The courier rode swiftly along the newly built post road, heading straight for Xizhou. At first the road wound up through the mountain passes, requiring careful navigation, but once he descended into the plains of Xizhou, both man and horse seemed to come alive.

He arrived at the gates of the military headquarters just past noon. It was late spring in the southern lands, and the sun was already blazing hot. The courier wiped the sweat from his brow and called out joyfully: “It’s open! The bridge is open!”

The gatekeeper looked over his official uniform and handed him a bowl of tea: “Which bridge is open?”

The courier gulped down the whole bowl and replied: “The iron-chain bridge north of the Northern Pass, of course! Captain Su sent me to deliver the news!”

The gatekeeper took back the bowl: “Then go on in! Xiao Liuzi, take him inside!”

Inside the military headquarters, lunch was over and it was the leisurely hour of rest. Zhù Ying was in the back rooms keeping Zhang Xiangu company in conversation. Zhang Xiangu was muttering away: “The second Zhao boy has also come to study now — the two brothers are quite a few years apart in age, I wonder if they’ll find anything to talk about?”

Zhù Ying said: “No one is better suited to bring him along than his own elder brother. His elder brother can first help him get acquainted with everyone, get familiar with the area — in time they’ll each naturally make their own friends.”

“I suppose that’s true. Oh my, you’ve sent Qingye out too, you’ll need to add a few more helpers around you. You’re not as young as you used to be either…”

Muttering away, Zhang Xiangu soon began to doze off. Zhù Ying waved to Jiang Shi the widow, and with light, careful steps carried Zhang Xiangu to the bed, settled the blanket over her, then tiptoed back out. Jiang Shi whispered: “You should go and rest too — I’ll keep watch here.”

“Thank you for the trouble.”

“It’s nothing. I take turns with Sister Du, so it won’t wear me out.”

Zhù Ying had barely stepped out of Zhang Xiangu’s rooms when Zhù Qingxue found her: “Grandma! There’s news from Su Sheng up north — the courier is waiting out front.”

Zhù Ying hadn’t planned on taking an afternoon nap anyway. Seeing the happiness on Zhù Qingxue’s face, she knew it must be good news, and smiled as well: “Come on, let’s go see.”

In the document office, the courier stepped forward immediately: “Grandma! Good news! The bridge is open!” He then presented Su Sheng’s official report.

It was sealed with red wax. Once opened, Zhù Ying saw that Su Sheng’s writing had become increasingly polished. He had not only reported the successful completion of the test but also noted that he had removed the bridge planks again and was waiting for Zhù Ying’s order. He had also described his “defensive arrangement”: how large the checkpoint now was, how many men were stationed there, how many people and how much cargo could be monitored simultaneously, and so forth. In accordance with prior arrangements, he had also delivered a request to meet with the other side during the testing period.

Finally, he asked Zhù Ying for instructions: the other side — Chen Fang — had also sent over an official document requesting a meeting on the bridge. Was she coming? When? Were there any additional requirements?

Zhù Ying said: “Su Sheng has really grown up.”

Su Sheng had been hardened through these years of experience. Even if posted elsewhere, he would be a fairly capable officer — the kind whose superiors would find little fault with.

Zhù Ying had the courier go and rest first, then said to Zhù Qingxue: “Send dispatches to Zhao Su and the others — inform them that the bridge is open and have them each put their own prefectures in order and come to the military headquarters within seven days so we can all go take a look at the new road together. Also let Su Zhe and the others know, so they can prepare as well. Reply to Su Sheng and tell him I will set out in ten days.”

Zhù Qingxue happily agreed: “Yes!”

“So pleased?”

Zhù Qingxue said: “Grandma cares so deeply about this road, so it must be useful — now that it’s done, of course it’s worth being happy about.” She said this with a smile and went off to get to work.

——

That same afternoon, the good news spread throughout the military headquarters and began to ripple outward.

It was indeed good news. Though the staff of the headquarters knew that opening the route was not entirely without complications — they would soon face pressure from the imperial court — Xizhou was the central hub of all Annan and a crucial trading junction between east and west. With the road open, Xizhou’s importance was greatly enhanced; even goods from Wuzhou wanting to head north to the capital would find it more convenient to pass through Xizhou. In other words, the transport of goods from all of Annan northward would become far more convenient.

This was beneficial to Annan. The roads within Annan’s territory were already vastly improved compared to before, and the output from mines and salt wells was easier to transport. Anyone who was not the one responsible for governing Annan would feel glad upon hearing the news. Only those in charge would feel anxious.

Su Zhe, upon hearing the news, felt a moment of mixed emotions. It was something that brought both joy and concern. She wrote a letter to her mother and invited her two companions currently in Xizhou — Lu Danqing and Lin Feng — to come and talk.

Lu Danqing and Lin Feng were presently training troops at the military headquarters.

The two of them, upon receiving Su Zhe’s invitation, both guessed she was about to stir something up again. When they arrived at Su Zhe’s home, sure enough, she had a new idea.

The three of them settled inside, and Lu Danqing asked first: “We just heard the good news, and you’re already calling us over — what are you planning?”

Su Zhe said seriously: “That matter we talked about last time — have you two thought it through?”

Lu Danqing turned to look at Lin Feng. “That matter from last time” referred to their private discussions about Annan’s future. Su Zhe believed that although Annan had begun to take shape, once it came into closer contact with the imperial court, certain “safeguards” would be needed. Previously the natural barriers had kept them separated, and they had developed within Annan’s own bounds without needing to worry too much about the court. Now, some action was required.

Lin Feng said: “Petitioning for an ennobling title for Grandma — right now really is a good opportunity.”

Su Zhe asked Lu Danqing: “What do you think?”

Lu Danqing said: “I’m certainly in agreement, but have you told Elder Brother Zhao Su and the others? We can’t leave them out.”

“They’ll arrive in a few days. We can all speak to them together then.”

Lin Feng said: “Grandma absolutely deserves a noble title from the court. That worthless court is really shameless — when they conferred the post of Military Commissioner, they didn’t even take the initiative to grant a title! For the merit of opening new territory, shouldn’t that be worth at least a duke or marquis?”

Su Zhe said: “There’s another thing — don’t forget. A noble title can be hereditary; an official post cannot. Giving only an official rank and no title — what are they thinking?”

Lin Feng said: “In our respective families, official positions are also hereditary.”

Su Zhe let out a cold snort of contempt: “How can those be compared? The whole of Annan has only the outer five counties operating that way. As for the rest — Zhao Su, Zhù Lian, Zhù Chonghua — didn’t each of them rise step by step on their own merits? Even among the people here at headquarters, you and I — oh, and Qingjun too — she rose from commander all the way to general.”

When she mentioned “Zhù Chonghua,” Lu Danqing glanced at her, but Su Zhe paid no attention to it. Lu Danqing said: “You have something more to say.”

Su Zhe said quietly: “I am also thinking about ourselves — and our descendants.”

At these words, the other two both showed a look of understanding, and Lin Feng fell into deep thought as well. Lu Danqing didn’t have this particular worry at the moment. She simply asked Su Zhe: “Your meaning is that everyone should receive a noble title? The court would probably never agree to that. Besides, Annan is beyond their reach anyway.”

Su Zhe said: “We must at least raise the proposal first, and then figure out what to do next. Sigh…”

The other two exchanged glances and both nodded. The founding of Annan had given all of them a foothold to rise from. If not for Annan, Su Zhe might have had only the Asu County; the other two might not even have secured their own home villages. Now that all three had influence throughout Annan, none of them would willingly give it up — they were determined to protect it. Yet protecting it presented a problem: official posts could not be passed on through hereditary succession.

The three of them harbored this thought, waiting only for Zhao Su and the others to arrive. Opening an additional post road had major implications, and the prefects of several prefectures, along with Zhù Qingjun, all came hurrying back. Each had their own lodgings — some stayed at the military headquarters, like Zhù Lian; others had their own residences outside, like Zhù Chonghua.

Everyone had heard the good news. When Zhù Ying convened the meeting, each person had already organized their thoughts. The prefects had considered a great deal — mostly how to make use of this new road. Zhù Chonghua, for instance, was the first to raise a proposal: “I’d like to go back to Daizhou through the Northern Pass directly — walk the route myself and survey the road.”

Zhù Ying approved everything, but also put forward her own requirements: “After each of you returns, strictly guard against the unauthorized outflow of salt, iron, grain, and horses from within your territories, and carefully screen any books coming in. We are opening this road to remain vigilant, to learn, and to avoid the blindness of a frog in a well — not to court our own destruction.”

Though there were checkpoints in place, smuggling could never be fully stopped as long as there was profit in it, so prevention had to start at the source. Annan could not be called an “enemy state” of the imperial court, but the two were on entirely different levels in terms of size and prosperity — Annan was the one that needed to be careful.

“Yes!”

After the meeting, Zhù Ying let everyone go and prepare, with a date set to depart together. She herself went to ask Zhang Xiangu whether she would like to go to the bridge for a look. As Zhang Xiangu grew older, she had become less nimble in her movements. Zhù Ying was glad she had traveled through Annan with her two years prior and now left the choice entirely to Zhang Xiangu’s own wishes.

Zhang Xiangu was willing to go out — it was just that she was no longer very able to manage her own packing; Huajie and Sister Du and the others were handling everything. When Zhù Ying tried to help, Jiang Shi the widow waved her off: “You two should just talk together — we’ll take care of all this!”

Meanwhile, Su Zhe had invited Zhao Su and the others to a “small gathering.”

When Zhao Su arrived at Su Zhe’s home and saw so many people there, he said with a smile: “You’re up to something again.”

Su Zhe said seriously: “Whether I’m plotting something useful or not — as long as it works, that’s what matters.”

Once everyone had assembled, Su Zhe, characteristically direct, laid out all her thinking. The others looked at each other. Zhù Lian cleared his throat and said: “This matter — you haven’t told our teacher yet, have you?”

Su Zhe said: “Bring something before Grandma without having thought it through first? After all these years, would that mean we’ve learned nothing? Just speak your minds — is what I’m saying reasonable or not?”

The reasoning was sound enough. The fact that Su Zhe, who came from a chieftain background, could accept that official posts would not be hereditary already showed how much she had absorbed over the years. Separating noble titles from official duties was, in truth, a form of progress. Zhù Lian said: “In Annan, there’s no room to carve out fiefdoms and ennoble people, is there?” Su Zhe replied: “When the imperial court grants titles, there’s no actual apportionment of territory with governing rights either.”

Zhao Su said: “We can’t sort this out clearly among ourselves.” In truth, he hadn’t fully worked it out himself. He had no fear of the current situation, but when it came to planning for the future, he too had his worries. Zhù Ying was already past fifty. So was he. And Annan still had no clearly named successor. That was very dangerous.

Perhaps this could be an opportunity to subtly hint at the matter to Zhù Ying — to test her views.

Zhao Su glanced at Zhù Qingjun and expressed agreement with Su Zhe’s proposal: “Whatever else one might say, the court ought not be so stingy with a noble title. Nothing less than a Marquis, at the very least. As for the rest — why not put it to Grandma directly? When has she ever thought less carefully than you?”

Su Zhe said: “This is only a foolish notion of mine, and it’s not only for ourselves. The matter of the civil examinations has never produced a precedent, due to insufficient candidates. And the matter of advancement is one that affects morale. Even for us — we’ve each been fortunate and caught the wind of Grandma’s rise to get where we are today. What about our children and grandchildren? There won’t be another such lucky stroke for them. There must be some guarantee.

If the headquarters provides no such guarantee, then each person’s private interests will drive them to seek their own arrangements for their descendants — and once private ambitions swell, I’ll be the first to say it: I don’t know what I myself might do. And can the rest of you honestly swear you won’t scheme for your posterity either?

A world of perfect equality — who wouldn’t want it? But it can’t be achieved right now. Grandma is of course wiser than I am, so let us go together and consult her. I only ask what those present think. And don’t forget — beyond us, how many officials of rank are there across Annan? Do they spend their days eating and playing, rising at dawn and sleeping at dusk, thinking of nothing?

Grandma sets the rules, and I will listen and abide by them. But if Grandma leaves the rules unwritten, then everyone will start using their own heads — and can that possibly end well?”

Zhù Qingjun’s tightly drawn expression softened slightly at the second half of this speech. She gave a small, quiet nod.

One by one the others came to agree, and they arranged to present their case to Zhù Ying after the morning assembly the following day.

——

Zhù Lian was still lodging at the military headquarters. That same evening, he knocked on Zhù Ying’s door.

The next morning, the headquarters held its morning assembly, with the added matter of arrangements for after Zhù Ying’s departure.

Once tasks were assigned, Su Zhe and the others briefly dispersed, then gathered again and went together to find Zhù Ying in the document office.

Zhù Ying saw them all arriving together, raised an eyebrow, and said: “What’s going on? Sit down, take your time.”

Su Zhe gathered her courage and opened: “Grandma, now that this road is open, imperial troops can enter Annan through it and encircle the Western Barbarians. The merit of opening new territory is now fully established, is it not?”

“Correct.”

“Then… rewarding merit and appointing the capable: conferring the post of Military Commissioner is the appointing. Now the court ought to reward the merit.” As she said this, she glanced at Zhao Su.

Zhao Su leaned forward slightly and said with measured restraint: “Annan’s internal and external threats have now been pacified — it is time to establish formal institutions.”

Zhù Ying said: “That is quite reasonable. And the rest of you — do you all share this view?”

Everyone’s spirits lifted. Seeing that Zhù Ying’s expression was composed, they each slowly voiced their own thoughts. Su Zhe spoke most, as she had thought on the matter longest. Zhù Lian leaned more toward following the court’s example — open civil examinations, promote the capable, remove the incompetent. Zhù Qingjun had not thought as deeply about it previously, but now inclined more toward Zhù Lian’s view. Zhao Su and the others were more sympathetic to Su Zhe, as her reasoning did have its merits.

Zhù Ying nodded and said: “I understand what you are all saying. What worries you, I have already considered long ago.”

It would be impossible to expect those who had exerted themselves to be treated exactly the same as everyone else. Consider the outer five counties — even now they could act as “outlaws beyond the law,” precisely because of their early cooperation with the pacification arrangement. By now, it would not be impossible to forcibly annex them or manipulate them with political scheming, but doing so would destroy credibility. So the outer five counties remained different from the four new prefectures.

With the people standing before her, the same logic applied. Su Zhe and the others had each joined with the support of their own families and clans. Even in Lu Danqing’s case, her father Lu Guo had initially given her a small contingent of local soldiers to bring along. Whatever they had contributed, fairness in the world demanded it be repaid in kind — not just for now, but for the future as well. Zhù Ying had given them only official posts, without distributing additional benefits. All of Annan’s land, aside from the outer five counties, fell under the military headquarters — that is to say, under Zhù Ying herself.

Previously, all these people had still been young, unburdened by family and household. An official post and the chance to be part of something could appease them. Now, they had to think more about continuity.

Zhù Ying said: “In the past, chieftains and cave-lords owned everything, and yet the slaves didn’t rise up in revolt. But that can’t work now. I said one thing: let the slaves become people — and with that, I had Annan.

Even without me, the imperial court, whenever it felt the need, could always mount military campaigns, seize territory, and capture mountain peoples — nothing could stop that. When it came to it, whether it meant the destruction of homes and lives would depend entirely on how determined the court was. Your ancestors all lived through such disasters. Later, it was only because the court could no longer sustain the fighting. The moment it recovered its strength and felt it necessary, things would be the same as before. The old way of life was dangerous, so they found a new way to live. Now everyone has broader horizons than their ancestors — isn’t that so?”

Su Zhe and the others knew Zhù Ying never spoke empty words. They all listened carefully.

Zhù Ying said: “The calamity of land consolidation begins from the smallest origins. People all have private desires — this is perfectly normal — and left unchecked, those desires will keep expanding. Even when checked, people will find ways to break free of the constraints. It’s human nature to strive for more. And yet the logic of land consolidation needs no explanation from me — you all understand it. Its consequences fill the history books.”

Everyone nodded attentively.

“We must let others live, so that we ourselves can live. Every dynasty in history has suppressed land consolidation — for the sake of the court’s tax revenues, and to prevent disorder. Once disorder breaks out, everything burns together.

So I have always been thinking: don’t wait for a child to starve before feeding it. From the very beginning, we must prevent consolidation. Hence land distribution and rent collection. This is no new method either — the court uses it as well. So I added one clause: prohibit buying and selling. Otherwise there is no stopping it regardless, and we will still have to go through ‘great breaking before great building,’ where the waves wash and only those who survive will rise again.”

She spoke her thoughts slowly, and those listening were not surprised — she had always been this way, never reluctant to share her knowledge and ideas with her subordinates and juniors.

Zhù Ying gradually clarified the situation: “Annan is too small, and it is a place of so-called barbarians, with all these women besides. The population will grow ever larger, but the land is finite. To go beyond Annan means running headlong into the world outside the mountains. Whether as barbarians or as women, to live as one does in Annan would be unwelcome everywhere outside. The southern scholars already find advancement difficult — how much more so barbarians and women? Unless the outside world were transformed to be like Annan, any attempt to make one’s way out there would meet obstacles at every turn.

And if one goes out to seek advancement, Annan’s people could enter the imperial court as officials — but then, could the court not send officials to govern Annan in return? Then it would no longer be autonomous governance, and all edicts and policies would no longer be decided by Annan’s own people. Advancement outside is difficult; yet one’s homeland would be managed by others. Can anyone here accept that outcome?

So we must hold Annan. Right now is not the time to let outside hands reach in. Nor can we allow that doctrine of lord and subject, father and son, moral hierarchy, to seep in and corrode. Once you believe in all of that, you are kneeling down and acknowledging a master by your own will. The consequences, I dare not say.”

“These bad outcomes will not arrive immediately — perhaps in fifty years, a hundred years — but since I can see them, I must do something to prevent the catastrophe.

The first thing I must do is stabilize the people who farm and feed all of Annan — stabilize Annan itself. For you all, I first gave official posts so you could do the work. Other matters were set aside for the time being. Now the road is open — it is time for the next step.”

Everyone let out a long breath.

Zhù Ying said: “Your contributions, I have seen and I remember. But I have also said: we must be on guard against consolidation. Before disaster strikes, there will already have been many smaller harms. I do not want to see those. So I will not simply hand you land. Let us take a page from the court’s book here — and use a tax-based enfeoffment.”

This was something she had thought through carefully. Rather than following the court’s rank-and-grade format, she kept it very simple: “hundred-household” and “thousand-household” grants — straightforward and direct. The name described how much additional stipend the holder was entitled to draw. It could be passed down hereditarily: one hundred households, two hundred households, and so on, with a maximum cap of “one thousand households” for any single grant. All enfeoffments were limited to those who had already rendered military merit. Future increases would also be reckoned only by merit. The total could not exceed half of Annan’s entire taxable household count. Salt, iron, and other government-managed industries — their revenues were to maintain the troops and subsidize Annan’s operating expenses, not something individual commanders would fund themselves.

Zhù Ying asked: “What do you all think?”

Everyone expressed their agreement.

“You have all grown up — you’re thinking about the long-term for your descendants now. And I am old — of course I must also think about arrangements after I am gone. I know that many people have been whispering about it. At my age, everyone worries I will die before I can set things in order and that Annan will fall into chaos.” Zhù Ying continued.

Every heart in the room lurched up into every throat. Eyes opened wide, not a single person dared breathe, all waiting for her next words.

Zhù Ying’s gaze swept over each of them in turn. They felt pressed down under the weight of that gaze, unable to breathe, yet unable to look away.

Zhù Ying said slowly: “The post of Military Commissioner of Annan does not belong to any one person — it does not have to be any particular individual. It is not for my descendants, nor does it need to go to any specific person’s descendants. Whoever holds this position need not pass it on to their own descendants either.

Whoever keeps the whole of Annan in their eyes — whoever can protect Annan, whoever treats people as people — to that person I will hand Annan. In the future, whoever wishes to hold my position must work their way up from the bottom. They must know their own capabilities and limitations, must be able to manage the spring planting and autumn harvest, adjudicate disputes and cases clearly. They must be able to earn the trust of all!

The opportunity — I give it to everyone, regardless of birth, regardless of whether I like them or not. Step by step, they must work their way up!

You and your descendants will all have your guarantees, and all those guarantees depend on Annan — so you must protect Annan, and choose people who can truly do the work. Hold them accountable! Anyone can be replaced, as long as Annan is well.

How many years has it been since Annan was established? I am watching your performance. When the time is right, I will announce my choice — and I promise it will not come as a surprise to anyone.”

The room fell into complete silence. Then the sounds of breathing grew louder all at once.

Zhù Ying said: “All right — I’ve said everything I have to say. Pack up, everyone — it’s time for us to set out.”

“Yes!” The voices that responded were so hoarse they startled their owners.

Zhù Ying waved her hand and picked up a document to read slowly. Everyone filed out. Lu Danqing, being closest to the door, walked out first. Rounding the corner at the veranda, she suddenly stopped: “Auntie?”

Huajie smiled: “Do you all have business? Are you finished? I came to find her — I have something to discuss.”

Zhao Su strolled out: “We were just going back to pack for the journey.”

“I have something about packing to discuss as well. Since you’re all done, I’ll go in.” Huajie said.