Huajie too picked up a handful of paper money and slowly fed it into the fire basin, her heart heavy. If judged by the world’s standards, Zhù Ying had undeniably succeeded; judged by Zhù Ying’s own aspirations, she had undeniably taken only the first step, and every step ahead would be harder than this one, with no path visible in the distance.

Huajie did not know what help she could offer Zhù Ying. She said softly, “You know me — surrounded by young women here, as a hundred grains of rice yield a hundred different flavors, there are gentle ones and hot-tempered ones too. I’ve even heard some of the girls, when furious, say they want to overturn the way of the world entirely — have women come out and do things, and forbid men from showing their faces in public. But I think: surely, living in this world, there must be some way of life other than oppressing people and being oppressed.”

Zhù Ying twisted her mouth in a wry smile. What Huajie said called to mind Zhou Wei — when Zhou Wei had first entered the Court of Judicial Review, she had been exactly that indignant. Zhù Ying said quietly, “I understand.”

Huajie shook her head and said, “I’m not asking you to do anything in particular, or telling you what you must not do. I only want to tell you some things. I want to tell you: don’t be in a hurry; let us both not be in a hurry. Don’t drive yourself too hard — when you need to rest, rest a little. The way of the world is the way of human hearts, and it is hard to change. But there are always those in the world who refuse to accept things, and when a road is uneven, there are those who will tread it smooth.”

She knew it was difficult. This brought to her mind a figure from long ago — Madam Feng. Years ago in the capital, she had served as a kind of daughter to Madam Feng for a time. That woman had held firm through nine deaths without changing her ways. The way of the world — it is not so easily bent.

Madam Feng had held a lofty position, and everyone around her had suffered under her. Yet even faced with such a person as Madam Feng, if asked to turn around and mistreat Madam Feng in return, Huajie would have felt it was wrong.

But Huajie also did not know how one could possibly coexist harmoniously with someone like Madam Feng. Madam Feng was only one person; the Feng family had ultimately asked her to go to a country estate to “cultivate her mind in seclusion,” and that had managed to resolve things in a comparatively peaceful manner. But if everyone around you were like Madam Feng — what then? How could one live in peace?

Huajie could not think of an answer.

Difficult — truly difficult.

She said, “But if I had to choose, I would much rather that you first make your own life comfortable. You and Godmother — both of you have suffered too much. My heart is already biased.”

Zhù Ying nodded: “I know.”

Huajie braced her hands on her knees and stood up. Zhù Ying sprang to her feet and took her arm: “Go and rest. I’ll keep watch here.”

Huajie gripped her forearm and said, “I can’t sleep. As one grows older there is less sleep. Let me go see if the kitchen still has any late-night food. I’ll bring something back for us to eat.”

“All right.”

Huajie turned — and found Widow Jiang supporting Zhang Xiangu, with two young maids behind them carrying felt rugs, bedding, and charcoal.

Zhang Xiangu’s eyes were red. Huajie and Zhù Ying stepped forward quickly. Zhang Xiangu said, “The nights are cold — don’t let yourself freeze.”

Zhù Ying said, “Don’t worry.”

Zhang Xiangu shook her head and watched as Widow Jiang and the others first gathered the rice straw from the floor and piled it thick against the wall, then laid a thick straw-woven mat over it, followed by felt rugs and bedding, and finally a heavy quilt on top. More charcoal was added to the fire basin and stirred to a bright blaze.

Zhang Xiangu said, “Aiyoh — that old thing really picked the worst time to die, this cold weather. You keep the vigil, fine, but don’t go and mistreat yourself in the process. The living are worth more than the dead.”

“Yes.”

Zhang Xiangu noticed the fire basin and the paper money, and slowly crouched down, feeding paper money into the fire herself, murmuring silently: I’m giving you money — live well down there, and if you have any conscience, you’ll protect the child and stop finding fault with her.

Zhù Ying crouched alongside, keeping Zhang Xiangu company as she burned the paper. Huajie, seeing this scene, quietly asked Widow Jiang to fetch more paper money for them to continue burning. Widow Jiang said, “I’ll go right away. Do also persuade the Old Madam — she has years on her, this kind of vigil doesn’t suit her. She’s not like us, having lived as a widow and feared being taken advantage of. She has wealth and property, no worry about food or clothing — please tell her not to grieve so.”

Huajie said, “I understand.” She signaled to the little maid Xiao Ya to keep watch over the mother and daughter, and went herself to the rear kitchen to see what ingredients there were. Going strictly by the rules of propriety, a proper filial child should eat somewhat plainly during the mourning rites.

But what did it matter! Huajie thought. After all this exhaustion, to still be made to suffer on top of it — it’s not as if we can’t afford to eat properly.

She filled a bowl with chicken broth, tore off two drumsticks and dropped them in, filled a large bowl with mutton, took a plate of smoked fish, filled another bowl with rice, covered everything with two large bowls upturned as lids, took chopsticks, and loaded it all into a large food carrier box, which she carried back to the mourning hall.

By now, mother and daughter had already burned through one round of paper money. Zhù Ying’s eyes had grown faintly red from the smoke, and she was urging Zhang Xiangu to go rest: “I have to keep vigil through tonight — Mother, please don’t stay here; it’s cold, and I don’t want to worry about you.”

Huajie said, “Godmother, go and sleep first. I’ll eat a little with her before I leave.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “You mustn’t stay up all night either.”

“I know.”

After Zhang Xiangu left, the two of them dismissed their attendants. They set the food carrier at the edge of the sleeping mat, opened the lid, each took a bowl, sat on the mat wrapped in quilts, and ate.

Huajie said, “Eat and then sleep. Don’t let your mind run on things at a time like this. As for the funeral arrangements — shall I discuss things with Zhao Da’lang and Xiang San?”

Zhù Ying chewed a mouthful of rice thoroughly and swallowed before saying, “That’s fine — you take care of it. Only one condition: bury him according to the mountain customs.”

“Ah?”

Zhù Ying said, “By the customs of the outside world, without a male descendant to offer food, the dead man can’t even receive what’s fed to him. What is the point? Since we intend to make our home in the mountains for a long time, we cannot think of ourselves as guests here. I’ve had my eye on a mountain about ten li behind the city — it looks quite good.”

Huajie thought it over and said, “Ah. I understand.” She turned over in her mind the expenses and steps involved — a coffin would still be needed, but not all the burial customs need follow the mountain ways, and certainly a memorial tablet would be required…

She ate little; most of the food went into Zhù Ying’s stomach. The two of them stacked the bowls and chopsticks back into the carrier box and sat on the mat, continuing to talk.

With a full stomach and warmth spreading through her body, Huajie’s mood had eased considerably. She said to Zhù Ying, “Things may not be as bad as all that. The mountain people are simple and honest — it comes down to who is capable. And as for the outside world: didn’t they send several young people up here? I think they cannot yet be sure whether you will succeed, but that they are willing to send daughters shows they are not entirely without worth.”

Zhù Ying nodded again.

Huajie, seeing how little she said, fearing she was dejected over the loss of her father, drew her into conversation: “So then — what are we going to do next?”

Zhù Ying said, “First, stabilize things. No more provoking the court. As for those few families to the west — as long as they don’t come to attack, we won’t concern ourselves with them either. First, farm the land of Gan County well and govern the people well. Whatever one wishes to accomplish, iron must first be forged from within — one must have something solid in hand.

Start from this little patch of ground we have and establish the rules; try things out. I can’t be certain myself — what kind of rules will actually work? You said that besides oppressing people and being oppressed, there should be other ways of living. That’s right. But not everyone thinks so. If that were the case, the Gan County chieftain should have listened to me and freed the slaves. Yet even when I was serving as Chancellor, there were heaps of people singing a different tune.”

Huajie said, “Let’s not rush. Those few children sent up from the lowlands — they all look like raw beginners. Shall I take them first? In any case, we will have more female students!” Having more of one’s own kind was always a good thing.

Zhù Ying laughed and said, “Yes. You know me — I can’t teach students; I only know how to eat ready-made and order people about.”

Huajie said, “Don’t say that. Cats catch mice and dogs guard gates — everyone has their proper task. Teaching children simply isn’t what you do. Sleep now — there’s proper business tomorrow.”

The two of them lay down in their clothes before the coffin and slept.

——

The next day, there was more weeping at the bier. Xiang Yu came first to test the mood. He saw Huajie folding bedding with a little maid, then looked at Zhù Ying — her complexion had returned to normal. He thought to himself: it’s about time.

He drew near and conveyed Elder Zhao and the others’ intentions.

Zhù Ying said, “What is there to worry about? On occasions of mourning, one doesn’t ordinarily send guests away.”

Xiang Yu hurried to notify his uncle, then brought his uncle to offer condolences to Zhù Ying in person. Zhù Ying said, “Here you all are, and now something has happened in my household.”

“The family matters of the official take precedence!”

“Since your children have come, I will see that they are well looked after — there is no need to worry. My young women here all have arrangements made for them.”

“Yes.”

Meanwhile, Zhao Su came as well. He had already drafted a memorial to the court: with Zhù Da’s death, the court had to be informed — he had been an honored father of an official, and the court must make its appropriate gestures. Zhù Ying glanced over the draft, made a few minor changes in wording, softened the tone slightly, and said, “Send it as is.”

Zhao Su also asked, “And the burial site… is it really going to be…?”

Zhù Ying nodded.

Zhao Su said, “A memorial tablet and epitaph are still required.”

Zhù Ying said, “That’s fine.”

They did not wait on the court’s arrangements, and proceeded through all the stages of the funeral rites at their own pace. People came from all five counties; from Ji’yuan Prefecture, and especially from Fulu County, the gentry came in nearly full attendance. In addition, a few small merchants, impoverished persons, and craftsmen from Fulu County town also came — these were people with whom Zhù Da and Zhang Xiangu had become acquainted during their strolls through the streets in the old days when Zhù Ying had been county magistrate.

On the day of the burial, people followed the local customs and placed many of Zhù Da’s favorite and familiar objects inside the coffin. Zhù Ying placed a rattle within, along with a diviner’s compass, an Eight Trigrams chart, and an almanac. He was then carried to the back mountain and placed in a cave for burial.

A memorial tablet was erected outside.

Only then, with the burial complete, did the condolence memorial Zhao Su had drafted finally reach the Grand Council. Chen Meng opened it and felt a heaviness in his heart. He had known Zhù Da — the old charlatan had been vulgar, shallow, and ridiculous, but he was someone with thirty years of acquaintance. A person of old acquaintance who had been in his way somewhat unpretentious, occasionally cunning, and toward others genuinely sincere.

Zheng Xi was a careful man. Noticing Chen Meng’s expression, he asked, “What is it?”

There was no point concealing this. Chen Meng handed the memorial to Zheng Xi. Zheng Xi sighed: “She returned just in time to see him one last time.”

As was customary, the court needed to express condolences — usually by sending an official document, issued in the Emperor’s name, containing words of praise and comfort. Chen Meng intended to do exactly that.

But Zheng Xi said, “Send someone to pay their respects in person.”

“What? A personal condolence visit? That is quite a distance. If we send a servant, it will seem careless; if we send someone of rank, it becomes a grand affair.”

“The complaints have been reaching me! I’ve heard that Wuzhou has begun producing salt.”

Chen Meng was somewhat surprised: “Er’lang hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“Wherever she is, if nothing new is happening, that would actually be strange. Even if it hadn’t happened yet when Er’lang went, by now it surely has.”

Indeed, after returning to Wuzhou, Zhù Ying had not been idle for a moment. She personally looked into the salt works, and the production could not help but increase. Beyond Wuzhou’s own consumption, she was even selling the surplus to neighboring prefectures. This affected those nearby.

Ji’yuan Prefecture was fine — everyone was used to it.

The other prefectures, however, “suffered under private salt.” Salt and iron were government monopolies with enormous profit margins and coveted positions, but those who administered these two affairs also had to bear all manner of levies and demands from the court. The more people skimmed from the top, and the more skillfully they did it, the more expensive official salt became — ordinary people could less and less afford it — and so they bought Wuzhou salt, and bought official salt less than ever.

Wuzhou salt’s production had to supply Wuzhou first; the county magistrates of the five counties received salt at low prices. But Xi Jin was a clever man — he did not put all his salt directly on the market at low prices for his own clan. Instead, he diverted a portion and sold it outside the mountains, making his county’s salt prices just a fraction higher than the other counties.

Before long, Lu Guo had followed suit. The unfortunate neighboring prefectures found their official salt selling ever more poorly.

The complaints had reached Zheng Xi.

Chen Meng said, “I’ll send Er’lang there again.”

Zheng Xi said, “Have Shao Jun accompany him.”

Shao Jun was the son of Shao Shuxin — there was a degree of old acquaintance between them.

Chen Meng said, “They’re both quite young.”

Zheng Xi said, “Young is better — she’ll go easier on them.”

When the spring ice began to break, Chen Fang made his third trip to Wuzhou. Ostensibly, he was going to offer condolences and comfort Zhù Ying.

——

Chen Fang was well-traveled on this route by now. Taking the first-timer Shao Jun along, he went first to Ji’yuan Prefecture and then to Wuzhou. He kept his wits about him and inquired about salt prices along the entire way, finding that they varied considerably from place to place. Ji’yuan Prefecture’s was among the cheaper: five qian per dou. In the more expensive areas, such as the neighboring prefectures, one dou of salt cost one hundred and fifty qian.

He was fairly familiar with Ji’yuan Prefecture by now, and so he went nosing through the market stalls, chatting with people and asking about Wuzhou’s salt prices. Ji’yuan Prefecture had quite a few tribal people who had come down from the mountains to sell mountain goods, and they gave him straight answers. They told Chen Fang that in the past the mountains produced no salt and the price was high — one dou could go for two or three hundred qian. Now it was much better: about twenty qian per dou — but with a quota.

Chen Fang thought to himself: if it were me, I would also…

Shao Jun said under his breath, “It is a shame that such a person cannot serve the court.”

Chen Fang shared the sentiment but said nothing.

The two spurred their horses onward. Approaching the Narrow Pass, Shao Jun reined in his horse warily and asked, “Is this the only road through?”

Chen Fang said, “Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

The party entered the Narrow Pass. The sound of hoofbeats echoed through the canyon, striking the eardrums. Then, without warning, a faint sound of a woman’s sobbing drifted over. Shao Jun could not help crying out, “What is that sound?”

Chen Fang was startled too, and called out, “Who is there?”

The people opposite seemed startled as well — the sobbing stopped abruptly, and then a man’s voice came back: “Who are you?”

Both sides suspected the other of being mountain spirits or demons lurking in this sunless spot to work mischief; while the other side suspected bandits ahead, and even issued a warning: “This is Wuzhou! What ill deeds are you about? Mind that the official doesn’t take you in and question you! You can’t escape!”

After shouting back and forth, they worked out each other’s identities.

A man of gentry appearance from the other side said, “Ah — so you are the imperial envoy! But how is it you have come by yourself? How is it no one has come to escort you up the mountain?”

This was Chen Fang’s third time, and he had simply wanted to come on his own.

He answered a question with a question: “Are you truly a law-abiding subject? Why are you accompanied by a weeping woman? Are you quite sure this isn’t an abduction?”

“This is my daughter! She came to study at the prefecture, but missed home and didn’t wish to continue, so I came to take her home.”

Chen Fang asked the young woman: “Is this true? Speak honestly — I will see justice done for you.”

The young woman said in a very quiet voice: “Yes, it is — it’s my own wish to go home.”

Chen Fang and Shao Jun then let the matter rest and passed by them — they still had their own official business to attend to.