The banquet at the county office turned out quite well. Although the county magistrate himself did not drink, he provided fine wine for the local gentry. Word had it the wine had been sent down from the capital, and the gentry all drank themselves into a pleasant stupor, heads and feet alike floating on air. As they departed the county office, quite a few of them could not help breaking into song. The melody was the most common tune passed down through generations in Fulu County, and many among them had some learning, so they even improvised lyrics on the spot.

Some sang of a prosperous age, some groveled before the magistrate praising her love for the people, and some simply praised themselves for having done good deeds. It was a colorful spectacle, their howling reaching half the county town.

When they returned home, the group of old and half-old gentry were still riding high on emotion. Come the next morning when the wine had cleared, more than a few of them recalled the previous evening with a tinge of regret.

Gu Weng had made his promise on a surge of “this old man shall once more burn with youthful fire,” and by the next day already felt something was not quite right—had he really just handed over that many oxen and horses from his household?

He felt somewhat uneasy, and thinking that he himself had been the “first to propose it,” he felt rather caught between a tiger and a cliff. He also worried that if livestock from another family were to come to harm, he would be caught in the middle and end up blamed.

First thing the next morning, Zhù Ying sent people to summon to the county office those who had agreed the previous night to provide draft oxen. They were each to report their numbers so the county office could get a clear count and arrange the logistics in advance. Gu Weng had no choice but to show up at the county office, steeling himself. He wavered, and the boldness of the previous night had diminished considerably, returning him to the steady and composed elder he normally was.

Zhù Ying glanced over the group and could tell at once they were having second thoughts. Draft oxen and draft horses were enormously valuable property, so having second thoughts was perfectly natural. She saw through it without saying so, and only after everyone had gathered did she slowly say: “Last night, all the village elders agreed to lend their oxen and horses to the poorer farmers. Today I ask you to each report the numbers from your household, so the county office can coordinate accordingly.”

Gu Weng hesitated a little, wondering whether to underreport by a few head, but Zhù Ying did not press them to speak up and give their numbers. Instead she had someone carry in a simple map of the county, saying: “Thank you all, elders, for your generous promise yesterday. You trust me, and I cannot let you down.” She marked the names of the thirteen townships on the map, then lifted her hand and drew circle after circle around many villages.

Watching her circle every village around the county town, Gu Weng slowly let his heart settle back into his chest—the magistrate had a plan. He underreported by two oxen and two horses, ever so slightly.

Zhù Ying marked his numbers on the map and said: “For the nearby villages, as long as they can manage it, they’ll draw from Gu Weng’s supply.”

She went through them one by one and marked each township. Zhù Ying had in hand the most current figures—how many plots of farmland each village had, how many poor households. She knew such data was not always entirely precise, but it gave a general picture. She pointed at the map and explained to the gentry: “In such-and-such township, there are this many poor households needing this many oxen and horses. A certain Elder and a certain family have surplus livestock of such-and-such number, which can be deployed.”

She apportioned them one by one, so the animals would not be overworked. Then she pointed to another township: “This area needs a great many oxen and horses, and a certain elder’s surplus is insufficient. We’ll draw from a nearby family—such-and-such number of oxen…”

The figures for the entire county were all in her head. The gentry knew, too, that these numbers were sometimes not perfectly accurate, but were broadly true. Everyone let their hearts settle back into their chests.

Gu Weng said: “The magistrate perceives everything with the keenness of autumn and works herself to the bone for Fulu County. If we, having grown up here, do not do our part for our hometown, we would be disgracing our ancestors! Rest assured, Your Excellency—we will all urge our households to press ahead with planting, so the livestock can be freed up.” By the time the animals were freed up, he could report the ones he had hidden, and it would look as though he had exceeded his quota!

More than a few of the gentry had thought of the same idea, and they all smiled at one another with unspoken understanding.

People, once relaxed, could not help but speak a little truth: “Farming folk also cherish their animals. It’s just that they don’t cherish other people’s animals the same way. If they tended them the same as their own, then lending them out wouldn’t be impossible.”

Zhù Ying acted as though she had not caught the meaning behind his words.

She called for Qi Tai, and together with the county office’s existing account-keepers, drew up a new ledger to bring all the numbers into order, reserving a portion against unforeseen circumstances.

Once everything was in order, Zhù Ying sent people out to the villages to conduct a survey: which household had no oxen, which wished to rent, and which was truly too poor—Zhù Ying planned to advance the year’s rental fees on behalf of the most desperately poor farmers. She did not tell them this yet; she would simply write it off for them all around harvest time.

Once the tallies from each township had come in, Zhù Ying arranged the deployments anew—how many went to which village, and whether draft oxen or horses would be sent from where; how many, for how many days—dispatching everything one by one, and then sending yamen runners to the various townships to oversee the work.

Zhao Feng took his wife and hurried back to West Township for a visit. Before leaving, he told Zhù Ying: “I’ll get in touch with my brother-in-law right away and be back before long. As for the livestock, roughly twenty or thirty head each of oxen and horses—I wouldn’t dare promise more than that, but that much should be manageable.”

Zhù Ying said: “If that comes through, it’ll save a great deal of trouble. If he has surplus livestock to spare, I can also purchase some.”

Zhao Feng agreed and hurried off.

Zhù Ying also found a moment to visit the county school.

——

The county school was quite unlike a prefectural or provincial academy, and even further removed from the Imperial Academy. Like the county magistrate herself, the county school had one distinguishing quality—closeness to the people.

Of the forty students at the county school, the majority came from well-off families, though a handful of them had households that were short of able-bodied labor come the busy farming season. For the well-off families, as long as their households weren’t in decline, parents and elders were all frantically busy at this time of year—knowing how to direct people in their work was itself a skill. Some families also had their own land and had to supervise how their tenants and hired hands were managing the work.

So Zhù Ying went to the county school and announced a half-month holiday, allowing the students to return home and help.

The county school students had been ground down by consecutive days of examinations and were thoroughly strung out, so when the break was announced they all let out a cheer.

Zhù Ying said: “Don’t be in such a rush to celebrate. When you go home, I doubt many of you will be rising at dawn and toiling in the fields—use these days to think something through clearly: what path do you intend to take in life?”

Zhù Ying’s own career had once been guided by two people, Zheng Xi and Wang Yunhe, both of whom had charted courses for her. Neither path was one she could follow herself. She lacked their lofty rank and influence, and the county school students lacked the natural facility for study she had once possessed. She wanted to lay things out plainly with the students first, and if they were willing, to map out a path for each of them individually—ideally one that could lead them into official service.

She gathered the students in the school’s great lecture hall and asked: “What are your aspirations in life?”

Some students said they wished to put the teachings of the Sages into practice; others said they wanted to benefit the people; others said they wished to pursue learning; and still others said they wanted to benefit their hometown. “Wolf-subduing valor” and “wearing red and purple robes” were also the burning ambitions of young men.

Zhù Ying listened to their lively declarations without mocking any of them as idle dreams. Instead she said: “Then let us talk about the future. The future is a long road with much to be done. How do we walk it? Which way do we go?”

She raised two index fingers and curved the left one: “Devoted to learning, deeply committed to the Sages’ teachings.”

She curved the right one: “Achieving merit, benefiting the people, winning honor for one’s family.”

Then she brought the two fingers together and said slowly: “Both things can happen to you at once, both accomplished by you, the same person. Though they belong to the same person, they are not the same thing.”

“I know you all have pride in your hearts. Whatever you do, you must understand one thing clearly—seeking knowledge and cultivating character are lifelong pursuits. It does not mean that whichever path you choose is fixed for all time—that you will forever be a disciple of the Sages, or that you are forever barred from the path of the gentleman. Take the smaller road, and you can still reach the destination. Conversely, take the main road but hesitate and linger, and it comes to nothing.”

She spoke slowly at length first, then asked the students to use the spring planting break to think over which direction they wanted to take next. When spring planting was over, they were to tell her if anyone wanted to change their field of study, so she could help plan their path toward official service. If they did not want to change fields, then they would proceed as usual, and their prospects would depend on each person’s own efforts.

Of forty students, by her reckoning, if every available means were used, she ought to be able to push at least four or five of them into official posts. A ninth-rank post was still an official post, after all.

With that, she could consider herself to have done right by Fulu County. She genuinely hoped some of them would face reality clearly and stop clinging stubbornly to the classical and the examination routes. Fulu County had gone many years without producing anyone who had passed through those channels—which made it clear that route was largely impassable here. She also had no intention of spending her energy locking horns with a group of gentry sons, insisting on putting every last one of them on the road to glory—what would be the point of that?!

“Think it over properly, and then we can talk again. Let’s see how we can send more people out into the world—it would also be good for the county’s reputation.”

The students murmured their assent, but at that moment none of them said they wanted to change their field of study. Neither they nor their families had ever really experienced or considered the question of “how to enter official service.” Fulu County as a whole had gone decades without producing a person of talent, and no one had the habit of thinking about it, let alone any experience.

So they swayed back and forth. One day they would think: any official post would do—even ninth rank is official. Two days later they would feel the county school was improving so much that they couldn’t bear to give up the “proper route” most valued by the people of this age. One time they saw Zhù Ying and thought the magistrate had made a fair point; the next time they felt they ought to hold on just a little longer.

Zhù Ying did not press them. If no one wanted to change direction, even being able to push one or two out would be something. Otherwise, so be it—each person’s road was their own to choose. If she kept nudging students toward a different track, the students would end up resenting her.

Zhù Ying decided this would be the last time she said anything on the matter. If they did not heed it this time, she would have no choice but to fall back on the method of elimination by examination—concentrating her efforts on the top students and doing her best to produce one or two who might follow the most legitimate route into official service.

Ah well! It’s not as though I’m counting on them to become officials and come carry my palanquin! she thought.

Seeing the students’ faces all tense with anxiety, as though they might be dragged off at any moment to tread some even more forbidding path, Zhù Ying shook her head and left the county school.

The moment she departed, it meant the spring planting holiday was in effect at once. For most students, the “busyness” at home was a different kind of busy from that of ordinary people. Their families had time to ask: “Holiday? Why?”

The students explained the whole matter again, and their families, hearing it, gave over half their attention from spring planting to this other matter.

The most agitated of them all was Gu Weng. He had initially thought the classical law examination was, after all, inferior to the examination of the Classics or the advanced degree. But then he recalled Zhù Ying’s management of spring planting, and thought back over all she had done the previous year, and began to feel that the classical law route might not be entirely reliable—but “Zhù Ying” was truly reliable. So his thought “the magistrate must have her reasons, perhaps we should listen to her and change fields” shifted around to: “Their families have no wealth and must endure years of poverty to keep studying—we can manage that. Our family isn’t afraid of that. What’s wrong with enduring it alongside the magistrate? You’re still young, and our family can afford to endure. The magistrate can hardly look down on us! I can see she is an upright person, and a person who thinks ahead. Our family doesn’t oppose her, so she will surely deliver a good outcome for us. I’m certain of it.”

Gu Tong thought it over and agreed: “I think so too! I haven’t finished reading the books from the capital or completed the practice papers yet—I’m not willing to give up without trying!”

Gu Weng said: “That’s the spirit a man ought to have!”

Grandfather and grandson had made up their minds. Other families were quietly sounding each other out, but Gu Weng told them all: “I wouldn’t dare harbor such hopes.” Even his relations by marriage wanted to curse him: you old fox! You must have a plan. If you’re not changing, neither are we! Their minds made up, they automatically went looking for countless justifications to reinforce their decision. The county of Fulu growing better and better, and the magistrate taking the students seriously—these were among their reasons.

How could Zhù Ying know they still harbored such thoughts? She was even less aware that their confidence had been given to them by her very actions! Meanwhile she was busy preparing for spring planting and waiting for someone to come to her after planting was over to ask her about the path into official service.

——

Spring planting had barely gotten started when Zhao Feng returned to West Township—both to manage his own family’s spring planting, and to call on his brother-in-law. His son, though on holiday, was kept in West Township to oversee the household affairs; he and his wife, along with their niece, went up to the stronghold. The chieftain had not seen his daughter in a long time and pulled her over to look at her first, saying: “Good, good—it’s good that you’re back.”

Xiao Mei laughed: “Of course I’m fine, Father—don’t worry. Auntie and Uncle have something to discuss with you.”

The chieftain looked over at them, and Zhao Niangzi said: “Ask him—he’s the one who took this on. The county wants oxen and horses for spring planting. That magistrate just has too soft a heart, always helping to sort things out.”

Zhao Feng quickly explained to the chieftain: “The situation is this—” If he let his wife go on griping, they would never get to the point. He jumped in to take over, explaining to the chieftain how Zhù Ying had planned things, how the gentry had made their promises, and how he himself had stepped in to play a part.

The chieftain didn’t answer right away. Instead, he asked his younger daughter: “Xiao Mei, what do you think?”

Xiao Mei said: “I think it’s workable. But she should come talk with you in person—no going back on it afterward.”

The chieftain said: “Good! Then that’s settled!” He asked Zhao Feng to pass word to Zhù Ying: the price and numbers could be negotiated through Zhao Feng as intermediary, and he would have his daughter begin gathering the livestock. But for the final sealing of the agreement, Zhù Ying would need to come in person. A covenant would be set at the borderland between their territories, where both sides could make a formal pledge. Since the Qixia people had no written script of their own, meeting face to face, slaughtering a chicken, and swearing a solemn oath was far more reliable.

Zhao Feng said: “Good, then I’ll go down the mountain right away to relay the message!”

The chieftain, worried, asked: “Will she agree? Will she be afraid?”

Xiao Mei was already smiling: “Father, that person will definitely agree. I’d also like to go down the mountain with them—I want to see how she handles this one.”

The chieftain found it peculiar, but said: “All right.” He then arranged for his daughter’s family and in-laws to eat before making the journey, and afterward pulled his daughter aside to ask: “You trust that county magistrate so much?”

Xiao Mei thought it over: “It’s not exactly trust—it’s more that after watching her for a while, I’m certain she’ll show up. You couldn’t get a county magistrate to come just for a few dozen head of livestock. If she’s coming for ‘spring planting,’ then she’ll appear.”

“Hmm.”

“Father, our chance may well lie with her.”

The chieftain said: “Just make sure you’ve read her right! Well—even if you haven’t read her quite right, there’s nothing to be done. Your brothers don’t have the strength to contend with those two clans, and you’re a girl—we need to find someone to back us up!”

Xiao Mei thought for a moment and said: “I’ve watched her for a while. I think this person is someone we can work with. Father, look at those people down the mountain—no matter how many years the county magistrate ignores them, they still get on fine. Not like us. If our chieftain isn’t strong enough, other clans and families can seize our stronghold. Isn’t that exactly what you’re worried about now? Their way of living is better than ours. This county magistrate is someone who can let their lives keep on the way they are, undisturbed. I think this person can do it.”

The chieftain said: “I’ll go down the mountain myself and take a look at her.”

“All right!”

Zhao Feng descended the mountain the next day, but Xiao Mei didn’t go with him. She hadn’t been home to the stronghold in a long time and stayed behind first to help her father with some affairs, as well as to help him prepare the livestock for the transaction and to discuss with him the details of what they wanted to address at the meeting.

By the time Zhao Feng reached West Township, the spring planting on the lower ground had just gotten started, while the small plots on the hillsides hadn’t begun yet—Fulu County did have some hilly farmland, but compared to where the Qixia people lived, those hills were barely more than gentle rises. He first heard a report on how his own household’s spring planting was going, learned that everything was proceeding smoothly, and found that some families without oxen hadn’t simply waited around for the yamen to arrange rentals—those with some strength had already started doing what they could on their own.

Zhao Feng quickly made his way to the county town and reported the chieftain’s terms to Zhù Ying: “I am somewhat embarrassed—I only managed to negotiate thirty head of oxen and thirty horses. I’ve looked them over myself, and they are all fine animals. The rental fees would be the same as the going rate here in our county—nothing extra is being asked. There is just one thing: the chieftain would like to take an oath with you in person.”

“Such formality?”

Zhao Feng spread his hands: “The Liao people have no written script. For matters of importance, they swear oaths to heaven. Your Excellency, if you need anything from them in the future, this will likely be the way of it. The proposed meeting place is right at the border in West Township—we needn’t cross out of our territory.”

Zhù Ying nodded: “That’s fine. A good opportunity to inspect the goods.” The livestock alone was not a great number, but it was an opening. All that business about swearing oaths to heaven was just formality—meeting in person and taking each other’s measure was what really mattered.

Zhao Feng was overjoyed: “In that case, I’ll go send word at once.”

The two sides quickly settled on a time. Zhù Ying set out from the county town toward West Township, while the chieftain brought his clanspeople and the livestock down from the main stronghold. The two parties met at the agreed location—a relatively flat stretch of ground at the edge of the forested hills. Though the terrain there was comparatively level, its proximity to the mountains meant ordinary folk rarely ventured there to clear land for farming, and so it had become the site for their transaction.

——

Zhù Ying brought only the county office’s attendants, but Zhao Feng came with his son, household servants, and others—clearly not seeing himself as a neutral intermediary alone. Many of the gentry on the other side, like Gu Weng, were occupied with their own planting and had not come along. Zhù Ying had left Deputy Magistrate Guan to hold down the fort while she herself brought Registrar Mo and a few others, along with several dozen yamen runners, some ox-handlers, and horse-handlers to take delivery.

Zhù Ying rode on horseback, dressed neatly and properly. The weather had grown somewhat warm; she was not dressed too heavily.

Across from them, the chieftain was also very neatly turned out, wearing his narrow-sleeved garments, a large cloak, his clothes embroidered all over with patterns and trimmed with wide embroidered borders. Two men carrying knives walked ahead to clear his path, and four men bore him on a chair. Behind him came more people—those in the front dressed finely, also carried on chairs by two or four bearers each; the followers further back wore plainer, rougher clothing, most in short jackets and short trousers, some in straw sandals, others barefoot. At the very rear of the procession was a small herd of cattle and horses. Those in bright clothing held their heads high; those in rough clothing kept their heads lowered.

When the two parties were still an arrow’s shot apart, they stopped. Someone from the other side called out: “Is that the county magistrate from down the mountain?”

Zhao Su served as interpreter: “Your Excellency, they are confirming your identity. Shall I answer them?”

Zhù Ying had, the previous year, obtained from Gu Weng and the others several servants from various Liao tribes. The Qixia language was not too difficult for her, and it had spared her the considerable effort of learning an entirely different writing system. By now she could understand it quite well. She nodded.

Zhao Su relayed the answer across, then turned back to tell Zhù Ying: “The one in the middle—with the bright pheasant feathers in his hat—that’s the chieftain.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying nodded and asked: “Can we meet now?”

Zhao Su translated again, and the sound of agreement came from the other side. Zhao Su stepped forward to facilitate, and attendants and servants on both sides began to bustle about.

Zhao Feng had been responsible for building the covenant platform: several posts driven into the flat ground, beams laid across them, and a layer of split logs spread over the top. The chieftain’s people unfurled their banners and planted them on the platform. On Fulu County’s side, Zhao Feng had coordinated everything and brought their own banners as well, raising them in the same fashion as the other side.

Both parties stood on the platform. The chieftain’s eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, scanning Zhù Ying up and down as a hawk eyes a rabbit. Zhù Ying’s expression did not change. Without smiling, but without coldness either, she inclined her head toward him politely and said: “Hello.”

The two parties’ exchange was interpreted through Zhao Feng and his son. Zhù Ying listened and found no significant errors. Each interpreter rendered things slightly differently—not through any intent to deceive on the Zhao family’s part, but because the Qixia people had no written language, and their spoken tongue, shaped by different ways of life, operated on a different logic from that of the people below the mountains.

For instance, the Qixia people had no concept of “the imperial court,” no concept of “laws.” The chieftain and his daughter understood something of the world below the mountains better than most—barely enough to follow along.

Their vocabulary related to the divine was so extensive it would exhaust even the daughter of a shaman-family. Many material objects had simply been borrowed phonetically from below the mountains. Items like brushes, ink, paper, and ink-stones had not previously existed among the Qixia people, so they had created no words for them and simply adopted the sounds.

Since communication had already been established in advance through the Zhao family, these linguistic inconveniences were manageable.

After several exchanges, the chieftain let out a hearty laugh and gestured behind him. Zhù Ying followed his gesture: he was pointing at the cattle and horses. The ox-handlers in their sleeveless jackets and short trousers came barefoot, driving the animals forward. Zhao Feng said: “Your Excellency, shall I go count them?”

Zhù Ying swept her gaze over them and said: “The number looks right. I want to inspect them.”

The chieftain, hearing Zhao Feng’s translation, said: “Fine.”

Zhù Ying’s ox-handlers went to examine the cattle and horses and reported: “They are good animals.”

Zhù Ying raised her hand in a signal, and Xiao Wu stepped forward holding a small box, standing at her side. Registrar Mo carefully opened the box to reveal something gold and gleaming inside—gold, a deposit payment. Registrar Mo then produced a contract document and displayed it for the chieftain to see. Zhao Feng explained to the chieftain: “The deposit can be handed over to you, or left with me. The rental payments will be disbursed from the county to my household, and I’ll pass them on to you—it’s all written out clearly on the document. The deposit transaction can be handled a bit later. Swearing an oath is your custom; down the mountain we sign a contract. You can press your handprint, or draw any kind of mark—whatever you like.”

The chieftain laughed heartily: “Good! Bring it up!”

A young woman adorned all over with silver ornaments, dressed in festive finery, walked up carrying a tray of many wine bowls. The chieftain took one first, and then she walked over to Zhù Ying, smiled, and said: “Please taste our wine.”

Xiao Mei!

Zhù Ying showed nothing in her expression, and replied in the Qixia tongue: “Is it sweeter than what you drank in the county town?”

The bowls on the tray clinked against each other. Xiao Mei quickly steadied her hands, and looked at Zhù Ying in astonishment. Zhù Ying nodded at her, then reached out and took a bowl herself, saying to the chieftain: “I cannot drink wine. But because of others, there are many misunderstandings between us, and today we should still share a drink.”

The chieftain noticed the anxious expressions on Xiao Wu and Cao Chang’s faces and grew curious about just what kind of “cannot drink” this magistrate’s “cannot” was.

He watched, wide-eyed, as Zhù Ying drank the whole bowl in one go. He exclaimed: “Good!”

Xiao Wu and Cao Chang stared blankly, their eyes going glassy. Registrar Mo, who had just been enjoying a quiet moment of satisfaction at seeing Xiao Mei caught off guard by Zhù Ying, now noticed their state and asked Xiao Wu in a low voice: “What’s wrong? What’s so bad about drinking wine?”

Xiao Wu muttered: “The magistrate will be fine. I’m afraid it’s the Liao people who are in for it.”

The chieftain, seeing Zhù Ying drain a bowl in one breath, set aside any suspicion of poison, and called for another refill. A young man with his head bowed carried up a rough clay jug. Zhù Ying glanced at him, and her brow furrowed slightly. The young man stomped heavily onto the platform, and as he drew close to Xiao Mei, she suddenly demanded: “Who are you?!”

The young man swung the clay jug hard at Xiao Mei. She lurched to one side to dodge, and he then hurled the jug at Zhao Feng and his son. The father and son both dodged to the right. The jug shattered on the ground below the platform—there was not a single drop of wine inside.

The young man looked at everyone from Fulu County as though they did not exist. His right hand drew the blade at his waist, and his left reached for the chieftain. The chieftain swiftly drew his own blade and swung—a flash of his younger days’ fighting spirit—and the young man leapt aside. The blade swept past, and the young man lunged forward again. The chieftain tried the same move once more, but his large cloak tangled around his legs as he moved quickly, causing him to stumble.

The young man seized the large cloak and slashed out with his right hand’s blade. The chieftain strained backward with all his might to pull away from the strike, and though he narrowly avoided the worst of it, his left shoulder was still cut. He struggled to use his own blade to slash through the cloak and free himself, but the blade was too long for such close quarters and could not be maneuvered.

Those standing around dared not loose arrows for fear of hitting the chieftain. From the forest, a band of people burst out—roughly several dozen, carrying chopping blades or spears, charging toward them. The chieftain’s followers drew their blades and moved to intercept; both sides fell into a melee.

Zhù Ying drew her short blade and thrust it between the two men, pointing the edge at the young man. The young man seemed to hurl himself onto it of his own accord. Zhù Ying’s wrist turned; the short blade drew a pull and twist across the young man’s wrist, and blood welled up, quickly flowing freely. The blade in his hand dropped to the ground at once.

The young man’s blood spilled onto the platform and seeped into the wood. His face went pale and cold, his eyes gleaming in a way that sent chills down the spine. Zhù Ying was not the least bit afraid of him. She followed up with another strike to his left shoulder. Both his arms were now unable to strike at anyone easily.

Just as she was about to follow up with a blow to his legs, Hou Wu arrived with his blade, kicked out, and sent the young man stumbling back a few steps, then planted himself in front of Zhù Ying: “Your Excellency, step back!”

The young man rolled and sprang back upright from the ground with fluid agility, and bared his teeth at Zhù Ying. A sound like a wild beast intimidating its prey came from his nose and throat.

Hou Wu spat at him and charged with his blade. Zhao Su drew his sword and rushed forward swiftly, flanking the young man together with Hou Wu. Zhù Ying calmly stepped back into the cluster of her own people, keeping her blade in hand rather than sheathing it, and said: “Don’t panic! Form a circle! Weapons facing outward!”

Hearing her command, the yamen runners also calmed down. Xiao Wu said at that moment: “We don’t actually have that many weapons…” Those who had been leading the procession were now using their bronze gongs as shields.

Fortunately, the danger was quickly resolved. The young man was hacked into serious wounds by Hou Wu and Zhao Su. Zhù Ying said: “Keep him alive!”

The man hadn’t understood Zhù Ying’s words. He only glared at the chieftain with hatred and snarled: “Even if I die and come back as a ghost, I’ll bite off your head…”

Zhù Ying thought: that isn’t the Qixia tongue. And his appearance doesn’t look like one of the people under imperial governance—so the Liao people really do belong to many different tribes?

Those on the chieftain’s side let out a loud shout in a tongue Zhù Ying couldn’t quite make out, and the other group who had been fighting his men dropped several bodies and quickly retreated back into the forest.

The commotion on that side had barely subsided when Zhù Ying said: “I’m fine—stand aside, let me go check on the chieftain.”

Registrar Mo, Xiao Wu, and Cao Chang were all panic-stricken and blocked her way: “No, no—you can’t go over there!”

Zhù Ying said: “Stop fussing. A Chang, part of you is thinking that being a yamen runner like Xiao Wu wouldn’t be such a bad life, while another part of you still wants to go home and work the land as a proper farmer…”

Xiao Wu let out a cry: “This is serious! I said she shouldn’t drink wine!”

“Xiao Wu, you’ve only just been made a squad leader and you’re already getting above yourself—you look down on local people, and you’ve been complaining that local girls don’t compare to the ones back in the capital. You’re not satisfied, and yet you still try to flirt with them. When I get back, I’ll give you twenty strokes of the plank.”

“No…”

Hou Wu came walking over with his blade: “Hey, what’s going on?”

Zhù Ying said: “Hou Wu, that mouth of yours is past reining in…”

The yamen runners instinctively shrank to one side, but didn’t dare move away entirely, afraid she might be in danger again. Xiao Wu grumbled: “It’s not like I told you to drink the wine—go say something to him!” He pointed at Hou Wu.

Cao Chang clamped a hand over Xiao Wu’s mouth: “Don’t make things worse!”

Both sides had been in a bit of an uproar, and Zhù Ying caught sight of Zhao Su coming toward her. She said: “You have something on your mind.”

Zhao Su was taken aback for a moment. Xiao Wu said: “That’s just how she is when she’s had wine—she says whatever people least want said about themselves.”

Cao Chang said quickly: “She’ll be fine once she sobers up! She only had two sips—she’s already herself again! Quick, bring some water for the magistrate.”

Coaxed by them, Zhù Ying drank half a water-skin, and the unfiltered commentary seemed to stop.

She walked with her blade toward the wounded chieftain and asked: “So what happened here?”

The chieftain didn’t play games with her. “Those are my enemies. Nothing to do with you. We’ve had our wine—take the cattle.”

Zhù Ying said: “And your wound?”

“Ha! Who doesn’t take a wound now and then? Your blade is fine work.”

Zhù Ying said: “It was a gift. If you like it, I can get you one—but this particular blade isn’t something I can just give away.”

The chieftain chuckled: “Some fine young woman gave it to you?”

“An old man who likes fishing.”

The chieftain laughed out loud: “Thank you for today!”

“Your wound…”

“I need to get home!”

Zhù Ying said: “I mean—I have medicine for wounds at my place. I’ll have someone bring it and send it to you. How do we find you?”

The chieftain pointed to Zhao Su: “Have him deliver it.”

“Agreed.” Zhù Ying finished speaking, then stood there with her blade, indicating for the chieftain to take his leave first.

The chieftain’s followers carried off their dead and wounded, and went among the bodies of the attackers, driving a blade into each one, then severing the heads to take with them. The bodies were left where they lay near the small forest. Zhao Feng sighed and ordered people to bury them. He came forward to apologize: “Your Excellency, you had a fright. It is entirely this humble one’s fault! Just now…”

“His enemies.”

“Yes, yes…”

Zhao Niangzi, anxiously watching her brother, steeled herself and told Zhao Feng: “You’re going to stand here talking? Let’s go back home and talk.”

——

Registrar Mo’s view was that they should not linger outside any longer—they should return to the county town as quickly as possible. The county town was at least safer. What did it have to do with them that the Liao people were fighting among themselves? They still had spring planting to get back to! The others—Xiao Wu and everyone else—agreed entirely.

Zhù Ying said: “I came to collect the livestock. How can I just walk away? Zhao Feng, go ahead to your home and have the fodder ready.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying brought her people to stay at Zhao Feng’s home for a night. She also wanted to ask Zhao Feng about some things. Moreover, she had no intention of driving all the livestock back to the county town first and then out to each township from there—that would be far too much trouble. The more remote a place, the poorer its people, the fewer animals they had, and West Township here had a considerable gap to fill. She planned to distribute them along the road as she made her way back, assigning one or two steady and reliable gentry members nearby to oversee the use of the livestock.

For West Township, that person was Zhao Feng.

Zhao Feng was deeply uneasy inwardly. He did not believe Zhù Ying was the kind of person who would endure anything without limit all in the name of “building good relations with the Liao people.” Just from those two strikes a moment ago, the county magistrate was no easy mark! Even Zhao Niangzi no longer called her “soft-hearted.” That blade had not wasted a single motion, and her hand had been steady—not the hand of a novice!

The couple welcomed Zhù Ying back into their home and saw properly to the livestock. Zhù Ying said: “For West Township, keep aside three head of oxen and five horses.”

Registrar Mo stood nearby, making note, then went out with the yamen runners to make the arrangements. Zhù Ying said: “Hold on—send to the county town for them to bring a few ploughs.”

Zhao Feng said: “We have ploughs right here in this humble household! They’re in good working order!” He said nothing more about the rental fee.

Zhù Ying said: “Good.” The distribution was quickly arranged. She then asked Zhao Niangzi for water to clean the blade. A blade that had drawn blood was best cleaned, wiped dry, and aired before being returned to its sheath—otherwise it would not keep well.

Zhao Niangzi thought: truly, an old hand.

She grew even more careful, and had the same room prepared for Zhù Ying as the last visit. Meals were also arranged. Zhù Ying said: “Thank you.” She took her blade back to her room to wash and wipe it.

Once the blade was put away, Cao Chang came inching nervously toward her. Zhù Ying asked as though she didn’t know: “What is it?”

Cao Chang knelt down: “Your Excellency, it isn’t that I don’t want to keep serving you!”

Zhù Ying said: “Hmm? Oh—did I say something about that just now? There’s nothing wrong with thinking that way. Just don’t say it in front of A’Fa’s family. The Gan family have been servants all their lives, but they’re good-hearted people and have looked after your family. The Gan family earn their own keep—there’s no shame in that.”

“Yes.”

“Get up. Go back to the county town and till your land properly. You see—your ability to farm is more help to me than your being a servant.”

Cao Chang let out a sigh of relief, kowtowed, and stood up: “I know myself—one moment I think being a servant is no good, the next moment I’m eating a servant’s meals. I just can’t help it sometimes.”

Zhù Ying smiled, just about to say something, when footsteps sounded outside, and Zhao Su’s voice followed: “Zhao Su requests an audience with Your Excellency.”

Cao Chang glanced at Zhù Ying; she nodded. Cao Chang went and opened the door to find Zhao Su standing there alone—the same young man who had once come alone into the city to present two white pheasants.

Cao Chang stepped aside. Zhao Su entered composedly. Zhù Ying said: “Sit down.” Then she turned to ask Cao Chang and Xiao Wu: “Did I say something about him too?”

Xiao Wu, still mindful of his twenty strokes of the plank, was eager to show his usefulness and cut in first: “You said Zhao young master has a mind of his own.”

Zhù Ying looked at Zhao Su and said: “Mm. I didn’t say anything wrong.”

But Zhao Su stood up and knelt before Zhù Ying right where he stood: “If you would not disdain me, I wish to take you as my adoptive father.”