Lu Danqing had never had anything to do with running a school and had no idea who to consult. Huajie would normally have been an excellent person to ask, but Huajie’s areas of expertise had nothing whatsoever to do with military affairs. Lu Danqing had no choice but to grit her teeth and draft a proposal on her own, modeled on the school’s existing curriculum: the books students read were swapped out for military texts; daily exercises were replaced with drills.
When she had finished, she suddenly realized this was not quite right — some content from classical texts and history should be included. But some of what appeared in those classics lectured on the proper conduct of women, which Lu Danqing found distinctly off-putting and felt ought not to be taught. She thought it over, then dug out the notes she had accumulated over the years. Among these were the texts Zhù Ying had selected for their lessons, and those were certainly sound.
After several days of work, she finally completed a general outline for the military academy and placed it on Zhù Ying’s desk.
Zhù Ying was currently reading the written assignment Zhù Qingjun had submitted, and found it reasonably satisfying. The essay opened by noting that intelligence was incomplete, and that all current responses were therefore not fully accurate. What followed was an analysis of “three parties” — their situation, their strengths, their weaknesses — leading to a conclusion of “watchful waiting.”
Because while the court was riddled with flaws, its foundations were deep, and things would not come to ruin quickly. The Western Tribes’ momentum was fierce — their national power was inferior, but their objectives were clear. Annan alone was newly established, had just emerged from conflict, and was the weakest. Therefore: “watchful waiting.”
But this “waiting” was not passive idling. Preparation was required, so Zhù Qingjun requested that every pass and checkpoint — whether facing the Western Tribes or facing the court’s interior — be strictly guarded. At the same time, preparations for war should be made in earnest.
Finally, she requested that if hostilities did break out, she be the one sent to the field.
The problem, the response, and the reasoning were all laid out with reasonable clarity. Zhù Ying picked up her brush and annotated several lines across the essay, ready to send it out the following morning. Since Zhù Qingjun would be expected to hold the field independently once battle was joined, Zhù Ying also estimated that the administration of Pu’an Prefecture would need someone to take over; accordingly, she appended an order transferring Jiang Wan to Pu’an Prefecture as deputy governor.
The next morning, several dispatches were sent out by fast couriers in all four directions. Beyond that, Annan showed no particular outward sign of anything unusual.
Su Sheng was aware of the Western Tribes situation. First thing in the morning he came to take his leave of Zhù Ying and headed off to North Pass.
He had no niece to raise, and he departed with great ease: “Elder, I’m off!”
Zhù Ying gave a small nod. Huajie glanced at him with something unspoken on the tip of her tongue. Su Sheng pretended not to see. Among everyone in the command office, Zhù Ying was the one least inclined to meddle in anyone’s personal life, and people sometimes grumbled privately that the Elder took no interest in matters of marriage. Huajie, however, was warm-hearted, and whenever a young person reached a certain age, she inevitably found herself asking about the important things in life. Yet except for those whose mutual regard was already clear and who only wanted a person of standing to serve as matchmaker, the young ones were a little wary of her.
Su Sheng was one of the wary ones. He mumbled something, clasped his hands in farewell, and left.
North Pass was still North Pass. Merchants still came and went without cease. Because it was an iron-chain bridge, the seasonal flooding of rivers did not much affect it. The rainy season did make the roads worse and the harvest time reduced the number of travelers somewhat, but for merchants these were things to be worked around. Different seasons in different places meant different goods available, and long-experienced traders all knew the advantages and disadvantages of each route, handling everything according to custom.
This year, however, something was different. Most people knew nothing of the court’s conflict with the Western Tribes, but merchants had a fairly reliable sense of where there were armed men on the roads and where displaced persons were gathering. Of all the places in the realm that could be called stable, Annan was one of them — and merchants were correspondingly willing to do business with Annan.
Su Sheng arrived back at North Pass and immediately felt the weight drop from both shoulders. He rolled them back with a shrug and surveyed the constant flow of merchants with a satisfied grin. “Good, good — this is exactly how it should be. Has anyone on the other side said anything of note?”
A squad leader beside him smiled. “Nothing.”
Su Sheng was puzzled. He felt Chen Fang ought to have tried to pass a message. He thought for a moment. “Keep the other side under close watch.”
“Yes.”
Su Sheng returned to North Pass and was as lively as a fish restored to water. Within three days he was bouncing about with full energy, leaving those who had come to offer condolences on his father’s death wondering whether they had heard wrong. But Su Sheng always stationed himself at the bridge head, looking like a man surveying the mountains and rivers with the eye of command — until the day his subordinate reported: “General Zhù has arrived.”
Su Sheng heard it and said, puzzled, “What is she here for? Shouldn’t she be…?”
Shouldn’t she be watching the Western Tribes? Even if the court was no great thing, they wouldn’t move against Annan just now, would they? Then why was someone of Zhù Qingjun’s standing making her way to North Pass?
Behind Zhù Qingjun rode a dozen or so riders, all wearing half-worn clothes. The horses too were nothing like the tall fine animals of the capital — they were simply suited to a southern person’s build and stature. The distance between them and the image of “magnificent horses and dazzling riders, free and fierce as the wind” was, at a glance, roughly fifty-four thousand li.
Su Sheng ran down from the bridge head and planted himself in the middle of the relay road. “Elder Sister, what brings you over?”
Zhù Qingjun swung down from her horse. “Passing by. I was doing a tour of Pu’an Prefecture’s farmland and was at the fork in the road ahead. When I was already only twenty li from you, I thought I may as well come and take a look. Your color seems decent.”
“Of course! Elder Sister, this way, please.”
Zhù Qingjun gave her attendants a nod. A few people came out from Su Sheng’s side to lead the larger part of the escort away to water and rest the horses. Only three or four continued to follow Zhù Qingjun.
The two entered the checkpoint. Su Sheng had his own office space there. Zhù Qingjun’s escort followed them in. Once inside, Su Sheng noticed that a particular young man’s eyes had barely left Zhù Qingjun, and it made him rather uncomfortable. He asked pointedly, “Elder Sister, who is this?”
The young man smiled at him openly. Zhù Qingjun said, “This is Bai Ling.”
The name Bai Ling was a translation of meaning from a local language. As the western campaign expanded, Annan’s range of surnames had grown richer. Zhù Ying had not required everyone to take her surname. Those who wished to take the surname Zhù were allowed to, as with Zhù Chonghua and others. Some chose surnames based on something significant to them: for instance, Jin Shou.
Bai Ling’s case was different from all of these. He was an ordinary young man from an ordinary family in an ordinary village in Bo Prefecture. When he was born, someone had presented his family with a bird bearing white wing feathers, and he was named for it. When the time came to take a proper name, the translated meaning was used; by coincidence, Bai was also a surname, and the name Bai Ling sounded pleasant enough.
Su Sheng looked the young man over with a critical eye. He thought: no sooner had he gotten rid of that irritating Zhù Xinle by sending him off to Western Pass, than here was this Bai Ling turning up.
He leaned close to Zhù Qingjun and said quietly, “Elder Sister, I think this fellow has bad intentions.”
Zhù Qingjun curled her lip. “Where does your mind go? If you’re going to concern yourself with someone, concern yourself with yourself.”
“I’m still in mourning,” he said with breezy unconcern. “Elder Sister, Zhù Xinle…”
Zhù Qingjun shot him a sideways look, and Su Sheng understood immediately that Zhù Xinle was out of the picture. The previous two years, he had clearly been watching Zhù Xinle always trying to catch Zhù Qingjun’s eye. Zhù Qingjun’s voice took on more weight: “There is actual business to discuss!”
“Go ahead, go ahead.” Su Sheng arranged his face into the look of an obedient subordinate.
Zhù Qingjun said, “You came from the command office — did you hear anything about the situation in the west?”
“Yes, picked up a little. That’s why I hurried back.” He pointed north. “The inspector there is friendly — others may not be. Elder Sister, is this about the west too? Are they thinking of having you guard the north?”
Zhù Qingjun’s expression was somewhat serious. “No. I expect I’ll still be heading west to face them, while also covering all of Annan more broadly. But I’ve only just taken over Pu’an Prefecture, and if I leave now, I’ll be dropping everything again. The Elder has already transferred Jiang Wan over to coordinate. My military administrator there, as you know, is not a bad man — just stubborn. He looks only at Pu’an when given Pu’an to manage. Jiang Wan sees more, and thinks more broadly. The two are bound to clash.
If I head west, you will need to give a mind to Pu’an Prefecture — not the day-to-day details, but when those two have a disagreement, the big matters must be reported to the command office, and for smaller ones, you mediate.”
Military farming had originally been managed by Zhù Qingjun; it was later handed over to Su Sheng, and the land mostly lay within Pu’an Prefecture. North Pass, the farmland, and Su Sheng himself constituted something of a separate force within the prefecture. Being of similar standing to those two, he was well placed to mediate disputes.
Su Sheng said, “Is this the command office’s decision? This arrangement you’ve made…”
Zhù Qingjun said, “Generals in the field — for major things, one must keep the center informed. If every small thing required a petition first, killing a chicken would have to wait for the right hour. Nothing would get done. Even if I wanted to act on my own authority, I’d need the ability to pull it off.”
Su Sheng said sincerely, “Understood. Elder Sister — take care on the road. Look after yourself.”
Zhù Qingjun said, “You needn’t say it. Is there food?”
“What? Oh! Yes, there is, there is!” Guarding a passage for the constant flow of merchants, Su Sheng had no shortage of fine things. He gave the word and someone went off at once to prepare.
He also urged Zhù Qingjun to stay another day. Zhù Qingjun said, “I can’t. I need to finish touring Pu’an Prefecture while there’s still no other business to deal with.”
Su Sheng was a little sorry to see her go. “Oh — wait! I have a good set of armor here!” Guarding the pass came with no small degree of authority; he had his share of fine things. This was a set of lightweight leather armor of superior quality. Since they had all come back to Annan, many things were in better supply than before, though not quite up to the standard of what was available in the capital.
Since Zhù Qingjun was heading to battle, Su Sheng let go of it despite the pang.
Zhù Qingjun said, “Keep it for yourself.”
“It’s too small for me now. If you come across a bigger one later, bring it back for me. And if there’s a good weapon, save that too — and if there’s…”
“Fine, fine, fine — I’ll take it, all right?” Zhù Qingjun stopped arguing with him and accepted the leather armor. Seeing the beautiful design on it — two bulls with locked horns, muscles standing out in powerful ridges — she was genuinely pleased.
Su Sheng happily pressed the armor on Zhù Qingjun, then squinted sideways at Bai Ling. “You’d better listen well to General Zhù’s every word!”
Bai Ling had no idea what this Lord Su was suffering from, but he answered pleasantly enough: “Yes.”
Su Sheng’s mood sank further. He saw Zhù Qingjun on her way, and nearly picked up his brush to write a letter of complaint to Zhù Ying. He had just raised it when a local soldier came to report: “A messenger has arrived from the other side.”
Su Sheng set aside Zhù Qingjun’s private affairs at once. “Bring him in.”
The messenger brought a letter from Chen Fang seeking to ask Zhù Ying about the situation with the Western Tribes. Su Sheng did not dare take this lightly and sent a person to escort the messenger to the command office.
Zhù Ying was deliberating over the memorial to be submitted to the court. She no longer handled matters directly herself — only the final review. Specific details she left for the younger people. What she managed personally was the correspondence between the command office and the court.
The Council of State had asked about the Western Tribes; Zhù Ying had to reply. What had been discovered through investigation could not be fully disclosed. Zhù Ying also added some detail about “tribal people repeatedly raiding the border, moving fast on all sides, difficult to pursue” — and therefore having no choice but to fortify positions and hold steady. As for the Western Tribes’ vast and sparsely inhabited territory: trying to find a tribe to fight a decisive battle and risk the escort getting lost along the way — that sort of thing.
She also offered some information about how the various tribes under Kun Da Chi were not a monolithic bloc, and in the same document made her position clear to the court: she had already suspended the trade at the border exchange market for iron and salt. She then petitioned the court — since she was no longer selling salt to the Western Tribes, would the court allow her to sell it in the court’s own territory? It was not as though they intended to starve her.
She also appended a separate page criticizing the court for selling salt to its people at ruinously high prices that were also of poor quality — the salt tax revenues had seen no notable increase, so the court might as well let the people benefit a little.
The memorial was complete. Chen Fang’s letter also arrived at that moment.
Zhù Ying called over Zhù Tong: “Come here and copy these pages for me.” She gave the copy to Chen Fang.
The military academy was under preparation. Huajie had already selected ten boys and ten girls from among the students. They lived in the dormitory next to the command office and, like Zhù Tong and Lin Ge, worked half-time while continuing their studies. Zhù Ying sometimes gave them assignments, and they sometimes ran errands alongside the command office’s regular attendants.
They were all around eleven or twelve years old — half-grown, spirited, and full of energy, and a constant source of headaches for the command office staff.
The staff had all come to Zhù Ying’s side approaching adulthood: their reading was passable, their arithmetic passable, and they had done more in the way of administrative and guard duties. A few among them who were good at calculation had ended up with Wu Ren and Xiang An; another, who loved astronomy and mathematics, had been placed under the Rites Department, perpetually torn between working out problems on his own and being dragged off to lecture at the school. Watching these lively young ones, headache aside, he felt a twinge of envy: if only he could be younger — just this sort of age would be exactly right.
Zhù Tong finished copying the document quickly. Zhù Ying scanned it. “Not bad. Do you know what it means?”
Zhù Tong said quietly, “Don’t reveal your wealth? Don’t promise more than you can deliver, in case something unexpected comes up?”
“There’s something to that. Take it out and send it.”
“Yes.”
From then until autumn, two more dispatches arrived from the court ordering Zhù Ying to hold the western frontier firmly. As autumn and winter approached, the western border commanders grew restive again, and the number of people they sent to harass the frontier had noticeably increased. Zhù Ying then dispatched Zhù Qingjun to Western Pass to guard against unforeseen developments. If nothing out of the ordinary happened, the coming season was one the opposing side traditionally favored for raiding.
When the border commanders pressed more aggressively, Zhù Ying ordered the exchange market closed.
The western border commanders showed no particular anxiety. In situations like this they had their own long-established pattern of response: simply keep fighting. Raiding paid off whenever something was taken. If the court grew angry and closed the market, asking for peace outright would not do — a major battle was needed first, something that made the court feel real pain. Then some soft words could be offered, acknowledging the court’s authority and calling themselves subjects — no shame in it. After that came the request to reopen the market. Usually the market would be reopened.
This was the cycle, and each time it played out the same way.
The court, for its part, was usually quite cooperative. It too preferred to achieve by trade whatever could be achieved by trade. When the nation was strong and prosperous, the court would launch “civilizing” campaigns into distant territories. Winning meant gaining tributary states and loosely administered regions; when they could not push further they built passes and defensive positions, then opened trade markets.
This time, however, things seemed a little different. After a year of standoff, Zhù Ying received no news from the court about reopening the exchange market. The second year, fighting broke out again.
The second outbreak was not entirely unexpected. The first year the two sides had been at full tension, and things quieted somewhat in spring and summer. Come autumn and winter, it started again.
Zhù Ying did not know the specifics of the court’s losses — only that things in the campaign were not going well for the court. On one such day, Lin Ge came striding quickly into the study holding a document: “Elder! A report from North Pass: someone called Zhao Zhen has arrived at the pass, and Su General has sent people to escort him here. They’re on the way.”