As the autumn harvest approached, Zhù Ying suspended construction on the tomb site, sending most of the laborers back to their homes to prepare for the harvest. Only a handful of craftsmen remained to handle the decorative detail work.
It was a decent year for harvests across Annan. Local officials at every level had more experience than in previous years. Before the autumn harvest even began, they had estimated that year’s yield — less than in fair-weather years outside the mountains, but entirely acceptable for a mountain region. Su Zhe, Witch Ren, and Xiang An were in Xizhou; Zhao Su, Zhù Lian, and the others were in their respective territories, all busy with the work.
Zhù Ying and Huajie had grown idle in the meantime. Together with Xiao Jiang, they spent their days watching the koi in the pond at the military headquarters. Words were few between them. Much of the time they simply sat in quiet. Sometimes they would set out a table in the pavilion and each attend to their own affairs. Zhù Ying would write things from time to time; Huajie and Xiao Jiang would paint and sketch.
The stillness was broken now and then when matters arose that involved multiple parties and required Zhù Ying to make a decision.
One day, Witch Shuang came over carrying some official documents: “Grandma, these need to be coordinated with General Zhù.”
Of Annan’s five prefectures, one remained — the one in which Zhù Qingjun had her farming settlements. Although it had been Zhù Chonghua who first raised the matter of “bandit suppression,” the worst bandit trouble had been in this territory, and so Zhù Ying had named it “Pu’an Prefecture.” As a result, Zhù Qingjun’s military farming settlements were mostly concentrated here.
This was the one prefecture still without a prefect. The military headquarters would sometimes issue direct orders for matters in this prefecture. Its Adjutant was of a somewhat lower official rank and not on an equal footing with the farming settlements, so when disputes arose he inevitably had to appeal to the headquarters to mediate. The Adjutant was also a somewhat clever character — his official rank was a bit lower, yet he had to manage the affairs of Pu’an Prefecture, and whenever something came up he always made sure to get there first and claim priority, making a show of outrage even when the harm was slight, loudly lamenting before anything too serious had actually happened.
Xiao Jiang and Huajie helped Zhù Ying clear the papers from the table. Witch Shuang set down the documents in her hands. Her nature was lively; seeing that Zhù Ying’s expression was less heavy than before, she said quietly: “Grandma, this is the third official document on this matter. Last time it was Daizhou, and the time before that it was also Pu’an Prefecture — it keeps going like this… it’s really too much trouble.”
Zhù Ying signed off on the documents and said: “Is it?”
“Mm.” Witch Shuang obediently uttered a single syllable.
Zhù Ying said: “All right.”
“Pardon?”
Zhù Ying slid the documents over: “Take these.”
“Oh…” Witch Shuang stuck out her tongue, took the documents, and slipped away.
Xiao Jiang said: “She wasn’t wrong.”
Zhù Ying gave a nod, then said to Zhù Qingxue: “Go up front and let them know — dinner together this evening.”
“Yes.”
Xiao Jiang and Huajie exchanged a glance. Both had a sense of what was coming.
At dinner, Su Zhe and the others all arrived at the dining hall. Before everyone had seated themselves, Zhù Ying was already there. Lu Danqing glanced over at her — Zhù Ying still looked thin, but there was a slight lightness to her step, and the walking staff she had been carrying recently was gone. Lu Danqing felt a measure of relief.
Xiang An had something to take care of and arrived last, apologizing as she entered. Zhù Ying said: “Everyone sit.”
To be called together for a sudden meal in the middle of a busy season — there had to be a reason. As the younger ones sat down, they felt a quiet unease, running over their own recent conduct in their minds, dredging up even passing thoughts they had entertained, conducting a thorough self-examination, all of them somewhat on edge.
Zhù Ying said: “Have Pu’an Prefecture and the farming settlement been fighting over the right-of-way again?”
Su Zhe said: “Yes. The two sides got into it again, and reported losses — they’re saying the other party overturned their carts and damaged two cartloads of autumn tax goods.”
“And it’s not only those two. There’s also Wuzhou, Bozhou, Daizhou, and the others. In each case either someone’s seniority is too high, or their achievements are too great, or their age and experience give them an edge — so they are difficult to direct, and difficult to coordinate at the same time, and that breeds restlessness and irritability.” Zhù Ying said.
Lu Danqing, though stationed at the headquarters, had no responsibility for this matter. She spoke up on Su Zhe’s behalf: “Sister Qingjun has actually made quite a few concessions. The Pu’an Adjutant is only afraid of being elbowed out — whenever something comes up he starts making noise first. He’s just loud; the matter itself isn’t serious.”
Su Zhe flushed slightly: “It’s also that I don’t have enough ability — I failed to make good arrangements beforehand.”
“Human ability has its limits — who could arrange everything in advance? Let’s find someone to manage this whole situation. Your communications alone won’t carry enough weight, and you can’t keep this under control. I need to step in myself.”
“Your meaning is…?”
“First thing tomorrow morning, Qingye goes and brings back the prefect’s seal for Pu’an. Let Qingjun take on the position of prefect in a concurrent capacity. Before, Pu’an Prefecture wasn’t under her authority, and they were still fighting over rights-of-way. Now she’ll have the hand on both sides — let’s see what she does with that.”
Xiao Jiang heard this and felt a strong urge to laugh, and quickly lowered her head.
Su Zhe was briefly taken aback, then nodded: “That is one way to handle it. But having her take over in the middle of a busy season — won’t it be too much for her to manage, and risk letting things slip?”
Zhù Ying said: “She’s not made of porcelain. Let her get on with it.”
“Yes.”
The next day, the military headquarters issued the appointment. From this point on, all five of Annan’s prefectures had their prefects in place. As for what difficulties Zhù Qingjun would face, Zhù Ying left that entirely to her. Without going through hard things, how could one forge real capability?
Word of the matter quickly reached the other three prefectures. After turning it over in their minds for a brief moment, all three went back to being busy with the harvest. In the blink of an eye, the day arrived for the various prefects to come to the military headquarters to report on the year’s affairs. Per Annan’s agreement with the imperial court, this year Annan was still not remitting taxes and grain. For the military headquarters, it was once again a prosperous year.
Zhao Su was the furthest away and had hurried the most. He had a vague sense that Zhù Ying seemed to be cultivating Zhù Qingjun. That was not necessarily a problem. Zhù Ying had no children of her own, and Zhù Lian and Zhù Qingjun — orphans both — had been raised under the Zhù household’s care from an early age, and had taken the Zhù surname. They were very suitable candidates. Zhù Qingjun had the additional quality that no one else possessed: she was accomplished in warfare, yet was not simply a brute who thought only of military glory. In the current climate, with the Western Barbarians openly brandishing swords and the court’s hidden calculations lurking behind, Annan needed someone like Zhù Qingjun.
He felt no jealousy over this — his own years were what they were, and his son was still young. For now, it was more worthwhile to focus on laying solid foundations in Annan.
As for the future — who could say his descendants might not serve as Military Commissioner someday? After all, Zhù Ying had said plainly that she would not fix the position to any one family. Zhao Su believed this post could be compared to that of a Chancellor — Chancellors were never passed from father to son, and yet the position could still be competed for and worked toward.
As for whether someone in the future might harbor private ambitions to seize Annan as a hereditary domain — that was a matter for the future. The possibility was not small, but there was no need to dwell on it. Several families could check one another.
What truly made him rush to get here was the condition in which Zhù Ying had issued her order. She had done so during — what circumstances? Wuzhou had gone through two major losses: first Zhù Da’s death, then Zhang Xiangu’s. For the deaths of father and mother, Zhù Ying had behaved entirely differently. Those with eyes could see it, and of late Zhù Ying had been largely withdrawn from administrative matters. The sudden issuing of an order carried an ominous air.
Partway there, he caught up with Zhù Lian. It was plain that Zhù Lian was also somewhat anxious. The two exchanged a few pleasantries, then rode side by side, speaking of things like: “I wonder if the tomb is finished — if we can stay a few more days, it would be good to see the two elders properly laid to rest.”
Zhao Su said: “The gentry of Jiyuan are also asking about it.”
“Them.” Zhù Lian said.
Zhao Su said: “I understand.”
The two of them pressed on to Xizhou City. They encountered Zhù Qingjun just outside the city gates — Zhù Chonghua was already there — and the three of them exchanged a few words before having to deal with Witch Ren.
On the subject of Witch Ren, Zhao Su found himself a little at a loss: “She wasn’t this difficult before.”
Zhù Qingjun smiled: “She’s familiar with you now — of course she’s more demanding. With people she doesn’t know, she barely speaks.”
When Witch Ren’s words multiplied, they became forceful, and Zhao Su could do nothing about her.
Zhù Lian said: “First let’s see Teacher!”
——
The three of them arrived at the military headquarters. Zhù Chonghua was already inside, talking with Su Zhe. The two of them looked as though they were on good terms. Su Zhe wore a slight smile and was saying something; when she saw Zhao Su she called out: “Uncle.” She and Zhù Chonghua broke off their conversation.
The group gathered. First they asked about Zhù Ying. Su Zhe said: “She went out to the construction site early this morning — the autumn harvest in Xizhou is finished, so work has resumed at the site.”
Zhao Su said: “Then let’s go and look.”
Su Zhe said: “I’ll come with you.”
The construction site wasn’t far. The several of them galloped there quickly. Zhù Lian’s heart was in his throat. From a distance, he spotted Zhù Ying pointing here and there with a short staff — she didn’t look like someone who had declined. He urged his horse to go faster.
The horses pulled up in front of her. Zhù Ying was using the short staff as support. She asked: “Everyone here?”
Each of them swung down from their saddles. Zhù Ying said to Zhù Qingxue: “Stay close to Chonghua.” Zhù Chonghua was not young, and had not been much of a rider in the past — not as steady as the others.
Zhù Lian was the first to speak: “Teacher!”
Having said that, he had no more words. Zhù Ying smiled: “Here!”
With that smile, everyone else smiled too. Zhao Su looked around and said: “Progress is coming along well.”
Zhù Ying said: “Another few days and it’ll be done. If none of you have urgent business, you could stay and share a cup of wine.”
Zhù Lian said: “I’m definitely staying to see both elders properly laid to rest.”
Zhao Su said: “The gentry of Jiyuan also wish to come and pay their respects. They didn’t know when Grandmother passed — the news only reached Jiyuan in recent days. They all want to come and contribute something.”
“Fine — let’s talk more when we’re back home.” Zhù Ying said a few quiet words to the foreman, reminding him to keep an eye on the craftsmen’s meals and rest.
Zhù Lian and Zhù Qingjun stepped forward to help support her. Zhù Ying said: “I don’t need you — let’s go.” With that, she tossed the short staff to Zhù Qingxue, swung herself into the saddle unaided, and looked considerably more nimble than Zhù Chonghua.
They arrived back at the military headquarters as night fell. Zhù Ying simply invited everyone to eat together — Huajie, the headquarters staff, several prefects, Zhao Ji, and the rest. It was a full room.
Zhù Ying was usually quite easygoing. The room grew lively with banter and good cheer quickly. By the time the dishes were all set out, Zhao Su and the others raised their cups together to greet Zhù Ying, and only then did the room settle into a brief quiet.
Zhao Su proposed a toast — to Zhù Ying’s health and long life. Seeing that Zhù Ying had returned to her composure, everyone felt genuinely heartened.
Zhù Ying said: “Good.”
After the toasting round, each person settled back into their seats. Then without any particular build-up, Zhù Ying said lightly: “Today an imperial edict arrived. You’ve all come at just the right time — saves me from having to send out separate notices. The Emperor has named a Crown Prince.”
Her tone was as flat as if she had just said “this is freshly brewed rice wine.”
Zhao Su’s hand gave a little jerk. Rice wine spilled over the rim of his cup onto his fingers. He set the cup down and asked: “Which one, may I ask?”
“The eldest son.”
“What?!” Everyone except Zhù Chonghua let out an involuntary cry.
Zhù Ying said: “Yes — it’s not good news.”
The Emperor’s eldest son was known to be slow-witted. Yet he had the claim of being “eldest,” and in the absence of a legitimate heir, one could not say this choice was groundless. But it was widely known that a slow-witted person could not govern well, and the Emperor’s other sons would not submit to him. Choosing a slow-witted heir apparent said another thing as well: if the Emperor had more than one son and still made this choice, it meant he had encountered difficulties, that he was constrained by others.
The Emperor’s situation — or his frame of mind — was itself far from well. Taken together with the unresolved factional strife between the Zheng and Xian camps, this court…
Su Zhe said with feeling: “Chancellor Chen is going to find things difficult again.”
Zhù Ying said: “The difficult things ahead for him will be many. Three of them: the Eastern Palace, the factional struggle, and the border threats. None of these can be treated lightly. And it isn’t only Chen Meng — all three of these could affect us as well. You are the cream of Annan. You need to have these things in your minds. The broader shifts in the realm will inevitably affect Annan.”
“Yes.” The mood for laughing and chatting was briefly gone. Other things could be set aside, but the border threats — did that not include the Western Barbarians? The last thing Annan wanted right now was a confrontation with the Western Barbarians!
Zhù Ying said: “Why those expressions? The sky isn’t falling — it hasn’t reached our doorstep yet. Just be prepared. If not these things, then sooner or later something else will pull Annan in. Hold steady.”
“Yes.”
“All right — tonight we just eat.”
After that she said nothing more about court affairs. Zhù Ying turned to speaking about the burial of her parents, which gave everyone something to say. Su Zhe mentioned that her mother had also asked about it in a letter, saying she absolutely had to be present. Lang Rui also said his parents wished to come. Lu Danqing and Lin Feng said nothing of their own families.
Zhù Ying said to Zhao Su: “If the Jiyuan people are coming, the road is long — they needn’t all make the trip. Just have a few of the younger and sturdier ones who can manage the journey come along. I’ll send invitations. When they arrive, you’ll look after them. The conversation will likely involve road matters.”
“Yes.” The western and northern passes were crucial, and Wuzhou was equally important. The Jiyuan gentry had been pressing Zhao Su for some time now — they hoped that coming in and out of Annan could be made somewhat easier, and if possible, they hoped to establish a guild hall in Xizhou.
They chatted for a while, and the atmosphere gradually warmed again. Several people were pleasantly flush from the wine.
Within a few days, the new tomb was finished. Su Mingluan and the others began arriving one after another. The Jiyuan gentry came last, but their offerings were the most generous. Jing Gang did not come this time — he had been reinstated to office and was no longer at Jiyuan Prefecture. Leading the group were Zhao Su’s parents and Gu Weng.
Zhù Ying did not speak at length with Gu Weng right away, and asked Zhao Su to take him to the guest quarters for the time being. She kept Zhao Su’s parents at the military headquarters to talk.
She was very direct with Zhao Niangzi: “Elder Sister — you have something to tell me.”
Zhao Niangzi gave a rueful smile: “Can’t hide anything from you. This really is… this is the sort of thing only I could come and say. Su Feihu — he’s gone.”
Su Feihu was dead. But Su Sheng was still up at the Northern Pass keeping watch at the gates, rarely even coming back to Xizhou, and there was no telling whether he was willing to go back home to attend the funeral. By all rights he should be — but given his recent stubbornness, going back meant facing his brothers and sisters-in-law. Hard to say.
Zhù Ying looked at Su Mingluan. Su Mingluan also gave a resigned smile: “Please, Grandma — say a word to him. He might listen to you.”
Zhù Ying said: “Send Xinle to stand in for him while he comes back.”
Su Mingluan and her niece both gave their thanks in unison.
Zhù Ying said to Su Zhe: “You go back as well. If a quarrel breaks out, you can help mediate.”
Su Mingluan understood and said: “I’m old — I can’t deal with that pack of troublemakers anymore. Good thing she’s still young and has plenty of energy.”
Su Zhe said: “I want to wait until Grandmother is buried before I go back.”
Zhù Ying personally oversaw the ceremony and interred her parents’ coffins in the tomb, sealing the burial chamber. The tomb faced north. Zhù Ying herself had no attachment to her “hometown,” but she thought her parents probably wanted to go back and have a look, so she arranged it this way.
Upon returning from the tomb site, the Su family promptly headed back. Gu Weng did not travel with them, and came in person to request an audience. What Gu Weng wanted came as no surprise — it was about establishing a guild hall and requesting easier passage through Annan’s post road when heading north. This was something Zhù Ying had long anticipated. She had built this post road precisely to maintain connections with the outside world, so she naturally would not refuse.
Gu Weng was overjoyed and bowed to the ground: “The people of our Fulu County will forever remember this kindness.”
Zhù Ying said: “Not so fast with the celebration. This road wasn’t easy to build — break it and you pay for it.”
Gu Weng was momentarily taken aback, then immediately said: “Of course — that only makes sense!”
Zhù Ying said: “Good.” Her commercial tax rate was very light — altogether one twentieth, collected in thirds at two separate points. Goods coming in were taxed one twentieth at the border crossing, one twentieth for road maintenance; going out, another one twentieth. Beyond these, no additional taxes were levied anywhere within Annan’s territory.
These revenues went directly into the treasury, and from there a budget was drawn up and used as needed.
With that matter settled, Gu Weng departed together with Zhao Su, returning east. Zhù Ying herself came out to see Zhao Su off, and sent Gu Weng on his way at the same time. Zhù Qingjun also came to take her leave. Zhù Ying said to her: “Don’t let anyone else interfere with the farming settlements. Those people, that land, that grain — keep it all intact for me. I want you to select the able-bodied from among them and continue training them.”
“What?”
“In case there’s a use for them,” Zhù Ying said. “Once something happens, the current forces won’t be enough. Conscripts gathered in a hurry can perhaps handle something like the Xika and Jima — a rabble of fighters. But if the other side is regular imperial troops, it would be lambs to the slaughter. Keep training. When things happen outside the mountains, we cannot remain untouched by them.”