The envoy traveling south had no idea that among the passersby on the road was a man named Gan Ze. His party, seeing they were nearly at their destination, only wanted to reach the post station as quickly as possible, rest briefly, and complete their assignment.

The man at the head of the group was a young official around thirty years of age, followed by several attendants, all mounted on horseback and unwilling to delay on the road. Upon arriving at the post station, they first announced their identities. The post station master, not daring to be negligent, said: “The upper rooms are swept clean every day, my lord — please come this way.”

The official made an effort to parse what he’d heard, worked out what the post station master with his thick accent had said, and asked: “How far is it still to the prefectural seat of Southern Prefecture?”

The post station master said: “About twenty li.”

The official said: “We’ll lodge here tonight and continue the journey tomorrow.”

The attendants all let out a great collective sigh of relief, their backs instantly curling like shrimp — at last, they could rest!

The post station master led them to their rooms and rushed off on busy feet to arrange their accommodations, then ordered people to prepare food and drink for them. In passing, he grabbed a post station runner and whispered in his ear: “Quick — go make a run to the prefectural yamen. Tell them the capital has sent an envoy, who also asked how far it was to the prefectural seat and plans to arrive tomorrow.”

The runner slipped away at speed and made it into the prefectural seat before dark, arriving at the yamen gate to announce: “I have business — I need to see the Prefect.” He flashed his waist tablet.

The gate guard recognized him as someone who frequently delivered the official gazette and let him in.

The runner entered the yamen and reported the envoy’s arrival to Zhù Ying. After receiving the news, she summoned the yamen’s various staff and arranged for the envoy’s reception. The envoy coming this time was not of high rank — a seventh-grade official — and leaving him in the post station would mean he would not receive the best hospitality, so he would need to be brought into the prefectural seat.

The prefectural seat had a guesthouse, and Xiao Wu said: “I will go prepare it at once, my lord!”

Beyond that, Lang Kunwu also needed to be notified so he could be ready. Zhù Ying sent Xiang Le to find the Wolf Brother and Chou Wen. If the envoy had no special requirements, Zhù Ying intended to handle the matter the same way she had handled Su Mingluan’s case; if the envoy had other requirements, she would decide according to what those were.

With an envoy coming, the prefectural seat also needed to be tidied up — the streets had to be cleared, and there could be no major incidents during the envoy’s stay. Additionally, Commandant Mei needed to be informed.

Once everything had been assigned, each person hurried off to prepare.

Although Xiao Wu had said he was going to prepare the guesthouse, he kept one eye open. He first sent subordinates ahead to handle the work and deliberately stayed behind. When no one else was in front of Zhù Ying, he stepped forward and asked: “My lord, what about gifts for the envoy? Should we follow the precedent from before?”

Zhù Ying said: “You may. Leave a little extra margin.”

Xiao Wu smiled: “Understood!”

Gu Tong watched Xiao Wu trot off cheerfully, then asked Zhù Ying: “With the Talang family now settled, might the A’Su family harbor some resentment? Should we offer some reassurance?”

“Have you heard something?”

Gu Tong scratched his head: “Just a few words. Isn’t it that the male servant of the young Miss Su lives in our yamen? He let slip a couple of worried remarks — something about fearing that now you have a new ally, you might forget the old one. Nothing more than that.”

Zhù Ying said: “Mm. I have arrangements in place.”

Gu Tong asked no more and went to help with the preparations.

The next day when the envoy arrived, the whole of Southern Prefecture looked even cleaner and more orderly than before, and people lined the road to watch him enter the city.

Zhù Ying did not leave the yamen that day and stayed in the document room handling official business. When the gate guard reported that the envoy had arrived, she brought the yamen officials with her and went out to receive him. The envoy had already entered the yamen gatehouse — the weather was stifling, and the gatehouse was somewhat cooler.

Zhù Ying quickened her pace slightly and walked up to face the envoy. He was a stranger to her — proper in appearance, taller than the local constables by half a head, and somewhat taller than Zhù Ying as well. Anyone who came to this smoke-laden and miasmic land from the capital typically looked haggard and showed some irritation and resentment, and if they were an envoy, they added a degree of lofty arrogance on top of that. This envoy was somewhat better than most — his temper was not so outwardly displayed, and he seemed in reasonably good spirits.

She first verified his credentials with the envoy and learned that he was surnamed Wei and given the name Bozhong. Zhù Ying said: “So you are the distinguished talent who passed the examinations last year.”

Having his origins so readily identified by her, Wei Bozhong felt a small flash of pride, and his expression eased considerably. He said: “A trifling reputation — I would not dare disturb the Prefect’s ears with it.”

Zhù Ying made a gesture of invitation and welcomed him into the yamen. Not in the document room, but in the main hall — she sat across from him above, while Zhang Jiong and the others accompanied them below. Seeing him look boldly around in all directions, nodding slightly from time to time, with an air of someone assessing and testing, Zhù Ying introduced him to all of the yamen’s principal officials, and also pointed out Magistrate Guo and told him he was the county magistrate of Nanping.

Wei Bozhong gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment before saying: “The memorial from your lordship has been approved.” He then rose and began to carry out the duties of his visit.

Zhù Ying and the others dared not be careless and listened attentively as he made his announcement. The substance was much the same as what the official gazette had reported — the memorial was approved. In addition, there was one matter not described in detail in the gazette: the Council of State was commending her, and the Emperor had also praised her verbally.

Zhù Ying gave the ritual thanks in return, accepted the decree addressed to her personally — the draft had been composed by the Council of State, with the Emperor adding his final signature and seal — and handed it to Gu Tong to put away safely. The envoy then produced another decree of investiture for Lang Kunwu; the attendants behind him carried Lang Kunwu’s official robes, which were not passed directly to Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying then asked: “Does Elder Brother Wei intend to go in person to proclaim the investiture decree?”

Wei Bozhong said: “But of course.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then I’ll send someone ahead to give notice. The mountain roads are not easy to travel — Elder Brother Wei should rest for a couple of days and build up your strength before going.”

Wei Bozhong asked curiously: “Is it truly so difficult?”

Zhù Ying smiled: “If it were easy, it wouldn’t have fallen to the two of us to make this trip.”

Wei Bozhong savored the remark and said: “To serve the country and the people and not fail the grace of the Emperor, one ought not to shrink from hardship.”

Zhù Ying praised him: “Elder Brother Wei has admirable resolve.” Zhang Jiong and the others also chimed in with praise. Wei Bozhong’s expression showed no particular pride at their few words of flattery, and he only said: “Please, Prefect, make the arrangements with urgency so that I may return and report my completion of the mission.”

Zhù Ying said: “Very well. Please.”

She accompanied Wei Bozhong to the guesthouse, where Xiao Wu had everything prepared — including gifts laid out and ready. This was customary: local officials, even if they had no interest in currying favor, still had to prepare gifts — at the very minimum, local specialties — and those with more calculation piled up money and valuables commensurate with the envoy’s importance, all so the envoy would not speak ill of them upon returning. Xiao Wu had prepared everything according to custom, for having a gift ready from the very start made dealings far smoother going forward.

What he did not anticipate was that when Wei Bozhong reached the guesthouse, he raised no complaints about the lodging but changed color the moment he saw the gifts: “What is the meaning of this? I came bearing an imperial decree — not to extract and plunder! Has someone done this sort of thing before? This is preposterous! Is the Prefect, a pillar of the state, to be subjected to extortion as well?”

Xiao Wu’s face turned a sickly green. Zhang Jiong hesitated and composed his thoughts internally, uncertain whether this man was sincere, putting on a performance, or had some other purpose.

Zhù Ying said: “I beg your pardon?”

Wei Bozhong said: “Do not try to conceal it — is this not a bribe?”

Zhù Ying looked at him and said: “Is this Elder Brother Wei’s first posting outside the capital?”

“Is the Prefect trying to tell me this is simply the custom?”

Zhù Ying said: “Whenever one goes out as an envoy and returns to the capital to report, one is inevitably asked about the local customs, products, and specialties of the places one visited.” She gestured casually at the pile of things and said: “Some things cannot be described vividly in words alone — you need to actually see the physical objects. Since Elder Brother Wei says time is short, and we also need to go to ‘Talang County,’ there won’t be time for much wandering about. Consider keeping these here to look at at your leisure. You may also take them when you leave — something to show you’ve been to Southern Prefecture.”

Magistrate Wang, Magistrate Li, and the others all privately marveled: those words were masterful — an advance if pressed, a retreat if needed!

Wei Bozhong did indeed change his expression, saying: “I see — I had misunderstood. Please forgive my discourtesy.”

Zhù Ying said: “Those words are too formal. Well then — no need to disturb you further. This place is remote, but it has its own character. Would Elder Brother Wei like to take a look around? Xiao Wu, you accompany him.”

Wei Bozhong said: “I need no guide. Everything here is fresh to me — I’ll just take a casual look.”

Those listening all laughed, and Zhang Jiong said: “No need for a guide — but surely you need an interpreter?” It had taken him quite some time himself to understand the local dialect when he first arrived.

Wei Bozhong then thanked Zhù Ying, and seeing that Xiao Wu was also in official robes, said a word of “much obliged” to him as well. Xiao Wu quickly said he dared not accept such thanks and accompanied him with care.

That evening, Zhù Ying held a welcoming banquet for him. Wei Bozhong had rested for an afternoon and was in somewhat better spirits by evening. During the meal, he also asked various questions about Southern Prefecture — winter wheat, the indigenous peoples, and the like. Zhù Ying answered all of them. The following day, Wei Bozhong and his party rose a little late, and Xiao Wu had hurried over from the yamen before they were even awake.

Wei Bozhong asked Xiao Wu: “Is there anywhere in the city worth visiting?”

Xiao Wu smiled: “There’s a fine place — please follow me, my lord.” He led Wei Bozhong all the way to the gate of the prefectural school.

Wei Bozhong asked: “What are we doing here?”

Zhù Ying walked out from inside the prefectural school and said: “A scholar who passed the examinations would surely not begrudge giving a lecture, would he?” Jing Gang had run off — Wei Bozhong had to be put to work giving a class right away!

Wei Bozhong had passed by his own ability rather than by connections, and it showed when he taught. His standard speech was impeccable, and he drew upon allusions and examples with ease. The prefectural school students listened with great satisfaction. Zhù Ying had procured many books and textbooks for them — all established editions — and new scholarship always lagged two steps behind by the time it could be carved into blocks and printed.

Wei Bozhong had traveled a long way and grew somewhat weary after an hour of teaching. Zhù Ying let him rest temporarily and continue in the afternoon.

Wei Bozhong had come to observe conditions and yet had been firmly detained in the prefectural school until the Wolf Brother brought back word from Lang Kunwu: “The village has finished its preparations.”

Zhù Ying then called on Commandant Mei, assembled an armed escort, arranged the ceremonial procession, and invited Wei Bozhong to go up the mountain with them.

Wei Bozhong gladly agreed!

The two of them rode alongside Commandant Mei, with Zhù Ying in the middle and Wei Bozhong and the commandant to either side. Along the way, Wei Bozhong watched the rice in the fields already forming heads, and then suddenly remembered — wasn’t I supposed to be here to observe conditions? How did I end up doing nothing but lecturing at the prefectural school?

He cast a suspicious look at Zhù Ying, but she suddenly asked: “I wonder who Elder Brother Wei studied under?”

Wei Bozhong said: “What — what do you mean?”

“Listening to you, it’s as though I’ve encountered a familiar person.”

Wei Bozhong was at a loss for words. Zhù Ying said: “Does Elder Brother Wei have some connection to Elder Liu?” In bearing and manner of speaking he rather resembled Liu Songnian — and his scholarly views also had a resemblance — though his tongue was not quite as sharp, and his depths of character did not seem quite as unfathomable.

Wei Bozhong said: “Ah — my late father and Elder Liu were both disciples of Master Yue in their day.”

Wei Bozhong’s father had been Liu Songnian’s fellow student, both having studied under Yue Huan’s grandfather. Zhù Ying was not well acquainted with the various branches and connections among these men of letters, and so at first she had only known Wei Bozhong’s name from the gazette and the fact that he had passed the examinations last year. Today’s arrangement to have him lecture at the prefectural school had not been a test — she had simply thought that a man who had passed the examinations ought to have stronger scholarship than the teachers available in this small backwater, and that it would do the students good to experience it.

As she listened, she felt something slightly off in tone — Liu Songnian’s style was fairly distinctive — and so she had ventured the remark. For a man of letters, so long as there was no deep-seated enmity involved, being told he resembled the “Literary Patriarch of the Age” was unlikely to earn anyone lasting resentment.

As the two of them talked on, they gradually fell into easy rapport. Zhù Ying then learned that Wei Bozhong had only become a seventh-grade official at thirty not because he was incapable, but because his father had died and the mourning period had ruined his prospects entirely. After completing his mourning, Liu Songnian had snatched him up and personally instructed him for two more years, and even now the faint flavor of Liu Songnian still lingered about him.

Starting as a seventh-grade official straight out of mourning, and in the capital at that, with a relatively dignified posting — that was quite a fine position.

Their party spent a night in a sizable town along the route, and the following night at the “border” camp, then on the third day could reach Talang Village — if they pressed, they could arrive by dark. If they traveled slowly, they would need to spend yet another night at a small mountain village.

The road from the yamen to Talang Village was by no means easy going.

In the town, Wei Bozhong noticed a stone tablet bearing characters and, the sun not yet having set, glanced at it once and then went over to examine it more carefully, saying: “This rather resembles the Elder’s handwriting — mm, and yet not quite, only having the outward form.”

Zhù Ying said: “There is an original manuscript. What a stone carving turns out like depends entirely on the craftsman’s skill — this is already quite good.”

Wei Bozhong nodded repeatedly.

At the border encampment, the men of Langtuo Village were already waiting there. Lang Kunwu, seeing a large mounted party approaching, ordered his men to be on guard, carefully counted the numbers — around a hundred or so, not a large force — and only then cautiously came forward to meet Zhù Ying: “My lord.”

Chou Wen stepped forward and said to him: “The one in blue is the emissary from the court.”

Lang Kunwu nodded and gave Wei Bozhong a bow — the kind used in his tribe, a hand pressed to the shoulder rather than clasped fists. Wei Bozhong returned the gesture from horseback. The two of them had no common language: Lang Kunwu had hurriedly crammed a few words of the local dialect, while Wei Bozhong currently only knew standard speech and his own home dialect.

Chou Wen’s standard speech also had a heavy accent, and after Xiao Wu served as a second interpreter, the two of them finally managed to exchange a few words.

Wei Bozhong only regretted that he could not stay here for more days — at least long enough to master the dialect — so that he would not be, as now, relying on two layers of translation, making even an exchange of greetings laborious, let alone gathering any intelligence.

They traveled two more days through the mountains, sleeping in the deep hills. The days were hot and humid, and at night a mountain wind rose and woke Wei Bozhong from the cold. He called out, sneezing, for someone to bring more bedding. Fortunately, the small village had ample supplies for him as its honored guest, and someone brought him another quilt. He was burrowing under it, drifting back toward sleep, when a wolf’s howl jolted him awake.

The next day Wei Bozhong’s spirits were lower than the day before, and he was disinclined to talk much along the way. He had always prided himself on being young and vigorous — one of his attendants had died of illness on the road and he himself had arrived at Southern Prefecture in fine condition — yet here in the mountains he was suffering considerable hardship.

They only reached Talang Village after dark. Seeing the lights of the village in the distance, Wei Bozhong’s heart swelled with a joy like that of a man who has escaped with his life. But the village only looked close — after winding seven bends and eight turns, another half-shichen passed before they finally entered the stockade.

By the time they entered, it was fully dark, and Commandant Mei had brought many soldiers who also needed to be settled. They were not finished until well past midnight. By then Wei Bozhong wanted nothing but rest, his head heavy and swimming. He had set out southward with a heart full of grand ambitions, and now he only wanted one good night’s sleep.

At the first gray of dawn, roosters crowed one after another throughout the village. Wei Bozhong steeled himself and took out a pill he swallowed down. This was an alertness and tonic medicine he had prepared back when he was studying — it smelled pleasant enough that he kept it around as an incense substitute. He had thought that after passing the examinations he would never need to take this sort of thing again, and here in these remote mountains it had been pressed back into service!

Lang Kunwu attached great importance to this investiture ceremony. His mother and wife would also receive rank status through him, and all three had their robes. Wei Bozhong read the decree aloud in a language the great majority of the village could not understand, and Zhù Ying then stepped forward and recited it once more in the Liji language — Talang family’s current territory would henceforth be called Talang County; Lang Kunwu would serve as its county magistrate; his wife and mother would receive the rank of official’s wife commensurate with his grade. The officials of Talang County would be selected by Lang Kunwu, reported to the court, and approved by the court, at which point these individuals would hold official standing with the court.

Lang Kunwu’s county magistrate position was hereditary.

Zhù Ying herself then added a number of supplementary terms: in the future, Talang County’s trade with the lowlands would be more convenient than it was now; once she and Lang Kunwu had discussed the matter, a relatively fixed trading market would also be established.

At the word “hereditary,” the hearts of Lang Kunwu’s family settled fully into their stomachs. They treated Zhù Ying’s party with warm hospitality and also pulled Wei Bozhong over to drink with them. After a few bowls Wei Bozhong began to feel the drink and waved his hands in refusal, again and again.

The people of Talang Village were happy because Lang Kunwu was happy, and so they were happy too. If their chief and headmen had simply changed their names and everything else stayed the same, they would go on living as they had before. They would no longer be permitted to hunt heads — which also meant their own elders’ heads were safe. That seemed acceptable. Some among them had real complaints about the change to the old customs, but dared not say so openly.

The second day Wei Bozhong nearly could not get out of bed. Zhù Ying went to check on him, saw his cheeks flushed red and that he had a mild fever, and said: “Rest a few more days before we set out.”

Wei Bozhong said: “That won’t do — it’s just a reaction to the unfamiliar climate. I need to descend the mountain quickly. After a few doses of medicine I’ll head north!” He had a clear head about it: Southern Prefecture was not a comfortable place to live. The local indigenous people were short and thin, with few of good height and fair looks, which showed this was no place for nurturing health.

He looked at Zhù Ying with a hint of envious grievance and said: “Prefect, you are truly someone to be envied.”

Zhù Ying said: “What do you mean by that?”

Wei Bozhong would not admit to physical weakness, only saying he needed to return promptly to report — the Emperor took these matters rather seriously. Zhù Ying, seeing him ill, was also afraid of having him die from sickness on her hands, so she bid Lang Kunwu farewell and descended the mountain together with Wei Bozhong.

Wei Bozhong recuperated in the prefectural seat for a full seven days. After a few doses of medicine he felt his illness begin to lift and immediately prepared to leave. Being a talent raised in a scholar-official household, he was versed in music, chess, painting, calligraphy, medicine, and divination alike. Hua Jie had written a prescription for him, and he made his own additions and deletions to the herbs and dosages, brewed and drank it himself, and found it took effect faster than Hua Jie’s original formula.

Zhù Ying asked him for this formula, then prepared gifts for him before letting him go, advising him: “Don’t travel by land road again — take the waterway courier route. Lying on a boat is more comfortable. The water rocks you and the carriage rocks you — but on a boat you can still sleep, while a bad carriage rattles so hard you can’t.”

Wei Bozhong said: “Such a fuss.” This time he did not refuse Zhù Ying’s gifts. She did not entrust him with any letter to Liu Songnian, only a gift for him. She also sent Xiao Wu to see Wei Bozhong all the way to the boat, and only after watching him board did Xiao Wu return.

No sooner had Wei Bozhong departed than Lang Kunwu came down the mountain again, this time in his capacity as a subordinate official to pay his respects to Zhù Ying and discuss next steps with her. Like Su Mingluan, Lang Kunwu had not immediately finalized the list of subordinate officials. In addition to bringing Zhù Ying gifts, his purpose in coming this time was to discuss the matter of the trading market.

Zhù Ying said: “In such a hurry? Have you already thought through what you want from the trading market?”

Lang Kunwu said: “As long as I can exchange for what I want, whatever price you name, Prefect, I am open to negotiation.”

Zhù Ying asked: “And how much wealth do you have to trade with me? I would say — yes, the trading market needs to open, but your village also needs to be put in order, doesn’t it?”

Lang Kunwu tensed: “What does the Prefect mean?”

Zhù Ying said: “Three things. First: the rules of the trading market will follow the model of A’Su County — that is what I promised you, and I do not go back on my word.”

Lang Kunwu said: “Good.”

Zhù Ying said: “Second: you are now a court-appointed official. Although you are a native official, and taxes and the like differ from those of the lowlands, what must be paid must still be paid — I will not ask more than is owed, and you must not delay. You, or someone in your family, must study official speech and writing, so that you can learn to draft memorials properly. If you cannot write them yourself, you must at least be able to read them. Otherwise, if we discussed ways to deal with you right in front of you, you would not even know.”

Lang Kunwu said: “Good! What I owe you, I will not withhold. As for writing — I’ll find people to learn.” He thought it over: he was not versed in tax law, so he would simply treat it as protection money, which prevented the lowlanders from helping Su Mingluan work against him. He could not leave the village himself, so he would ask the Wolf Brother to give him a crash course in lowland speech. He would also specifically arrange for someone to go down the mountain and study speaking and writing. Chou Wen could write a little, but the man had said he no longer wished to continue. Lang Kunwu’s most pressing need was to follow Su Mingluan’s example and find someone of his own who could write.

Zhù Ying said: “Find someone who can already speak it, or else learning will be too slow.”

“Third: if the goods your mountain produces are insufficient — once they’ve all been traded away, what will you live on? And there’s still a tax burden on top. Won’t that just be stripping the flesh from your land?” Zhù Ying then repeated the same reasoning she had once laid out for the A’Su family and advised Lang Kunwu: “Grow suitable crops when you can, and don’t abandon useful skills. If you’d like to try growing winter wheat, I’ll see how to arrange it. And farm tools as well. Here’s what I suggest: send some clever, able-bodied people down to learn.”

Lang Kunwu’s mouth fell open: “Prefect! You can’t be joking?” This had been the request he’d ranked last in importance — the kind you raise after everything else is settled, treating it as a windfall if granted and a typical lowlander refusal if not.

“When I’m joking, I’ll tell you.”

Lang Kunwu said: “You’ll really teach us?”

“Of course. This year I’ll first arrange to provide you some wheat seed, and send people up the mountain to teach you how to grow it. They are originally Liji family people who have put down roots in Sicheng County and registered as households there — those people do need to be returned. You should also send a few people down here to learn — that’ll be faster. Once I’ve taught you to grow winter wheat, I’ll also help you sort out the farm tools. That way, with greater harvests, the taxes you owe won’t feel so heavy.”

Lang Kunwu had never dared hope for this. It was just like that bird of the A’Su family, was it not? Everything he had feared about the lowlanders — their cunning, their faithlessness, propping up Su Mingluan to work against him — seemed now to be dissolving before him. Was Zhù Ying truly holding both sides to the same standard? He stood up and solemnly knelt down: “My lord is nothing at all like those others! I trust you, my lord!”

Zhù Ying helped him to his feet, saying: “No need for that — rise quickly. As long as you carry out what you’ve agreed to, these things are simply what I ought to do.”

Lang Kunwu swore by heaven: “If I break my word, let someone chop off my head and let the crows eat out my eyes.”

Lang Kunwu left in high spirits, and only after returning to the village did it occur to him — something his mother had asked him to ask about — he had forgotten entirely!

The Dowager Lady Lang had been waiting for his answer. Seeing him return, she walked over: “Well? How did it go?”

Lang Kunwu hedged: “Well… A’Niang, wait while I take care of a few things first…” He hurried off to assign several tasks to people, then shuffled back to his mother one reluctant step at a time.

One look at him and his mother asked: “Didn’t it get done?”

Lang Kunwu said: “I… I’ll go back down the mountain right now and speak to her.”

“I’ll go down the mountain with you!” The Dowager Lady Lang decided at once. “We can’t let the A’Su family get there first! The court only invests one in the lowlands! Your uncle’s family is still waiting for your news — if you can’t manage it yourself, I’ll tell them to go down and speak to the Prefect themselves.”

Lang Kunwu could not argue with his mother and said: “All right, we’ll leave tomorrow.”

As the two of them were discussing this, Lang Kunwu’s wife arrived unexpectedly. The two women had always been at odds — where one went, the other was determined to follow. Lang Kunwu said: “You two may fight at home all you like, but I won’t stand for fighting in the lowlands!”

Both women said: “Who’s fighting? We’re attending to proper business.”

Lang’s wife said: “Only one family in the whole tribe gets to hold an official post, and you already have it — I can’t win one for my own father now. Can’t I at least go and see the excitement?”

Lang Kunwu had no choice but to bring both women with him down from the mountain to the prefectural seat of Southern Prefecture once more. Along the road the two women, true to their word, did not fight, only squabbled.

When they reached the gates of the prefectural seat, both of them stopped squabbling entirely and turned together to look at another group of people — Su Mingluan had come as well. Beside her on horseback sat an elderly woman with graying hair, dressed in lowland clothes, wearing the same robes of an official’s wife as they had just newly received.

A head-on collision!

Both sides had prickles raised, and that they had not immediately drawn blades was their final restraint and their courtesy to the host. They each gave a huff, and on the streets of the prefectural seat performed another round of their racing horses. Lang Kunwu and Su Mingluan rode at the front, racing toward the yamen, and pedestrians on the road scattered at the sound of hoofbeats — the timid went pale as earth, the bold spat after their horses’ backsides.

The Dowager Lady Lang and the Dowager Lady Su locked eyes, and those two actually exchanged a few words. They were both from the Hua Pa tribe, though not from the same village. The Dowager Lady Lang asked: “What brings you here?” The Dowager Lady Su said: “To see my younger brother.”

Zhù Ying was the sworn brother of Chief A’Su, and had been called “A’Jie” — younger brother — by Zhao Niangzi and others from the start. The conversation did not flow well, and after no more than two exchanges, both women pressed on to follow their children’s horses and made their way as best they could toward the yamen.

At the yamen, Zhang Jiong was congratulating Zhù Ying: “My lord, promotion is just around the corner.”

Zhù Ying said: “I’m afraid it won’t be quite so soon.”

They were discussing the affairs of Southern Prefecture — Zhù Ying intended to hand off a portion of duties to Zhang Jiong, whose ability, within Southern Prefecture, was somewhat stronger than the other officials, as long as he applied himself properly. Zhang Jiong was also glad to take on more responsibility, and since Zhù Ying was generous, he could not afford to be petty.

Zhang Jiong said: “Without spending a single soldier, you have placed two counties under nominal governance — no one in recent years has had a second achievement like this. Given your age, your prospects are limitless. This is not flattery: think about it early, so that promotion when it comes doesn’t take you by surprise.”

Zhù Ying said: “How long have I even been in Southern Prefecture? And precisely because not a soldier was spent, what follows requires even more careful cultivation — one careless misstep and the whole thing could blow up in one’s hands…”

A yamen runner then came jogging in: “My lord! County Magistrate Su and County Magistrate Lang are racing each other at the gate!”

Zhù Ying and Zhang Jiong exchanged a look. She said: “You see — they’re here.”

Zhang Jiong said: “My lord will certainly have a way to handle it.” And with that, he made himself scarce. These “indigenous peoples” — they now had a tribal name — both tribes, each had their own language, and Zhang Jiong could currently only understand and speak some of the Nanping dialect; other tribes’ languages were still beyond him.

He picked up the road-construction documents Zhù Ying had just assigned him and left.

Zhù Ying instructed Gu Tong to go out and invite both parties into the main hall. She took her seat above, and the two tribes arranged themselves automatically to either side. The two had barely sat down when their mothers arrived. Zhù Ying went out personally to receive them, saw the Dowager Lady Su, and called out: “A’Jie.”

The Dowager Lady Lang shot a sideways glance.

Zhù Ying also paid her respects to the Dowager Lady Lang, asked after Lang’s wife, then invited them all to sit. Now: the A’Su family on the left, the Talang family on the right, eyeing one another across the way.

Tea was served. The A’Su side drank first; on the Talang side, Lang’s wife spoke first: “I’ve been wanting to come visit the Prefect for so long — today I’ve finally made it. This city is so much bigger than our village.”

Su Mingluan had no wife to speak up on her behalf, so she spoke herself: “The territory under the godfather’s governance is not something a village can compare to — even Fulu is livelier than a village.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Things will only get better from here.”

The Dowager Lady Lang said: “And what about other families? My lord — is it true that in one tribe, only one family may hold office?”

Zhù Ying asked with surprise: “Who said that?”

Lang’s wife could not hold back and cut in ahead: “Isn’t that so? Does that mean my own father also qualifies?!” The slight tremor in her voice was audible.

Given the lowland yamen’s craftiness, throwing out one prize for everyone to scramble over while you sat in the middle collecting the advantages for yourself — that was the normal state of affairs in indigenous minds when it came to “the lowlanders.”

Zhù Ying said: “It depends on how large his village is and how many people.”

The Dowager Lady Su also asked: “The Hua Pa tribe as well? More than one family?”

Zhù Ying nodded: “Who said I would only deal with one family per tribe?”

Lang’s wife said: “The stories going around say Qi Xia is for the A’Su family, Liji is for the Talang family — one tribe, one family.”

So it was a case of hearsay distorting the truth. Zhù Ying smiled and shook her head: “Of course not. I would like to get along well with everyone.”

Su Mingluan and Lang Kunwu both felt a mix of joy and unease — joy that their maternal clans could also become allies; unease that they would no longer be the sole outstanding figure of their own tribes. And if their maternal clans received investitures, they would be equal in standing.

Su Mingluan made an effort to compose herself. She understood that this could not be changed — what her godfather wanted was “all the Yi peoples submitting,” and it was impossible for him to support only her. And whether Liji, Hua Pa, or the Suoning family and others, seeing the benefits she had received, they would inevitably take action. Had Lang Kunwu not come to their door himself?

Then I must get ahead!

Su Mingluan made her decision quickly. She had already sent her little sister to live in the yamen — one step ahead of everyone else. At this moment, Su Mingluan felt a genuine surge of gratitude toward her father: Chief A’Su’s decision had put them ahead of all the others by a full step. Lang Kunwu now would not receive the same level of attention and instruction from Zhù Ying that she had in her own time.

She let a magnanimous smile spread across her face: “How wonderful that would be! How many years have our tribes been attacking one another? How much blood has been spilled! There was never any way to resolve it. Thank heaven for Godfather! From now on we can walk the roads in safety, and the young men and women of every family can sing in peace and find those they love. With Godfather’s permission, I will go back and get in contact with my uncle — can we follow our previous terms?”

Zhù Ying said: “You may tell him that if he is willing, he should come see me, or wait for me to return from the inspector general’s office and go to see him. A face-to-face meeting.”

The Dowager Lady Lang asked: “Is that truly so?”

Zhù Ying nodded: “Truly. Though the Talang family must first take care of the business at hand.”

Lang Kunwu said: “My word is good!”

Zhù Ying said: “Good. Then let’s set a date.” She could have squeezed out some time even now if she pressed herself, but she still needed to improve her Hua Pa language — she wanted to delay a little longer, until the seventh or eighth month when she could manage ordinary conversation, so that meetings would be easier. She set the date for the eighth month, when the rains would have lessened, the weather would not be so sweltering, and the roads would be better.

Both sides agreed, then both sat without making any move to leave. Zhù Ying first said to the Dowager Lady Su: “Little sister is right now in the middle of her arithmetic lessons — shall I ask Xiang Le to take A’Jie to have a look?”

She then asked the Dowager Lady Lang where they were lodging, asked Ding Gui to notify Xiao Wu to arrange accommodations, and thereby separated the two parties. She had Xiang Le escort the party from A’Su to the inner courtyard of the residence, then called for Chou Wen — who was in the study tidying up the day’s lessons. She had Chou Wen accompany the three members of the Lang family to their lodgings, serving as interpreter.

She herself then went to the inner residence and had a long conversation with Su Mingluan.

Su Mingluan understood everything in her heart and was all the more determined to maintain a gracious appearance. She sighed: “These past two years I’ve always been worried about them stabbing me in the back. Now it’s fine — he has his own constraints, and I can loosen my hands and work more freely.”

Zhù Ying smiled and asked: “No regrets? That you can no longer swallow up his family.”

Su Mingluan said: “There are some regrets. But thinking again — these are such vast mountains, and they’re hard to govern. The effort of annexing them, with no return to fill the gap, would also be unprofitable.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then let’s talk about something that’s actually within your reach right now — now that you’ve studied reading, writing, and arithmetic, has managing affairs become easier?”

“It has!” Su Mingluan brightened at once.

Zhù Ying said: “Would you like a few more such people?”

“What does Godfather mean?”

Zhù Ying smiled slightly: “Pick a few clever young men and women to come. I’ll build a separate schoolhouse for them and have them study some useful things.”

“Like little sister?”

“Little sister has studied more than they will — they’ll need to master theirs first, then come study alongside little sister.”

Su Mingluan said: “Yes!”

“Don’t rush — I’m still working on the preparations. Everything needs to be ready before we can begin classes, and that will take a few months.”

Su Mingluan smiled: “Then I’ll have them start learning official speech first.”

“That will make it even easier. Little sister will also have a few more young companions — better than always being cooped up at home bickering with those two.”

Su Mingluan also laughed: “She’s a mischievous one.”

“Children should be boisterous and get into scrapes — being too confined isn’t healthy. Come — let’s go have a look at her.”

The two of them left the study together and went toward Su Zhe’s quarters. Ding Gui came running in from outside: “My lord!”

Su Mingluan could see from his manner that something urgent had come up, and said: “Godfather has business — I’ll go to little sister’s room first.”

Zhù Ying nodded and watched her go toward the back, then turned to ask Ding Gui: “What is it?”

“Master Tang has come!”

“Oh? Did Xiao Wu give him trouble? Or… it succeeded?”

Ding Gui said: “From the look on his face, all his wrinkles were blooming — his back was straight and his cough had gotten loud! Tch — several hundred strings of cash spent, and it finally worked.”