The entire Zhù household was bewildered. Zhang Xiangu did not understand why she should receive food from the Emperor; Zhù Shenhan did not understand why only his wife was given such a gift. Huajie and the others found it equally puzzling, though since the only person in this household with any connection to the Emperor was Zhù Ying, they all guessed it must be because she had achieved some merit and the Emperor was rewarding Zhang Xiangu on her account.

Upon hearing “gift of food,” Zhù Ying’s mind turned over rapidly. She thought to herself: No wonder they made me stand outside the hall all afternoon today.

Guesses were just guesses; she still followed the standard procedure for receiving an imperial gift — expressions of gratitude first, then presenting Lan De and his party with red envelopes.

Lan De and his people were rather curious and studied Zhang Xiangu carefully. Zhang Xiangu was quite different from what she had once been — she wore silk and gold hairpins — but to Lan De’s eye she still had a somewhat rustic and even slightly shabby look. Which did fit the story somewhat, though not quite exactly — she was not poor or simple enough.

Lan De accepted the red envelope and produced the standard imperial envoy’s smile: “Please rise, Honorary Madam. What a wonderful son you have!”

Zhang Xiangu nodded blankly: “Ah, yes.”

Lan De said: “His Majesty heard of the single fish served three ways from your household in earlier years, and said — bestow a meal.”

Zhang Xiangu had made no end of embarrassing gaffes when she and Zhù Shenhan first came to the capital. She had been laughed at behind her back more than once. As for “a fish served three ways” — she couldn’t quite recall it. She turned to look at Zhù Ying.

Huajie quickly asked Zhù Ying: “Which incident is this about?”

Zhù Ying said helplessly: “It was when we were still renting our lodgings — Old Wang hadn’t retired from office yet at the time. Mother was getting together with some other wives and dependants; most of the people from back then aren’t in the capital anymore.”

The awkward memory surfaced, and Zhang Xiangu felt her face grow warm: “Well! Now I understand what people were saying about us at the time.” She steadied herself, took another look at the imperial meal that had been set out, and thought: It really is beautiful! Even now, looking at such gorgeously presented dishes, she could barely believe they were meant to be eaten — they could just as well sit on the table as decoration. She looked at Zhù Ying again. Back then she had wanted to boost her daughter’s standing, to help her make connections however she could. The reality was she had been utterly useless.

Lan De suddenly felt a tightening in his chest. The rustic Honorary Madam’s expression brought to mind a woman. That woman too had looked at him that way, and had chased after a slave trader’s procession for a long time before finally falling behind and giving up.

Now he too could get fish with sweet and sour sauce for a woman — quietly arrange a full imperial meal, even. Except the woman was already dead. His own mother, who had starved to death the second year after he was sold to the Lan family and castrated.

Lan De’s smile deepened: “Please enjoy your meal at leisure, Honorary Madam — I must return and report the completion of my errand!”

Zhù Ying said: “Thank you for your trouble.”

Lan De turned and swept out; the draft from his sleeve caught Hou Gu Tong in the face. Gu Tong thought: What gives you the right to be so arrogant?! Hmph. Eunuch!

Lan De’s party swept out of the Zhù residence. He mounted his horse and made his way back to the palace to report.

The Emperor asked: “How was it?”

Lan De said: “The Honorary Madam was overwhelmed with joy and surprise. Never imagined her son still remembered; even less expected His Majesty’s heavenly grace — the Honorary Madam nearly fainted with happiness.”

The Emperor smiled faintly and waved his hand in a casual dismissal.

Lan De bowed and retreated backward out of the hall.

Outside the hall, a few young attendants who had accompanied him were hovering with furtive, curious looks. Lan De curled his lip and adopted a cutting expression: “What are you gawping at? Come along with me — you won’t miss out.”

He gave one toss of the red envelope from the Zhù household and estimated its contents from the heft.

Opening the purse, he drew out several small silver ingots and distributed them one by one, then tucked the remaining well-filled purse back with a tug of its string and pocketed it. Behind him, a few young attendants muttered under their breath: “Greedy wretch!”

Lan De took his money back to his room, counted the silver ingots, and thought: With this addition, I won’t need to dip into my house-fund for my adoptive father’s birthday gift. A house — it must have a pond, for keeping fish. Hmph. Eating fish.

……

Zhang Xiangu ate that fish without much enjoyment. A long-forgotten memory had been dragged back to the surface, and the meal sat heavily in her chest.

Zhù Shenhan, showing rather poor judgment, asked: “What’s all this about?”

Zhù Ying said: “Something that came up in conversation in the palace today. His Majesty sent it along — might as well eat it. Let me taste what the palace kitchens do. If the flavors agree with me, I’ll see if I can pry the recipe out of them.”

As if she’d have any luck with that! A dish that looked familiar was entirely unrecognizable once it was in your mouth — you couldn’t even tell what it was made of.

Zhang Xiangu said softly: “Never mind. Ordinary food and simple meals suit us perfectly well. Trying to imitate others won’t come out right anyway.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then eat up while it’s still warm — it won’t be as good cold.”

After dinner, Huajie naturally went to sit with Zhang Xiangu. By the time they were ready for bed, Zhang Xiangu had regained her spirits and was full of fire, swiping at Zhù Shenhan: “Haven’t you had enough?! I’ll haul you out to beg at the palace gate!”

Zhù Shenhan said: “Keep your voice down! Don’t let people hear! You think I don’t have any dignity?!”

Both subsided.

The next morning, Zhù Ying rose early as usual to attend court. She brought along Xiang Le to accompany her. At the imperial city gate, she attended the assembly, then after the main court concluded, she occupied herself with various odds and ends. She needed to obtain the formal investiture for her parents; she needed to collect her own official certificate; she had to coordinate with the Ministry of Personnel on the appointments of her own subordinate staff. The officials of the former Nanfu were being upgraded in rank; newly created posts needed people filling them; and she still needed to arrange a decent posting for Gu Tong. Then there was the Ministry of Revenue to deal with, along with the Court of Judicial Review, the Court of State Ceremonial, and any office that would inevitably have official dealings with Wuzhou going forward.

Some things needed to be arranged ahead of time — an official seal, for instance, could not be cast privately and took time to prepare. It would be terrible to be nearly ready to depart and discover the seal hadn’t been made yet.

She still made the Grand Council her first priority. She hadn’t eaten yet, but the Emperor had given her a table of food — the sugar tax question still hadn’t been resolved. Going to the Ministry of Revenue herself to ask for a reduction in sugar tax would get her thrown out by Dou Peng unless the Grand Council had already issued instructions. She needed the Chancellors’ backing before Dou Peng would agree to sit down and “discuss” the matter.

She also handed in the memorial for her parents’ investiture and stood in the corridor waiting. Sun Yidan was still working at the Grand Council and, as before, invited Zhù Ying to wait in the duty room. Zhù Ying said: “I’d rather stand a while longer out here. Keeping my vigil might help things go through.”

Sun Yidan laughed: “Is there anything Prefect Zhù asks for that doesn’t go through?”

Zhù Ying said: “That’s hard to say.”

They passed the time in idle talk, until a small palace attendant came hurrying over: “What’s everyone doing? His Majesty said… Oh? Prefect Zhù! We’ve been looking for you! His Majesty is in discussion with the Chancellors and has something to ask you. Please come.”

Zhù Ying asked quickly: “What is it?”

The palace attendant smiled: “You vanished in the blink of an eye. The discussion yesterday was about sugar, and His Majesty wishes to continue it. Please follow me.”

Zhù Ying had no choice but to follow him in. They stopped outside a secondary hall behind the main one. The palace attendant said: “The Chancellors and Secretary Dou are all inside.” He went in to announce her, then came out and called her in.

The previous day’s discussion had been about sugar. Past experience suggested that matters like this needed a rough framework worked out below before being brought to the Emperor. Dou Peng had only recently taken over as Minister of Revenue. The accounts Xian Jing had left him were not as disastrous as feared; the operation he had inherited was not as bad as he’d imagined, and he had been ready to accomplish great things. Then the Emperor and the Grand Council had detained him and told him: the sugar tax must be reduced!

How could this be possible?!

Dou Peng’s hair nearly stood on end. He had just taken over the Ministry of Revenue — why should it be reduced on his watch? If the treasury ran short when the court needed funds, it would be his dereliction of duty. And if he said “the sugar tax was reduced so there isn’t enough” — no one above him would sympathize.

Dou Peng, relying on his standing as secretary, had used the opportunity of being retained for an imperial audience to object face-to-face.

That single story told the previous day had added a spark of interest in Zhù Ying in the Emperor’s mind. Seeing Dou Peng object, he pressed the matter with a few more questions and asked Dou Peng and the others to debate the issue before him. The old man wanted to see a good show.

So Zhù Ying was yanked over from the Grand Council.

Dou Peng rolled up his sleeves and waited for Zhù Ying. Beside him was the Court of Agriculture’s director, there to watch the entertainment; the Court of Agriculture’s work was linked to the Ministry of Revenue, and the Grand Granary under its jurisdiction was where Zhù Ying had first collected her salary as an official. Dou Peng had also brought his expenditure vice-minister.

Zhù Ying stepped through the door of the hall and felt an immediate chill down her back. The Emperor was smiling; the Chancellors were smiling; Dou Peng’s gaze, however, was decidedly unfriendly.

……

The Emperor gave a slight cough: “This matter of the sugar tax — explain your reasoning.”

Zhù Ying looked at Dou Peng and gave a brief version of what she had said to the Grand Council: “Merchants practice low margins and high volume — the same logic applies to taxation. The more goods in circulation, the more can be collected. A heavy short-term tax is no different from killing the chicken to get the egg. Sugar is comparable to salt in that it is consumed as food, not accumulated for profit, and cannot be managed with the approach of suppressing commerce through taxation.”

Dou Peng said: “Then how long will it take? Whatever the timeline, what’s to be done in the meantime?” The nearer a reign approached its end, the more money it spent — yet you could hardly call that wasteful.

Zhù Ying had come prepared. She said: “Nanfu — ah, Wuzhou’s output from its three counties, barring unexpected events, should double by next year. I will continue developing further to push the yield higher. Once the method is refined, I will make the production process public, allowing anyone with the means and inclination to produce sugar.”

Dou Peng’s eyes widened slightly. He said: “That is absolutely out of the question! Sugar is an enormously profitable commodity. If it is opened to all, people will plant sugarcane everywhere instead of grain. Less grain means insufficient national revenue and an easy path to famine — shaking the very foundation of the state!”

Zhù Ying said: “Consider the growing regions for sugarcane, my lord. It cannot be cultivated in the north. Even in the south, only areas with ideal conditions produce good cane — inferior cane makes poor sugar, and either finds no buyers or the self-production cost makes it uncompetitive. Such cultivation would collapse on its own quickly.”

Dou Peng said: “Preposterous! That still wastes considerable time. And the southern growing lands would still be occupied — the south cannot afford any drop in output.”

Zhù Ying said: “Winter wheat has been gradually spreading. Based on what I know, besides the three Wuzhou counties and Hedong County, neighboring prefectures have already begun adopting it. Total grain output will not decrease — it will in fact be slightly up, allowing for improvements in living standards.”

She then cited the names of the affable Prefect Chen, the Prefect Lu who had connections to the Zheng household, and others, saying these men had already begun planting winter wheat. With two rice and one wheat cycle, yields could not be guaranteed to double, but considerable land was freed up for sugarcane. As it stood, there was more than enough.

Shi Kun cleared his throat and coughed. Winter wheat? It was beginning to seem like the pieces all fit together.

Dou Peng frowned slightly, still feeling that a sudden large reduction in sugar tax at this moment would not serve his interests. Even if sugar tax was not the biggest component of national revenue, less was still less.

Zhù Ying said: “You see — the four counties’ grain taxes haven’t been in arrears at all, have they? And local officials would never simply let everyone switch to planting sugarcane. I planted sugarcane and didn’t shortchange my taxes.”

But this still didn’t solve Dou Peng’s immediate problem! He said: “Planning the whole requires planning each part; but how can one sweep the empire without first sweeping one’s own doorstep? What about right now? This year, even if your taxes are paid in full, cutting the sugar tax in other areas means less revenue elsewhere. This simply can’t be cut.”

Zhù Ying said: “Of course not a blanket cut all at once — could it be done in phases, by region?”

The Emperor said: “Explain in detail.”

Zhù Ying said: “For instance, my Wuzhou’s sugar prices are lower — the tax would reflect the lower price…”

Dou Peng was delighted: “Then the others will be even less able to compete with you! If they can’t sell, what becomes of the people who make their living from sugar in other regions? What becomes of my tax?”

Zhù Ying said: “That’s not what I mean. My lord, consider — isn’t the total the unit price multiplied by the total volume?”

Dou Peng nodded.

The Emperor said: “Go on.”

Zhù Ying said: “The total output of one prefecture determines how much tax it pays. Going forward, as volume increases, the tax stays the same. Take the sugar tax of one prefecture right now as the baseline: if it currently produces a thousand catties of sugar and the tax collected is ten thousand coins — fix that at ten thousand coins. If in the future the same prefecture produces two thousand catties, it still pays ten thousand coins. Lock in the current tax amount; however much is produced and sold is up to individual ability. The court’s commercial tax doesn’t decrease; the people’s costs don’t increase but actually fall.”

Dou Peng said: “Even if sugar production increases many times over, court revenues will not increase?”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Only account for white sugar and brown sugar; everything else remains subject to standard market-rate taxation. There are many varieties of sugar.”

Dou Peng grudgingly agreed, not committing fully: “On those terms — this can be tried.”

Everyone present understood that implementation would inevitably involve embellishments by those below. For example, how many checkpoints did goods pass through from the point of production? How was tax collected at each? How many times? Court regulations generally mandated a single collection — but in practice, that was not always the case. And merchants traveling with official boats also evaded taxes.

What they could formulate now was merely a set of standards — as with all law, the enforcement would inevitably stray from the original intent. But they had to set the tone.

For Dou Peng, as long as collected taxes did not decrease, his goal was met. As long as officials were assessed on tax revenue, they would not allow farmland to simply disappear.

For Zhù Ying, as long as Wuzhou’s sugar tax was reduced, that was sufficient. Land consolidation leading to great upheaval was still a very distant prospect; she had only mentioned it in passing.

The Emperor said: “Work out the details among yourselves.” He was in agreement.

……——

Leaving the hall, Dou Peng’s expression had somewhat relaxed. The performance before the Emperor had been to show he was defending state revenues. Going forward it was the Grand Council’s turn to watch; he of course knew that reducing the price of an everyday necessity was beneficial to the people. Once outside, he no longer kept his stern face.

Dou Peng bowed to the three Chancellors: “Chancellors, with this arrangement I need to calculate very carefully indeed. I will begin the accounting now.”

Shi Kun smiled and pointed at Zhù Ying: “You can work out those numbers with anyone else you like, but with her you’d better handle it yourself.”

Zhù Ying hurried to make amends with Dou Peng: “My lord, I meant no disrespect earlier. I know that my lord acts for the state. My own salary also comes from the same source.”

Dou Peng’s expression softened: “The young do have sharp minds! As long as it doesn’t shake the foundations, I too am glad to see a strong state and a prosperous people.”

The two made a mutual reconciliation, and the earlier exchange was considered closed. Dou Peng also had a rough sense at the back of his mind that Zhù Ying’s scheme of “increasing grain output and bringing down sugar prices” was not entirely without merit. He took his hasty leave of the Chancellors and went back to calculate taxes.

Zhù Ying trailed along right behind the three Chancellors. Zhong Yi asked: “Why are you still following us? Have you nothing to do?”

Zhù Ying said: “There’s one more thing — I need to ask the Chancellors.”

Zhong Yi gave her a guarded look: “What are you up to now?”

Zhù Ying said: “Wuzhou’s officials are still incomplete.”

Wang Yunhe said: “Isn’t Wuzhou subordinate? The former Nanfu officials remain; the rest are filled locally right there. Go write out your list and report it to the Ministry of Personnel. Or do you have another scheme?”

Zhù Ying said: “I wouldn’t dare. Then I’ll go coordinate with the Ministry of Personnel? I want to bring my people back with me as soon as possible so we can start working. The mountain climate runs a bit late — if we push hard on the road, we might just make the tail end of winter wheat sowing.”

Shi Kun said: “I thought it must be something major, but you can handle a Ministry of Personnel coordination yourself, can’t you? Off with you.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Yes.”

With that permission in hand, she went to the Ministry of Personnel herself. She needed to collect her certificate of appointment, and there was also the re-grading and various matters for Zhang Jiong and the others. She also filed certain official positions for Wuzhou, keeping two slots open for future appointments such as Yi Gan Cave Lord or the Suo Ning Cave Lord’s people. She also filed Chowen, Su Deng, and Huajie’s names and positions.

Given Su Mingluan’s insistence and Zhù Ying’s cooperation, a particular provision was explicitly added to Wuzhou’s official roster — women could hold office. By then Su Mingluan was already Asu County’s magistrate, and the Grand Council hadn’t thought much of it. Now Zhù Ying raised it again, saying this medical academician was also to be a woman, and the Ministry of Personnel processed it all in one batch.

Beyond this, now that the prefect’s office ranked high enough, the prison warden post carried an official rank — but she didn’t fill it with Xiao Jiang’s or Jiang Zhou’s name just yet. Female wardens had long since been sanctioned by the court; no rush there — she could file after returning. Zhù Ying planned to fill as many positions as possible with “local people,” so at minimum their household registrations had to be transferred there. This needed to be worked out with the two of them first.

Huajie’s matter was comparatively simple — her household registration had always been somewhat irregular, and having it changed to Wuzhou was something they could sort out between themselves.

Then there was Gu Tong, who wanted a deputy magistrate post. Zhù Ying also selected a county from the Ministry of Personnel on his behalf. This county could not be in Wuzhou, but ideally not too far away either. It was settled at a spot in Prefect Lu’s territory; Zhù Ying would drop him off on the way. Prefect Lu was in the midst of spreading winter wheat cultivation, the local climate differed less sharply from Wuzhou than elsewhere, and Gu Tong would be able to get to work there more easily.

For Zhao Su, she wanted a similar arrangement — but Zhao Su needed to sit an examination first. If he passed, wonderful; if not, they would revisit.

One other person she needed to arrange who was not a Wuzhou official was Magistrate Wang of Hedong County. Not being able to pull Hedong County along was one thing, but leaving Magistrate Wang for Bian Xing felt wrong. Wang’s term was nearly up anyway; Zhù Ying mentioned it in passing and had him transferred north, out of the prefecture entirely.

The Ministry of Personnel had been hearing about Zhù Ying’s recent exploits; she had been camped outside the Grand Council every single day. They gave her no trouble and sent a familiar face to deal with her. Zhù Ying sat to one side chatting with the person handling her files — it was Vice-minister Yin, the perpetual fixture of the Ministry of Personnel, filling out the forms at flying speed.

He talked while he wrote: “No wonder it’s you — Bian Xing was already here yesterday, asking to see the full roster of a certain prefecture’s officials.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “You wouldn’t give me Hedong, would you?”

Vice-minister Yin said: “That has nothing to do with me! Have you been so occupied in the palace these days that you haven’t had time to meet an old friend?”

Zhù Ying said: “Yes, these past few days have been so busy. I couldn’t go myself, so I sent someone to old Tian’s household — they reported back saying he’d gone on an external appointment?”

Vice-minister Yin said: “Mm. We all looked out for him given our regard for old Tian, and found a decent posting for him.”

Zhù Ying said: “As long as it’s something that can support the family.”

Vice-minister Yin said: “You do have a warm heart.”

“Just a coincidence, wasn’t it? I happened to know old Tian, happened to stumble into that situation. If it had been you, you wouldn’t have done otherwise. His family can stand on their own now — that’s a weight off all our minds.”

Vice-minister Yin signed off on the rough draft and went to get the Ministry of Personnel’s secretary to review it, then for filing, then for writing up the official documents — the procedures handled themselves without Zhù Ying having to run for each one.

Vice-minister Yin said: “Good that you’re taking them along — saves us having to dispatch someone separately. Wuzhou’s road is not easy going.”

“So true! The Fulu County magistrate post is still empty — brother, keep an eye out for a candidate.”

“Easily done. That’s all of it for now — here you go.”

“Oh thank goodness — that’s one matter done. Still need to have the official seals cast. The official robes for subordinate territory officials are conventionally furnished by the court, and those need to be made fresh as well.”

Vice-minister Yin laughed: “Once you’re there, people will move fast for you.”

……——

Zhù Ying handled the remaining procedures while continuing to renew connections with people. The old acquaintances she had in the court — more than half were still in the capital even after ten years. Every task moved swiftly. Bian Xing was still running from department to department; she had already finished and was going around setting up dinners and making calls.

She called first at Cold Marquis’s residence.

Leng Yun had long been waiting for her. The moment they met, he said with admiration: “Well done! You’ll definitely be going to the Seventh Young Master’s house for the happy occasion, won’t you? Drink the wedding wine before you go.”

“But of course.”

Zhù Ying did not ask about Leng Yun’s future plans — she had no intention of meddling in his affairs. She just talked with him about things from their time in the south, and sighed: “Now that you’re gone, acquiring those jewels is going to be much more troublesome.”

Leng Yun curled his lip: “Who says I’m afraid of him? Is he going to be there forever? He won’t be there his whole life, will he?”

The two said nothing of substance. Wuzhou was too remote; even if Leng Yun had wanted to recommend someone, he wasn’t about to send them into Zhù Ying’s hands.

Zhù Ying left before Cold Marquis returned home and, timing it precisely, went to call on Wang Yunhe. As usual, a pile of people was stacked up outside Wang Yunhe’s gate, and as usual, Zhù Ying skipped the line and got herself into Wang Yunhe’s study.

Wang Yunhe was no longer formal with her. He said: “Sit.”

Zhù Ying sat dutifully and listened over tea as Wang Yunhe asked: “The students sponsored from Nanfu — Ran and Zhang, correct?”

“Yes. I haven’t had a chance to see them yet — the few times I’ve had free moments, they were locked up in the Imperial Academy.”

“I’ve spoken with them. You held a blind examination?”

Zhù Ying said: “Yes.”

Wang Yunhe said: “You already made your move.”

Zhù Ying said: “I made my move long ago — starting with selecting county school students from Fulu. When they objected that it wasn’t fair, I gave them fairness. Look — still mostly the sons of wealthy families who made it through.”

“If one assesses people by wealth rather than by talent and character, one has fallen into a fog of delusion!”

“Just an observation,” Zhù Ying said. “I was bullied more by poor people than by rich people growing up. I’d have preferred to be bullied by the rich — just never got close enough to them.”

“Such cynicism,” Wang Yunhe said.

Zhù Ying said: “In Wuzhou I’ll keep selecting the same way — but our small and remote people can’t compete by reputation with these young prodigies. And the business of courting fame…”

Wang Yunhe made a stopping gesture: “I know you’ve done some unconventional things. You’ve been given Wuzhou; you may try things there quietly — but do not make a great noise about it. Do you understand?”

Wang Yunhe was speaking of selection methods, of the blind examination. Zhù Ying thought: The unconventional things I’ve done go rather further than “a bit.”

Aloud, however, she agreed readily.

Wang Yunhe said slowly: “As long as following established custom allows things to keep functioning, very few people are willing to change. Change invariably creates discomfort. Where the gain is not a hundredfold, reform is not attempted. His Majesty approved your sugar tax proposal precisely because you didn’t make large-scale changes. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Wang Yunhe said more slowly still: “History shows that the rise and fall of every dynasty has moved in step with the consolidation of land and power. I have yet to find a cure for this — only a way to dip a ladle in boiling water and slow it down. And even keeping that ladle moving requires someone who can pick it up. The court needs capable new talent — talent that is not monopolized by old aristocratic families — requires the able to rise and the mediocre to fall. Fairness must also be attended to. That sponsored candidate system of yours was clever.”

“I only fear that the person holding the ladle is the same person stoking the fire.”

“Take it slowly — don’t think about achieving everything in one stroke. Governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish; pull one thread and the whole fabric shifts.”

The two talked for a long time, and Zhù Ying shared some of the insights she had accumulated, while Wang Yunhe in turn passed on certain lessons of experience.

Before leaving, Zhù Ying also asked Wang Yunhe for a handwritten pass so that the night patrol wouldn’t haul her in again.

She left the chancellery and pressed on that same night to Zheng Marquis’s household.

Zheng Xi was already home and was talking with Zheng Marquis. With Zheng Lin’s wedding so close at hand, they no longer had time to receive ordinary visitors; the whole family was making final preparations. At this moment, Zhù Ying arrived.

Zheng Xi said: “Why have you come at this hour? Has something happened?”

Zheng Marquis said: “If you see her you’ll know. Have her brought here!”

Zhù Ying came before Zheng Marquis. The entire Zheng household was assembled — from Zheng Marquis down to Zheng Chuan; only the smaller children from Princess’s later births had already gone to bed.

Zhù Ying greeted them first. Zheng Lin and Zheng Chuan also stepped forward with a bow, their manner respectful, as if meeting an elder sibling.

The Princess said: “So late — have you eaten? I still have supper things here.” She urged that the food be brought out.

Zhù Ying said: “I’m actually hungry.”

She had come for another reason, however: “I wonder how the household’s preparations are going?”

Zheng Xi said: “Go attend to your proper matters!”

Zheng Marquis laughed heartily: “Precisely! Govern Wuzhou well, and that will make me happy!” Just seeing Duan Lin’s wretched face was enough to keep Zheng Marquis cheerful for a whole day.

Zhù Ying said: “Then…I have a few small gifts — they won’t disrupt the household’s arrangements, will they?”

Zheng Xi asked: “What are you up to now?”

While she had been grinding away at the Grand Council, the household had already sent a proper set of congratulatory gifts to the Zheng Marquis’s household. Now she was talking about more gifts — Zheng Xi’s instincts told him there was something going on.

Zhù Ying said: “Just a bit of wedding candy — to add a little sweetness.”

The Princess asked: “What is that?”

Zhù Ying said: “What would a wedding banquet be without candy? As luck would have it, I happen to have some. Madam, please look.”

She reached into her pouch and drew out a handful of sweets. These were not granulated sugar — there were lumps of rock candy, square pieces about the size of a thumb’s pad, crystalline and translucent-looking. And there were candies in various shapes threaded on bamboo skewers, each wrapped in wax paper.

Zhù Ying displayed them one by one: “These, on the day, can be handed out to children at the street corner — one each to every child who passes. Won’t dirty anyone’s hands either.”

The Princess looked with curiosity, lifting a small piece of rock candy on a handkerchief: “These are lovely — but there are no sticks?”

“Those are harder to manage.”

“Then they’ll have to be wrapped.”

“Some of them are,” Zhù Ying said, pulling out another small packet wrapped in paper. “This one has a little fruit flavor.”

Zheng Marquis’s wife picked it up, unwrapped the paper, and saw it was indeed a candy, though not transparent in color. She sniffed it and said: “There seems to be a hint of lychee.”

“Yes.” Zhù Ying smiled and said. “Well? On the day — will offering these add to the household’s trouble? I also don’t know if there’s enough to go around at the tables.”

Zheng Xi said: “How many would you need? Is your financial situation very comfortable?” He knew perfectly well in his heart that Zhù Ying could be highly resourceful — but “the rules of the game were different now.” At Zhù Ying’s current rank, expenditures were different from before. And in the past, most of what Zhù Ying earned had gone upward as tribute — primarily to him. Zhù Ying herself had not been left with very much.

Zhù Ying said: “For this occasion — a thousand catties should be manageable.”

Even the Princess drew in a sharp breath: “That is quite a lot!”

Zheng Chuan jabbed his sister in the back; Zheng Lin pushed his hand away, her eyes moving carefully over the faces in the room.

Zhù Ying smiled: “Wuzhou produces sugar and oranges. Local goods.”

She had firmly decided she must take advantage of this wedding. It was a perfect opportunity for advertising.

Who was Zheng Lin? Who was Guangning Commandery Prince? Just right! If it were a true imperial princess or prince, their wedding would be governed by so many rules, with such a surfeit of grand gestures, that two thousand catties of candy wouldn’t make much of a stir — and they might not even allow her to participate. If the rank were slightly lower, the grand scale wouldn’t be there either.

Zhù Ying said: “When I set out, Gan Ze had only just told me about it. Even what I’ve been able to make in a rush isn’t very much.” She produced a stick of candy with an embossed double-happiness character pressed into it.

The Princess was rather tempted and looked at Zheng Xi. The Princess’s supper had also arrived and been set out on a side table. Zhù Ying ate and talked at the same time: “My lord, you’ve always been a decisive man. The hour is getting late. Tell me now — tomorrow you’re at court, and I’m free to go ahead with preparations.”

Zheng Xi said: “Since when do you not have other things to do? Are there no other matters?”

“More or less done,” Zhù Ying said, popping a bun into her mouth — a fragrant, milky taste — and swallowing it. “The official seals and official robes for them aren’t ready yet.”

Zheng Xi said: “Then just come yourself tomorrow — you know where the door is. I seem to recall you didn’t bring any sugar among the tributary gifts you presented.”

“That was their own heartfelt offering. It’s not as if they produce sugar.”

Zheng Xi shot her a sidelong glance: “Wuzhou does.”

Zhù Ying ate her last mouthful of congee, accepted a washcloth from an attendant, rinsed her mouth, and stood up: “I’d better go make preparations.”

……

The next day, Zhù Ying still had a great deal to do. After standing through the assembly she first arranged to present sugar to the palace. Then she went to the Zheng Marquis’s household and discussed with the Princess and Yue Miaojun how to distribute the wedding candy.

She brought not only many sample varieties but also had Xiang Elder Brother carry in a sugar tower. This sugar tower differed slightly from those used in religious offerings — it was tinged with red dye, which made it look rather festive.

Zhù Ying said: “Forty of them — one per table. If there isn’t enough, more can be made.”

She made suggestions to the Princess and Yue Miaojun: “At the street corner I’ll set up grass bundles stuck with candy sticks — every child who passes gets one, for three days running. Then there are the paper-wrapped candy pieces — no mess at all, perfect for putting in a dish on each table, one dish per table. Grab a handful or scatter them on the table — easy to eat, easy to serve.”

“I also have small bags here — pack a few varieties in each bag to give to guests.”

She had put everything she had into this pitch, promoting energetically: “A new marriage is supposed to be sweet and joyful — how perfect!” When Li Fuge had come home with good news, Zhang Xiangu’s one word “wedding candy” had sparked the idea. Of course! People get married! Perhaps some people didn’t like sweets, but once it became fashionable, even those who didn’t eat sugar themselves would still have to buy it.

This wedding candy was not going to be priced like ordinary granulated sugar.

So it had to be sold in a big city like this one, in a place with wealthy people. Poor rural areas might count themselves lucky to have a cup of brown sugar water — those people couldn’t afford it anyway.

The Princess also felt this was an auspicious touch, and besides, Zhù Ying was providing it at no cost. Yue Miaojun also felt somewhat awkward about accepting.

But Zhù Ying kept saying: “Just take it all. The household has already laid out so many arrangements — let’s come to a count together first, and I’ll have them prepare everything outside so it can be brought in ready to use, without creating disorder inside.”

Yue Miaojun said: “In that case, I leave it to you.”

Zhù Ying said: “Madam is too kind.”

She had, after all, traveled to the capital by boat — and river transport allowed for large quantities of cargo.

Once the varieties and quantities had been confirmed with the Zheng Marquis’s household, Zhù Ying set out with Xiang Elder Brother. Outside, she instructed Xiang Elder Brother: “When you send it in, bring it all together — hire enough people, make it flow in like a river, with big trays or those large red carrying poles, so people can see it clearly!”

Xiang Elder Brother thought: If my lord were to go into trade, the results would also be remarkable!

Zhù Ying confirmed the quantities, handed off the remaining tasks to Xiang Elder Brother, and freed her own hands. She first delivered sugar to the palace, then went around calling on her acquaintances.

She had always disliked making tribute offerings to the Emperor — it was troublesome and could easily become a heavy burden on the locality. This particular situation was unavoidable, since sugar had been waved in the Emperor’s face. She had to offer tribute. She sent some granulated sugar, stacked large irregular pieces of rock candy into a false landscape, poured a bit of water over it to set the base as a decorative garden ornament, and that counted as something unusual. She picked out various decorative shapes and sent a sampling. Then she pleaded poverty: the tax was still high, the yield was not yet great.

After that came calls on Pei Qing, then Shi Kun, then Liu Songnian.

Liu Songnian, in his characteristically sardonic way, said: “What a rare guest — you actually know where my door is!”

Zhù Ying said: “That line feels a bit…off.”

Liu Songnian said: “What tone would you prefer?”

Zhù Ying said: “Any tone you like.” And she produced a handful of sweets.

Liu Songnian said: “What are these?”

“Sugar.”

Liu Songnian unwrapped a piece and put it in his mouth. He said: “Ah — Old Wang’s sugar was sent by you then. Mm. Orange flavor.”

“There’s also lychee flavor. Take your time. Lord Zheng’s household has them at their wedding banquet too.”

“Hmph, I certainly won’t be going.”

Zhù Ying said: “If you don’t go, you’ll miss the good things.”

“What tricks have you up your sleeve this time?”

“Go and you’ll find out.”

……

In truth, Zhù Ying hadn’t needed to say anything. Liu Songnian had already planned on attending — Yue Miaojun had sent him an invitation, and Liu Songnian intended to put in a polite appearance.

Standing at the street corner, he saw many children reciting auspicious phrases to collect “wedding candy,” and servants from the Zheng household — along with a few people who looked rather like foreigners — distributing sweets. Inside the gate, he was ushered forward to a table where the first thing waiting for him was a dish of wedding candy.

The wedding ceremony began. Guangning Commandery Prince held a title of nobility, so his wedding followed its own prescribed formalities rather than folk customs. Zheng Chuan and others formed the escort party; the Zheng Marquis’s household also held its own banquet.

Liu Songnian looked around and spotted Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying was counted among the more important guests of the Zheng household and received Zheng Yi’s attention. Huajie accompanied Zhang Xiangu to the women’s section at the rear, where Zheng Yi’s wife looked after them. Their seating was toward the front. Further forward still were the genuine great ones — families who had been illustrious in the capital for generations.

Zhù Shenhan had come along as well. Zhù Ying said to Zheng Yi: “I entrust my father to your care.” She also brought Su Mingluan and the others along to see some capital-style wedding festivity — a good chance to introduce them to Zheng Xi.

Su Mingluan murmured: “Adoptive father, the candy can fetch a high price now.”

Zhù Ying said: “That’s exactly right!” She had already negotiated it with the court: granulated sugar prices to come down; everything else — she could sell it for whatever she could get.

She kept a close eye on Shanque’s father-in-law and the others, bringing them to meet Zheng Xi and Zheng Marquis, and they were given good seats.

Taking her eyes off them for a moment, she turned to see that Zhù Shenhan had already fallen into conversation with the person next to him.

That person was no stranger — Zheng Yi’s brother Zheng Yan, the one with no filter on his mouth. Zheng Yan had always felt guilty about causing trouble for Zheng Ying in the past and was very embarrassed about it. Seeing Zhù Shenhan, he immediately invited him to share the same table.

Zhù Shenhan’s one desire was to show off about the sugar tower being something his family had made. Zheng Yan, however, had other concerns: “Your household’s Sanlang has accomplished so much, and is still unmarried — what manner of virtuous young lady would be a worthy match?”

Zhù Shenhan had never been to such a grand occasion, had never seen so many high officials, was already feeling rather carried away, and was about to launch into the topic of sugar towers when he was suddenly struck by these words and nearly fell off his seat: “She cannot get married!”

The volume was such that even the host, Zheng Xi, was drawn over. Zheng Xi casually asked: “And why is that?”

He had thought about Zhù Ying’s marriage — now that Zheng Lin had wed, the matter came to mind. But Zhù Ying had always struck him as a person with her own strong opinions, and raising it hastily might not go over well. He had been intending to find a suitable moment to probe the subject carefully. He might even be able to play matchmaker, or introduce a female relative. How much better that would be.

And then the very person with the most say in this matter announced that Zhù Ying could not get married! Zheng Xi had to get to the bottom of this.

Zhù Shenhan was drenched in cold sweat. His eyes went blank; his mind went empty. Then a flash of inspiration struck: “I divined it!”

Zheng Xi was speechless, suddenly recalling that this… person before him was a… spirit-man.

Zheng Yan tried to smooth things over: “Well…there must be a way to avert it, surely? Getting married…it wouldn’t be so bad…”

“That would mean certain death…” Zhù Shenhan muttered, face gone ashen.

The crowd that had been straining their ears heard this and felt fully satisfied; they dispersed, each carrying away a morsel.

Zhù Ying decided she would go home that evening and make Zhù Shenhan a chicken stewed with ginseng.