The vast majority of people in the military administration had no idea who Zhao Zhen was. Lin Ge had no way of knowing his background either, but since Su Sheng had sent an urgent dispatch, she treated it as urgent business. Her mind was still turning it over: Who is this person? Is he really that important? The surname Zhao?

Zhù Ying calmly accepted the document. Su Sheng had written only briefly — Zhao Zhen had resigned his office and returned home, and from the look of things, he was not well.

Zhù Ying picked up her brush and wrote a note: “Have the guesthouse prepare a room.”

“Yes.” Lin Ge took the note, tucked it into an envelope, and went to have the guesthouse make ready.

Having seen to all of this, Lin Ge’s curiosity remained unsatisfied — she kept wondering what sort of person this Zhao Zhen was, and calculated how many days it would be before he arrived.

Three days later, two horses escorted a carriage into the city of Xizhou. The riders wore livery and carried letter-seals and official documents; they arrived before the gates of the military administration. Their waist-tablets were verified — they were men of the Northern Pass, matching the livery on their persons — and the gatekeepers said, “Wait a moment,” then went in to report: Zhao Zhen had arrived.

Zhao Zhen’s first stop in Xizhou was not the already-prepared guesthouse, but the military administration itself. He stepped down from the carriage, narrowed his eyes, and surveyed the entirety of Xitou City. His expression seemed caught between grief and joy, so much so that the young guards of the administration found this elder a thoroughly strange figure. Zhao Zhen’s attire was utterly unlike that of Annan — though the journey had creased his fine silk garments, one could still plainly see they were silks.

His belt was hung with several ornamental pieces, and a jade hairpin was still tucked in his hair.

The young guards fancied themselves discreet in their staring, but they were not so unnoticed as they believed. Zhao Zhen was sunk in dejection and had no energy to take issue with them; he simply waited until a voice from inside called out: “The Mistress is asking Official Zhao to come in.”

The young guard could not help taking one more look at Zhao Zhen. Surnamed Zhao, a former official, arrived from the capital — in the military administration, that would earn someone a little extra attention.

Zhao Zhen paid them no mind and followed the escort inside. The administration was even larger than the chancellor’s residence in the capital that Zhù Ying had once occupied. The furnishings were nothing alike, yet the moment he stepped through the gate, it was as though he had been transported back to that old chancellor’s residence.

In those days the chancellor’s residence had been full of distinguished guests; the contemporaries who came and went had shared his interests and ambitions. No matter how many insufferable people there were at court, at the chancellor’s residence, everything had been vital and full of forward momentum. In those days, although people he found tiresome had vexed him from time to time until he’d wanted to strike them, he had never once doubted the future.

Back then he had believed he was working toward a great commonwealth that would emulate and restore the governance of the Three Dynasties of antiquity — that everything would come right in the end. He had been utterly confident, even on days when he had just been made difficulties in the offices.

Later, that feeling had disappeared. The difficulties still came; the exhaustion and anger still came; worry had been added on top of it all — yet the trust in what was to come had gone.

How strikingly similar was this administration before him to that old chancellor’s residence? The people moving about were mostly young, men and women alike, all carrying about them a certain vitality.

The escorting guard glanced at him but did not urge him on. Zhao Zhen came back to himself first and nodded to the guard. The guard thought: This is probably another person whose circumstances have not gone well. Since the Mistress had issued the “Call for Worthy Men,” there had always been people arriving with just this sort of gloomy air. He had supposed that someone personally escorted by General Su would be different from the others…

People always harbored a certain prejudice toward southern, far-flung lands. Mention “miasma country,” and they would assume the inhabitants were savages — if not quite eating their food raw, then at least ignorant of everything. Given the “Call for Worthy Men,” it was only those with nowhere else to turn, or those looking for an opportunistic gamble, who would come. Those who did arrive usually carried with them a faint air of condescension, and their manner of speech was not without the flavor of lectures and pointed criticism.

It was thoroughly wearisome.

The young guard had long suffered from this type, and he could only maintain the most basic courtesy toward Zhao Zhen as a result.

The two of them walked to the outside of the study. The young guard handed Zhao Zhen off to Zhù Tong, who was on duty in the small room nearby, and then headed back to the front. Zhù Tong stepped forward and bowed to Zhao Zhen: “Are you Official Zhao? The Mistress has already been waiting for you a while — this way, please.”

Zhao Zhen’s appearance could not be called good. Zhù Tong thought: Has something happened in the capital?

Zhao Zhen looked at the young girl’s face, still carrying traces of childlike innocence, and cupped his hands in a bow. “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

Zhù Tong escorted him into the study, announcing as they entered: “Mistress, Official Zhao has arrived.”

Zhao Zhen promptly dropped to his knees and burst into loud weeping, his voice filled with grievance and pain: “Teacher!”

Oh! Something significant must have happened.

Zhù Ying said: “You’ve come back all of a sudden — there must be a reason. You have always been steady; whatever this is, it’s clearly no small matter. Sit down and tell me slowly.”

Zhao Zhen had no desire to rise. He shifted back and sat where he was, as though he’d melted into the floor tiles.

Zhù Ying casually pulled over a chair and placed it in front of him, then sat down herself. “All right, let’s dispense with formality and speak plainly. Just tell me everything — I’m listening. Bring him some tea and refreshments.”

Zhù Tong darted out. After a moment, she carried in a low table; Lin Ge appeared with a tiered snack box in one hand and a pot of tea in the other; and behind them both came a boy of similar age, cradling a large basin filled with water. All three were stealing glances at Zhao Zhen. Zhù Ying said: “Go write your lessons.”

The three of them slunk reluctantly out.

Hearing the words “write your lessons,” something stirred in Zhao Zhen’s heart — a jumble of feelings he couldn’t name — and without knowing why, he let out a sudden laugh, snorting out a runaway drop of moisture from his nose in the process. He quickly wiped his nose, washed his face, dried his hands, and tipped his head back to look at Zhù Ying. “Teacher,” he said, “this dynasty, I fear, is about to be ruined.”

Zhù Ying looked down at him. Zhao Zhen was of much the same age as herself, yet he appeared far older and more haggard. His temperament could be called single-minded — few misgivings, a comfortable family background — and it had given him a certain guileless quality. And yet he was not like Lin Feng, who could not know pain until he had been beaten. At first glance, his manner seemed younger than his contemporaries.

The Zhao Zhen before her now had hair and beard that were half white. His face looked like a gnarled root carving. His back was bent, yet he held his neck stiffly upright — seen from the side, his silhouette must have been a strange one.

Zhù Ying said: “The way of heaven is constant; for dynasties to be ruined is not unusual. But the dynasty still has its foundations. The Grand Council still possesses a measure of insight; the hundreds of officials are not all useless. To speak of ruin now is too soon. As for the Western Tribes — the dynasty prepared for them long ago. The commanders stationed at the northern territories and western frontier are in their prime years right now. Why should you panic?”

Zhao Zhen shook his head repeatedly: “That is only the surface. The inner workings are already rotten! Luo — Luo Jiaxiu — has been dismissed!”

“What? Him? He is a capable man. The Grand Council would not go so far as to make things difficult for him, surely?”

Luo Jiaxiu was an official who, in the days when Zhù Ying had been stationed in the north, she had transferred there to serve as a local magistrate. He knew Zhù Lian and the others; he had also met Zhao Zhen. Zhù Ying had once given Chen Meng and Zheng Xi a list of names, and Luo Jiaxiu had been on it. As long as he did not actively involve himself in factional struggles, neither Chen nor Zheng should have made things difficult for him. A man willing to do conscientious work in a local post — the chancellors should have had the magnanimity to tolerate him.

Zhao Zhen said: “The matter began with the Western Tribes…”

All in all, the dynasty and the Western Tribes had enjoyed roughly ten years of peace before the fighting — large-scale campaigns and minor skirmishes alike — resumed. Compared to that conflict, the friction along Annan’s borders was nothing more than a brawl, the numbers of men fielded on both sides and the ferocity with which they struck being incomparable.

The dynasty still had substantial reserves. Yao Chenying was a man of ability as well, and had managed things competently. The previous year had been sustained; this spring they fought again; and now, with autumn approaching, another major campaign seemed imminent. The current commanding general was nothing like Zhù Ying in her day — she had been without equal in civil administration and logistical transport, minimizing the burden on the dynasty nearly to nothing. The present commanders, though competent enough to lead troops in the field themselves, were giving Yao Chenying no end of headaches with their consumption of provisions.

Zhù Ying said: “Even so, the waste need not be that great. Yao Chenying is an expert; the generals cannot deceive him too badly. Even if the regular troops have grown slack again, the sons of the western frontier are not without fight. Why would Luo Jiaxiu involve himself in this?”

“It wasn’t that. It started when someone proposed sending more troops — reassigning Wen Yue and his forces. But His Majesty refused. With no other choice, someone proposed using foreign-tribal soldiers. The northern territories of course opposed it!

“Luo Jiaxiu submitted a memorial stating that the forces under Yao Jingxia — under Wen Yue’s command — are all men of the northern territories, and skilled in mounted archery, so reassigning them would be more suitable.

“His Majesty grew angry and accused him of presumptuously interfering in major policy, of speaking wildly and without restraint. Then people began fabricating charges against Luo Jiaxiu, and the Censorate sent men to investigate — by whatever means, they assembled a whole basket of offenses. It was doubtless also an opportunity to settle old accounts and clear other people’s slates. Luo Jiaxiu was dismissed and ordered to return to his hometown; those he had appealed on behalf of were demoted along with him.

“Setting aside men of such wholehearted loyalty and not putting them to use — truly, I cannot fathom what His Majesty is thinking!”

Zhù Ying said: “Fool.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The western frontier may be critical, but nothing is more important than our Emperor’s own security.” Zhù Ying said quietly.

Zhao Zhen stared. “Wha — what?”

“Count it yourself: aside from Wen Yue and Yao Jingxia and their troops, who else among the palace guards can be trusted? With a Crown Prince like that one, he cannot even rely on his own son — his heart must be deeply troubled.”

Trust comes down to two things: loyalty and capability. The troops under Wen Yue and Yao Jingxia were newly trained, built on a solid foundation, with sufficient rations and pay — they could fight; they were willing to fight. Yao Jingxia had no faction behind him; his promotions in recent years had been rapid; the Emperor trusted him.

“But they cannot bring foreign-tribal soldiers into the campaign!” Zhao Zhen said urgently. “The tribal troops are not bound by any obligation — as long as they’re paid enough, regular troops can fight perfectly well! Why tribal soldiers at all? If tribal cavalry ride south, they must pass through the northern territories, and that scene would be…simply…” The Crown Prince — that Crown Prince — was more stomach-turning than any tribal horde!

Zhù Ying’s brow furrowed. “And Lei Li A’tu has agreed to this?”

“I don’t know. I made inquiries but heard nothing definite. I fear it cannot be far off. I also wanted to lend my voice in support of Luo Jiaxiu, but Chen Chancellor pulled my memorial from the pile and gave me a thorough dressing-down.” Zhao Zhen was crying again. “Chen Chancellor was genuinely looking out for me! The dynasty ought to have dispatched the forces of Wen Yue and Yao Jingxia to the western frontier! If the Chancellor does not plan for the dynasty’s foundations but instead busies himself with trifles, and if a man like Luo Jiaxiu cannot be tolerated by the dynasty, then there is nothing more for me in this dynasty. So I resigned and came home.

“I only wanted to come and give you one word of warning, Teacher: the dynasty is no longer what it was. You will certainly have your own plan. You have governed Annan well — the ministers of the dynasty were quite mistaken. My mind is in turmoil; I don’t know what more to say. I’ll set out for home tomorrow.”

Zhù Ying said: “Returning home looking the way you do will only worry your family. Stay and rest for a few days first, recover some strength, and then go back — spare your family that fright.”

Zhao Zhen hesitated for a long while before saying: “Yes.”

Zhù Ying looked him over and asked: “Did you bring luggage?”

“I did — a little. I met famine refugees on the road and distributed it to them.”

He was now completely penniless, then? Zhù Ying said: “Understood. Who’s outside? Escort him to the guesthouse to rest.”

A head adorned with a long braid popped into the doorway: “I’m here! Official Zhao, this way please.”

Zhao Zhen climbed to his feet from the floor, shook out his legs, and limped after the long braid toward the exit. Passing through one of the gates, he encountered Su Zhe. Su Zhe had put on a round of weight since her days in the capital; behind her trailed a small secretary holding a stack of official documents. Su Zhe spoke first: “Oh? Isn’t that — what are you doing here? You look every bit your age now.”

Zhao Zhen mustered a weak smile. “You still look as young as ever. I’m heading home, so naturally I came to pay my respects to the Teacher first. You look busy — I won’t keep you.” He gestured toward the stack of documents behind Su Zhe, gave a nod, and walked slowly away.

Su Zhe’s thoughts moved like lightning. She turned on her heel and headed straight for Zhù Ying’s study. She had come by with a pretext to begin with. Arranging the guesthouse cost money; anything that cost money required approval slips; the accounting office had reviewed everything and compiled it together with recent expenses into a ledger that Su Zhe was required to go over. This was how she had learned of the matter. She knew Zhao Zhen, and had quietly kept an eye on things.

When Zhao Zhen entered the compound, she knew within moments.

She entered the study and quickly finished reporting official business. Zhù Ying pointed to one item: “This one is for expanding the school — approve another ten percent.”

“Yes.”

Su Zhe replied, then added: “Mistress, I ran into Zhao Zhen on the way here.”

“Oh?”

“His face — why does he look like a dead man?” Su Zhe said quietly.

Zhù Ying said: “It isn’t his face that’s dead. It’s his heart. As it happens, that means I can keep him here and put him to work.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Su Zhe asked humbly. “I always thought you didn’t particularly want to use men from outside the mountains. Even when we’re short of hands, you’ve only kept my brother and A’Lian and a few others; Gu Tong you’ve placed out in official posts. This Official Zhao was previously kept in the capital — so why do you want to keep him now?”

Zhù Ying said: “Because his heart is dead. He, Gu Tong — all those people were young back then, with the ambition to win a name and the aspiration to benefit all under heaven. When they followed me in those days, it wasn’t because of me — it was because of the ideals they held in their own hearts. To ask them to forsake everything without looking back and start over by following a woman? How could they?

“Gu Tong has more scheming in him, and he’s hard to read even now. Zhao Zhen is more straightforward, and even in the ruins of his ideals he still keeps a generous spirit. As for Luo Jiaxiu — he’s no woman, yet look what became of him. To be a loyal minister means having no power to manage the state or protect the people. But he can’t twist his mind around to being disloyal. Being a loyal minister has lost all its meaning for him.

“The path of striving for a name through the straight and honest road is gone. What else is left? He may as well come and do something that can truly benefit the world. Go and have a talk with him.”

Su Zhe said: “Yes.”

Zhù Ying said: “Tell him the autumn harvest is beginning, and that Zhao Su and A’Lian are coming as well — they can see some old friends.”

“Shall I bring Zhao Ji along?”

“Use your own judgment.”

“Um… if I want to persuade him to stay, I need to give him something definite to hold onto. What should I tell him he’d be doing?”

Zhù Ying said: “Aren’t we still short of people for the school? The way he looks right now, setting him to anything else would be beyond his spirit. Let him teach.”

Huajie was getting on in years as well; between managing the Rites Department and her inability to leave the medical clinic in peace, her energy was increasingly insufficient. She had a few apprentices and students to help her. The apprentices could manage — medicine in Annan had never been very advanced, so something was better than nothing. The students, however, were another matter; not one of them had received a proper classical education. But Zhao Zhen had.

Keeping him here, there was much that could be done. He had grown disillusioned with the dynasty, and had begun to doubt the so-called rites and propriety. He would be easy to employ.