Wang Yunhe was dead — and it was not unexpected. Zhù Ying told herself so, and yet a sense of loss settled over her all the same.

After the Emperor’s “I see,” the entire hall fell into silence. Court ladies and eunuchs buried their heads low. Du Shien’s body swayed slightly forward and back, yet his feet remained planted where they stood — the Emperor had not broken down in tears, so there was no need to step forward and offer comfort.

The blank expression on Dou Peng’s face flickered once and then disappeared. He was deeply, desperately grieved inside. That was Wang Yunhe! But the Emperor had produced only one flat “I see,” and Dou Peng forced his grief down and asked for instructions on how to proceed.

The Emperor said, “According to precedent.”

That “according to precedent” was mercifully flexible. Dou Peng gave an equally brief “Yes,” and hurried out to make arrangements.

As Dou Peng stepped over the threshold, his foot caught and he stumbled. The Emperor’s body involuntarily leaned forward slightly. Du Shien made a gesture, and two small eunuchs came trotting over to support Dou Peng and see him back to the Hall of Governance.

Zhù Ying walked to where the Emperor could see her directly, bowed, and said, “Your Majesty, your official takes her leave.”

The Emperor said, “Oh — mm?”

Zhù Ying was also puzzled, and raised her head to give him a questioning look. Emperor and official held each other’s gaze for a moment; Zhù Ying ventured carefully: “Does Your Majesty still have instructions? Your official’s assignments have all been completed.” Her tone was plainly uncertain, and her finger pointed discreetly in the direction of the Eastern Palace.

The Emperor was thrown into a momentary daze by her manner, and said without thinking: “Is it to go to the Wang family?”

Zhù Ying said, “We were colleagues in the same court, and Minister Wang was my senior. After offices close it is only natural that I should go to offer condolences.”

The Emperor knew that Wang Yunhe had treated her well enough. Seeing her appear to be less distressed than Dou Peng, he asked again: “Wang Yunhe has passed away — are you not grieved?”

Zhù Ying said, “I find myself somewhat at a loss. I can’t quite see my own heart clearly. I wish to go back and busy myself with something for a while, to quiet my mind, and then go to offer condolences.”

“What sort of reasoning is that?”

Zhù Ying said, “Even if it were not Minister Wang — upon hearing that someone has passed away, one’s mood cannot help but be affected. When something happens, if I shut myself away to think, the more I think the more tangled it becomes. If I occupy my hands with some simple task, things settle a little better. Going back to compose myself is preferable to losing composure in front of others. At this time, the Wang family must be in anxious turmoil. If I do not go and add to the confusion, that in itself counts as help.”

The Emperor said, “Go, then.”

“Ah?”

The Emperor felt this too had an edge of condescension, and completed the thought: “Go compose your mind at your Ministry of Finance.”

Zhù Ying bowed and withdrew. The Emperor watched her figure disappear and gave a quiet sigh: “He is still too young.”

When Dou Peng had asked what to do about Wang Yunhe’s death, the first thought that had come to the Emperor’s mind was not the funerary rites, but rather: without a Chief Minister, shouldn’t a vacancy in the Hall of Governance be filled? With one great mountain removed, how much might the imperial presence grow?

Best of all would be to install some of the Emperor’s own trusted people in the Hall of Governance. Counting carefully — how many years had it been since the late Emperor passed? It was surely time for this Emperor to govern by his own hand.

Zhù Ying’s abilities were outstanding, and she didn’t cause him trouble. A pity she was too junior, otherwise — Zhù Ying doing the work would surely be satisfactory.

Well, so be it. Even as an emperor, can all things go as one wishes?

An old official of the late Emperor had left — which for the new Emperor was itself not necessarily bad news. He must not be too greedy. The Emperor told himself so.

——

Zhù Ying returned to the Ministry of Finance, where she found the two Vice Ministers, Ye Deng and Li Yuan, surrounded by several Bureau Directors and the like, in the middle of a discussion. Ye Deng’s family bore the Ye surname and were close relatives of the great General Ye whom the late Emperor had trusted deeply. Li Yuan, though not of the same clan as the Li Attendant Gentleman who had been the current Emperor’s old tutor, was from another prominent Li family lineage.

Seeing her return, everyone rose: “Minister.”

She saw that their faces all carried some agitation, and asked: “What is the matter?”

Ye Deng asked carefully: “Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Minister Wang… has passed away.”

“Has news spread already?”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying let out a long sigh, gave a wave of her hand, and without saying anything, returned to her own room. She had a room here at the Ministry of Finance as well — a spacious one. She sat quietly behind her desk, motionless. Zhù Wen tiptoed in and replaced the cold tea that had gone to the top of the table.

Zhù Ying sat for a while, then dragged over a case file, pulled out a sheet of paper, and slowly began to calculate. Autumn had already come; the harvest was rolling in across the empire one region at a time, and the prefects and this year’s tax revenues were already on the road. When they arrived in the capital, their purpose was not only to “hand in their homework” but also to “receive their assignments.” National finance operated on the principle of “determine income by expenditure” — estimate how much needs to be spent, then fix how much to collect. Before the prefects arrived in the capital, the Ministry of Finance needed to have its figures ready. The certain expenditures for next year, such as officials’ salaries and the like; contingency reserves for unforeseen events such as natural disasters and man-made calamities; possible necessary provisions such as whether any more of the Emperor’s sons would be setting up their own establishments; and a modest surplus the court hoped to have in hand — all of this then apportioned and assigned to the various prefectures and counties according to their conditions.

Beyond that, the Ministry of Finance also had various dealings with the Nine Offices, such as the Grand Granary Bureau under the Office of Agriculture.

She had written two rows of figures when she looked back and suddenly felt as though she no longer recognized these numbers — suspecting she had made an error. She threw out the calculations and started again. It seemed she had multiplied four by two and arrived at six. She recalculated, and found that the four had disappeared entirely.

Zhù Ying put down her brush decisively and stopped calculating. She rose, took the books and scrolls off the shelves one by one, found a cloth rag and wrapped a hairpin in it, drew it through every nook and crevice in the shelves, and cleaned them little by little.

Zhù Wen was somewhat frightened and stepped forward: “My Lord, let me do this!”

Zhù Ying waved him away, rinsed the cloth rag clean again, wiped the shelves thoroughly, then placed the books, scrolls, and files back one by one in proper order.

Finally she washed her hands, sat back down at the desk, and slowly began to calculate again. This time, it went somewhat more smoothly.

When lunchtime arrived, Zhù Wen didn’t dare urge her to eat. But Zhù Ying seemed to sense it and looked up at him, then said, “Go back to the residence for a moment. Ask the household to prepare condolence gifts. On your way, stop at the Guest House for Foreign Envoys and tell Zhao Su — ask him to prepare as well. Oh, and the Zheng family too — mention it to them.”

“Yes.”

At the communal meal, Ye Deng and Li Yuan both made their way to Zhù Ying’s side to eat together. They had been gathering news and feeling unmoored; sitting together bolstered their courage.

Wang Yunhe’s death — whatever one’s feelings about him — had to be acknowledged as a major event. Without him, many things would change.

Ye Deng sighed: “Had Minister Wang retired two years earlier, he would have been a man without flaw.”

Li Yuan murmured in agreement, then added: “No telling what will happen to Minister Wang now that he’s gone. Minister Zheng is also in mourning now. Tomorrow’s morning court…”

He shook his head without completing the thought.

Zhù Ying said, “The Ministry of Finance needs to do its own work properly. It’s autumn and easy to get overheated — don’t give anyone an excuse to find fault with us and use us as their punching bag.”

Ye Deng and Li Yuan both said, “That goes without saying!”

Ye Deng added: “After all, the Ministry of Finance is what it is! Anyone who wants to use us as a sacrificial chicken to frighten the monkeys needs to check first whether they’re worthy.”

Li Yuan said, “But who exactly are you two referring to?”

Zhù Ying said, “No one in particular.”

Ye Deng and Li Yuan had heard of Zhù Ying long before. She was capable — that was one thing. She was also willing to shield those below her from trouble. These two qualities had substantially offset the two men’s dissatisfaction at having their chief changed from a Chief Minister to an “ordinary Minister.” “Willing to shield” had greatly offset their resentment.

Zhù Ying said, “Oh — how much is in our Ministry’s own accounts? Let me have a look. That matter we discussed about the dormitories…”

Here it was. Zhù Ying’s three standard moves — audit, distribute funds, and bring people along on the path to promotion.

Ye Deng and Li Yuan relaxed, sitting with Zhù Ying and talking as they ate. Lunchtime was for lighter fare — discussing how to fill the Ministry of Finance’s own small treasury. Word must have been left by some brilliantly wise predecessor who had built the Ministry’s holdings into something quite substantial — more solid than anywhere else Zhù Ying had taken over.

Ye Deng said with a laugh, “Besides tallying taxes and grain with the various regions, we also receive local specialty products from them, you know.”

“Mutual exchange,” Zhù Ying said.

Someone as sharp as she was — when Xian Jing had spoken to her of Liangzhou’s wheat seeds years ago, when Dou Peng had spoken to her of granulated sugar, and then there was salt, tea, iron, and the tribute goods of specialty items from each region — all these things the Nine Offices and the Inner Attendant Bureau could manage in part, but the Ministry of Finance could insert itself into all of them, openly and legitimately.

Knowing the products of each region opened up a great many possibilities.

Left behind by some ancestor’s generosity, the Ministry of Finance, beyond its money lending and tax collection, also controlled several established trading arrangements, all operated by brokers who had been doing this for generations. For example, if a certain region produced silk of outstanding quality, these men would go there to buy the silk and sell it elsewhere. This kind of information was completely beyond the reach of most merchants.

Ye Deng said with a grin, “Exactly.”

Zhù Ying said, “First, let’s do an audit — see if there are any old loans outstanding and whether the interest rates are too high. We can’t kill the goose for the golden eggs.”

Li Yuan looked slightly uncomfortable: “That… might be a case of pulling one thread and unraveling the whole garment.”

Zhù Ying said, “Get it straightened out, and everything that comes next will go more smoothly. It’s also a chance to use the transition to close the books on various odds and ends. What lies ahead is likely to be quite turbulent. We cannot afford to capsize in a shallow ditch.”

Li Yuan said, “Yes.”

After the meal and a brief rest, the three returned to their official duties. Zhù Ying had already regained her composure; seeing her settled, Ye Deng and Li Yuan, who found her both capable and willing to bear responsibility, felt calmer than she did themselves.

Until Zhù Ying said, “This year’s surplus is far too small…”

Then Ye Deng said, “That… the northern territories’ taxes were waived, weren’t they…”

Li Yuan coughed, and Zhù Ying caught herself — of course they were waived, she knew that, she had fought for it herself! And now this hole had landed on her head!

Zhù Ying said, “Ah. Understood.”

The budget could not be done in a day. When offices closed, the three put down their work by unspoken mutual agreement, each went home, changed their clothes, and went to Wang Yunhe’s residence to offer condolences.

——

Zhù Ying left the Imperial City and rode toward her new residence. It was a short stretch of road, yet along the way she heard weeping.

The street vendors had packed up their stalls, and there were old men leaning against doorways wiping their eyes. At the sound of hoofbeats they looked up at her and then turned their faces away.

Zhù Ying urged her horse home.

Everyone in the Zhù household knew how close Zhù Ying felt to Wang Yunhe, and no one joked or laughed. The plain mourning clothes had already been laid out. Xiang An said, “The condolence gifts — the same as what was sent to the Zheng family? I’ve also prepared a little extra, and can add more if needed.”

Zhù Ying said, “Take more money — double it.”

“Yes.”

The Wang family was not poor, but they were not to be compared to the Zheng family either. Zhù Ying had another worry: the Emperor’s attitude toward Wang Yunhe had not seemed particularly warm, which meant that in the matter of Wang Yunhe’s posthumous affairs, the Emperor would not be granting anything beyond standard procedure.

Arriving at the Wang residence, Zhù Ying raised her eyes to look at the gate lintel, then lowered them again. Wang Yunhe had no shortage of children and grandchildren, but those in the family’s home region and those away in official posts had no time to rush back; only Wang Shuliang stood before her. Fortunately Xian Jing, Yu Qingyuan, and others had all come to lend a hand, and the Court of State Ceremonial’s Shen Ying had personally led a team to help with the arrangements.

Zhù Ying exchanged greetings with them. Zhù Qingjun handed over the gift list and the Wang family’s steward accepted it. Wang Shuliang was weeping so hard his hair had gone disheveled; Xian Jing looked as though he hadn’t slept in eight days; Yu Qingyuan still wore an air of some indignation.

Zhù Ying said to Wang Shuliang, “Please restrain your grief. The Minister has gone, and the household’s affairs now all fall to you.”

Wang Shuliang said, “Right now I want nothing else but for my father to be laid to rest in peace.”

Zhù Ying also handed him a sheaf of papers: “There are also ten baskets of tea cakes, twenty bolts of white cloth, a number of pigs and sheep, tableware, tea sets, cups and the like — all of it is here. Please see what the household needs urgently.”

“This is too much…”

Zhù Ying said, “Accept it. In this capital, these truly amount to nothing.”

Wang Shuliang said solemnly, “This I absolutely cannot accept.”

Zhù Ying said, “The source is clean.”

“That is not what I meant.”

Zhù Ying said, “I never gave Minister Wang anything.”

Wang Shuliang said, “After my father’s funeral is over, I’m afraid I won’t be coming back.”

Zhù Ying said, “Where does this come from?”

“You’ll understand in a few days.”

Zhù Ying said, “You must not do anything foolish.”

Wang Shuliang smiled: “I won’t. Whatever the Zhantian faction wishes to do, they may do as they please. My father is gone now — I only want him to be laid to rest in peace. His truest friend has written his epitaph and funeral oration, and no one else needs to add their praise. As for a posthumous title — my father himself set no store by such things. Of those who argue on his behalf, how many genuinely feel he deserves it, and how many are simply trying to make him into a monument to erect for themselves?”

“Such words will hurt people.”

Wang Shuliang said, “My father was already wounded all over. I want to hurt people.”

He pushed the papers back toward her a little: “I accept the thought behind this. If I can come back on my own merits someday, I will naturally have a place to stay. If I cannot come back, what use would I have for a house? Thank you for not using my father as a pawn.”

Zhù Ying had no choice but to tuck the papers away again.

The next day at court, the dispute over the posthumous title resumed. The Emperor declined to make a pronouncement. The ministers could not help but speculate, and began to perceive that the Emperor seemed to harbor some dissatisfaction with Wang Yunhe.

Yet even Zheng Xi found it bewildering: could Wang Yunhe really not merit a title of “Wen Zheng”? Having such a Chief Minister, what was there to be dissatisfied about? To find fault with Wang Yunhe, one had to first ask whether one was worthy of doing so.

The Emperor simply refused to speak.

At this point, Wang Shuliang submitted another memorial — Wang Yunhe had left a final memorial on his deathbed.

Dou Peng, deeply worried, passed the memorial to the Emperor. The Emperor asked, “And what is this?”

Dou Peng heaved a sigh: “A request to suppress the consolidation of landholdings.”

This was not the quietly-going-about-it kind of suppression, but a very explicit plan. It included provisions for protecting smallholder farmers’ land, for increasing the cost of consolidation, and even touched on limiting hereditary official positions, increasing the number of examination candidates, conducting a nationwide land survey, and defining the tax exemption limits for officials of all ranks.

He had in fact possessed a complete set of proposals all along.

“Buzz!” Murmuring broke out across the court.

The censors forgot to maintain order. The Emperor swept his gaze over the ministers and pointed at the Chief Censor: “And you just stand there watching this chaos?”

The Chief Censor called the assembly back to order. Yu Qingyuan stepped out from the ranks, swearing to win Wang Yunhe the title “Wen Zheng.” Mu Chengzhou jumped out even faster than Zheng Yi and said, “Do you think you know better than the Ministry of Rites?”

Zhù Ying was still as a mountain, watching this farce with cold eyes.

A bunch of useless wretches! she thought: Wen Zheng it shall be — you lot cannot win it, I shall.