The Northern Pass was considerably more peaceful than the Western Pass, and in her idle moments Zhù Tong sought instruction from Shan Hongfeng on various matters. Comfortable days passed quickly.

When she verified the identity of the courier, Zhù Tong had no idea what news he carried; he was not dressed in mourning, nor was he calling out anything in particular. Once his identity was confirmed, Zhù Tong dispatched two men to accompany him to the general’s office, thinking: there are official documents with him — the bulletin will be copied and distributed within two days at most, and then I will know.

Two days later, Zhù Tong still did not know what was in those documents, and no word had come out from the general’s office. A trace of unease settled in her heart, and she began paying closer attention to the people passing through, especially those traveling from north to south.

Several more days passed with no orders from the general’s office. Zhù Tong was crouching at the bridgehead when she casually stopped a neatly dressed middle-aged man and asked, “Has something been happening up north these past few days?”

Though the man wore a silk robe, his sleeves and trouser legs were cinched tightly and his hem was cut short, and he clasped his hands in a bow: “If the General will permit me to explain — the court and the barbarians have gone to war again!”

Zhù Tong replied blandly, “That is hardly good news.”

“Indeed it isn’t! In many places, grain prices have gone up, and the cost of labor has risen too.”

Zhù Tong said, “If you are buying grain from Annan, you must abide by the regulations.”

“This humble one understands perfectly, and in any case I am not in the grain trade — I deal in salt. When war breaks out, money flows, and the court starts raising salt, tea, and liquor taxes. Those goods are all in demand, and easier to transport than grain.”

Zhù Tong stretched a hand and pointed to the far bank: “Do they permit it over there?”

Annan’s grain trade was not entirely prohibited, but there were quotas; salt was equally restricted — the salt wells were all in the general’s office’s hands, and purchases could only be made from the office within an allotted quota. After buying here, merchants would need to cross over and sell on the other side. The only crossing was the iron-cable bridge. Carrying salt across?

The merchant gave a knowing smile: “We humble folk have our own methods.”

Zhù Tong said, “Bribes.”

“We’d love to make a gift to you, General, only you won’t accept them.”

Zhù Tong waved her hands at this: “Off with you, off with you.”

The merchant clasped his hands, called to his traveling companions, and tugged his donkey onward, heading south.

Zhù Tong beckoned a centurion over: “Keep an eye on those going from here northward. If the cargo is too large, inspect it without fail — the grain matter is not to be taken lightly.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Tong made another round of inspection, then went to find Su Sheng and Shan Hongfeng to report what she had just observed. Su Sheng said, “We only need to guard the Northern Pass well. The capital is full of corrupt people; as long as we don’t get involved, it will be fine.”

Shan Hongfeng said, “You two had best guard the pass first and wait for word from the general’s office; don’t act on your own initiative.”

Zhù Tong said, “Then I’ll write up these past few days’ events and submit them to the general’s office? Grain, salt, tea — we produce all of it here; oh, and sugar too. The general’s office needs to know about all this.”

Shan Hongfeng was a few years older than Zhù Tong, and the two had been spending a great deal of time together of late; she had formed quite a favorable impression of Zhù Tong. Borrowing the manner of her own teachers, Liu Kun and Liu Yan, she said to Zhù Tong, “The Western Prefecture is a major city with merchants and traders gathered from all over; there are surely many people doing business there. What you describe has most likely already been noticed in the Western Prefecture. But the Western Prefecture is the Western Prefecture, and the Northern Pass is the Northern Pass — different places, different situations. I expect the Elder also wants to know the conditions here at the Northern Pass. Write only about the Northern Pass for now, without venturing to discuss the entire territory. Simply request that the Elder take note of the other prefectures and counties.”

This advice carried the same spirit as what Zhù Tong had absorbed during her half-study-half-work days at the general’s office; she had not a word of objection, and went back to write it up and then bring it to Su Sheng to read. Su Sheng said, “You write better than I do — I never quite manage this sort of thing.” He then asked Shan Hongfeng to look it over as well.

Shan Hongfeng said, “When you want my opinion and advice, I can offer a little. But this is an official document; I should not be reading it.”

Su Sheng said, “Setting other things aside, this is a matter you are already party to. What is the harm in looking?”

Shan Hongfeng said, “If everyone knows everything, I could participate in all of this. But what if something goes wrong later — say, a leak — how would that be handled? Or if others in similar households followed the same example? Would that not create disorder?”

Su Sheng said, “I cannot argue with you. Ah-Tong, let it be as it is.”

Zhù Tong tucked the document away and left, leaving Shan Hongfeng behind to grab Su Sheng by the ear: “Ah-Tong is more sensible than you — how is it you’ve only grown taller? She brought it to you because she is under your command, not mine, and I am not under your authority either. The general’s office uses a clear division of duties, yet here you are muddling things together again? Your old bad habits are back?”

Su Sheng was lectured into complete silence. On a previous occasion Shan Hongfeng had audited his accounts and found problems, one root cause being his carelessness in many matters, for which he had been penalized. With that old business now raised again, he broke into a sweat on his back and grabbed his sword and got to his feet: “You are absolutely right. I’ll go see whether the troops are all behaving themselves.”

——

Zhù Tong’s report was dispatched to the general’s office, where Witch Ren forwarded it to Su Zhe, who wrote a brief summary and brought it to Zhù Ying.

This report was laid side by side on Zhù Ying’s desk with the previous one about the outbreak of war with the barbarians.

Su Zhe said, “Ah-Tong is doing well.”

Zhù Ying said, “She is, indeed. Thoughtful, and clear-headed.”

“What now?”

Zhù Ying said, “Call Witch Ren and Xiang An in, and send last year’s revenues to the court. Have Seventeen Niang draft a memorial telling the court that this year’s revenues will also be delivered to the capital in full.”

“Yes.”

Witch Ren, Xiang An, and Liu Ao arrived quickly and held a small meeting before Zhù Ying. Liu Ao listened first while the others spoke. Witch Ren said, “We have the reserves set aside, but do we truly need to send them? It would mean mobilizing porters again.”

Xiang An said, “The court told us to guard against the Western Barbarians — surely that means no tax levy for the year, as usual, with the revenues serving as military provisions?”

Su Zhe made a dissatisfied little sound: “A country that vast has already begun to run short, and Annan can do nothing to make up the difference — to try would be to drain Annan dry.”

Zhù Ying said, “The court does not expect to rely on us. Right now the court is in difficult straits; we still need to make a gesture, to show others that we still acknowledge this court.”

Liu Ao added her voice then: “It is to help stabilize public sentiment.” Her feelings toward this court were complex — it also bore the life’s work of Liu Songnian, and Liu Songnian himself had not held most people in the court in high regard. And yet, what fault was it of the common people? Where it was still possible to preserve things, better to do so; waging war against a foreign enemy was far more serious than internal strife.

Xiang An said, “What if we consolidate two years into one payment and submit a memorial explaining this in advance?” The Prince of Qin had already ascended the throne; in principle the tax revenues should now be forwarded. But the court was primarily pressing the wealthiest regions for their arrears and had not yet gotten around to pressing Annan.

Zhù Ying said, “No. Send last year’s revenues now.”

The group assented and hurried off to make arrangements.

Before long, Zhù Tong at the Northern Pass saw the convoy dispatched by the general’s office to the capital. This time the escort leader was not Zhù Lian — Zhù Ying had sent Lang Rui, with Zhù Qingxue as his deputy. Their task was simply to deliver the revenues and the memorial; for anything else, they were to plead complete ignorance.

Zhù Tong and Zhù Qingxue had spent a good deal of time together, and at their parting she asked casually, “This business — it won’t turn out too badly, will it?”

Lang Rui said, “That is hard to say. If you ask me, the Elder’s heart is too soft. Given the current state of things, it would be better to break everything apart and build fresh.”

Zhù Tong said, “I fear that…”

Having traveled north with Zhù Lian, she had gained a great deal of experience along the way. The journey had certainly had its share of troubles, but the farming conditions were far better than in Annan, especially near the capital, where the sight of the land made one hungry for it. The whole country was so vast — compared with it, Annan was truly tiny. Such an enormous colossus, Zhù Tong felt, could not possibly collapse in a few pages of a book, the way such things were recorded in history. Or rather, a few pages could never do justice to all the twists and suffering involved.

Lang Rui said, “This trip, there is nothing we need to do. Rest easy.”

Zhù Tong nodded, said nothing more, and watched them depart.

——

The convoy moved far more slowly than a light cavalry rider, and by the time Zhù Lian reached the capital, Annan was just beginning its autumn harvest. The officials and people of Annan went on living their lives as usual; with the salt and tea prices rising outside, they found themselves with a little more coin in hand, and were also trading salt and tea with the Western Barbarians for horses, furs, and hides.

Annan produced some furs of its own, but none so thick and warm as those from the Western Barbarians. No one quite knew what they were wanted for, but Zhù Ying had given the order, and Xiang An personally oversaw some of the transactions. Storing furs in Annan was no easy matter; Xiang An and the others had gone to considerable trouble, even arranging special storehouses, keeping cats, and scattering pesticides to ensure that snakes, insects, rats, and ants would not gnaw them to ruin.

Amid all this busyness, the autumn harvest began. Once this year’s autumn grain was stored, the taxes were again dispatched to the capital. The prefectural governors came first to the Western Prefecture to see Zhù Ying, settling the “accounting” of Annan’s evaluations. Zhao Su and the others arrived in succession, their expressions free of worry. In the midst of the turmoil, Annan was something of a paradise.

They each had family members in the Western Prefecture city, and after the “accounting” they visited relatives and friends, all in cheerful spirits. Only Lang Kunwu, who had come with Zhao Su, found that upon arrival he saw only A’Pu and not Lang Rui, which made him anxious.

Zhao Su consoled him: “Do not worry. Given the current situation, with the court fighting on two fronts, they will not risk offending us further by antagonizing yet a third party. They will not only not make things difficult for A’Fa — they will see to it that he returns safely.”

Lang Kunwu’s expression eased a little. He said softly, “A’Fa is not young anymore — he has seen the world.” He himself was growing old, and he wished to have his son return to the stockade. He had come precisely to ask Zhù Ying about this. Seeing how Zhù Ying was grooming Zhù Qingjun — not only teaching her skills but having her manage affairs — he wondered about A’Fa. A’Fa had learned a great many skills; but management?

He would need to return to the stockade and take over responsibilities gradually. After the feast, Lang Kunwu deliberately sought out Zhù Ying, his face showing some hesitation, but he made his meaning clear.

Zhù Ying said, “To go back? That is fine. And A’Pu?”

Lang Kunwu said, “The Elder has looked after us and also taught A’Pu. I am willing to leave him in your care and not ask for him back; you may use him however you see fit. This is also my own selfish wish — I do not want my sons to slaughter each other after I am gone, the way their maternal grandfather’s family did. The Su Feihu household is also in disarray. I hear even the emperor’s family is squabbling over the inheritance. Whether one has a whole nation or a single stockade, it is all the same. Only with A’Fa in your service does my heart feel at ease — and that is also for the sake of the two brothers.

I swear on my oath that in the future, when A’Fa has children, they will be sent to the Western Prefecture for schooling first, and only then return home to manage the stockade. We will never betray you.”

Zhù Ying said, “You have already thought this through very carefully. When A’Fa returns, let us have a good talk with him.”

“Yes.”

Lang Kunwu’s mind was at ease; he had only to wait for Lang Rui to return from the capital, and then he would let his eldest son go home and leave his younger son A’Pu in the Western Prefecture. He also planned to ask Zhù Ying to witness a formal division of his estate, sufficient to prevent future disputes. His family was not like Su Mingluan’s — she had just one daughter, so things were simple.

Lang Kunwu thereafter reported to the general’s office each day, and during his wait he also encountered the funeral of Hou Wu. Hou Wu was one of Zhù Ying’s “old household retainers”; many of the guards from the old household had been trained by him. This old soldier might have been unremarkable in an army, but within what had been the Zhù household he had been a capable man. Many of those he had trained were now in the prime of life, with official positions of their own.

Zhù Ying permitted a side courtyard of the general’s office to be set aside for his funeral rites. Zhù Wen, Zhù Yin, Zhù Biao, and others all took leave and came to see Hou Wu off with five bolts of green silk.

Lang Kunwu did not understand these customs and had no particular attachment to Hou Wu; he sent a funeral offering and stood at the courtyard gate in a daze. Thinking of his own advancing years and watching another’s funeral, he could not help but feel a pang of sorrow and dread. For a moment his waist bent and his back stooped, and he wished desperately that Lang Rui would appear before him that instant.

Lang Rui was still on the road. But the imperial edict arrived first.

It was an edict drafted by the Council of State and stamped with the emperor’s seal. It began by commending Zhù Ying’s gesture in sending grain and funds. It then sought her counsel: given the current situation, what did she advise?

Zhù Ying needed no one to consult; she picked up her brush and wrote out her response.

What to do? You must be decisive — you cannot drag things out. The realm must see your determination and your ability; people must have confidence in you. You cannot afford to be without presence and authority. The primary enemy right now is in the north; concentrate your forces on dealing with the barbarians, and put the Western Barbarians second.

Against the barbarians, strike decisively and without hesitation. They must deliver the Prince of Qi to you. If not alive, then dead. Things have reached this point — an alive Prince of Qi sitting there is a source of trouble.

While dealing with the barbarians, you must stabilize the interior. Use both firmness and conciliation: those of the Prince of Qi’s faction who need to be struck down should be struck down. All others outside the Prince of Qi’s faction must be appeased.

In the western borderlands — well, it is autumn now, is it not? Hurry and bring in the harvest; clear the fields and strengthen the fortifications, then hold. Once the outcome against the barbarians is decided, turn around and deal with the Western Barbarians. Kun Da Chi is old too — do you really think his house has no sons fighting over succession? Wait! When their household erupts it will be brutal and simple — they kill each other regularly.

The Prince of Qi? Use every bit of skill you have at scolding others and turn it on him! You should be able to out-argue him. If you truly cannot, just say he has gone mad. Do not debate theology with him — his luring barbarian soldiers to the border was wrong, full stop.

When she had finished, she wrote a separate letter to the Council of State: how are you suddenly growing soft-hearted now? Yan Gui may be kept for the time being — she was the Late Emperor’s consort. But the Yan clan and the Shen clan — what are you holding them for? Those who deserve judgment should be judged! The Prince of Qi may have been entrapped; the Shen clan’s sons certainly were not. What business did they have stirring up trouble? What were their intentions?

The letter written, it was sent off by fast horse. By the time the memorial reached the capital, Lang Rui had also returned.

Zhù Ying first had to mediate the affairs of the Lang family. Whether Lang Rui was willing to go home was one matter; A’Pu remaining alone in the general’s office was another. Lang Rui left all his belongings for his younger brother, taking only his personal clothing and effects, and followed Lang Kunwu back to Talang County. A’Pu was left to live in the general’s office, and Zhù Ying kept him temporarily at her side.

——

A’Pu was in low spirits for several days in a row. Zhao Ji tried to cheer him up, but he was not very receptive and remained somewhat listless. Zhù Ying’s usual practice with such people was to let them ease off for a couple of days, and then assign them some tasks — having work to do left no leisure for brooding.

One day, A’Pu was dragging his feet when he received a document from the capital and carried it to Zhù Ying’s desk.

Zhù Ying said, “Another one?”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying casually broke the seal and discovered it was an official document intending to summon her to the capital.

Zhù Ying convened in the general’s office all the prefectural governors and general’s office officials to discuss this latest edict. The Council of State knew that if it simply summoned her without explanation, she would certainly not go to the capital — she was on her guard against the court. So the edict spelled out the full background: the court was fighting on two fronts, and could hold out only so long as no other problems arose within the country. Beyond the foreign enemies, internal troubles had never ceased. Conscriptions and tax increases had given rise to bandits and popular unrest, greatly sapping the court’s energy.

At present, Yao Chenying had no choice but to take personal command in the north. In the west, only a defensive posture was possible. Originally it would have been most suitable to send Yao Jingxia and other soldiers from the north back to the north, but the new emperor would not agree to send out the Imperial Guards’ finest — he insisted they remain to protect the capital.

Xian Jing was useless, more dead than alive, convalescing at home. The emperor had hastily summoned Chen Meng back for consultation. Chen Meng proposed a solution: stop fretting — if things dragged on any further, the situation would truly collapse. Invite that person back!

The new emperor had initially been reluctant. Then Chen Meng brought his wife to the Zheng household for a long conversation with Yue Miaojun. Yue Miaojun then brought her daughter-in-law, the Grand Princess, to the palace to persuade the Grand Empress Dowager and the Empress Dowager, who had already retired from state affairs. With pressure applied from several directions, this official document had finally been produced.

The court was struggling to handle two wars simultaneously, and was therefore summoning Zhù Ying to court to assist; the conditions were open for discussion.

The wording was, of course, very tactful.

Zhao Su was the first to object: “The court may not be trustworthy! Even if the court is trustworthy, the emperor is… their family keeps… even a promise firmly made may not be kept — they play at the art of imperial manipulation. They have managed to ruin a fine situation; how much more will they ruin this one?

This is another rotten mess. They are not without talent — Wang, Shi, and Yao are all capable ministers of their time; surely they are not without solutions? The problem is that everyone knows what ought to be done, but cannot actually do it — that is why they have thought of you. You will go there only to toil and be reviled, to absorb their resentment on their behalf. At your age, to travel again…”

“This rotten court — let it collapse and be done with it,” Zhù Chonghua muttered.

Su Zhe said, “The opportunity is considerable, but so is the risk. Your health is what matters. Sitting back and watching the storm swirl outside is not a bad thing either; there will surely be people fleeing to Annan, and our population is on the thin side.” Zhù Chonghua nodded repeatedly, thinking Su Zhe made a good point.

Each person had their own opinion. Zhù Ying said nothing throughout. Liu Ao and Liu Kun grew increasingly agitated; Liu Ao said, “In truth, being able to return to the capital is not necessarily a bad thing. To forever remain in a corner is, after all, to be ‘on the margin.’ You should not be confined this way; your talent deserves a broader stage.”

Zhù Qingjun said, “Since the solutions are known and only the doing remains, I am willing to accept the mission and go to the capital. I am still able when it comes to maneuvering troops and formations. I will go.”

Zhù Lian said, “I think Qingjun can do it.” It was obvious: Zhù Qingjun was the designated successor; letting her train and build more contact with the north was perfectly appropriate. Moreover, only continued accumulation of victories could build the experience and prestige that would make it easier for Zhù Qingjun to take over Annan.

Zhù Ying said, “I will go. In the past, they looked on me as a criminal, and I slipped south avoiding all eyes. This position of Military Governor — it has felt like a prisoner confined to Annan.

I cannot be one who fled in disgrace. I must reclaim my name. If they want me to act, then I want to re-enter the Council of State and walk into the palace with broad strides. Even if it is only to handle a crisis, and I return here afterward — or if this is simply a trap and I die there. This journey, I must make.”

“Elder!”

Zhù Ying said, “I know what you are worried about, but I no longer have anything to fear about Annan’s present. I must think about its future.

I have laid down Annan’s current rules. But outside Annan, they still treat Annan as a savage land awaiting civilization, my rules as heresy, and expect us to conform to their rules. That will not do.

What would be the point in simply becoming Chief Minister again? I must go out into the world. The world must one day grow fully accustomed to my rules — let them see a little of it first. Even if the outside is a solid iron plate, I will tear an opening in it! The rest is up to all of you.”

Zhù Lian said anxiously, “But… the court previously had a great deal of criticism of you. Before, they only consulted you for advice; they would never willingly have you enter the capital. Now that they are asking you to come, they also…”

“Find me unpleasant to look at?”

Liu Ao gave a soft cough.

Zhù Ying said, “Find me unpleasant to look at? Then look a little more, until it becomes pleasant. If still unpleasant — well, once they get used to the sight, that is fine too. This memorial, I will write myself.”

She would lead troops north. The court would have to give her a formal appointment as Chief Minister; if they refused, then it was as if nothing had been proposed, and everyone would go their separate ways in peace. If they agreed, she would set out on the day the edict arrived.

Witch Ren, Xiang An, and others were unwilling to see her take such a risk. Zhao Su felt a stirring in his heart and suddenly recalled a morning court session from long ago, when Zhù Ying, without consulting anyone, had informed them all that she was a woman.

Zhao Su said, unable to stop himself, “Whatever you wish to do — go and do it.”