Zhù Ying had never liked wasting words in meetings. When she had said what needed to be said, everyone habitually dispersed. Even those at the administration who wished to speak further with Zhù Ying could find her easily enough afterward — there was no need to linger conspicuously when everyone was present.

Lu Danqing and the others were light-footed and quick, and left promptly. Huajie, being older, was somewhat slower to move, but she had apprentices and students with her, and Su Zhe and Lang Rui and the others, when they saw her, would lend a hand and support her — and so she made her way smoothly out of the administrative room as well. Only Zhao Zhen walked behind everyone else, visibly weighted down with thoughts.

The words “permitting the gentry of each locality to recruit able-bodied men and conduct military training, to establish fortified settlements for self-protection” — whenever he thought of them, his spirits sank. In his view, this measure was on a par with Yao Chenying’s halting of the “suppression of land seizures” — a policy of equal ruinousness. Not all major policies could be implemented and produce obvious effects, but these two could — and the effects would be bad ones.

Zhao Zhen felt that familiar sense of helplessness again. Everyone could see the situation was turning dire; everyone could see this was the wrong course of action; everyone could see what the consequences would be — and yet no one could do anything about it. He himself had made his efforts, and they had amounted to nothing.

Sticky as glue. The phrase came to him unbidden — one he had often heard Zhù Ying say in the past, though since coming to Annan he’d heard it rarely.

He walked a few steps, then turned back around, his eyes fixing on Zhù Ying, wanting to speak yet holding back.

Zhù Ying said: “Say what you have to say.”

Zhao Zhen asked: “Teacher, you seem never to feel anger about these things. Why is that? This realm also contains the fruits of your labor. You once made it better. Now, faced with a decree like this, knowing full well it will become a seed of future disaster — you…”

To be unmoved as a mountain collapses before you, to not blink as startled deer leap to your left — this was an extraordinarily rare quality, and only with such composure could one handle affairs with clear judgment. But Zhù Ying’s composure seemed to have gone too far — as though she were without feeling altogether. That was not right.

Zhù Ying said: “Why should I wait until a decree is placed before me to begin to panic? To call this decree the cause is incorrect — it is rather the result. And this result will itself become the cause of future evils. Is the inability of the regular army to fight, their being too few, something that first appeared today? Hmm?”

Zhao Zhen opened his mouth. Some of the spirit he had recovered in Annan these past days wilted by half. He said bitterly: “Then — are the people of this realm about to begin their ordeal?”

Zhù Ying looked at him with something like pity. Zhao Zhen was a man of public spirit — his feelings toward the dynasty were not entirely rooted in the court’s ability to make him one of the privileged. And so she had a little more patience with him, even as the words she chose grew harsher. “Begin? How far along are we yet? The dynasty can still collect its taxes, still conscript men for a bloody fight with the Western Tribes, and by current appearances has not fallen behind. The ordeal hasn’t even begun — this is only the foretelling of it. If you give yourself over to sorrow now, wait and see how much more grief you’ll have ahead.”

Zhao Zhen took a long breath and asked: “In the end, it cannot be avoided — is that so?”

Zhù Ying said: “The way of heaven is constant. We need only do our utmost. Having this fire in your blood is a good thing. Just don’t let it rush up into your head and addle it. Calm yourself, attend to what you are able to do — and then you’ll have no regrets.”

Zhao Zhen said: “When I was young, the realm was in such good shape — how much we longed for the capital! Setting out, going north, and what abundance and prosperity we found there. Arriving in the capital, I thought I had reached the realm of the immortals. Now I have yet to die, and I’ve already seen it grow decrepit. I don’t have your steadiness of purpose, Teacher. My heart is in torment.”

Zhù Ying said: “If your spirits are low, it might be good to go home for a visit. I expect they’ll know of this decree by now, and that it will stir something up. When you go down from the mountains, take a message out with you: even though the decree exists, act according to one’s means. Guard against future trouble, but don’t let the words ‘future trouble’ cause one to neglect the livelihood of the present.”

Something in Zhao Zhen’s spirits finally improved. He thought for a moment and said: “I’ll transfer the work on my hands over to Su Zhe and the others, and — ah — two, no, three days hence I’ll set out.”

Zhù Ying said: “Off with you.”

After Zhao Zhen left, the administrative room did not stay quiet for long. Though Zhù Ying no longer managed trivial affairs, there were still many things that required her review. Everyone at the administration was busy; with autumn harvest time upon them, and Zhù Qingjun still holding firm to the west — everything connected to that was a matter of “military and state urgency,” requiring Zhù Ying’s final word.

On top of that, aside from the dynastic decree, Chen Fang had sent another letter.

Their correspondence had never been interrupted. After Zhao Zhen’s arrival in Annan and his account of many affairs at court, Zhù Ying had not simply listened — she cross-referenced it against reports from Zhù Qingtian’s side, and then wrote directly to Chen Fang asking him plainly. She was not one to be coy.

Chen Fang was reasonably candid with her. He hadn’t known about Chen Meng’s sheltering of Zhao Zhen, but on the matter of Luo Jiaxiu and the like, he was well informed. Zhù Ying had weighed all three sources of intelligence before submitting that particular memorial to the dynasty. Who owed what favor to whom at this point was unclear.

Chen Fang would occasionally write to ask about certain matters of administration, and Zhù Ying would always give him her answers.

This time, what Chen Fang wrote was a very frank personal question: given the state of the dynasty, should his family continue on the path of officialdom as before, or should the brothers divide up their roles — some remaining at court as officials, others going to a particular locality to build a base of power? Or simply have someone return to the old hometown and organize a militia there? Or was this all still premature, better to wait until his sons were grown men before dispatching them home?

Zhù Ying tapped the letter paper. Chen Fang was already thinking along these lines. Though he was among the more outstanding of his contemporaries, he was surely not the only one who could read the signs.

Zhù Ying considered briefly, picked up her brush, and wrote back. She suggested he discuss the matter thoroughly with Chen Meng, and advised against the Chen brothers and their sons all gathering in the capital — having some people spread out across the various localities was not a bad arrangement.

Next came word from Zhù Qingjun’s camp: another battle had been fought with the tribal general, but the pursuit had run into difficulty again. What Annan wanted — a truly definitive resolution — was probably not possible. This situation was the same as the one they had encountered during the “western expedition”: it was not a matter of “wherever the army marches, that land becomes ours,” but rather “we must secure a position suitable for defending against the enemy, capable of blocking the enemy’s advance — only then is the territory behind it truly ours.”

The situation Zhù Qingjun had run into was this: the best defensive position she could rely on was the Western Pass. Going further — she could win, but could not hold the territory; the enemy could retreat, and once she withdrew, the enemy would return. The cycle repeated and consumed resources endlessly, until one side could no longer endure.

There was another approach: strike on their own initiative, go directly for the enemy’s stronghold, inflict devastating casualties on their forces. But Annan could not sustain such an operation. Provisions, horses, and people — all insufficient.

Zhù Qingjun could only hold her position in person and grind it out with the tribal general — fighting until the tribal general felt the pain and conceded. Then both sides would open a limited trading post, and this round would be concluded — a replica of the back-and-forth between the tribal overlord and the dynasty.

What made Zhù Ying sigh was not this situation — she had anticipated it long ago. What made her sigh was a slip of paper tucked inside a letter from Bai Ling: Zhù Qingjun had been wounded.

Zhù Ying thought for a moment, rose, and went out. She intended to find Huajie and squeeze another couple of physicians to send to Zhù Qingjun. Huajie had finished the meeting and was attending to some official business in the Rites Department, not yet having returned to the school.

Zhù Ying waved a hand, not letting anyone announce her. Huajie, however, was a perceptive person — a large shadow filled the doorway, blocking the light. Huajie narrowed her eyes, and saw it was Zhù Ying. “Why are you here?” she said, and began to rise — then crashed back into her chair halfway up.

Zhù Ying was startled; Jiang Bao was startled; several of the clerks actually hopped in place, looking ridiculous.

Zhù Ying’s reflexes were faster than all of them. She rushed forward and helped Huajie up. “What happened?”

“Stood up too fast — I’m fine,” Huajie said. “What brings you here?”

Zhù Ying said: “I’m sending Zhao Zhen home to visit his family, so I came to let you know.”

Huajie sat a while to recover, then said slowly: “Oh, he should go home and have a look. It’s connected to today’s business, isn’t it? Fulu County will be affected too, I imagine?”

Huajie pressed her palms on the table and rose slowly. She said reassuringly: “The Rites Department and the school can still manage. He’s been doing a great deal of work these past days — with him gone, I fear you’ll have a bit more on your hands. Ah, women always end up at a disadvantage. Little Sister has seen more of the world than most, but opportunities haven’t come to her the way they have to Zhao Zhen. You don’t notice it normally, but the moment you compare — you can see the gap in experience.”

“Now I have all of Annan for women to gain experience in,” Zhù Ying said. “Don’t worry about it. Oh, and — give me two more physicians; Qingjun is over there, and she can never have too many. She’s been asking.”

Huajie said: “All right. A’Yan—” She stopped mid-sentence, feeling unwell again, and slowly sank back into her chair. She asked a small girl to fetch a register. On it were the names of students she was most proud of. She let Zhù Ying choose.

Zhù Ying said to A’Yan: “Bring the register and come with me. We won’t disturb your teacher — let her rest. A’Bao.”

Jiang Bao snapped to attention: “Here! I’ll take care of Auntie!”

A’Yan was a plain-looking girl — the same age as Zhù Tong and Lin Ge, thirteen or fourteen, neither grown nor quite still a child. She had been selected on her academic merits, yet among the twenty-two students, she had no distinguishing quality; every task assigned to her was completed, but she never excelled. In a room full of people, one might forget she was there. She silently followed Zhù Ying back to the administrative room. Zhù Ying had chosen two names and asked Lin Ge to fill in the reassignment orders. Zhù Ying looked A’Yan up and down once more — and then the girl suddenly dropped to her knees: “Mistress, there is something I wish to ask of you.”

Zhù Ying had called her along precisely to ask in detail about Huajie’s condition. Zhù Ying and Huajie, though they both lived at the administration and ate together every day, had both grown busy of late. Zhù Ying had always assumed that Huajie’s increasingly slow movements and diminishing appetite were simply due to age. Huajie was herself a physician; Zhù Ying had not been inclined to question her judgment. But today Huajie had not seemed quite right.

Yet it was A’Yan who spoke first.

Zhù Ying always had somewhat more patience with the young: “What is it?”

“My fellow students all say that if we work hard, we’ll be sent to various posts to serve as officials. I — I — I don’t want to go somewhere else. I only want to stay in the Rites Department and teach at the school. Is that possible?”

Zhù Ying asked: “Why do you want to teach?”

“I have no outstanding abilities, only a little patience. Being a teacher suits me well. Teacher also often says that Annan lacks people of learning; since it lacks them, I’ll go and help cultivate them. I don’t think of working in the Rites Department as being an official — I think of it as teaching. I can’t ride into battle, and I’m not as good at official governance as my fellow students. But — but I can still share the burden for Teacher! Mistress, Teacher… Teacher is very tired. I don’t want to move to another place. I only want to stay at the school. Is that allowed?”

This girl speaks quite fluently, Zhù Ying thought. She said: “You’re thirteen this year. What age students could you teach? What can you actually accomplish? I’ll take note of your request. Whether or not it’s approved depends on what you yourself prove capable of. When your scholarship is solid and your work is thorough, then I can let you stay at the school.”

A’Yan let out a breath of relief and bowed deeply: “Thank you for your gracious permission, Mistress!”

Zhù Ying steadied her as she rose, then asked abruptly: “What is wrong with your teacher?”

A’Yan’s expression shifted twice, and then she said quietly: “She — she gets tired easily. Sometimes while speaking, she… she falls asleep mid-sentence.”

She doesn’t do that in front of me — she must be forcing herself to stay alert, Zhù Ying thought. She was also somewhat vexed that no one else at the administration had told her. She said to A’Yan: “I’m entrusting your teacher to you. Take good care of her, and tell me everything — every detail, no matter how small.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying had her go and summon Zhù Tong and Lin Ge, and said to Elder Sister Hu: “Now you’ve lost another student.”

Elder Sister Hu said with mild indifference: “She was never cut out for martial training. But when the Elder Lady says everyone needs physical conditioning, I take them along. What about Zhù Tong and Lin Ge?”

“Zhù Tong has the gift; Lin Ge has the diligence. Those two I chose and kept close. I won’t lay any claim to them. I think Little Five shows promise.”

“Fine. When the time comes for a proper ceremonial feast for taking on a disciple, let me know.”

“Good.”

When Lin Ge and Zhù Tong were summoned by A’Yan, both found it peculiar. “Why is it you coming to call us?” A’Yan was not the sort who would be at Zhù Ying’s side, so why was it her?

The two asked repeatedly. A’Yan finally said quietly: “You’re both at Teacher’s side all the time, and Teacher hasn’t been feeling well lately. You two should…”

Oh no. These two — one had lost both parents and helped raise younger siblings; one’s father was dead and mother had remarried and left her in her uncle’s household. Both had trained their powers of observation by necessity. But Huajie had forbidden them from making a scene. By their common understanding, for a woman of Huajie’s age to have such symptoms was fairly normal. She was sixty — she couldn’t be expected to have the vigor of a twenty-year-old.

The two were marched to stand before Zhù Ying’s desk, heads bowed in self-reproach. They were also afraid that Zhù Ying would think they cared only for their own future prospects and had given no thought to Huajie. The fabric of their garments stuck to their backs with sweat.

Zhù Ying did not continue to reproach them, but only said: “Pay more attention to her going forward.”

The two felt as though pardoned from execution. Zhù Ying quietly let out a long sigh. Huajie was truly getting old…

That sigh fell on their ears and wound its way through them, drilling down until their hearts felt sore and heavy with it.

Zhù Qingxue’s arrival rescued the two of them. Zhù Ying, upon seeing Zhù Qingxue holding documents, let the two of them leave first. Zhù Tong, passing Zhù Qingxue, stole a glance at the documents in her hands — they were internal Annan documents.

Annan’s official documents bore different seals from the dynasty’s, and their format also differed from the dynasty’s. To put it diplomatically, Annan “did not presume to go beyond the dynasty,” and so the documents were slightly smaller in size than the dynasty’s official paperwork. In the upper-left corner of the cover, different patterns and symbols were printed according to the document’s level of importance.

This one appeared to be a fairly routine document.

In passing, Zhù Tong gave Zhù Qingxue a fist-in-palm salute and left the administrative room.

Zhù Qingxue placed the document on Zhù Ying’s desk: “From Bozhou.”

Zhù Ying broke the seal. Inside was word that Zhù Lian’s wife, He Yueming, intended to arrive in Xizhou ahead of Zhù Lian to pay her respects to Zhù Ying. He Yueming was not from Annan, nor from Jiyuan Prefecture. She had traveled via the new postal road, coming from the north to Annan. Annan was still considered “miasma country,” and few were willing to relocate there. He Yueming had come because her father was a merchant.

She was her family’s only daughter. After much deliberation, she had decided to follow her father to Annan. He Yueming’s father was a man of considerable assets — nothing extraordinary by central plains standards, but quite substantial in Annan.

Originally, even when it came to marriage, Zhù Lian’s thinking had been to “form connections for the Teacher and cultivate influence.” He Yueming had not been the sort of match he would have considered. But He Yueming had her own reasoning: she discovered that Annan was indeed as rumored — women could hold office, and the children of merchants were not barred from taking examinations to enter officialdom.

So there was nothing to hesitate over. She could read and write, and she could calculate accounts. In the world outside the mountains, the best a woman like her could aspire to was “mistress of a household.” In Annan, she wanted to become an official.

The examination for Annan’s official appointments could never draw enough candidates. Every prefecture and county was clamoring to Zhù Ying for people; Zhù Ying had barely scraped together enough for one session. This time, Zhù Ying placed one condition on eligibility for office — anyone could sit the examination, but to actually take up a post, one must move one’s family to Annan within a set time. Parents, spouse, and children — at least some of them must come. People from outside the mountains serving alone in Annan usually did not fare well in their careers.

Taking office in Annan also borrowed from the dynasty’s experience: officials served in localities other than their home regions, and were not permitted to “compete with the people for profit.”

The He family thought it over at length and went through considerable difficulty before deciding to relocate as a household. He Yueming’s father had chosen to settle in Xizhou, but He Yueming had been posted to Bozhou, placed as a teacher in the prefectural school. Forwarding letters, adding to household furnishings — various small matters fell to Zhù Lian. How they had come to be fond of each other, Zhù Ying had no idea, but at any rate Zhù Lian was getting married, and Zhù Ying had given him a wedding gift accordingly.

Now He Yueming was coming, and Zhù Ying was rather pleased — Zhao Zhen was heading home, and the Rites Department needed workers; Huajie must not be worn out!

Zhù Ying said with a smile: “Since she’s coming here on her own initiative, she needn’t stay in a guesthouse — come stay here at the house! We’re all practically family!”

Zhù Qingxue didn’t know Zhù Ying’s calculations, but was genuinely happy for Zhù Lian: “You’re truly good to your students, Mistress!”

“Of course.”

He Yueming was a fair-skinned, slender young woman, seven years younger than Zhù Lian. Due to her background and circumstances, she was considered past the typical marrying age — by the time she wed Zhù Lian, she had long since ceased to be an unworldly young girl.

Entering the administration compound and seeing Zhù Ying, she immediately hiked up her skirt and broke into a run. When she got close, she let the skirt drop, extended both arms, wrapped them around Zhù Ying’s arm, and called out with a smile: “Mistress~~~”

The whole sequence of movements ran together like water. Though she was also a school teacher, she was nothing like A’Yan — who had declared she would stay in teaching forever — in manner or appearance.

Zhù Ying smiled warmly: “Yes~~~” She raised her other hand and patted He Yueming on the arm.

“Your complexion is wonderful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Hee hee.”

Zhù Ying said: “You’ve come to Annan without a bad reaction to the climate — that’s a relief to me.”

“I have a strong constitution.”

“Was the long journey tiring?”

He Yueming shook her head vigorously.

“Then tomorrow you can go and cover a few classes at the school,” Zhù Ying said.

He Yueming laughed: “All right! I’ll ask a certain auntie what I should teach.”

“She’s not at the school right now — she’s at the clinic. I’ll have A’Yan tell you.”

“Perfect.”

Zhù Ying gave a look; Elder Sister Du stepped forward and said to He Yueming: “Madam, please follow me.”

He Yueming didn’t fuss about her husband not being there, and settled cheerfully into the administration compound. The next day she first went back to her father’s house for a visit, and then went directly to the school. Her strengths and Zhao Zhen’s were quite different, but she managed to handle various other courses adequately. Annan did not place much emphasis on the rites and institutional regulations that Zhao Zhen knew so well; comparatively little of that was taught to begin with.

She covered classes for a while; then Zhao Su, Zhù Lian, and others arrived in Xizhou one after another, escorting tribute taxes in for review. They all had their own views on the decree “permitting gentry to recruit able-bodied men and establish fortified settlements for self-protection.” Zhao Su believed that Wuzhou should add some troops, since the gentry of Jiyuan Prefecture would certainly use the opportunity to raise a force of their own.

“Regardless of whether the Jiyuan gentry are friendly or hostile, Annan’s safety cannot be left to other people’s good conscience,” Zhao Su said — with no apparent concern for the fact that his own family were Fulu gentry.

Zhù Lian believed the northern pass’s defenses should be strengthened.

Zhù Ying said: “I’ve already ordered Su Sheng — every evening at curfew, have the bridge planks pulled up.”

For now, all Annan could do was keep grinding against the Western Tribes while watching how the situation at large unfolded.

Zhao Zhen returned slightly later than the others, bearing a request from the Fulu gentry: the local gentry wished to recruit able-bodied men, but on one hand did not know how to train troops, and on the other were short of weapons. For guarding a household or escorting merchant caravans, they were fine; but if they faced actual armed conflict, they feared they would not hold out. They hoped that if danger arose, Annan might offer assistance.

Zhao Su said: “Pay in grain, provide reparations, pay for the hardship — that’s how it works.”

Zhao Zhen said: “That goes without saying.”

Zhao Su said: “Then I have nothing more to say.”

Zhù Ying said to Zhao Zhen: “I’ve agreed to it. Write them a reply. You’ve had quite a journey — take two days off.”

Zhao Zhen’s color looked somewhat better than when he had left. Seeing that the prefects had all come and the administration was busy, he said there was no need to rest; he would report for duty tomorrow.

Zhù Ying saw that his spirits were reasonably good — people usually fared better when they had work to do — and agreed.

The very next morning, Zhao Zhen arrived at the administration on time, heard the day’s work arrangements, returned to his post, and began attending to business.

Unexpected, the very first piece of business that morning was a thunderbolt that left his mind ringing: the Crown Prince had died.