Zhù Ying glanced at Meng Hong. This young eunuch had changed little since the year before last — still the same handsome face. Perhaps a little more calculating, though not by much.

Zhù Ying understood what he meant, but she had never regarded Sheng Ying as her adversary. Sheng Ying had not extended his reach into the Dian Ke Cheng office, so naturally Zhù Ying had no reason for any strong reaction to Meng Hong’s words.

She said, “Is that so? Sheng Guang Hua and I are not under each other’s authority. His official duties are none of my concern, and mine are none of his.”

Meng Hong said, “I fear it is not official duties I am speaking of.”

Zhù Ying said, “Other people’s private affairs are even less one’s place to comment on. If Prince Wei concerns himself with the affairs of an elder brother, he might as well ask Sheng Guang Hua directly.”

The polite smile on Meng Hong’s face slipped somewhat. Zhù Ying’s expression remained perfectly composed.

Meng Hong had come today once again using A’Wang’s name to visit Zhù Ying. When Zhù Ying had returned to Wuzhou, she had immediately sought A’Wang out and questioned her with a stern expression, saying outright: “I took pity on your separation from your family and permitted you to return to your hometown. Not only did you come back late, you left without permission. Do you acknowledge your offense?”

A’Wang had tried to deny it, but Zhù Ying put forward Meng Hong’s name. A’Wang had no choice but to come clean: her connection to Meng Hong was distant, and she had hoped he could help her out. Yet the two had no established bond, and Meng Hong had made her no promises of any kind.

Zhù Ying had asked about the full particulars, then said this would be overlooked for now and let A’Wang go.

Watching Meng Hong now — how he only mentioned A’Wang but had done nothing concrete to actually help her — Zhù Ying understood: this person was acting in his own interest, and ultimately perhaps hoped to establish a connection to the Zheng family through her.

This made the whole thing pointless. If Meng Hong had genuinely worked to help A’Wang accomplish something, Zhù Ying might have thought more highly of him. But since he was merely using A’Wang as a conversation opener, Zhù Ying had even less desire to become closely acquainted with him.

Meng Hong was a perceptive reader of others, yet he could not read Zhù Ying’s thoughts. He knew, moreover, that a person like this should not be pressed too hard. He had already said what he came to say, and a person of Zhù Ying’s kind would not show a change of heart so obviously — they would have to think it through first.

Meng Hong exchanged a few more pleasantries with Zhù Ying and then took his leave.

Zhù Ying remained cordial to the end, walking him personally to the door. This left Meng Hong feeling that today’s trip had not been wasted.

Zhù Ying thought nothing of him at all. Upon returning to her study, she called Xiang Le in and told him to go to the Wuzhou Guild Hall the following day and let them know to prepare for receiving guests.

Xiang Le asked, “What kind of guests?”

Zhù Ying said, “The people from Wuzhou are already on their way — they’ll be reaching the capital soon.”

Xiang Le, annoyed at himself for not having thought of this immediately, said quickly: “Understood. Third Lady’s shop is also ready — it’s been set up in A’Jin’s name.”

Xiang An’s household registration had been changed, so she could not act openly under her own name. She had thus set up a small shop, with her apprentice A’Jin as the nominal proprietor in plain sight, dealing in goods from the south. This way the income stream was uninterrupted, and there was nothing to be used against them.

Zhù Ying said, “Good. Let them also know that if there are any merchants from the outer five counties among the traveling party, have them meet with Jia Ming.”

“Yes.”

“From tomorrow, you and Third Lady each take a few people and keep watch on news in the capital. Go to the teahouse as well and ask whether they have heard any rumors. From here on out we’ll have not only prefectural governors arriving in the capital but also tributary envoys coming to court. There will be many things happening, all at once — we cannot be caught off guard again.”

Old Ma had died, but the teahouse remained. Regrettably, Zhù Ying could no longer visit it often; she sent people from the household there from time to time. The teahouse, too, needed someone looking after it to keep the business going — and so their relationship had been renewed.

With these arrangements in place, Zhù Ying spent some time reviewing her study of the foreign language, cramming in some last-minute preparation, before going to bed.

The next day at the Court of Diplomatic Reception, she did not go to find Sheng Ying to ask about the matter of Zhao Wang. People had their own aspirations — men of Sheng Ying’s sort were far from rare in the capital. The glory of supporting the winning side through a change of dynasty was the greatest honor of any age, and no one could resist it. Singling out Sheng Ying for that would be pointless.

She did not need to attend court that day either. She rose a little later than usual, and by the time she arrived at the Court of Diplomatic Reception Sheng Ying was already there, though Luo Sheng had not yet come down from the morning court session. Zhù Ying said to Xiao Huang, who was poking at the brazier: “Ask the Dian Ke Cheng Director to come by in a moment.”

“Yes.”

The Dian Ke Cheng Director had been quietly humming a little tune. Things had been easy for him lately — after Zhù Ying had stepped in, the various day-to-day affairs of the Dian Ke Cheng office had flowed far more smoothly than before. Certain matters he had long felt were not quite right yet didn’t know how to fix had been untangled by Zhù Ying with a single reorganization. And the major event of the year — the arrival of tributary envoys — was also shaping up better than in previous years.

When Zhù Ying called for him, he came at a trot. With eager deference he asked: “What does the Deputy Director require?”

Zhù Ying said, “The tributary envoys will soon be here. Keep a close watch on them — the foreign merchants must not speak out of turn, and neither must the envoys.”

“Yes.” The Director answered, thinking to himself: The Deputy Director has said this several times already. The fact that she is repeating it today shows how important this matter is.

Zhù Ying continued: “No matter who it is — once they enter the Dian Ke Cheng office, they are to be reported to me. No matter who!”

The Director was afraid he had misunderstood, and asked: “This ‘no matter who’ means—”

Zhù Ying said, “Everyone. From the Son of Heaven down to a bondservant — including the Court of Diplomatic Reception’s own people. Remember this without exception!”

The Director sensed something was off, but agreed nonetheless.

Zhù Ying said, “The New Year approaches. The Dian Ke Cheng office’s discretionary fund should prepare New Year gifts for everyone in the Court of Diplomatic Reception.”

The Director smiled and said, “This we would never forget — it has always been done in the Dian Ke Cheng office’s name to offer gifts to the officials.”

Zhù Ying nodded. “I knew you as an old hand — you handle things thoroughly.”

The Director said, “If we couldn’t even manage small things like this, how could we deserve the care the Deputy Director has shown us? Serving under the Deputy Director feels like karmic fortune from lives well-lived.”

Zhù Ying said, “You say that every day — now I’d feel guilty if I didn’t do something for you.”

The Director laughed. “Not at all, not at all.”

While they were speaking, Luo Sheng returned from court. They all went out to welcome him, and Luo Sheng said, “Nothing eventful today.” And so another day passed quietly.

A few days later, prefectural governors began arriving in the capital one after another, and several small tributary missions came as well. This was now Zhù Ying’s responsibility, and she said to Luo Sheng: “The Four Barbarians’ Guesthouse has new arrivals. I’ll make a point of visiting each day.”

Luo Sheng took this seriously and said to Zhù Ying: “Make sure the lodgings are arranged properly — we don’t want another brawl among them.”

Zhù Ying said, “This is exactly what I wanted to raise. The guesthouse, while it lies within Jing Zhao’s jurisdiction, cannot really be managed by the Jing Zhao offices. Whenever tributary envoys have come in the past, the Imperial Guards have assisted in maintaining order. The time has come to request the Jin Jun to move into position again.”

Luo Sheng said, “That can be done.”

Zhù Ying said, “Then let the Dian Ke Cheng Director draft a document, which you can sign, my lord, and we can take it to petition His Majesty?”

“Good.”

This being standard procedure, the Dian Ke Cheng Director quickly drafted a document. Luo Sheng signed it. When petitioning the Emperor, Luo Sheng was the one to appear in person, and once the Emperor gave his approval, the document was taken to the Jin Jun. The Jin Jun, following precedent, initially granted two hundred men to the guesthouse.

Zhù Ying then said to Luo Sheng: “These two hundred men are called Jin Jun but are presently doing service for the Court of Diplomatic Reception. They must not be treated with indifference. Perhaps each man could receive a small daily supplement.”

Luo Sheng had never done this before and asked, “Is that necessary?”

Zhù Ying said, “They are all carrying out duties. When you show consideration for them, they apply themselves more diligently. Something they might otherwise let slide, they’ll keep an eye on for us. If we neglect them, they’ll neglect us in return — so long as the envoys don’t actually come to blows, they’ll turn a blind eye to any petty mischief those envoys get up to. And afterward, if something does go wrong, we’ll be the ones held responsible.”

Luo Sheng said, “All these years at the Court of Diplomatic Reception, and I never thought of this.”

Zhù Ying said, “These are all minor details — there was no need to bother with them before. But the situation lately is not looking well. Think on it, my lord: there has been drought in the north. Can we really be the only ones whose harvest has suffered? A drought covers a wide area — the tributary peoples are likely having a hard time as well, and may be inclined to stir up trouble.”

Luo Sheng had assumed she was speaking about the various princes’ contest for the succession, and the need to prevent envoys from becoming entangled with any of the princes. When she mentioned the northern drought, he was caught off guard: “I have been at the Court of Diplomatic Reception — how have I heard nothing of this?”

“By the time anything reaches the Court of Diplomatic Reception, it is already the point where the consequences have made themselves felt. This is merely a precaution against all eventualities.”

Luo Sheng said, “You are right.”

And so Zhù Ying drafted the document, Luo Sheng signed it, and they had Vice Director Wang allocate a sum of funds for the Jin Jun. Zhù Ying, funds in hand, brought the Dian Ke Cheng Director along and the two of them went to call on the Jin Jun, to coordinate the matter of the guards at the guesthouse.

Zhù Ying went first to meet the Jin Jun’s Grand General. The former Grand General Ye had already received the Dian Yi Shu office’s hospitality and had since been replaced; the present Grand General was surnamed Ruan, the same clan as Ruan Cheng. Ruan Grand General was somewhat less senior than the former Grand General Ye, but he was one of a new cohort promoted after the current Emperor ascended the throne — essentially a man the Emperor himself had cultivated. Only in his sixties had he at last attained this most critical post of Grand General of the Imperial Guard.

Zhù Ying greeted him with great respect. Ruan Grand General said, “Must the Deputy Director make a trip in person for a matter like this?”

Zhù Ying said, “The Imperial Guards protect the imperial person — how could we not take this seriously?”

She presented the document to Ruan Grand General, who examined it and issued the military tallies, dispatching Lieutenant Zhang with two hundred men to the guesthouse.

Lieutenant Zhang and Zhù Ying were not well acquainted, but she had seen him before. He had served in the Jin Jun for some years — in his thirties now — and had joined the Jin Jun right around the time Zhù Ying had been preparing to leave the Court of Judicial Review for Fu Lu County, which meant they had only met a handful of times.

The two of them first inspected the troops. Zhù Ying and Lieutenant Zhang, along with the Dian Ke Cheng Director, rode on horseback, while the soldiers all marched on foot behind them. The Jin Jun soldiers cut an impressive figure. Zhù Ying praised them: “Such an imposing sight — one feels reassured just looking at them.”

Lieutenant Zhang said, “Guarding His Majesty — how could we allow ourselves to be negligent?”

Zhù Ying said, “It is something of a waste of your talents, sending you all to the guesthouse. But because the guesthouse is a matter of state affairs, one cannot simply borrow people from elsewhere — which is why we must trouble you. The Court of Diplomatic Reception feels quite sorry about it, and has specially prepared a small token to commend you all.”

Lieutenant Zhang’s polite smile grew more genuine: “Back when you were at the Court of Judicial Review, Deputy Director, we already heard about you — a person of real substance. We are all in the Emperor’s service; you are too kind.”

Zhù Ying said, “Substance and courtesy — those two sound odd together. Pick one.”

“Substance.”

Zhù Ying said, “There you go. So — each man gets an extra meat dish per meal, from now until the third month of next year. Each month, an additional three hundred coins for wine. If they go back to the palace before the third month, the payment still runs through the third month. The wine money I’ll provide, but no drinking on duty. If anyone slips up, I’ll have a word with Ruan Grand General. Once you leave my company, drink all you like.”

Lieutenant Zhang beamed. “Done!”

The Dian Ke Cheng office had a separate gift for Lieutenant Zhang. The two hundred Jin Jun, from top to bottom, were all wreathed in smiles. Zhù Ying said, “I’ll be counting on you from here on — the matter of the envoys can be large or small. If something goes amiss, none of us will look good.”

Lieutenant Zhang said, “Leave it to me!”

Zhù Ying drew him aside to discuss the rotation schedule for the Jin Jun, how best to keep watch over the envoys at the guesthouse, and how, if the envoys had brought merchants with them, to coordinate the handover with the Jing Zhao offices.

Merchants would not be lodged at the guesthouse; in the districts where the foreign merchants were housed, Jing Zhao would take over. Zhù Ying promised to deal with that coordination with Jing Zhao herself.

Lieutenant Zhang said, “Then it’s all settled!”

Zhù Ying smiled. “Good.”

By then, a few envoys had already arrived at the guesthouse. They were from smaller nations — Zhù Ying had not yet had time to learn their languages — so she brought a translator and spoke with them through interpretation, asking whether their journey had been smooth, what they had seen along the way, which prefectures and counties they had passed through, and what impressions they had formed of the local officials.

The envoys spoke languages she did not know, but the words they said were all pleasant ones.

Zhù Ying, out of genuine curiosity, asked: “Your nation has not come often in the past — perhaps once every three or five years. And yet in the year before last, and last year, and this year, you have sent either a letter or a mission. Why is that?”

Naturally because they heard the Crown Prince had died and wanted to feel out the situation. Although they had no idea what a change of crown prince might mean for them. As a small nation, however, every move of a great power was enough to give them a start.

The envoy was a middle-aged man with a long beard and a rather flat face. He said, “Naturally it is out of admiration for this great realm.”

Zhù Ying said, “I see. In that case, your nation might consider sending young men to the capital to study.”

“Oh?”

Zhù Ying said, “Think on it carefully, Envoy — what could be more valuable than sending young men to the capital to study and then bringing books and learning back to your homeland? There is no shortage of sons of nobility from various nations studying here in the capital.”

The envoy said, “I have heard that other nations also send people to study. Might we do the same?”

Zhù Ying said, “Can you speak for your nation on that?”

The envoy hesitated, and Zhù Ying said, “You might consult with your lord when you return.”

The envoy nodded.

A few more days passed, a heavy snow fell, and through the wind and snow another nation’s delegation arrived in the capital. This time the arrivals were of considerable weight — the envoys from the Western Barbarians.

If the various ethnic groups of Wuzhou ranked at the bottom of the scale, the Western Barbarians ranked in the top three and had recently been contending with the northern tribes for first place. The very delegation Zhù Ying had accompanied as a young official — the one that had ended in a brawl — had been these two sides.

The Western Barbarian mission this time was also no ordinary one. The person who presented himself was announced as a prince of the Western Barbarians. Since Zhù Ying had only recently begun studying the Western Barbarian language and feared she might misunderstand in a formal setting, she took a translator along. Through the translation, she learned that “prince” was a translation of his title — he truly was a prince, the youngest son of the Western Barbarian king, and his name was Kun Da Chi.

The young prince was only young relative to his brothers; the man himself was already over twenty. His face was a deep reddish-brown, his features rough and imposing, tall and broad — very much in keeping with the legendary image of a “fearsome barbarian.” Yet Zhù Ying did not find him clumsy or slow-witted. His movements were clean and decisive, and not a flicker of anxiety could be seen on the faces of his attendants as he moved — nothing like the expression of weary suffering worn by the servants of an incompetent young nobleman out in the world for the first time. If pressed to draw a comparison, she would say he inspired more confidence than Leng Yun.

It was a snowy day and he wore a fur robe, a curved blade at his waist. He sat astride a black horse of the Western Barbarian breed — not tall, but powerfully built. Behind him stretched a party of over a hundred, and not a single person among them looked like a merchant — there was no cargo.

Kun Da Chi looked at this young official with equal curiosity, thinking to himself: Another soft and weak person — a man who looks like a woman.

He did not comment on another person’s appearance to their face, however, and instead asked Zhù Ying to relay on his behalf that he had brought a letter of state.

The Western Barbarians had their own written language, and the letter was composed in it. It would be presented in person by him when he had an audience with the Emperor, and could not be given to Zhù Ying at this juncture. Nevertheless, the Court of Diplomatic Reception would communicate with them in advance about the contents of the letter, to prevent any mishap at the formal audience.

Zhù Ying said, “Of course — please settle in first.”

Kun Da Chi said, “Where am I to stay?”

Zhù Ying said, “The same place as before.”

Kun Da Chi smiled. “There won’t be anyone trying to swap rooms with me this time, will there?”

Zhù Ying also smiled. “They haven’t arrived yet. Please — this way.”

The party entered the guesthouse. Kun Da Chi caught sight of the Jin Jun guards outside and broke into a peculiar smile. The Jin Jun soldiers, unnerved by that smile, tightened their grip on their weapons. Zhù Ying said once more: “Please.”

She led Kun Da Chi to his lodgings, then said, “I must ask that our honored guest stay here and rest for now — please do not wander about.”

Kun Da Chi said bluntly: “I know you people don’t like others roaming freely. But I came here as an envoy, not as a prisoner.”

Zhù Ying said, “Has the honored guest not still to present the letter of state? I will go and report to His Majesty, and when His Majesty wishes to see you, if you are not here, we will not be able to find you, and matters will be delayed.”

Kun Da Chi said, “All right then. I won’t go out for now. But there is one thing you must answer for me.”

“What thing?”

“Do you have a crown prince? I’ve brought gifts for the crown prince too!”

Zhù Ying said, “The establishment of an heir apparent is a great matter of state. Once the Eastern Palace has a master, your nation will be duly notified — that will not be forgotten. The prince need not be anxious.”

“So there still isn’t one?”

Zhù Ying said, “Your nation will know when the letter arrives. But — honored guest, since you are so concerned about the Eastern Palace, perhaps your own letter of state mentions that your nation has already established an heir? Perhaps you were moved to think of it? I’ll go and report to His Majesty at once. Please, honored guest, wait here!”

She spoke throughout with soft cordiality, as though she were a guileless child — not unlike Luo Sheng in manner from years past. Kun Da Chi cursed her a hundred times over in his heart: stupid little pretty face.

The moment Zhù Ying stepped out of the guesthouse she said to Lieutenant Zhang: “Keep Kun Da Chi under close watch!”

The matter of the Western Barbarian envoy was reported upward, and the Emperor expressed interest in meeting the envoy, but before that could happen, Kun Da Chi would need to learn the protocol for an imperial audience.

Zhù Ying had not mentioned to anyone the part of their exchange involving “the Eastern Palace.” The letter of state contained nothing relevant to the matter either. She had raised that topic with Kun Da Chi purely as a form of mutual unpleasantness between the two of them. Because Zhù Ying knew that the Western Barbarians had no established heir either.

The Western Barbarians were nominally tributary subjects, yet when powerful enough they would raid the borders — the two sides had alternately fought and made peace. At present, after a period of border-level exchanges, the Western Barbarians still acknowledged themselves as tributaries, and if the Western Barbarians were to establish an heir, they would report it to the court and request investiture. Kun Da Chi was also a prince, and the Western Barbarian succession had something to do with him as well.

Kun Da Chi had needled her once, and she had needled him right back. He had actually buckled down to studying court audience protocols in the guesthouse.

Zhù Ying contentedly kept to herself the matter of that exchange about “the Eastern Palace,” believing all to be well in hand.

Two days later, Kun Da Chi had learned more or less what he needed to know. It happened to coincide with a major court session, so Kun Da Chi was arranged to have his imperial audience at that time. Before all the assembled officials, a foreign envoy would pay reverence to the Son of Heaven — and the Emperor’s prestige would be complete.

Kun Da Chi’s manner was rough-hewn, but he did not misbehave at the court session and did not deliberately feign ignorance. He presented the letter of state and conveyed his father’s request: that the quota at the border trading posts be increased somewhat.

The Emperor said, “The ministers shall deliberate and bring me their opinion. In the meantime, you are to remain at your lodgings.”

Kun Da Chi bowed and stepped back one pace.

Lan Xing came forward and drew out the words in a long call: “If there is no further business — court is dismissed—”

Zhù Ying was keeping an eye on Kun Da Chi. Seeing that he had not made any untoward move, and hearing this pronouncement from Lan Xing, she was prepared to escort Kun Da Chi out afterward, handing him over to the Dian Ke Cheng Director to be “escorted” back to the guesthouse.

But then, suddenly, someone stepped forward from the crowd: “This minister has a matter to memorialize.”

A buzz ran through the assembled crowd. Officials presenting memorials — if the matter was official business, it was normally submitted in advance and passed through layer upon layer of review. Spontaneous occurrences did also happen, but rarely. The person before them now had clearly not notified anyone in advance.

The Emperor asked, “What is the matter?”

The man stepped forward and knelt: “It has been several years since the late Crown Prince passed away — the Eastern Palace cannot remain vacant indefinitely! I ask Your Majesty to establish an heir at the earliest opportunity, so as to set the hearts of the realm at ease. I do not know why no one from the Secretariat-Chancellery downward has raised this matter again! Can it be that they do not know this is harmful to the nation?”

Kun Da Chi asked the translator in a low voice: “What is he saying?”

He could not understand the language, and thus was permitted to bring a translator with him to attend court. The translator had made it to the imperial court perhaps once in eight hundred lifetimes, was already nervous to begin with, and upon hearing this subject, was so frightened he nearly fainted. His mind stopped working, and stammering, he simply translated it directly: “Re — requesting the establishment of an heir.”

Kun Da Chi let out a snort of laughter and cast a look at Zhù Ying, his expression hovering between a smile and something else. This official had spent the past several days keeping him hemmed in on all sides — clearly it had something to do with this. Had the language barrier not been there, he would certainly have managed to work in a cutting remark or two.