Zhù Ying strolled unhurriedly along the broad streets of the capital, her hands tucked into her sleeves. The streets were far livelier than they had been at the same time last year. Though the number of people arriving from various localities was not great, they had stirred up considerable energy. Tribute scholars were busily calling on famous men for recommendations and catching up with friends; officials were using this rare opportunity to pay visits here and there.

Zhù Ying glanced from a distance at Old Ma’s teahouse. She could see it was crowded with people inside, so she didn’t go in. She wandered slowly on through the main roads and lanes instead.

A young boy brushed past her like a gust of wind. Zhù Ying’s body didn’t move, but her face turned to look the other way. There, a slightly taller boy stood with two fingers just emerging from his sleeve, waiting for her to walk her own purse straight into his hand…

Zhù Ying stood there smiling, finding the whole scene utterly charming. The two little fellows stood awkwardly on the spot. After a brief pause, the taller one called out: “Run!”

The two of them dove into the crowd and vanished.

Zhù Ying smiled. She had gone out today without attendants, not wearing any of her brocade-embroidered garments — dressed in plain dark clothing, with Xiao Jiang’s manuscripts tucked on her person, she had planned to go to the Leng Marquis’s estate and try her luck. She hadn’t expected someone to come trying their own luck on her along the way.

It had been too long since she’d moved through the capital’s streets, and the city’s pickpockets had cycled through a new generation — none of them recognized her anymore.

She followed at a leisurely pace and slowly found the new thieves’ den. It was not a teahouse this time, but a small shopfront selling light fare. Out front stood a large iron pot with white bubbles rolling across the surface, lifting wisps of fat and sinew, the air thick with the smell of meat broth.

A wooden sign beside it read: Large bowl, eight coins. Small bowl, five coins. Flatbread, two coins.

Zhù Ying sat down at a rough wooden table under the awning outside.

A middle-aged man came hurrying out from inside, stooped at the waist. He had dark skin, wore a greasy apron, and lifting the apron to wipe his hands, he said, “Sir, would you like soup? And bread?”

Zhù Ying reached to her waist and brought out twenty-four copper coins, which she set on the table with a clack. “Bring out the two little fellows who just went in, and have them keep me company over a bowl of soup.”

The middle-aged man smiled obligingly. “Sir is joking — what little fellows?”

“Is the owner in?”

The man looked her over, drew a sharp breath, and said, “Sir, one moment!”

He went inside, and in a short while a man came out dressed somewhat more neatly. He had no apron and was not greasy — at first glance, he appeared perfectly clean. Zhù Ying extended a finger and tapped the tabletop. He also sat down, smiling. “I’m the owner of this place — a small business, family property going back generations. I’m not sure when I caught the eye of a fine official.”

Zhù Ying knew that after all these years of official life, she had a certain “official air” about her. As long as she didn’t make a deliberate effort to disguise it, the eyes of someone in “the trade” would see it as plainly as she could see them — sharp and clear.

Zhù Ying said, “The last time I was in the capital, Chief Minister Wang had only recently risen from the post of Capital Prefect to become Chief Minister. Now that I’ve returned, I don’t know how the streets of the capital have changed. I’d like to find someone to ask. What is your honorable name?”

The owner grew all the more uncertain about the depth of her waters, and said carefully, “You flatter me — my humble surname is Qian.”

In the time it took to exchange a few words, several people came rushing in their direction. When they drew close enough to see Zhù Ying clearly, their footsteps faltered and slowed. Owner Qian, without moving a muscle, was about to signal to them with his eyes. Zhù Ying, as though she had eyes in the back of her head, pointed in their direction. “You attend to them first.”

Owner Qian bowed. “You are an expert! Please come inside to sit.”

“No need — I’ll sit right here.”

“As you wish. One moment.”

He got up and ran over, whispered something to the group, then returned. He asked carefully, “I’m not sure what intentions the official has?”

Zhù Ying smiled, pointing at the coins on the table. “I’ve come to have a bowl of soup. Where is my soup?”

“Coming right away.”

He went to ladle it himself. The aproned middle-aged man from before had both sleeves rolled up to his elbows and was dragging the two earlier boys out, one in each hand. Zhù Ying looked up, smiled at both boys pleasantly, and they drooped their heads in dejection. Zhù Ying said, “Sit down. You’ve been busy all morning — have you eaten?” She fished out another ten copper coins and told someone to bring five pieces of flatbread, inviting the two boys to eat along with her.

The two boys looked to Owner Qian; he gave a nod, and only then did they thank Zhù Ying and pick up their bowls with both hands, slurping down the hot soup. Zhù Ying also took up a piece of bread, soaked it in the meat broth, and ate slowly. When she was done, she said to Owner Qian, “The flavors here are quite good. Are there other good street foods anywhere?”

Owner Qian said with an apologetic smile, “Official, if you’ll forgive me — people in my trade do not dare go speaking such things about.”

Zhù Ying said, “All right then, I’ll go find them myself. Once I’ve gathered enough, I’ll host a gathering and invite all of you to a meal together.” With that, she walked off at her unhurried pace.

From that day on, the capital’s pickpockets had her eyes on them — and not only pickpockets. The hard-fisted brawlers, the con men, swindlers, and those who worked crooked angles — all of them had her paying their dens a visit. Being caught red-handed in the act was the lightest consequence. The most effective were the traffickers — when she found them she would summon the Capital Prefecture runners on the spot and raid their lairs directly. On account of all this, the streets of the capital were sharply cleaned up, and the people of the city finally realized — this was the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, full and bored, coming out to make trouble!

The period before the New Year was normally a time when those who worked crooked angles enjoyed the good cheer of the season. This year she had thrown them all into disarray. Many people’s “businesses” could no longer continue — they were always afraid there was a pair of eyes on them from behind.

As the twelfth month arrived, the capital’s criminal underworld was crying bitter complaint: “We thought that with no Capital Prefect around we could have a good New Year — and instead we get a hell-judge visiting!”

Fortunately someone still knew about Old Ma’s teahouse. Owner Qian was in the thieves’ trade, and he and Old Ma ran in the same circles — his fraternity was among the first to think of Old Ma. So several people who knew each other nominated Owner Qian as their spokesman, and together they sought out Old Ma. “What exactly does that official want? If he draws us a line, at least we’ll know where we stand! We wouldn’t dare tangle with anyone from the government!”

Old Ma was also at a complete loss. “What? I don’t know either! When I took over this teahouse from my predecessor Old Ma, I left the trade behind entirely!”

Owner Qian said, “You left the trade, but you’ve mixed in these circles — there should be some bond of fellowship, yes? You can’t just watch the brothers be left with no way to make a living! Do us the favor, elder brother, and ask around?”

Old Ma said apologetically, “Someone like me — how would I presume to show up at an official’s door?”

Owner Qian said, “We’ve all pooled together a gift — we won’t let you go empty-handed, elder brother. What do you say?”

Old Ma asked, “Have any of you done something wrong?”

“Nothing at all!” Owner Qian said with a miserable face. “It’s all street-level trade. Yes, some of it’s on the crooked side — but that’s how we eat! We truly haven’t done anything that crosses the line! It’s just that two careless little brats didn’t recognize a bodhisattva and had the nerve to make their move — they got caught on the spot…”

Old Ma relaxed on hearing that. “That shouldn’t be a serious matter. Even before, when that kind of short-sighted thing happened, she didn’t make too much of it.”

Behind Owner Qian, a charlatan who made his living as a fortune-teller couldn’t contain himself. “But I never tried to swindle my way to her doorstep! How did I end up on her radar too?”

This set off an outburst from all the rest who worked crooked angles, each insisting they had done nothing against this particular person, and imploring Old Ma to at least make inquiries on their behalf. They pooled together a generous gift and asked Old Ma to take it to the Zhù household and find out what was going on.

Gritting his teeth, Old Ma closed the teahouse for a day and made his way to the Zhù household gate with the expression of a man heading to the execution ground. He had no calling card. When he reached the gate, he opened his mouth and had no idea how to introduce himself. The accompanying attendants on duty had been to the teahouse with Zhù Ying for tea before, and recognized him immediately, greeting him warmly. “Old Ma? What brings you here?”

Old Ma hemmed and hawed for a long while before explaining his purpose. Zhù Hu said, “Oh? These past few days, our patron has been going out alone into the streets quite often — we’ve been wondering what she’s been up to! Come in and sit!”

He was shown into the gatekeeper’s room and given a cup of hot tea.

Old Ma sat on pins and needles, until finally Zhù Ying rounded up a few more unlucky souls on the street that day and returned home with a light heart.

……

Zhù Ying stepped through the front gate, and Old Ma came bolting out of the gatekeeper’s room. Hu Shijie’s hand went to her saber and drew it halfway. Zhù Ying said, “It’s Old Ma.”

Old Ma wiped a handful of sweat and bent his knees to bow down. “Patron.”

“Get up. Let’s speak inside. What brings you here?”

Old Ma looked helplessly at the gifts at his feet. Zhù Ying said, “What’s this? Your sister’s family has only just settled — what are you bringing these for?”

Old Ma hunched forward and said quietly, “These aren’t from my sister — she’s home preparing some wild greens and cured meat, and plans to bring them over in a couple of days.”

“I’m not asking her for those things! She works hard all year — giving a gift means spending money that stings if it’s something decent, and losing face if it’s not. Why bring things to me like this?”

Old Ma quickly said, “It’s needed, it’s needed — it’s a gesture of goodwill. If you don’t accept it, that’s your kind heart, but we can’t be ungrateful. These are from little Qian and his lot…”

“Oh?”

Old Ma hedged and hesitated. “They said you’ve been making the rounds on the streets and they’re a bit frightened. Patron…”

Zhù Ying walked inside with him, talking as they went. “What is it?”

The two of them reached the small receiving room. Zhù Ying sat down, gestured to the lower seat. Old Ma sat sideways on half a cushion before he said, “Ones in this line of work are always afraid of the authorities. But if they’re made too frightened, one worries there could be desperate men among them. You are a person of great worth — it doesn’t suit you to take risks yourself. If you have something to say, just have someone from below pass the word.”

Zhù Ying said, “I didn’t seek you out precisely so you could live your life in peace. I have my own accounts to settle with them — you shouldn’t keep getting tangled up in it. Go and live your life. I’ve heard what you have to say. Now go on — take their things with you.”

She had not dealt directly with the capital’s criminal underworld for a long time — more than a decade had passed, and the faces on the streets had turned over completely. Old Ma himself was dead and gone, and yet she had been clinging to the teahouse to gather intelligence. That was liable to cause problems. Besides, the Capital Prefecture still did not have a proper Prefect, and even when one was appointed, who knew what sort of person it would be.

Going forward, she needed contacts on the streets of the capital. The political situation in court was also not entirely clear, and having eyes and ears in the lanes and alleys was a necessity. She would also opportunistically rein in some of these people who worked crooked angles, to prevent them from going too far.

The pickpockets, the swindlers — they had their uses.

Right now, this Old Ma was not quite up to what she needed. And the matter of Zhang and Fan appealing on behalf of Zou Jinxian had given her a reminder: the higher one’s position, the more matters pile up, and the easier it becomes to stop dealing directly with those below and to rely instead on “middlemen.” Both information and affairs are prone to distortion along the way — exactly like the situation in court, where the Emperor and someone like Zheng Xi had only a “hearsay” understanding of conditions out in the localities.

She needed to keep a direct hand in things.

Of course she couldn’t do everything personally, but at intervals she also had to check on things herself, go deep, put in real effort — not just skim the surface. It had been more than a decade since she’d last worked this trade. Now that she’d picked it back up, she found her skills were still there. Zhù Ying was in good spirits.

Now that Owner Qian and the others had found their way to Old Ma, the moment was about ripe.

The day after she sent Old Ma on his way, Zhù Ying brought Zhù Qingjun and Hu Shijie and returned to that little food stall. The head cook lifted his ladle and called into the back, “Boss!”

Owner Qian came out, his posture bent. “Patron.”

Zhù Ying said, “Owner Qian, is business good?”

Owner Qian put on a suffering face. “Patron is teasing me — our few scraps and morsels — we beg you for your leniency.”

Zhù Ying said, “Don’t do business tomorrow. I’m renting your place for the day. You go and invite some people for me — you know who. Qingjun, give him the deposit.”

Zhù Qingjun produced a small package containing some coins and placed it on the table. Zhù Ying said, “I’ll come again tomorrow. Tell them: don’t think about running.”

“Yes.”

Once the three had left, Owner Qian picked up the package. Inside were written a string of names — every person in the capital who worked a crooked angle. He said, “Right — you go and buy a fresh young lamb, slaughter it now, and set it to boil in the big pot through the night. I’m going to write out the invitations.”

Owner Qian’s legs were quick. By nightfall, everyone on the list had been notified. None dared to decline — they waited miserably for the following day.

……

On the other side, Zhù Ying left with the two women and drifted back to the household. Su Zhe was very curious. “Foster grandfather, where did you go again?”

Zhù Ying said, “Out for a stroll.” As she said it, she brought out a box of velvet flowers she’d picked up on the street.

Su Zhe took them and looked them over, smiling. “These are different from the ones we have at home.”

Zhù Ying said, “Then divide them among yourselves.”

Su Zhe glanced at Zhù Qingjun; Zhù Qingjun shook her head. That evening, the two young women were chatting amongst themselves. Su Zhe asked Zhù Qingjun, “What were you doing today?” It was a rather odd situation — of course Hu Shijie going along was understandable, but why had Qingjun gone too? Zhù Qingjun’s place in the Zhù household was a little undefined. She was somewhat like a student, but unfortunately she didn’t have a path like Su Zhe’s, nor was she a boy like Zhù Lian. So — what could she do?

Su Zhe very much wanted Zhù Qingjun to follow her back to A’su County in the future — she was willing to serve as county magistrate and get Zhù Qingjun a deputy position. But at Zhù Ying’s side, Su Zhe understood, the ceiling for Zhù Qingjun was at best something like Xiang An’s role.

Zhù Qingjun said, “We went to a place selling meat broth and flatbread. I could tell that the owner and the cook were both unsavory people.”

The two of them couldn’t possibly guess what Zhù Ying was planning.

The next day, Zhù Ying attended morning court, put in her appearance, pushed her affairs onto Shi Jixing, and left the imperial city. She returned home to change clothes, brought Zhù Qingjun and Hu Shijie, and headed to the meat broth and flatbread place.

When they arrived at Owner Qian’s, the tables and stools were all neatly arranged and clean. A group of people who worked crooked angles were every one of them dressed early in their best New Year clothes. In the large pot floated a lamb leg, a lamb’s head, and other cuts; Owner Qian stood deferentially at the entrance to the lane, waiting. “You’ve come, elder!”

Zhù Ying smiled and asked, “Is everyone here?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for your trouble.”

“We would not dare — we would not dare.”

This time Zhù Ying was willing to go inside. The doors and windows were all open, so the light was decent. Owner Qian invited Zhù Ying to the seat of honor. The head cook used a large tray to bring lamb broth and flatbread to the table, along with various small dishes. Owner Qian had also ordered a proper feast from a restaurant, with fine wine, and had specially provided tea for Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying said, “Sit.”

She swept the room with her eyes and asked why Zhang the Half-Immortal had hurt his leg.

Zhang the Half-Immortal had had a terrible time of it. Because his surname was Zhang, Zhù Ying had paused her gaze on him the previous time she passed, which had terrified him. The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became, and in the dead of night he had planned to scale the wall and flee — but was so panicked that he slipped off the wall and broke his leg. With a broken leg he could hardly run, so the night patrol had nabbed him. Today he’d had no choice but to come.

Zhù Ying said, “Drink more of the bone broth — let like cure like.”

Zhang the Half-Immortal had no idea how close he’d come to gaining an “acquaintance.” With a miserable expression he said, “Thank you for your concern, Patron.”

Owner Qian and the others had also invited Old Ma along. Zhù Ying pointed at Old Ma and said, “If you sit down here today, you won’t be able to stay out of this trouble.”

Old Ma stood up and made to bolt.

Zhù Ying laughed and said to Owner Qian, “I’ve been away from the capital for more than ten years. The faces on the streets have turned over — I don’t know most of them anymore. Would you be so good as to introduce me?”

Owner Qian would not dare refuse. One by one he introduced them — the swindlers, the brawlers, the hired bruisers and shadowy ambushers… the last one introduced was Zhang the Half-Immortal.

Zhù Ying said, “Since Chief Minister Wang stepped down from Capital Prefect to become Chief Minister, some twenty years have passed, and the Capital Prefecture has largely left you gentlemen to your own affairs. The Court of Judicial Review doesn’t manage the capital’s public order, but there are some matters in which I’ll need to ask for your assistance from time to time. I was worried that if we didn’t know each other, misunderstandings might arise and things could go wrong — so I thought we’d get acquainted first. There will be occasions when I’ll need to trouble you.”

Owner Qian and the rest were all old hands in the game. The more politely she spoke, the more frightened they were. They all said, “We would not dare.”

Zhù Ying’s gaze settled on a sturdily built man dressed in scanty thin clothing. He was a bit out of place among the group — his kind relied on his fists, and occasionally killed people. The killing was only a rumor, though — supposedly no one had ever seen it. The man rose and said gruffly, “At your command, Patron.” His head was bowed very low; he was being extremely docile. Owner Qian saw this and thought to himself: that doesn’t look like fear of authority — that looks like someone who’s already been disciplined.

Outside under the awning, a bird had landed on a table and was pecking at something. Zhù Ying said to Hu Shijie, “Shoot it.”

Hu Shijie didn’t hesitate. She drew a pellet, and the bird fell on the instant. The assorted “heroes” thought to themselves: is this a display of might? Though that is genuinely a fine shot.

Zhù Ying said, “Now that that’s said openly, we can all be at ease. Qingjun.”

Zhù Qingjun stepped forward at the call.

Everyone had noticed Zhù Qingjun already, and in their minds they assumed she was naturally a comely young woman the “Patron” brought along when going out. But instead, Zhù Ying was asking them to take note of Zhù Qingjun and Hu Shijie. “Recognize both of them well. If I’m occupied in the future, I’ll have them pass along any messages.”

Zhù Qingjun showed a smile. Hu Shijie, though surprised, answered with a sound of assent. The “heroes” started to wonder what skills Zhù Qingjun had — were they the kind that couldn’t be demonstrated?

Zhù Ying said nothing. She understood: the underworld had certain peculiar customs. It was a strange world — on the one hand it looked down on women; on the other hand, it was deeply wary of women who had made a name for themselves. Such women were generally fiercer than men. By calling Zhù Qingjun and Hu Shijie forward — and with Hu Shijie having demonstrated her skill — Zhù Qingjun would not be overly looked down on by association.

Whether she could truly hold her ground — Zhù Ying trusted that Zhù Qingjun was up to it.

Zhù Ying said, “Sit down and eat.”

Everyone kept her company for the meal. Zhù Ying ate without putting on airs, ate at a decent pace, and when she’d finished comfortably, she smiled and said to them, “Though the Court of Judicial Review doesn’t manage the capital’s public order, do not carry things too far.” Preventing the people from being able to make a decent honest living was the fault of the court, not theirs. Setting aside other matters, right among these people sat the head of the beggars — known colloquially as the “group head.” They controlled the beggars too. But where did the beggars come from?

As long as they didn’t go “too far.”

After finishing the broth and flatbread, Zhù Ying walked back to the household with Zhù Qingjun and Hu Shijie. Once they had gone a little distance, Zhù Qingjun asked, “Patron — why?”

“Mm? Why what?”

Zhù Qingjun said, “You are a patron official — they would have done whatever you asked.”

“Mm, yes. But there’s plenty of fooling one’s superiors that doesn’t only happen inside yamens! They need to know they can’t fool me. Do you know where each of them lives, what dens they hide in, what their people get up to?”

“I… I’ll go investigate their backgrounds right now!”

Zhù Ying smiled. “No rush — take it slowly. Being too eager shows one’s hand. I’m entrusting the business of the capital’s streets to you.”

“Yes!”

The three of them walked back to the Zhù household, and Xiang Le came out to meet them. “Patron! There’s a guest.”

“Oh?”

“Young Master Zhuo has come and says there’s a matter to report.”