“The magistrate of Jiaxing County died of illness in office, and the magistrate of Xiushui County was promoted to prefect of Taicang. A pity that Zhensheng is a native of Yuhang and couldn’t be considered for either post. I didn’t expect that Hubei would memorialize the throne to establish Hecang Fort as Jiahe County.” Xu Lingyi lifted his teacup and took a sip. “You could call it losing in one quarter and gaining in another.”

On the second day of the sixth month, Luo Zhensheng — who had been waiting without result for so long — finally received the notice from the Ministry of Personnel: he had been appointed magistrate of Jiahe County in Hubei, with orders to take up his post by the twentieth of the sixth month. That very evening, Xu Lingyi hosted a banquet in Luo Zhensheng’s honor to see him off.

“This is still something for which I must thank Minister Xiang,” Luo Zhensheng said with a restrained smile. “If Minister Xiang hadn’t written to the Marquis, I would have gone after the Ningzhou magistracy. Whether or not I would have obtained it is one thing — but I might well have offended Grand Secretary Liang in the process. It may be a small county all the same, but with Minister Xiang and Minister Wang there, it is a far better situation than Ningzhou in ways too numerous to count.”

Though the sentence sounded convoluted, what it meant was this: back in the third month, two lucrative magistrate posts had opened up in Jiaxing and Xiushui. Because Zhensheng was a Yuhang native, he was disqualified from serving in his own region and was ineligible for either vacancy. By late in the fourth month, the Ningzhou magistrate was transferred to Anyi County, and Grand Secretary Liang wished to place one of his protégés in Ningzhou. Xu Lingyi was considering whether to approach Grand Secretary Chen’s connections, when Minister Xiang suddenly wrote to advise them to wait. In the middle of the fifth month, it emerged that Hecang Fort in Hubei — newly pacified after years of roving banditry and too remote from the prefecture seat — would soon submit a memorial requesting the establishment of a new county government to provide local administration. Rather than contest the Ningzhou magistracy with Grand Secretary Liang, it would be wiser to negotiate with him and have him put Luo Zhensheng’s name forward for the newly created Jiahe County.

Xu Lingyi’s spirits lifted at once. He found Luo Zhensheng to discuss it: “Wang Lei, the Hubei Military Commissioner, was once one of my subordinates. If you go to Jiahe, with both Minister Xiang and Wang Lei there, things will certainly go twice as smoothly with half the effort!”

Luo Zhensheng had been fretting over precisely this obstacle. Hearing this was like drinking cold water on the hottest day of summer. He worked through the Luo Family’s connections to approach Grand Secretary Liang, and the matter was settled without the slightest difficulty.

Xu Lingyi smiled faintly. “Jiahe is indeed a land of rugged terrain and harsh conditions, but that also makes it easier to achieve results. When the Ministry of Personnel conducts its reviews, the criteria are, above all: tax revenue, suppression of banditry, management of litigation, household population, cultivation of farmland, and the state of local schools. All the rest can be managed — but as for the tax revenue, I expect that will require the greatest effort from you…”

The two men talked on in the study, while Shiyiniang sat on the large kang by the window in the Qingyin Residence, sorting through Jin Ge’er’s clothing. “…This brocade-weave padded jacket was made from leftover fabric of mine years ago. The color is lovely and the style is still fresh — keep it. Perhaps Ting Ge’er will be able to use it when he’s a little older!”

Ah Jin smiled and answered, “Yes, my Lady.”

Jin Ge’er came out of the bathing room with his hair dripping wet.

“Sixth Young Master! Sixth Young Master!” The young maid Yingtao came running after him with a handkerchief.

“Here, let me have that.” Shiyiniang smiled and took the handkerchief from Yingtao’s hand and helped her son dry his hair. “You’re this old already and still don’t know how to look after yourself.”

Jin Ge’er grinned, settled himself on the kang, and idly picked through the small garments spread across it. “Are all of these mine? I had this many clothes?”

“Every last one belongs to the Sixth Young Master,” Ah Jin said cheerfully, bringing Jin Ge’er a cup of warm water. “Some he never had the chance to wear before he’d already grown taller.” She pointed to a pile of clothing set to one side. “All of the finest material.”

Jin Ge’er picked a few up, looked them over, and set them back down without interest. He turned to Shiyiniang. “Mother, is it really true that First Uncle is going to become the magistrate of that Jiahe County?”

“Of course it’s true.” Shiyiniang carefully dried her son’s hair. “The notice from the Ministry of Personnel has already arrived. Your First Uncle departs the day after tomorrow.”

Jin Ge’er thought of the companionship they had shared these past six months and felt a pang of reluctance. “Why does he have to go there? Isn’t Yanjing good enough? It’s so far away — we won’t even see each other at holidays or festivals…” He turned his head to look at Shiyiniang. “Mother, please go and talk him out of it. He could reach the fifth rank right here in Yanjing too — why go all that way to some poor, remote place out of the way?”

Reaching the fifth rank in officialdom meant eligibility for the grace of enfeoffment — the bestowal of titles upon one’s wife and children, the so-called honor of “ennobling one’s wife and sheltering one’s sons.” It was the lifelong aspiration of many officials to cross that threshold of the fifth rank.

“Your uncle’s ambitions go beyond enfeoffment and advancement,” Shiyiniang said with a smile. “He wants to do something real and meaningful for the people. He doesn’t want his years spent buried in paperwork and files.”

Jin Ge’er was silent for a long moment, then gave a quiet “oh” and murmured, “I understand…”

Shiyiniang couldn’t help but laugh. “And what is it you understand?”

Jin Ge’er turned his head and tilted it to look at her. “First Uncle wants to be like Fifth Uncle-in-law, doesn’t he? When we went to Wendeng last time, First Uncle said something like that.” He smiled. “I’m the same — when I grow up, I want to go to Jiayuguan Pass…” His large, phoenix-shaped eyes sparkled, his expression bright with a freedom impossible to describe in words.

Shiyiniang was struck silent.

Since Jin Ge’er’s return to the capital, she had not had a proper conversation with him about this. Partly she felt he still needed time to process what the journey to the south had meant to him; partly she thought he was still young, and the time for making choices had not yet come. She had not expected that the idea of going northwest was still very much on his mind.

“Have you decided so early that you’re going to Jiayuguan Pass?” Shiyiniang slowed the movement of her hands as she combed his hair. “Didn’t you tell me you admired Zhuge Liang’s stratagems at the straw boat, calling them matchless in cunning — and Zhou Yu’s fire at Red Cliffs, calling it magnificent and stirring…”

“I did!” Jin Ge’er said cheerfully. “But I like the northwest even more. The sky stretches vast, the plains roll on without end. It’s nothing like the south, where everything is small and delicate, and even the men conduct themselves with a delicacy that belongs to women…”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Shiyiniang said with fond reproach. “Your uncle is from the south. Master Zhao is from the south. Grand Secretary Chen, Grand Secretary Dou — they are all from the south. Does a single one of them behave like a woman? The great affairs of the realm are still decided by them, are they not? When the realm is at peace and the four seas are still, surely their efforts deserve some credit?”

In Jin Ge’er’s heart, the south had its beauties, but the northwest suited his spirit better. He wanted to go to the northwest. If his mother thought the northwest was no good, she would certainly oppose him — and even if Father agreed, there would be no end of complications. If things went wrong, he might not be able to go at all.

He needed to persuade his mother.

“Mother, the northwest is truly wonderful!” Jin Ge’er said. “The land is wide and the sky is high — you can run when you want to run, jump when you want to jump…”

“But the northwest is harsh,” Shiyiniang laughed. “The windblown sand cuts at your face, and the food is poor. You only went for a short visit — if you had to live there day in and day out, you would tire of it soon enough. Just the same as how, when you stay home day after day, the outside world begins to seem so appealing.”

“That’s not so at all!” Jin Ge’er grew urgent. Forgetting that Shiyiniang was in the middle of combing his hair, he turned to face her. “Father and I rode from Jiayuguan Pass all the way to Hami Garrison. We ate flatbread every day, sometimes sleeping out in the open, and yet — galloping on horseback over ridge after ridge, watching all that land spread out beneath me, valley after valley falling behind — I still found it thrilling and alive.” He laughed as he said it. “It was nothing like going to the south with Uncle. There, a three-story wooden building has people claiming they can pluck the stars; a small mound of earth is called some grand mountain; a puddle of water is called a lake. It was dull…” A trace of disdain settled in his expression.

Shiyiniang had ridden a horse herself.

When you sit in the saddle, your field of vision opens wide. The land and the crowds lie below you, and there is a kind of mastery in that — the sense of looking down upon the world — that captivates many people.

Or perhaps he simply loved the freedom of galloping on horseback, unbounded and unrestrained?

“You’d travel so far from home just to ride a horse?” she asked him gently.

Jin Ge’er shook his head. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I want to be the military commander at Jiayuguan Pass.”

“Why do you want to be the military commander at Jiayuguan Pass?” Shiyiniang looked at her son.

“Every winter, the Tartars ride down to Jiayuguan Pass to raid and plunder. Every winter, a great many people die. I even saw men begging in the streets who had lost their legs and their hands.” Jin Ge’er’s young face slowly tightened. “The military commander of Jiayuguan Pass was drinking with Father and started to weep. He said he was old and couldn’t drive the Tartars away, and begged Father not to blame him. Father looked helpless too. He drank with the commander of Jiayuguan with his head bowed, and drank himself drunk.” He paused, his small hand clenching slowly into a fist. “When I’m grown, I will be the military commander at Jiayuguan Pass, and I will drive out the Tartars. I will make them never dare come and take our things again.”

Shiyiniang looked at this small person before her, and felt something both familiar and strange.

“Do you know how dangerous it is, fighting the Tartars?” The corners of her eyes grew wet. “One misstep, and you won’t just fail to defeat them — you’ll lose your own life, and drag down those around you — Chang’an, Suifeng, the others who follow you — into death alongside you.”

“That won’t happen!” Jin Ge’er laughed and pulled Shiyiniang toward the courtyard. “Let’s go outside.”

Shiyiniang wanted to understand his intention and went along.

Beside Jin Ge’er’s rooms stood a rack of weapons, holding several long spears, staffs, and snake-headed spears. He pulled down the staff and swung it several times. A dull, tearing sound split the air. He gave a satisfied nod, then brought the staff down onto the pomegranate tree nearby. With a sharp crack, a branch as thick as a man’s arm snapped and fell.

“Mother!” In the light of the red lanterns hanging from the eaves, his face was illuminated, and the smile at the corners of his eyes and brows was filled with undisguised pride. “Impressive, wasn’t it? And I’ll only get better and better!” His confidence was boundless.

Shiyiniang was without words for a long moment.

“Jin Ge’er.” After a long silence, she stepped forward and gently held her son close. “Brute strength alone is not enough. You must also learn how to command troops and deploy formations in battle, and how to navigate dealings with the court officials.” Her vision blurred, and her voice caught in her throat. “It is a very difficult road — a very difficult road indeed…”

The path her son had chosen was a hard and winding one. She felt a sorrow deep in her heart — and yet why, underneath that sorrow, was there a quiet, buried pride?

Tears fell from her eyes.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” Jin Ge’er asked in bewilderment, his mind turning quickly. “Are you afraid that if I go to the northwest you won’t see me? You won’t have to worry — I’ll write to you often, and whenever I have time, I’ll come back to see you…”

Shiyiniang sobbed.

Jin Ge’er grew anxious. “Mother, I — I’m not going yet. The military commander at Jiayuguan said I can’t go to the northwest until I can fit into those yak-leather boots…”

A pair of strong arms drew them both — mother and son — into an embrace.

“There, there, don’t cry.” Xu Lingyi’s voice was warm and soothing as he comforted Shiyiniang. “Jin Ge’er will be alright… The post of military commander at Jiayuguan Pass is not something one can simply wish for… If Jin Ge’er doesn’t have what it takes, I won’t let him go…”

Shiyiniang buried her face in that warm embrace and wept quietly.

—