In the blink of an eye, several months had passed. Year’s end had come again, and the streets of Chang’an were hung with lanterns and banners, ready to welcome the first Spring Festival since His Majesty the Emperor of Great Ning had ascended the throne.

The Eastern Warm Chamber had become, in every sense, a warm chamber. The temperature inside was like a different world from the cold outside.

Li Chi was powerfully built, and with the braziers burning brightly, he wore only a single layer of robes as he sat cross-legged on the kang, reviewing memorials.

Yes — a heated kang had been added to the Eastern Warm Chamber.

Li Chi had found sitting in a chair for long hours genuinely taxing, so he’d had a kang built right there in the study. Working atop it was far more comfortable; when he tired, he could lean against the side and pile on two thick quilts.

When something vexed him, he could push open the window and look out.

Tang Pidi sat at the other end of the kang, leaning sideways as though half-asleep, eyes narrowed to slits.

Li Chi tore off a strip of paper, balled it up, and tossed it at Tang Pidi — quite accurately, landing it squarely on his forehead.

Seeing Tang Pidi open his eyes, Li Chi tilted his chin toward the brazier.

Tang Pidi smiled, went over, and pried open the charcoal with tongs, pulling out two sweet potatoes that had been roasting inside. He set them on the low kang table and tilted his chin back at Li Chi.

Li Chi pointed to the smaller one. “That one’s Ours. The other is yours.”

Tang Pidi narrowed his eyes again. “The big one goes to your subject?”

Li Chi said, “Our appetite has been getting smaller lately. A few days ago We thought that couldn’t be good, so We summoned Little Ninth for an eating contest — and lost to her.”

Tang Pidi’s expression shifted. He glanced at the thick stacks of memorials piled beside Li Chi.

A moment later, he reached over and pulled Li Chi to his feet. “Come. Your subject is kidnapping Your Majesty today — no arguments. We’re going out for a walk.”

Li Chi was dragged upright, craning his neck back toward the memorials. “There are still so many matters We haven’t finished…”

Tang Pidi hauled him toward the door without listening to a word of it, and at the threshold called out to Ye Xiaoqian: “Go bring His Majesty’s horse. Take the guards. We’re going hunting with His Majesty in the northern outskirts.”

Li Chi laughed. “Fine, let’s go — as if We’d be afraid of you.”

They changed clothes, brought along the palace guards, and Li Chi and Tang Pidi rode out the city gates toward the northern outskirts.

Chang’an’s northern outskirts were still fairly wild. Though most of the farmland was under cultivation, there remained plenty of uncleared ground — especially in the dead of winter, after a recent snowfall, the whole world looked a vast, clean white, and one’s heart opened up just looking at it.

Li Chi reined in his horse and surveyed the surroundings. He spotted some tracks in the snow — rabbit, by the look of them.

“Whatever We catch today, that’s what We eat. If no one bags anything, you’ll all go hungry with Us.”

He said it with a grin and urged his horse forward.

“Whoever makes the first kill, We’ll reward them with a sable cloak sent from Yanzhou.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the guards let out a cheer, and apart from the personal guards who stayed at His Majesty’s side, everyone else spurred their horses and scattered.

Tang Pidi looked at Li Chi. “Your Majesty, the fire in that room burns too strong. It isn’t good.”

Li Chi nodded. “We know it isn’t good. But there is simply too much to be done.”

Tang Pidi asked, “Still not thinking of recalling Xu Ji?”

Li Chi shook his head. “Wait a little longer. After the New Year — We’ll summon him back after the New Year.”

Tang Pidi said, “The academy that Director Gao and Scholar Yan are running is nearly set up. Your subject heard that Your Majesty selected several officials from the Six Ministries to go teach there?”

Li Chi smiled. “Your information is remarkably timely. We only discussed it with Scholar Yan two days ago, and you already know.”

Tang Pidi replied, “Your subject found out because Scholar Yan came to see me. He said the academy shouldn’t just teach reading and writing — it’s a bit dull that way. Since your subject has been in Chang’an lately, he’d like me to go give some lectures.”

Li Chi’s lips curved. “Go.”

“Oh — and by the way.” Tang Pidi smiled. “A few days ago, my younger brother Anchen said his wife has had a child. His wife is someone he met in Yongzhou — they fell for each other at first sight, as the saying goes.”

Li Chi laughed. “We already got word. We sent Little Ninth on Our behalf to look in on them. She said the little one is lovely — round-faced and spirited. Looks like a soldier in the making.”

Tang Pidi said, “Your subject… well, it’s precisely because I knew Your Majesty had already sent someone that I wanted to ask — Anchen has been in Chang’an for some time now. The matter of the Four Frontiers Armory also needs someone watching over it. Your subject wanted to ask if it might be possible to…”

“Old Tang.”

When Li Chi looked at him, there was something like sorrow in his eyes.

“Stop doing this. Must We really distrust all of you? Must We send you each off to some distant corner?”

Tang Pidi hastily bowed forward. “Your subject only thought…”

Li Chi shook his head. “Don’t think about it. We have a larger matter to attend to, and you and Anchen will both be needed.”

Tang Pidi asked at once, “What matter does Your Majesty speak of?”

“We’ve been mulling this over for some time and have thought it through carefully. We intend to reform Great Ning’s prefecture-and-circuit system into a dao-and-prefecture system, and to redraw the regional boundaries. The old large-circuit, small-circuit arrangement is unwieldy — a headache to organize, and a headache to administer.

“Our thinking is to divide Great Ning into nineteen dao. Each dao shall have one guard of soldiers stationed within it. Scholar Yan and the others have already worked out how to delineate the dao territories, and the new maps are nearly finished. But organizing the nineteen guard units — that can only fall to you.”

Tang Pidi’s heart gave a lurch.

This redrawing of Great Ning’s regional map — His Majesty wasn’t doing it merely because the old Chu dynasty’s circuit-and-prefecture system was disorganized.

Once the boundaries were redrawn, there would inevitably be massive reshuffling of officials.

And then came the matter of the soldiers: one guard per dao, troops that would not belong to local governments but answer directly to the Emperor.

Each dao would have a general commanding its garrison. No matter where a local administration ran into trouble, the soldiers within that dao could resolve it at once.

He thought of Xu Ji’s situation, and understanding dawned.

“Your subject obeys. After returning, your subject will go immediately to the Ministry of War and discuss the matter thoroughly with its officials.”

“Not discuss.”

Li Chi said, “We had the edict drafted long ago. The Ministry of War is to assist you — you are not assisting them.”

Tang Pidi bowed from the saddle. “Your subject — obeys!”

Li Chi looked at him. “You… always looking for a way to slip away from Us. So We give you work to do. You keep trying to get away, We’ll keep finding you things to keep you here.”

Tang Pidi gave a helpless smile. “As Your Majesty commands.”

Li Chi spurred his horse forward. “Come on — let’s bag some game ourselves, or We’ll be the ones ridiculed.”

—

At the same time, in Shu Circuit.

Mei City looked the same as it always had, yet somehow always gave the impression that it had been entirely renewed.

Xu Ji, who had been touring the realm on His Majesty’s behalf, had arrived in Shu Circuit a few days ago and had reached Mei City just the previous day.

In his study, a subordinate entered from outside, quickly shut the door behind him, and produced a letter from his chest with both hands.

“My lord, urgent news sent from the capital.”

Xu Ji took the letter and read it. His brows rose upward — not in the way they did when something pleased him.

“What is His Majesty trying to do?” he murmured to himself.

Not long before, when Guan Mo had gotten into trouble, Xu Ji had submitted a memorial requesting permission to return to Chang’an to plead guilty to His Majesty in person, saying he could not escape blame.

But the Emperor’s reply was: Guan Mo is Guan Mo; you are you. Though you both came from Ji Circuit, what does it have to do with you? Remain at ease and continue your inspection on Our behalf. We have personally reviewed Guan Mo’s case — it is closed. He simply let greed consume him.

His Majesty’s reply had somewhat settled Xu Ji’s nerves, yet he dared not let Guan Mo remain alive.

He had immediately arranged for men to hurry back to Chang’an, sparing no effort to have Guan Mo eliminated — only to learn, the moment his men arrived, that Guan Mo had already been killed. After being expelled from Chang’an, he had not traveled a hundred li before someone murdered him, and the body had been brought back to the city.

Xu Ji’s men found a way to bribe the coroner, who confirmed the dead man was indeed Guan Mo. They then rushed back to report.

Hearing that Guan Mo was dead, Xu Ji felt not the slightest relief, for the killing had not been his. That made the whole thing suspicious.

By rights, Lu Chonglou had reason to kill him — but Lu Chonglou was not that kind of man. Xu Ji was certain of it.

The matter of Guan Mo had barely had time to unsettle him before this new message arrived: His Majesty intended to redraw the dao territories across the realm…

In other words, there would no longer be any Military Commissioners holding vast power in the land.

And on this tour, he had grown quite close to several of those Commissioners — Xu Ji was gifted at building relationships, and friendships formed quickly in his hands.

With the military and civil administrations to be separated and the all-powerful Commissioner posts abolished, many things were becoming worrying.

What made Xu Ji uneasy was this: he had placed a great many people in positions throughout the provinces, and many of them had been cultivated expressly to become the next generation of Military Commissioners.

This was an enormous plan — not something that could be completed in a year or two. Ten years at the quickest; fifteen or twenty at the slowest.

Even then, he didn’t need many of the Commissioners under his influence. Across the length and breadth of Great Ning, if only five or six Military Commissioners were his people, his position as Chancellor would be as immovable as a mountain.

At that point, never mind the meritorious generals — even if His Majesty himself wished to move against him, it would take serious deliberation.

But now His Majesty had suddenly shifted direction in this way. That was… unsettling.

True, those men he had cultivated could still serve as dao-level officials even without becoming Commissioners — still frontier magnates, in their way. But without soldiers.

Each dao would have a garrison general, one guard of troops holding every circuit. What could a dao governor possibly do?

However grand the authority appeared, however lofty the title — if he couldn’t move a single soldier, what was the point?

*It seems I must change my approach.*

Xu Ji exhaled heavily.

Still, even now, he didn’t truly believe His Majesty was doing this to target him specifically. It was less an attack on him than an attack on the Commissioner system the Chu dynasty had created. Commissioners really had wielded too much power — troops in hand, they were little emperors of their own domains.

“Military power…” Xu Ji murmured. “It seems that cannot be touched.”

Then: “The academy?”

Something flickered in his eyes.

—