Jizhou. The coaching inn.

Changmei the Daoist still preferred this place — second only in his affections to that small courtyard, the one Li Chi had bought for him.

That little courtyard had by now become the most treasured thing Changmei owned. Most of his days were spent here at the inn, because this was where old friends were — including the divine hawk and the dog, who liked this place even more than he did.

When Changmei wanted a moment of quiet to himself, he would go to that little courtyard, spend the night alone there, and never once feel lonely.

The coaching inn was as lively as ever — business still running, the hands who wanted no more fighting and killing all here.

The overwhelming majority were old comrades from the Yanshan Camp, who had grown ever fonder of this sort of plain, uneventful life.

Changmei came here every day — playing chess with those hands, chatting, horsing around with the hawk and dog.

Gao Yuanzhang was here for most of it as well. He was somewhat different from Changmei in temperament — perhaps he was simply someone who didn’t like being alone.

He also liked listening to Changmei tell stories. The affairs of the rivers and lakes always sounded so compelling.

Someone once said that the rivers-and-lakes of a scholar’s imagination are more sweeping and vast than the world any swordsman has ever actually walked. Scholars mock martial men as unlettered, yet dream of themselves standing alone against ten thousand; martial men likewise think scholars weak and fragile, yet imagine themselves citing classical texts and composing verse with effortless grace.

“Diudiu seems to have been telling fewer jokes lately.”

Gao Yuanzhang said, tidying the chess pieces.

Changmei smiled: “Our little Diudiu has grown up. Grown-ups don’t have as many jokes.”

Gao Yuanzhang’s hand paused in mid-air, turning the remark over carefully in his mind…

Then he let out a quiet sigh: “When grown-ups make fewer jokes, it may be because they’re genuinely afraid of becoming a joke themselves. Sometimes a grown-up laughs and laughs, and only then discovers that the one they’ve been laughing at is themselves.”

Changmei: “Why so melancholy all of a sudden?”

Gao Yuanzhang shook his head — he wasn’t sure himself.

He finished tidying the pieces and asked: “Another game?”

Changmei shook his head: “Let’s just talk for a while.”

Gao Yuanzhang suddenly recalled something and asked Changmei: “I heard you once said that Diudiu isn’t quite an overlord?”

Changmei looked at him, then denied it: “I never said he wasn’t enough of an overlord. Quite the opposite — I’ve always been afraid of him becoming… too much of one.”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “There’s really no need to be afraid of that. I actually think he still lacks a certain quality.”

Changmei asked: “What kind of person do you think qualifies as a true overlord?”

Gao Yuanzhang smiled: “Certainly not someone like me. Before the Zhou dynasty, there was a period of war among many kingdoms, which ultimately settled into a standoff among three. The three men who forged that standoff — I would call all of them true overlords.”

Changmei: “Why?”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “What came after was the unification of the central plains and the founding of Zhou — yet from that point on, the central plains were always troubled by foreign incursions. In the period before Zhou, when those three kingdoms held their standoff, no foreign power dared to bully them. Those three overlords each commanded one region — whenever some border barbarians grew the least bit restless, the nearest of the three would march over and grind them flat. Then all three would resume warring against each other, leaving the central plains scarred and battered. When they’d finally worn themselves out, they’d turn around and thrash those foreign enemies again, stripping them of resources and rebuilding their own strength — and then the three of them would go at each other again…”

Changmei smiled: “True overlords indeed.”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “Don’t you think Diudiu’s temperament has something of that same quality? Only a little bit lacking.”

Changmei shook his head: “Little Diudiu’s temperament is nothing like that. When little Diudiu gets truly angry, he’s fiercer than any of those three.”

Gao Yuanzhang smiled and said nothing to dispute it, though inwardly he remained unconvinced.

He truly did feel Li Chi was insufficiently forceful. If he were more forceful, surely he’d have marched on Jingzhou long before now.

But Gao Yuanzhang also knew this wasn’t his area of expertise, so he never offered such opinions outside, only turning it over privately in his own mind from time to time.

Just then, Li Chi arrived, carrying a food box in his hand.

“I knew you’d both be here.”

Li Chi came over cheerfully, gesturing toward the inner room. Both elders rose.

It was the depths of winter — the sunlight was fine enough, but whenever the wind rose, it came with an edge like a blade’s cut.

Inside, Li Chi cleared the table and set out food and wine for the two elders.

“How do you have free time today?”

Gao Yuanzhang asked.

Li Chi answered: “Things are more or less all arranged — I’m only waiting for warmer weather to head south. It won’t be so busy going forward.”

Gao Yuanzhang said offhandedly: “You really should have gone ahead first. Yan Qingzhi said you shouldn’t go to Yuzhou first — which I don’t understand, and I don’t know why you listened to him.”

Li Chi smiled: “Even if Yan Qingzhi hadn’t said so, I hadn’t planned to go that early.”

Gao Yuanzhang looked toward Changmei, his expression clearly meaning: you see? This child is so sentimental and attached — how is he any sort of true overlord?

Li Chi offered no explanation, simply pouring wine for the two elders.

Changmei steered the conversation elsewhere. Gao Yuanzhang was Diudiu’s father-in-law, after all — out of respect, he didn’t want to quarrel with him. But that look of Gao Yuanzhang’s irritated him.

In his heart, Gao Yuanzhang still felt that little Diudiu’s vision wasn’t quite far enough — probably rooted in ideas deeply imprinted in Gao Yuanzhang’s bones.

“How come Yu Jiuling isn’t with you?”

Changmei asked.

Li Chi said: “The weather’s been getting colder and colder — I sent him to go buy some cotton. I’m going to card it here in a bit and make new quilts for the two of you.”

Gao Yuanzhang grew stern: “You are Prince Ning — how can you do such things with your own hands?”

Li Chi smiled: “I’ve had a bit of free time lately.”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “A true lord and sovereign never finds himself with idle time. An emperor’s heart holds all under heaven, and all things under heaven are the emperor’s affairs — whenever you care to think about it, there will always be something to be done.”

Li Chi said: “The dean is absolutely right to instruct me so. I’ll go back and attend to official matters shortly.”

Gao Yuanzhang gave a satisfied nod.

By the time just two cups of wine had been poured, Gao Xining also arrived.

Changmei smiled and said: “Excellent timing, Ning’er — you stay and keep your grandfather company. Let Diudiu help me step outside for a moment.”

Li Chi took Changmei’s arm and helped him up, and the two of them strolled out together.

“Don’t listen to him.”

Changmei said as they walked: “True emperors are precisely the ones who don’t exhaust themselves to death. They know how to use the right people. A full court in proper order, all positions filled — if an emperor still had to worry about everything himself in such a situation, that would be the real problem.”

Li Chi smiled: “Why didn’t you say so just now, Master?”

Changmei raised his hand and rapped Li Chi on the head: “Say so just then? That would have embarrassed him — after all, he’s Ning’er’s grandfather. If he weren’t Ning’er’s grandfather and he criticized you, do you think I wouldn’t give him a piece of my mind?”

Li Chi said: “Right, right, Master is absolutely right — Master, who are you? You’re the king of comebacks, the tongue that pierces through.”

That flattery landed with a warmth that spread all through Changmei’s bones.

He smiled and said: “I may not be like other old men with children and grandchildren filling the house. I have only you and Ning’er — but I’m not senile.”

He looked toward Li Chi: “Parents carry expectations for a whole lifetime, and too many expectations become a burden on the children… Children should be sensible, and old people should be sensible too.”

Li Chi said: “If you keep talking like this, Master, I’m going to suspect you have ulterior motives.”

“Get out of here.”

Changmei gave Li Chi another look, then broke into laughter.

He laughed: “You were more lovable when you were less sensible — at least back then you didn’t make me angry.”

Li Chi said: “Did I ever have a time when I was less sensible?”

Changmei made a sound of affirmation: “You’ve been too sensible. Sometimes watching you, my heart aches — and that itself is a kind of being not sensible.”

Li Chi said: “Old man, that’s a bit much.”

Changmei laughed heartily: “Enough of this — let’s go back.”

Li Chi helped him back toward the inn: “Master, will you find it hard to leave Jizhou? You’ve never really left Jizhou all these years, after all.”

Changmei looked at Li Chi and smiled: “I’ve never left Jizhou — of course I’ll miss it when I do. But can I leave you behind?”

Li Chi stopped short.

Changmei smiled: “I’m old now, so I’m allowed to be a little clingy. I’m just going to follow you wherever you go.”

Li Chi nodded, firmly and heavily.

On the other side of the room, Gao Xining had poured wine for Gao Yuanzhang. He lifted the cup, took a small sip, and then sighed: “I made a few remarks about Diudiu just now, and that old fellow left in a huff.”

Gao Xining let out a laugh: “Grandfather, you’re acting like a child.”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “I wasn’t wrong. I only said Diudiu should go to Yuzhou earlier. He’s Prince Ning — every day he arrives in Yuzhou sooner, Yuzhou settles one day sooner.”

Gao Xining shook her head gently: “There’s a reason Li Chi isn’t going ahead to Yuzhou — he simply can’t say what it is to you, Grandfather.”

“Why can’t he?”

Gao Yuanzhang set down his cup: “Is there something that needs to be kept even from me?”

Gao Xining said: “Grandfather, do you think there’s something about Li Chi that isn’t good enough?”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “His methods aren’t forceful enough. I only want him to be a true sovereign.”

Gao Xining said: “All right then — I’ll answer Grandfather’s question from just now. But Grandfather must promise that after hearing it, your mood won’t be affected.”

Gao Yuanzhang said: “At my age, is my composure really less than yours?”

Gao Xining gently let out a breath: “Grandfather, you may truly be less composed than I am…”

She looked at Gao Yuanzhang and said: “Just now Grandfather asked why Li Chi isn’t going to Yuzhou ahead of time. He hasn’t explained it to me either — but I know the reason.”

Gao Yuanzhang asked: “Why?”

Gao Xining bowed her head, and spoke each word clearly and with deliberate care: “If he goes early, fewer people die.”

She raised her head and looked at Gao Yuanzhang: “Zhang Tang is in Yuzhou.”

Gao Yuanzhang’s expression changed violently.