After court was dismissed, the civil and military officials withdrew in order.

Pei Shaojin carefully put his early court records in order, and as his colleague who would relieve him on rotation came over, the two exchanged the handover; Shaojin’s three days of duty were complete.

Leaving the Qianqing Palace, Pei Shaojin turned west, intending to find his elder brother at the Six Offices before returning to the Hanlin Academy.

Partway along, passing through a covered corridor, he heard some officials discussing the morning court session as they walked. Looking over, he saw several censors from the Censorate and several supervising secretaries from the Six Offices. Officials who served as remonstrators were exchanging views among themselves as was natural — they were not taking special pains to keep their voices from others.

And so a few of their words reached Pei Shaojin’s ears.

One person said, “In my view, what happened at morning court today is not a matter of right and wrong — it is simply a matter of which comes first and which comes after.”

“How do you mean, Sir Yuan?”

The man replied, “At a time when the treasury is full — what is wrong with conscripting corvée labor, repairing the border walls, and resisting the Tatars? And using the nation’s full strength to open the seas for trade, drive out the Japanese pirates, and restore the prosperity of the Song dynasty — what is wrong with that either? Neither is wrong; the question is only who goes first and who goes second.” He evidently believed that Pei Shaohuai had spoken up out of concern that a massive border wall reconstruction would strain the court’s financial resources and delay the opening of the seas.

He added, “And so the court discussion five days from now is nothing more than a question of who everyone aligns with, and how the Emperor will decide.”

Several of the others agreed with this assessment.

One official, with a trace of uncertainty in his tone, said, “As we have all seen, this young Sir Pei has some genuine ability — he is particularly skilled at courtroom debate, and is well regarded by several of the grand secretaries. I don’t think he will necessarily come off worse.”

“But once spring arrives, he will be heading south to Fujian’s Provincial Administration. However skilled he is at remonstrance, how much longer can he debate from there?”

In this court, those holding capital appointments always had the advantage of being close to the center of power.

The voices gradually faded into the distance. Pei Shaojin first stood still in place, his heart flaring with a sudden surge of anger — if his elder brother truly cared about winning this contest of priority, why would he have petitioned to be posted outside the capital? That last remark carried more than a little gleeful schadenfreude, the sort that comes from watching someone’s influence wane the moment they step away.

Pei Shaojin continued walking forward, his steps growing slower and slower, as though something had become clear to him. Then all at once he turned on his heel and changed direction, heading toward the Office of the Imperial Stud.

Though he was supposed to rest for several days after completing his duty rotation, Pei Shaojin went day after day to the Office of the Imperial Stud, and then returned to the National History Directorate to consult many volumes of ancient records.

Five days had passed. The following morning’s court session was to be the formal deliberation.

That night, Pei Shaojin came to his elder brother’s study. His elder brother happened to be preparing for the deliberation the next day, and Shaojin saw that the paper before him contained only a few sparse points — no more than several hundred words in total.

His elder brother’s expression was utterly at ease.

Seeing how relaxed his elder brother was, Shaojin felt himself relax a little as well. He asked, “Is Elder Brother confident he already has the matter in hand?”

“It is not that I have it in hand,” Pei Shaohuai replied. “It is that I trust the two ministers will be able to turn the corner tomorrow and come to understand what I mean.”

He immediately went on to explain: “Both ministers, being capable of deducing from a long winter the impact on the northern frontier lands — anticipating trouble before it arises, with the security of Da Qing always in their hearts — they and I are not moving in opposite directions. Between those who travel the same path, the more they debate, the clearer things become. Besides, Minister Chen was not wrong — I have never been to the northern frontier. That is a genuine shortcoming of mine.”

After all, no matter how fine a strategy or idea, without grounding in actual conditions on the ground, it would be difficult to bring to fruition.

What Pei Shaohuai sought was a mutual benefit for all.

“Your younger brother has learned something tonight,” Shaojin said.

Pei Shaojin returned to his own study, took out the manuscript he had been preparing over these past few days, and read it through once more in silence, his own plan already taking shape in his heart.

Who said that once his elder brother went south to Fujian, his voice would no longer be able to reach the court?

The following morning at court, the two brothers — Shaohuai and Shaojin — attended together. Pei Shaohuai was there in his capacity as Supervising Secretary for the Works Office, while Pei Shaojin attended as an observer and student official from the Hanlin Academy.

After the regular court session concluded, Grand Secretary Hu organized the formal deliberation.

Behind the two ministers Wang Gaoxiang and Chen Gongda stood a large contingent of remonstrance officials, while on Pei Shaohuai’s side there were only a handful — the contrast was unmistakable.

The Emperor issued his command: “Our Excellencies — begin the deliberation.”

A vice minister from the Personnel Ministry was the first to speak, listing the advantages of repairing the border walls. “Your Majesty,” he said, “the border walls are not merely earthen ramparts alone. Along the frontier there are also garrison fortresses, passes, beacon towers, and relay stations — these defensive works are of use in warfare for guarding the frontier and in peacetime for cultivating farmland. They have served the northern frontier for over two hundred years and have repelled Northern Yuan incursions on many occasions. What need is there for further deliberation on a matter of such benefit to the state and the people?”

He also cited the Yulin border wall in the Ordos region as an example, saying, “More than ten years ago, a great Tatar chieftain rallied his various tribes and attempted to break into the Central Plains through the Ordos region. It was His Majesty’s firm decision to commission the construction of the Yulin border wall that used the natural terrain of the Ordos to create a formation where one man could hold the pass against ten thousand — driving back the Tatar cavalry.”

The Yulin border wall was indeed one of the reigning Emperor’s great achievements, and so the Ministry of Personnel took care to invoke it repeatedly.

The other remonstrance officials seconded the motion one after another.

The vice minister of Personnel continued: “As for the private trading between military personnel, civilians, and merchants at the frontier with the various Tatar tribes — this violates the statutes of Da Qing. To act in accordance with those statutes and behead the violators as a public warning is, in this minister’s view, entirely proper.”

These words used both the Emperor’s achievements and the statutes of Da Qing as a shield, more than sufficient to put pressure on Pei Shaohuai.

Pei Shaohuai already had his rebuttal ready and was just about to speak when he saw his younger brother step forward from behind him and report: “Your Majesty, this minister has words he wishes to speak, and respectfully requests permission to participate in the deliberation.” He stood in his blue-green official robe — matching his elder brother’s — and amid the surrounding sea of red-robed officials, he was conspicuously striking.

Holding no position in the remonstrance offices, he could only listen from the sidelines in principle; to speak, he required the Emperor’s permission.

His voice carried a faint tremor, and his back could be seen trembling slightly too. Pei Shaojin had prepared for days, but standing before the Emperor’s presence, about to debate against the hundred officials, he could not help being nervous.

He had only been at court for a few months, after all.

“Granted,” the Emperor replied, his gaze full of expectation.

Pei Shaojin rose, stepped back to stand alongside his elder brother, and said in a low voice, “Elder Brother — we are only just beginning. Let your younger brother go first.” He would be the one to take on this vice minister for his elder brother.

Pei Shaohuai answered quietly, “Very well.”

The two brothers stood side by side, and a natural air of composed authority arose between them.

Pei Shaojin began: “Since the founding of Da Qing—” He felt his voice lacked enough force, paused, drew himself up and began again at greater volume. “Examining the Veritable Records of Da Qing since its founding, the court has conscripted corvée labor and constructed border walls on more than thirty occasions. And despite continuous incursions by the Northern Yuan, there have been eighteen major battles and thirty-seven minor engagements. The border walls have most certainly played a major role in repelling the enemy.”

Then he turned his argument, saying, “The border walls have been rebuilt taller and longer with each successive effort — by rights, their defensive effectiveness should have grown greater and greater over time. And yet the fact is, the frequency of incursions by the Tatar tribes has grown increasingly dense, with breakthroughs succeeding time and again. Taking the Ordos region as one example — why was the great Tatar chieftain able to harass and raid the area for more than a decade? The Veritable Records state it plainly: ‘Because the great Tatar chieftain had somewhat established dominance over the steppe, commanding a great many cavalry who could strike and penetrate with great speed.'”

Pei Shaojin put a counter-question: “Has the Vice Minister ever considered that while the border walls do have defensive capability, that capability has already reached its limit — that no matter how much they are repaired and raised, they cannot resist the Tatar tribes converging their force at a single point? And has he ever considered that if repairing the border walls could truly suppress the Tatar threat, why does the Tatar menace continue without end even after those walls have been completed?”

The implication was that rebuilding the border walls might not be capable of suppressing the Tatars at all.

Constant defense treated only the symptoms, not the root cause.

What his elder brother was about to propose was the long-term solution.

When Shaojin had finished speaking, he did not look up at the Emperor’s reaction but turned to look back at his elder brother’s expression. He saw his elder brother’s face bearing a look of warm approval, and felt his own confidence grow several degrees stronger.

Both brothers shared the same strength — they spoke in facts. What they said carried weight and conviction, with not the slightest hollowness.

This was the bearing that had been cultivated through the painstaking guidance of Master Duan and Master Nanji.

The Emperor gave a slight nod. “Sir Pei,” he said, “continue.” He let Pei Shaojin finish his argument.

“This minister obeys.” Pei Shaojin continued: “As recorded in the Veritable Records, the construction of the Yulin border wall in one year required the conscription of forty thousand corvée workers. Yet the nine frontier garrisons of Da Qing stretch for tens of thousands of miles, and the border walls in need of repair are many times the extent of the Yulin wall. To repair them all within a span of a few years would likely require the conscription of hundreds of thousands — even close to a million — soldiers and civilians. In the course of this massive border wall reconstruction, setting aside however much silver it would consume, the burden of corvée alone is staggering. When that time comes, who would remain to break and cultivate the land, who would work the fields and weave the cloth — and with the people’s hearts unsettled, how could one speak of resisting the enemy?”

He then posed a hypothetical: “And if only a few sections are prioritized for repair, the various Tatar tribes would simply choose to break through at the unrepaired passes. In that case, what difference would it make whether the walls were repaired or not?”

It was precisely for this data that Pei Shaojin had spent these past days going to the Office of the Imperial Stud and the National History Directorate to consult the ancient records.

Pei Shaohuai stepped forward at the right moment and declared a single line: “This minister seconds the motion!” He agreed entirely with every point his younger brother had made. That his younger brother had been able to put forward the argument that “the border walls’ defensive effectiveness had already reached its saturation point” had genuinely surprised Pei Shaohuai — and delighted him all the more.

Three words alone had given Pei Shaojin immeasurable courage.

Pei Shaojin raised the matter of the “military farming” system and the growing negligence of military training. “The military farming system is first for ‘soldiers’ and second for ‘farming’ — these are not ordinary frontier civilians. Yet today, many northern frontier soldiers and officers consider their duty to lie in guarding the pass and growing grain, and have long neglected their practice of firearms and weapons; their fighting capacity has declined sharply with every passing year. If the Tatars should one day come to attack, are they to go and resist the enemy wielding hoes and shovels? In this minister’s view, if rebuilding the border walls breeds a complacency in the frontier troops, then the cost outweighs the benefit. If one wishes to subdue the enemy, it is through the strength of a powerful army — not the separation of a single wall.”

These words struck precisely to the heart of what Pei Shaohuai himself believed.

When Shaojin finished speaking, the great hall fell silent for several breaths. The civil and military officials stood dazed for a moment, some calling to mind the composure Pei Shaohuai had displayed years ago when he had debated the matter of the silver coinage — the same sound reasoning, the same well-grounded argument, the same utter absence of fear.

These arguments had not only rebutted the vice minister of Personnel — they had laid the groundwork for Pei Shaohuai to put forward a new policy proposal.

And truly, here was a household of two luminaries in a single generation, both of them men of deep learning and far-reaching vision.

Someone thought to themselves: with one Pei Shaohuai about to depart, here came a Pei Shaojin — it looked as though the Pei family’s tradition of debate against the assembled court would never be broken. The thought left them with a certain wry unease.

The vice minister of Personnel was unwilling to concede, and counter-asked, “Setting aside this matter of repairing the border walls — banning trade at the frontier is beyond question correct, is it not? What does Sir Pei have to say about that?”

Pei Shaojin had not yet addressed the question of frontier trade.

He took a step back, yielding his position — for he knew that what came next was his elder brother Pei Shaohuai’s moment, and that his elder brother would seize this opening to put forward his thinking on “using markets in place of warfare.”

Pei Shaohuai stepped forward in silent accord, taking the place where his younger brother had stood a moment before. “The Vice Minister can see only that Da Qing’s grain and sea salt are flowing into the Northern Yuan’s territory,” he said, “but has he not seen that the various Tatar tribes also have goods flowing into our own borders?”

This was a matter from which both sides benefited — it could not be viewed from only one side.

The vice minister of Personnel asked with a sardonic edge, “Is Sir Chief Supervising Secretary suggesting that we turn a blind eye to Da Qing’s statutes and silently permit merchants to trade privately?”

“This minister would not dare suggest that.” Pei Shaohuai turned to face the Emperor and said, “What this minister means is that the court ought to bring order to trade in the northern frontier, and use the method of mutual markets to exercise a restraining influence over the various Tatar tribes — making them divided and unable to unite, and dependent upon Da Qing — thereby securing stability on the frontier and benefiting the common people of Da Qing.”

“Sir Chief Supervising Secretary cannot help but overestimate the ways of merchants,” the vice minister of Personnel said. “What benefit is there in trading with the Northern Yuan people? Does Sir Pei wish to exchange grain for their horses? The various Tatar tribes are not so foolish.”

The Northern Yuan had never been willing to sell their steppe horses to Da Qing, fearing that Da Qing would use them to train cavalry.

Even obtaining a single breeding stallion was exceedingly difficult.