After listening to Li Chi, Mister Yan turned to look at the chest of silver. After a moment’s silence he said, “We cannot divide this silver. We cannot touch it at all. These corrupt officials and vile clerks have scraped the marrow from the people — we will use this silver to build our forces when the time comes. They destroyed this world for silver; we will use silver to save it.”

He asked Li Chi: “Have you given thought to building up a force?”

“Master,” Li Chi said, “have you noticed the hair on my teacher’s head? Why does it keep getting thinner?”

Mister Yan thought this had nothing to do with anything, and so asked: “It is rather thin. What of it?”

“I’ve worried it all off,” said Li Chi.

Changmei the Daoist looked at Li Chi, then at Mister Yan, and asked, “Does the Academy have any method for disciplining a student — the kind involving first hanging him up and thrashing him, then turning him upside down and thrashing him again?”

“Even roast duck doesn’t get flipped around like that,” said Li Chi.

“The Academy’s disciplinary measures are clearly insufficient for Li Chi,” said Mister Yan. “His hide is too thick — its rules have no effect. If sterner measures were required, you might as well cut ties with him entirely.”

“Let’s settle matters now,” said Changmei the Daoist. “Divide the silver, expel him from the Academy, sever all bonds — but we’ll still eat at his table, lodge under his roof, and spend his money.”

“That’s not entirely out of the question,” said Mister Yan.

Li Chi: “…”

Shen Diao turned its head to glance over, wondering idly what those fools were muttering about.

The Dog’s reaction was simpler. Its expression could be summed up in four words: *Servants. You’re all noise.*

Changmei the Daoist asked Li Chi: “Have you thought of how to rescue the young women?”

“I haven’t,” Li Chi said. “You two are the ones who made the promise. I’m merely a bystander — at most I’ll cheer you on.”

“I said expelling him from the school is useless,” Mister Yan said. “With an attitude like that, we’d practically be justified in silencing him permanently.”

Li Chi smiled. “I’ve dug a pit for Cui Hansheng. As long as he falls into it, things should work out — but it wasn’t dug very well. If he catches on, we’ll have to think of something else.”

“Is there any method that requires the least effort?” Mister Yan asked.

“Yes,” said Li Chi.

“What method?”

“Stop worrying about it. That’s the least effort.”

Changmei the Daoist glanced around the room and spotted a shovel leaning against the wall in the corner. He looked at it and asked Mister Yan: “Shall you dig the hole, or shall I?”

“You’re his actual master,” said Mister Yan. “This one… should fall to you. It’ll be more satisfying that way.”

—

Meanwhile, in Jizhou City.

At the Xu household.

After Xu Qinglin’s father died unexpectedly, their branch of the family had fallen sharply in standing within the clan. First it was the matter of Xu Qinglin recklessly hiring assassins to eliminate Li Chi — which had cost the family dearly. Then, with his father’s passing, they had lost whatever voice they once held within the family.

Old Master Xu had been relatively civil about it — he hadn’t directly seized back the business interests belonging to their branch. But the other families had already moved in, peeling away their ventures one by one. Life couldn’t be called truly difficult, but the spirit could not be at ease.

“Mother.”

Xu Qinglin looked at Madam Xu and said, “I can barely contain myself anymore. The more I think about it, the less I can. It’s been over a year, and Li Chi grows more and more at ease with the world, while we face ridicule every single day.”

Madam Xu shook her head. “Xiahou Zuo may have left Jizhou, but we still haven’t figured out what Li Chi’s relationship with Prince Yu’s household actually is. Our only real opportunity is that Prince Yu is not in Jizhou — and Li Chi has returned.”

“This is precisely our window,” said Xu Qinglin. “Prince Yu’s army has left the city and won’t be back for some time. Li Chi should be back soon.”

Madam Xu was quiet for a moment, then said: “I have told you before — there are two ways to deal with Li Chi. One is a long-term approach; the other is immediate. The long-term approach is to destroy his future.”

“In Dachu,” Madam Xu continued, “official appointments nominally rest on the examination system — but the powerful men at court despise this method. For all the years Dachu has pushed the examinations, they have never taken proper root.”

“Why are those who emerge from the Four Pages Academy able to secure appointments even when they perform well? Because in this court, men are still placed through recommendation above all else. Li Chi may score as brilliantly as he likes, but if Headmaster Gao does not recommend him, he has no path into office.”

The examination system in Dachu had indeed never flourished. Decades of promotion had failed to establish it as genuine policy — it carried the appearance of ceremony but in practice amounted to farce.

The current Emperor’s father had been a relatively sound ruler — at least better than his son. In his time, the old Emperor had sought to claw back some power from the great aristocratic clans, and so he had begun promoting the examination system.

But before the examinations had properly taken hold, the old Emperor died.

The current Emperor — to speak kindly of him, one might say he preferred to let things run their natural course. To speak plainly: he simply refused to govern. Though he had not overturned his father’s policies, neither had he bothered to carry them forward.

Who, then, truly held authority? The powerful men at court — all of them born of the great aristocratic houses. Such men would never wish for the examination system to succeed. Their own families put forward new men; other families put forward their own; they arranged things among themselves. Those with larger family networks placed more people; those with smaller networks still took their share. How harmonious. The reins of court power stayed in their hands, and for a commoner’s son to rise through examinations — would they willingly open that door?

“Mother,” Xu Qinglin said, “the long-term plan is too long-term. To wait until graduation before taking revenge on Li Chi — that’s still two more years away. And besides, would Headmaster Gao still give our family any face at this point?”

“Then we turn to the immediate approach,” said Madam Xu. “Prince Yu’s army has left the city; the regional commissioner has followed the army. As long as Li Chi returns, we can find a way to move. But, my son — you cannot be as reckless as last time. If you fail again, a man like Li Chi will not give you a third chance.”

Xu Qinglin nodded hard. “This time I will plan something airtight. If I don’t kill Li Chi, my life is finished — he will always be the obstacle in my path, the demon lodged in my heart.”

“I won’t stop you,” said Madam Xu, “but I say again: it must be airtight.”

A smile crept to the corner of Xu Qinglin’s mouth. “Actually, I thought of a method long ago. It is far more effective than hiring assassins, and the odds of eliminating him are close to ten in ten.”

—

Three days later, Xinzhou City.

Xiahou Zuo arrived outside the city gates of Xinzhou with a hundred cavalry riders. The soldiers standing watch took one look at a figure in the armor of a Senior Fourth Grade general and were immediately thrown into a fright. It had been a very long time since anyone of higher rank than their prefect had come to Xinzhou.

They didn’t dare ask a single question. They cleared the road at once, each man scrambling to make his military salute as proper as possible.

Xiahou Zuo glanced sideways at them, and something like disdain rose quietly in his chest.

These slovenly, undisciplined wretches — they called themselves soldiers?

He reined in his horse and asked: “Do you know of a Young Master Li who is lodging somewhere in the city? He came from Jizhou — he’s with Prince Yu’s household.”

The squad leader knew perfectly well, and answered immediately, then offered at once to lead them at a run.

Xiahou Zuo had no reason to refuse. He raised his riding crop and pointed forward: “Then run.”

The squad leader ran. These garrison troops had never drilled, their constitutions weakened by years of wine and pleasures, and the average able-bodied man in decent shape could outpace them any day. Before long the man was already gasping for air. Fortunately, the residence where Li Chi was staying was not too far from the gate — otherwise his eagerness to make a good impression might have cost him his life before he finished the errand.

Word of the general’s arrival reached Prefect Cui Hansheng’s ears quickly. The moment he heard that Xiahou Zuo had truly come, Cui Hansheng felt at once anxious and elated — so elated, in fact, that the fact of Li Chi having cheated so much silver out of him no longer seemed worth troubling over.

He immediately asked whether the general had come to the prefectural office. The messenger reported that General Xiahou had gone directly to see Young Master Li. This, if anything, deepened Cui Hansheng’s confidence in Li Chi’s words — he thought to himself that he was fortunate not to have offended the man, or things would be going very badly for him.

He had a new set of official robes prepared, thinking he should go and pay his respects as soon as possible. But then he reconsidered: Young Master Li had told him that Prince Yu and General Xiahou alike had no patience for being disturbed. Do not seek an audience unless summoned.

He had just been told this. He sat back down. Though he squirmed like an ant on a hot griddle, he forced himself to wait, thinking: Young Master Li had accepted such generous gifts from him — he would surely bring up Cui Hansheng’s name to the general before long.

When the realization settled over him he even felt a quiet relief. He thought: thank goodness for those rings — they were what earned the Young Master’s guidance on how to conduct himself. Without them, he might have irritated General Xiahou from the very start, and there would have been no correcting that impression afterward.

When he reached this thought, he told himself: Young Master Li really was a good man.

A little greedy, perhaps — but the man actually delivered results.

To have met a good man like Young Master Li… no, a distinguished patron — truly, his own good fortune. Ah… what a wonderful feeling. And yet… he was still so anxious.

Xiahou Zuo reined in before the residence where Li Chi was staying and looked the property over from top to bottom. Standing at the gate, he couldn’t quite see that it ran three courtyards deep, but the grandeur of the exterior was evident enough.

“Do you believe me,” Xiahou Zuo said to his aide — a bodyguard named Baozi; that was indeed the man’s name, his surname being Bao and his given name Zi — “if I told you that this residence was arranged for Li Chi by the Xinzhou prefectural office?”

Baozi replied: “Yes.”

“And do you believe me,” Xiahou Zuo continued, “if I told you that Li Chi has already claimed this residence for himself?”

This time Baozi hesitated, not being closely enough acquainted with this Young Master Li to answer confidently. Seeing his uncertainty, Xiahou Zuo laughed. “Just remember this: corrupt officials and vile clerks are Li Chi’s natural prey. He specializes in taking from them.”

For reasons Baozi couldn’t quite explain, his mind suddenly produced the phrase *no one knows a child like his mother.* It startled him so badly that he gave his head a quick shake to drive the thought out.

What had frightened him wasn’t the phrase itself — it was the last word of it. He felt he’d been somehow terribly improper, having mentally cast the general in a maternal role.

Yu Jiuling, standing nearby, looked at Xiahou Zuo with profound admiration, thinking: *truly, there is no one who understands Li Chi better than Xiahou.*

Xiahou Zuo dismounted, walked to the gate, and raised his hand to knock.

Presently, Li Chi opened the door. Seeing Xiahou Zuo standing outside, he asked: “Who are you looking for?”

Xiahou Zuo glanced at him and said: “My apologies — I have the wrong house.”

He turned and began to walk away. Li Chi grabbed him immediately.

“I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong—”

Xiahou Zuo gave him a sidelong look. “I’ve ridden the whole way starving and half-frozen. Get some food ready.”

“How many portions?” Li Chi asked.

“My men, that’s a hundred and one,” said Xiahou Zuo. “The household — the Daoist, Mister Yan, little Jiuling, and you — about ten altogether, give or take.”

“I may not be able to put together a proper meal for that many on short notice,” Li Chi said, “but—”

He glanced toward the gate. Not far off, a few officers of the prefectural office stood waiting on Cui Hansheng’s standing orders to serve at any time, and they didn’t dare be lax in their attendance.

Li Chi raised a hand and waved them over. The constables trotted up immediately.

“Go and tell Prefect Cui,” Li Chi said, “to prepare food and drink for a hundred and twenty people and have it sent over.”

The men nodded and bowed at once, then turned and ran off to deliver the message.

“That responsive, is it?” said Xiahou Zuo.

“Very responsive indeed,” Li Chi said. “I haven’t even gotten my fill of it yet — but…”

He sighed.

“You had to come along.”

—