That Zeng Ling was sitting here negotiating inside a carriage company was, in itself, a deeply absurd situation. On one side was a military commissioner. On the other, small traders at a carriage company. Were these parties in any way equal?

Under normal circumstances, any random official Zeng Ling cared to dispatch would have been able to come here and grind this carriage company into dust with nothing but his bearing.

In the eyes of officials, merchants were the kind of people one might take seriously one moment and dismiss entirely the next.

And in practical terms, merchants often understood this about their station without anyone needing to spell it out.

When Tang Pidi relayed all of this to Li Chi, Li Chi felt that out of basic human decency, he ought to spare Commissioner Zeng at least a shred of sympathy.

Tang Pidi said, “I think Commissioner Zeng must have been thinking exactly that at the time. It really is a suffocating situation.”

Li Chi said, “You can’t lay that at our feet. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the imperial court for being so useless.”

Yu Jiuling, who was crouched in the courtyard staring into the eyes of the divine eagle, turned his head and asked, “Why is it the court’s fault?”

The moment he finished asking, the divine eagle gave a few displeased grunts, as if to say: pay attention.

Yu Jiuling apparently understood. He turned back and resumed his intense staring contest with the eagle.

Li Chi said, “If the Dachu court were worth anything, why would a commissioner of his standing bother wasting words on us?”

Tang Pidi said, “If the world were in its proper order, a man like Zeng Ling speaking to people like us — that would be called a decree. But the world is not in its proper order, so what he said to us today was called a negotiation.”

In truth, Tang Pidi was being somewhat generous even saying that. When Zeng Ling had actually been present, what he was doing was neither decreeing nor negotiating — it might more accurately be described as pleading.

Yu Jiuling took a moment to feel genuinely proud of himself. He really was proud — because no one among them was more different from officials. His sharpness of mind somehow made it even harder for him to deal with the official class.

In a certain sense, Yu Jiuling and Jiang Ran were actually quite similar — though Yu Jiuling seemed glib and loose-tongued on the surface, he was quick to grow close to people. Jiang Ran was simply Yu Jiuling as he might have existed within the official world — perhaps it was precisely those long years in officialdom that had constrained every last natural impulse in Jiang Ran.

Yu Jiuling said, “So we’ve taken two hundred carts of grain — are we actually going to haul it out?”

Tang Pidi answered, “Setting aside whether we haul it out or not — first: he won’t try to stop us. There’s no reason to. What he gave us is, in reality, the thing he cares about least. Grain and silver mean nothing to him. He’s trading what he doesn’t care about for our departure. Why on earth would he then send men to kill us on the road? If that were his intention, there would have been no point in any of these negotiations.”

Yu Jiuling understood.

And so he smiled again.

Because he found it delightful — satisfying, gratifying, like breathing freely after being held underwater.

Perhaps no one else would quite share the sensation Yu Jiuling experienced at moments like this. The more an official squirmed and smarted, the happier he became.

And the reason for this — the resentment, even hatred — traced all the way back to his time at the Zhiyin Tavern.

In a place as small as Tang County, any random official who wandered into the Zhiyin Tavern in his uniform could walk out without paying. Young Yu Jiuling had seethed with indignation. Paying for food and drink — wasn’t that the way things were supposed to work? So he’d chased after them, demanding to know: what gives you the right to drink for free?

The answer came in the form of a slap that split his lip open.

Had the proprietor not chased him out, dragged him back, and bowed and scraped while sending the officials off with two additional jars of wine as appeasement, Yu Jiuling might have been beaten half to death.

After that, Yu Jiuling had thought to himself: at the very least, I need to be someone they can’t hit. And from that point on, he had hated every man who wore an official’s robe.

“This is exactly the right time,” Yu Jiuling said. “If Dachu weren’t in such chaos right now, officials, relative to ordinary people, would be gods. We’d be mortal. They’d be divine.”

Then he savored the thought with evident pleasure. “And yet here we are — standing shoulder to shoulder with gods. Making those gods feel, if I may say so, somewhat wretched.”

He sat down on the stone steps and glanced over at Li Chi. “When I was young and got bullied a lot, I’d lie in bed at night and let my mind wander — imagining I could become someone all-powerful, more than a god, able to destroy every person who’d ever hurt me with a flick of my finger.”

Li Chi patted his shoulder. He had imagined the same things once. Which was why he had been willing to train, no matter how hard.

Yu Jiuling exhaled and smiled.

“My childhood fantasies were wonderful, really. I’d turn myself into all kinds of heroes, all kinds of gods — and though I started by imagining how to deal with those corrupt officials, my mind would always drift away. I’d think about what other worlds might be out there, and I’d realize this couldn’t be the only world in existence. There must be many, many worlds, each ruled by a god who is mighty and alone. And I would be the one who ended their loneliness.”

He grinned at this — not a particularly wholesome grin.

“What method I’d use to end a god’s loneliness,” he said, “depended entirely on whether the god in question was male or female.”

Tang Pidi pulled Li Chi aside. “Keep your distance. I suspect he slept with the male gods and murdered the female ones.”

Yu Jiuling considered this. “Aren’t you saying the same thing?”

Li Chi was on his feet in an instant, this time pulling Tang Pidi along with him.

“Come on, come on, let’s go — this man is terrifying.”

Yu Jiuling muttered after them, “Two ordinary mortals. You have no idea what it’s like to be a god.”

The divine eagle let out a few grunts from beside him.

Yu Jiuling patted the eagle fondly, his expression one of profound you-get-me understanding. The eagle promptly relieved itself on his foot with great force, then grunted and walked away.

—

In the rear courtyard, in the tea room.

Gao Xining sat quietly without speaking. This was her first time serving tea to a guest at the carriage company. Yet there was nothing tentative about her movements — they were graceful, light, unhurried. Even Shen Ruzhan found herself thinking that in this particular moment, Gao Xining was surely the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Did you learn to prepare tea from childhood?”

Shen Ruzhan couldn’t help but ask.

Gao Xining shook her head. “No. I learned yesterday.”

Shen Ruzhan said, “This carriage company truly does have remarkable talent. There must be a teacher skilled in the art of tea — to teach it so patiently that after just one day, no one would guess it was a person’s first time.”

Gao Xining smiled. “There’s actually no one at this carriage company who knows the art of tea. Everyone here thinks preparing tea is a waste of time — if you want tea, you steep it and be done.”

She looked at Shen Ruzhan. “Yesterday it occurred to me that if Elder Sister Shen came today, and you’re so particular about your tea — perhaps I ought to learn.”

Shen Ruzhan asked curiously, “If no one here knows the art of tea, who did you learn it from?”

“A book.”

Gao Xining replied, “Li Chi has a great many books. Whatever you might think of, he likely has it. He has spent a great deal of time reading, and a great deal of time hunting for and buying books.”

Shen Ruzhan was faintly surprised.

After a moment she smiled and said, “I’ve heard that Li Chi had a hard life when he was young. So during that time he must have wanted to read but couldn’t afford to — and now that things are better, he’s been buying books compulsively. Whether useful or not, he buys them. Which is why he’d have even something as useless as a guide to tea — without necessarily ever learning it himself.”

Gao Xining was not pleased.

She was never pleased when anyone spoke ill of Li Chi.

Shen Ruzhan hadn’t stated it so bluntly, but the meaning was plain enough: Li Chi had been poor once, suddenly came into money, and started spending it recklessly — buy now, think later.

Gao Xining straightened and said with some seriousness, “Spending money on books and then actually learning from them — I think that is a very admirable thing. Having different approaches to seeking knowledge in different circumstances of life — I also think that is a very admirable thing.”

Shen Ruzhan raised her teacup and took a small sip, mentally composing a reply.

But Gao Xining was already continuing, “Every book he’s bought, he has read. He also says there are no useless books in this world — as long as you know how to think, you’ll find meaning in the words.”

Shen Ruzhan hadn’t managed to compose her reply.

Gao Xining continued preparing the tea as she spoke. “Li Chi has also said that learning isn’t meant for display — it’s meant for use. Speaking of use: the tea-making I only learned yesterday, I am using today.”

She glanced at Shen Ruzhan.

Shen Ruzhan had just called a guide to tea preparation useless. And yet here it was, being put to use — on her. Useless, and yet it had just become something rather pointed.

Shen Ruzhan raised her hand and applauded lightly.

“Li Chi is truly a fortunate man.”

She smiled. “Having a girl like you beside him — perhaps that is his greatest fortune of all.”

Gao Xining smiled and replied, “I pretend to be better than I am, and I’ve tricked him into thinking he’s gotten the best of the bargain in all the world. He’s delighted. And so am I — because I also think I’ve gotten the best of the bargain in all the world.”

Shen Ruzhan was quiet for a small moment, perhaps turning over that remark and the faint, involuntary flicker of envy it stirred.

As if speaking to herself she murmured, “He thinks you’re the finest in the world. You think he’s the finest in the world.”

She smiled and asked, “But what if others also think him the finest in the world?”

Gao Xining passed her the freshly brewed cup of tea, then answered in a tone that was gentle and entirely unhurried, “That depends on how many others.”

Shen Ruzhan didn’t understand at first, so she asked again, “From the way you say it, it sounds as though you think more would be better? If so, I truly can’t follow your meaning.”

Gao Xining said, “If only I think him the finest in the world, then he is my hero. If ten thousand people think him the finest in the world, then he is a hero to ten thousand. If all the people of the world think him the finest in the world…”

She paused for just a breath. The smile at the corner of her lips was like open sunlight, like a clean wind passing through.

“Then — who in all the world does not know his name?”

Shen Ruzhan stilled, and unconsciously repeated it: “Who in all the world does not know his name?”

Thought through carefully, the phrase carried tremendous weight. There was only one person of whom it could truly be said that no one under heaven did not know them — and that implied a very particular station. A very particular title.

This time, Shen Ruzhan sat with the thought for a very long while.

She lifted her cup and let the full meaning of those words settle over her — a single hero to one person, a hero to ten thousand, and then: who in all the world does not know his name.

After a long silence, she smiled and nodded, and set down the cup. “It’s a good thing it isn’t too late.”

Gao Xining gave a soft murmur of agreement and refilled her cup.

The book on the art of tea had said: if you prepare tea for someone and the conversation grows cold, do not refill the cup. The guest will understand — no refill means it is finished.

Shen Ruzhan looked down at the fresh tea now in her cup and smiled softly. “As it happens, I too have read books on the art of tea. Now I see they really are quite useful.”

—