Li Chi stared at Xia Hou Zhuo and seemed to hesitate a moment, then asked in a sly tone: “I can lend you the book. But what did you mean by ‘over in a few moves before you can do anything’?”

Xia Hou Zhuo shook his head. “You’re still young. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He clapped Li Chi on the shoulder. “Everyone has to grow up sometime.”

Li Chi tried to follow up, but Xia Hou Zhuo gave him no chance — turned and made himself scarce. If there was ever an opportunity to leave Li Chi slightly unsettled, Xia Hou Zhuo was not going to pass it up.

What Li Chi could work out, roughly, was: knowing theory without practice isn’t much use.

—

After the New Year passed, the Ning Army still showed no sign of attacking — and this made the Shu Province forces in the Mei Mountain fortress increasingly ill at ease.

If the soldiers had begun by making every preparation for battle while privately hoping it wouldn’t come to that, their attitude had by now reversed: *just let it start, the sooner the better.* This drawn-out torment was unbearable.

Every day was spent with every nerve pulled taut — and yet the hand that would pluck those strings never came.

The Shu Province army was lying there waiting, and the Ning Army was saying: *you rest for a bit, I’m going to play a game.*

So much so that now, many soldiers had developed the attitude of: *might as well fight and die and be done with it.*

Meanwhile, the Ning Army appeared to become increasingly slack. From the heights of Mei Mountain, you could watch the Ning Army soldiers wandering about like grazing sheep. They’d been drilling in formation early on — by now, even the drills had stopped. It looked more like a holiday camp than a military encampment.

But Pei Jinglun understood: it was all an act.

Ning Wang Li Chi wasn’t in a hurry to take Mei Mountain, but Li Chi certainly hoped the men up here would crack under pressure and come down to raid them. Every bit of apparent laziness down below was theater.

Outside the Ning Army camp, Li Chi and Xia Hou Zhuo had a chessboard set up between them, drinking tea and playing leisurely. Xia Hou Zhuo occasionally glanced toward Mei Mountain. Li Chi never looked at all.

They’d been here past the fifteenth of the first month now. The Ning Army had been camped here for over three months.

And those three months had let the Shu Province army witness the strength of the Ning Army’s logistics. Any other force, keeping hundreds of thousands of soldiers encamped in one place for three months, would have bled their supply chain dry.

But Li Chi had, with a decisiveness that made him enemies of nearly every aristocratic family in the land, accumulated enormous wealth — and deployed it here. It was the method of *using war to feed war*, except he’d done it in advance.

As Li Chi himself put it: while I still have the freedom to act without restraint, if I don’t go after those powerful families, once the nation is founded, it will be very hard to touch them again.

For now, as long as Li Chi hadn’t proclaimed himself Emperor, hadn’t formally founded the nation — he still had that freedom to do whatever he felt was necessary.

Once he became Emperor, there would be law, order, precedent, a hundred constraints. Where was the freedom in that?

That was why he kept holding off on the coronation.

The generals didn’t mind much either way — when Li Chi became Emperor was up to Li Chi. The civil officials wanted to restore proper rule of law as quickly as possible, which involved many other considerations, and so they were eager for him to take the throne soon.

Xia Hou Zhuo placed a piece and smiled. “Your game has improved.”

Li Chi smiled back. “I’ve had more idle time than you.”

Xia Hou Zhuo: “Is that part of why you’re in no rush to become Emperor?”

Li Chi: “Do you think a lazy man hasn’t already thought, many times over, about how to stay as lazy as possible even after becoming Emperor?”

Back in Da Xing City, Li Chi had already explained to Xia Hou Zhuo and the others his vision for the future court: no Chancellor, no single dominant ministerial position. Instead — a cabinet system, an idea he’d mulled over countless times under Li Xiansheng’s influence. Routine affairs would go to the Grand Secretaries of the Cabinet. It would prevent any single individual from dominating the court.

Of course, a cabinet system might not solve the problem at its roots — but Li Chi had yet to think of a better answer.

“Yesterday I received word from Master Yan, sent from Jing Province.”

Li Chi glanced at Xia Hou Zhuo. “Xu Ji seems to be getting rather overbearing in Yue Province.”

Xia Hou Zhuo: “Being precociously accomplished is one thing — being precociously dominant in a place that needs a strong hand to restore order isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It depends where that overbearing quality is applied…”

He looked at Li Chi: “As long as it’s not in his treatment of people below him…”

Li Chi slowly exhaled, but said nothing.

Xia Hou Zhuo asked: “There’s one thing I still haven’t been able to work out. You knew Xu Ji was like this — he’d already behaved this way in Ji Province, completely unchecked. Yet you sent him to Yue Province, giving him another place to do it all over again. In Ji Province you were in the south, Xu Ji was in Ji Province with no constraints. Then in Yue Province, it’s equally remote from your authority. He still has no constraints…”

He met Li Chi’s eyes. “Why?”

Li Chi only smiled — a smile as his answer. Meaning: *this is not something to be said aloud.*

Xia Hou Zhuo thought carefully. And then something lit up inside him.

And because something lit up, he felt a faint chill rise in his chest.

He knew there were things he shouldn’t ask further. But after suppressing it for a while, he couldn’t hold back.

“When the time comes — you’ll need someone like that?”

Xia Hou Zhuo asked the question with as much care as he could.

Li Chi looked at him. Still no answer.

Xia Hou Zhuo understood. He nodded once. “I won’t ask anymore.”

And so Li Chi smiled again.

—

Meanwhile, in Yue Province.

In the great hall of the Military Governor’s residence, a crowd of officials knelt in dense rows, every one of them visibly frightened.

Xu Ji sat at the head of the hall, sweeping a gaze that held a cool remoteness over the assembled men.

“The fighting in Shu Province is ongoing,” he said.

He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and continued: “Our lord is benevolent — he has waived three years of taxes in Yue Province. That is his benevolence. But as subjects, you and I both must not take our lord’s benevolence for granted and use it as an excuse to do nothing.”

“While the battle for Shu Province drags on, I made inquiries — Su Province, in circumstances similar to ours, has been sending considerable grain and supplies to Shu Province. Our Yue Province, as of today, has not sent a single grain.”

He set down his teacup and drummed his fingers lightly on the table.

“The people’s grain cannot be touched — that is our lord’s firm decree. But in Yue Province, with its wealth — is the civic-mindedness of its wealthy households truly so much lower than everywhere else?”

At those words, every official in the room understood precisely what Xu Ji meant.

“If the hundreds of thousands of soldiers on the western campaign go hungry — if our lord goes hungry — that is a grave failure of those of us who serve him.”

He said: “You may all rise.”

Only at those words did any of them dare to stand.

Xu Ji’s gaze swept the room once more. His tone eased slightly.

“Every man the lord appointed to Yue Province was chosen for ability. The locally selected officials too — has a single one of them been appointed through my personal favor or corruption?”

Xu Ji rose and began to walk through the hall as he spoke.

“Our lord gave you the opportunity to realize your ambitions. Where are those ambitions?”

He walked to the doorway and gestured outward: “Yue Province is a land of fish and rice. Some wealthy households have tens of thousands of *mu* of farmland. Now that the lord has waived their taxes, their granaries are overflowing — is that right?”

The officials shook their heads rapidly.

“Beside each of your seats is a register,” Xu Ji said. “I had people investigate in detail the approximate quantities of food and supplies available from each prefecture and county. I didn’t want to waste your time, so I’ve already calculated the amounts in advance. Have a look.”

The officials immediately opened the registers beside them. Almost every single one — after just one glance — wore an expression of complex, barely concealed distress.

The figures were accurate to the very limits of what each prefecture could provide.

Whatever else could be said of Xu Ji, his forcefulness was absolutely matched by his ability.

“Gentlemen — any difficulties?”

Xu Ji smiled as he asked.

A magistrate named Liu looked left and right, saw no one speaking, steeled himself, and stood.

“Military Governor, the amounts themselves are manageable — but the timeline is quite tight.”

Xu Ji looked at him. “Administrator Liu is in Tan Prefecture. I’ve calculated it out — at the quantities assigned to you, ten days is sufficient. Then twenty days to transport the grain to the provincial capital. That’s a full month, with a margin of three to five days built in.”

He walked to stand before Liu. “If Administrator Liu feels the timeline is too tight, please enumerate for me the time required at each step. If I’ve made an error, I’ll revise it on the spot.”

Liu opened his mouth. His face showed the strain.

In the end, he gritted his teeth: “The timeline the Military Governor has set is reasonable. It is truly that my own capabilities may fall somewhat short—”

Before he’d finished the sentence, Xu Ji said: “Is Deputy Administrator Jing of Tan Prefecture present?”

A man sitting beside Liu stood quickly. “Here.”

“Administrator Liu just told me with admirable honesty that his capabilities are somewhat lacking,” Xu Ji said. “In that case, I’ll honor his candor. As of now, you are the Administrator of Tan Prefecture.”

He turned to Liu: “Administrator Liu may go.”

Liu shot to his feet, his eyes reddening.

“Military Governor — is appointing and removing a prefecture’s chief magistrate not a rather hasty process?!”

“Hasty?” Xu Ji said mildly. “Go back and submit your resignation. I’ll walk the procedure through properly.”

Liu tried to argue further. Xu Ji waved a hand: “Please leave. Walk out with dignity, or be carried out — your choice.”

Liu stamped his foot in fury and walked out.

Xu Ji’s gaze swept the room for the third time.

“I appreciated Administrator Liu’s honesty, and I’m glad to honor anyone’s good virtue here. If any of you also find yourselves in a difficult position, you may say so plainly, as he did. I won’t make things hard for you — I’ll accommodate you.”

He waited.

“Anyone?”

Silence.

Xu Ji smiled. “In that case — finish your lunch and be on your way. I’ve arranged a simple meal for everyone. You can go there now — but I’d suggest you don’t waste time on the road.”

Every official rose and bowed deeply to Xu Ji.

After they had all gone, Xu Ji called out: “Administrator Lu — a moment, please.”

Lu Chonglou had only arrived in Yue Province after his recovery, so he hadn’t been here long at all.

Hearing himself called, Lu Chonglou bowed quickly. “Please give your orders.”

Xu Ji, smiling warmly, came to stand before him. “Grain transport is critical work, and I don’t have anyone I can completely trust to handle it. I’d ask Administrator Lu to personally oversee and escort the grain shipment to Shu Province — are you willing?”

Lu Chonglou clasped his hands. “As the Military Governor commands.”

Xu Ji said: “Administrator Lu was only recently recovered from injury. If this is an imposition, please say so — between us there’s no need for so much formality.”

Lu Chonglou: “My health is fine.”

And so Xu Ji’s smile warmed further. He handed a register to Lu Chonglou. “I’ve arranged the route, timeline, and deadlines — all recorded here. This is military grain, it cannot be delayed. Administrator Lu just told me his health is fine?”

Lu Chonglou bowed. “Please be assured, Military Governor.”

Xu Ji smiled with great benevolence: “Very well then. Otherwise… Administrator Lu, would you like to sign a military pledge?”

—