, “I’d like to bring some people of Ji Ma clan origin.”

“All right.”

The Ji Ma clan chiefs had been largely killed off. The ones they were speaking of now were almost all of former slave or commoner background.

Within a short time, everyone had gathered — all wearing grim expressions. These frontier peoples had terrible timing. The harvest was nearly in; Zhao Su and the others were about to arrive; Xizhou City looked more respectable than it had a year ago; the flowers and trees were lovely; the people were better fed and better clothed. They had been preparing to all celebrate together. And now the frontier peoples showed up.

Zhù Ying said, “All right. There’s nothing more to say — let’s begin.”