Huajie had indeed come to find Zhù Ying about matters for the journey, but since there had been talking inside she had not gone in to interrupt. She had stood by the doorway and waited until everyone had left before stepping in with light footsteps, giving a gentle little cough to announce herself.

Zhù Ying looked up and smiled: “You’re here — sit down.”

There was a touch of worry in Huajie’s eyes. She opened her mouth, then decided to speak first about the journey: “The weather has already turned warm, but I still want to bring a few extra quilted blankets for padding — Godmother can’t take the jolting.”

“That’s fine. There are plenty of quilts at home.”

Huajie also asked: “Will Chen Fang’s eldest son be coming over?”

“Probably not.” Zhù Ying said. Chen Fang was now a prefect posted elsewhere, no longer serving as an envoy — getting to meet her at the border would already be something. And if she herself were to leave Annan, some people would probably not be able to sleep from worry.

Huajie sighed: “Then let’s bring the gifts for him along. The Chen Chancellor’s family has been quite sincere toward us — and we’ve been better off of late.” The mountains were full of rare things, but gathering them was dangerous and transport had been an even greater challenge. Now that the road was open, things would be easier.

Zhù Ying said: “Fine — prepare a few sets. Prepare some for Zheng, Wang, and Leng as well. Now that the road is open, of course we’ll need to present a memorial to the court. I’ll send Qingtian to lead another group of merchants along this new road to the capital, both to survey the route and to carry these gifts up to the capital along the way.”

“Good, I’ll go prepare right away.” Huajie said she would go prepare, but she didn’t move from her seat, sitting and looking straight at Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying leaned back, resting against the chair, and looked at her: “What is it?”

Huajie’s brow creased slightly, and she said softly: “Just now… I heard everything. They…”

“It’s fine,” Zhù Ying said. “Where does this even rank? The things that got stirred up at court — wasn’t each one fiercer than this?”

“Those are all matters involving outsiders, and the court hasn’t necessarily become any better. This concerns our own people — if it goes wrong here, the whole sky will come crashing down!” Huajie bit out the last three words very lightly, but very firmly.

Zhù Ying straightened up in her chair and said to Huajie: “I have it in hand. Am I not already working on it?”

Huajie said: “None of them are foolish children — I only fear that self-interest will come first. I won’t speak of the court — what you’ve been through there, I don’t really understand. But just looking at Zhū Village — what happened back then… it frightened me.”

“Don’t be alarmed. Food must be eaten one bite at a time. If we get frightened, who is there left to steady everyone else? It’s said that self-interest blinds people. But knowing how to plan for one’s own benefit means one isn’t foolish — rather, they are very clear-headed. When the mind is still working, the situation is not yet bad. Put your heart at ease.”

Huajie watched Zhù Ying, who continued to smile calmly. Huajie swallowed back everything else she had meant to say. She suddenly realized that what Zhù Ying had always faced and endured was so much greater than what she had. Since she had already raised the matter and Zhù Ying had heard it, this was not the right moment to keep harping on it. She said: “All right. I’ll go and prepare. Let us all be well — and go together to walk the new road and see the new bridge.”

“Mm.”

Huajie went to the back rooms and did not mention any of this to Zhang Xiangu. Zhang Xiangu was by nature a worrier, but she was nearly eighty years old. Over the past several years there had been a quiet understanding among everyone: let her enjoy her life peacefully. Zhang Xiangu knew nothing of it, and Hou Wu had not taken part in the meeting, so she of course had no way of knowing either.

Huajie finished packing, and on the appointed day escorted Zhang Xiangu into the carriage. The whole party set out northward toward the Northern Pass in a grand procession.

For most of the journey, people were in fairly good spirits. The road was open — that was one thing. And the future of each person’s family had its guarantees now as well. Though not the kind of sweeping rewards seen at the founding of past dynasties, given Annan’s present circumstances it was something that could be accepted. Most people chatted and laughed along the way. Su Zhe and Zhao Su talked about how the new road might be used and how to guard against small tricks from the imperial court.

Zhù Lian had his concerns, but like Zhù Qingjun, he set those worries aside for the time being and focused on the meeting that was soon to come. He was still saying to Zhù Qingjun: “Su Sheng has been at the Northern Pass for a few years now — surely he can’t stay there permanently? He ought to be rotated out eventually.”

Zhù Qingjun said: “True that officials shouldn’t stay in one post too long, but military commanders are a somewhat different matter — if soldiers don’t know their commander and a commander doesn’t know his soldiers, that won’t do at all. Besides, the pass only just opened. He’s worked hard these past few years. Letting him rest there for another two years is perfectly reasonable.”

Zhù Lian said: “Good that you understand.”

“Don’t worry — I know. With the situation between him and his family, it really has been hard on him. His father and brothers made poor decisions, and his aunt can’t manage him too directly. So we’ll just have to look out for him more ourselves.”

“That works too.”

Zhù Ying rode on horseback alongside Zhang Xiangu’s carriage. Zhang Xiangu worried again that riding was tiring her: “You’re not as young as you used to be — back then you scrambled around like a little monkey and I couldn’t rein you in, but you can’t keep that up now. Get in and sit with me.”

Zhù Ying leaned close to the carriage window: “I’m walking along nicely — no jumping or scrambling. If you’re feeling cooped up, I’m right here to keep you company.”

The two of them chatted on and on, and Huajie watched with a quiet smile.

Zhang Xiangu also mentioned Chen Fang: “The first time I saw him, he was this small — and now he’s wearing a purple robe, already cut out to be a chancellor. His father was a chancellor, so he’ll be a chancellor too someday. Maybe the court will ease up on us a little?”

Zhù Ying said: “Does Mother miss the capital? Perhaps we could find an opportunity to go back?”

“Would they even allow it?” Zhang Xiangu said, not with much resolve. “I’m not going! I refuse!”

Zhù Ying said: “You never know — with the road open, who can say what tomorrow will bring? Who could have imagined where I’d be today? Why not think big?”

“Oh my — like something out of a dream.”

“If it’s a dream, then dream as grandly as you can,” Zhù Ying said with a laugh.

Zhang Xiangu pursed her lips and shook her head: “Same stubborn spirit since childhood — fearless to the point of recklessness. Looks like that’ll never change. I can’t imagine who you take after!”

“You, I expect.”

“Bah!”

Zhù Ying burst out laughing. The people around her all turned to look. Low voices murmured: “It’s rare to see Grandma this happy.”

——

The new post road and its relay stations were well built. Zhù Ying’s party had a substantial escort. Zhù Qingjun was leading two hundred cavalry and three hundred infantry to accompany them, while Zhù Qingtian brought along some merchants from Xizhou. When they arrived at the relay station, Zhù Ying ordered Zhù Qingjun to arrange camp and settle everyone in, not troubling herself further with the details.

Within a few days they reached the Northern Pass. Su Sheng led his men out to receive them.

He had begun growing a beard, his complexion had taken on a slight reddish-brown from sun and wind, and his voice was rougher than before. He stepped forward and clasped his hands in salute: “Grandma!”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Looking more the part every day.”

Su Sheng grinned: “Please come in — everything is ready!”

Su Sheng had made real strides in these years. The Northern Pass under his management had discipline and order. Zhù Ying said: “Much stronger than back when you were in the western frontier.”

“I was young and dull back then. Compared to how I was then, even being a bit stronger doesn’t count for much,” Su Sheng said. “Sister Qingjun taught me a great deal.”

Zhù Qingjun quickly said: “I was a beginner myself — I only told him about things I’d already done.”

“Very good,” Zhù Ying said. “Get everyone settled. Where is Chen Fang?”

Su Sheng’s forehead grew a little warm and he wiped away a fine bead of sweat: “I was just about to mention him! He’s coming too — the other side said he’d arrive within a day or two. Even across the great river, if both sides shout loudly enough, they can just barely exchange words. I’ve pulled up the bridge planks. How to set up the defenses and the checkpoint posts — I’m waiting for your orders. Once everything is arranged, we’ll put the planks back on.”

Zhù Ying nodded: “All right.”

Su Sheng said: “Shall I shout across to them to hurry it up?”

“Go ahead.”

Zhang Xiangu climbed down from the carriage and, hearing this exchange, couldn’t resist following to watch. Su Sheng took her by the arm: “This way, Grandmother.”

The whole party made their way to the bridgehead. Zhang Xiangu’s mouth fell open: “Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!” More than a dozen iron chains stretched all the way across to the mountainside on the opposite bank. Looking down, the great river surged below, enough to make one’s head swim.

Zhang Xiangu craned her neck, stole a glance down, startled back from the sight, clicked her tongue — and then couldn’t help craning forward to look again.

Zhù Ying narrowed her eyes and looked toward the far bank. “Not bad,” she said inwardly. She traced a mental map: what lay on the other side, what the surrounding prefectures looked like, the population figures, the mountains and rivers, the geography, the resources, the roads, the checkpoints from ten years ago — all of it passed through her mind.

Su Sheng put one hand on his hip and bellowed across to the other side: “Is anyone there?!”

His Mandarin was among the best in Annan. The other side could understand him, and quickly called back: “Old Su!!!”

Su Sheng swore under his breath, then announced to the far bank: “Our Military Commissioner and the Grand Madam have come! Where is Prefect Chen?!”

“On his way! Tomorrow!!!”

Both sides hollered back and forth for a good while, confirming that they would meet tomorrow, each laying out their own half of the bridge planks. Once they’d all shouted themselves hoarse, they swapped out for fresh voices to sing across the divide instead. This side broke into mountain songs in all manner of languages; the other side answered with their own mountain songs — different melodies, but the same spirit.

Zhang Xiangu listened outside for a while. When dinner came, everyone fell silent on both sides — time to eat, rest.

The next day, Chen Fang duly arrived. Both sides called out across again, the bridge planks went down, and by midday the bridge was finally laid. Su Sheng rushed ahead to lead the way. Zhù Ying followed at a measured pace. Zhù Qingjun gripped her saber and was about to step forward, but Zhù Ying pressed her back: “Stay with your troops.” She also told Zhao Su and the others not to all follow at once — only half of them at most.

Walking on an iron-chain bridge was nothing like walking on solid ground. Zhù Ying moved unhurriedly, her face entirely composed. On the far side, Chen Fang also walked very slowly. Behind him were a civil official and a military officer, with the rest of his retinue further back.

When the two sides met, Chen Fang was the first to bow to Zhù Ying, addressing her as: “Commissioner.” The officials behind him exchanged a glance, then also stepped forward to pay their respects. There was curiosity in their eyes, along with a touch of assessment.

Lord Zhù was supposed to be male, yet the Military Commissioner of Annan was female — and the person before them now left them momentarily at a loss for words. Zhù Ying was no longer young; by their reckoning she must be past fifty. And yet she looked remarkably vital. A woman past fifty — they had seen plenty: some dandling grandchildren, some tormenting daughters-in-law, some telling beads and reciting sutras, some bedbound and suffering from illness. And of course there were those still sharp and energetic and running the household.

Zhù Ying was nothing like any of those. Looking at her for the first time, the first impression was simply: impossible to define. She had not deliberately dressed in women’s clothing; she wore nothing of the ceremonial colors of an official lady’s rank. A purple robe, a gold-ornamented cap, a sword at her waist. No powder, no rouge. She had all the ease of bearing that no court lady possessed. Women of noble standing at her age, by virtue of their years and the deference of their children and grandchildren, invariably carried a certain kindly dignity that came with lived experience. The ease that Zhù Ying projected was entirely unlike that.

Chen Fang made introductions on both sides: the civil official was his Adjutant, and the military man was a Captain. These two had never met Zhù Ying in person, but Zhù Ying knew of them. She said to Chen Fang with a touch of playfulness: “He was already excellent when he was County Magistrate. Ten years later, making it to Adjutant — that’s not excessive promotion. If he fails to advance further from the Adjutant position in the future, that would be your side’s failing.”

The Adjutant suddenly understood: where noble ladies, however old and however revered by their offspring, were still trailing vines clinging to something for support — the person before him was herself the tall tree. She was a Chancellor!

The Adjutant grew considerably more careful and attentive.

The Captain said little. He was also very curious about Zhù Ying. She was not making her first appointment as Military Commissioner — her two previous campaigns for the nation had produced results that commanded admiration. And now again…

The Captain’s gaze drifted back to the soldiers at the bridgehead — short of stature, but looking reasonably sharp. Were they any good in a fight?

Chen Fang had already launched into pleasantries with Zhù Ying. In this public setting, everything said was ceremonial. Much was made of the Emperor’s blessings, much was said of the Commissioner’s loyalty and devotion to the nation, and so forth.

When he heard that Zhang Xiangu had also come, Chen Fang put forward a request to pay his respects. He turned to ask the Adjutant and Captain if they had any objection. To refuse would seem a little unfeeling. Both agreed readily and went along.

The party made their way to the Northern Pass. The Captain and the Adjutant took note of everything around them. The checkpoint was solidly built, sparsely ornamented, and already quite lively in the area surrounding it.

The Captain finally spoke: “Commissioner — I observe that you have a considerable force of men and horses.”

Zhù Qingjun said: “We’re accustomed to it.”

The Captain looked at this female general — her insignia ranked higher than his own. He gave a quick clasped-fist salute and asked: “For an occasion like this? Isn’t it rather a large turnout?”

Zhù Qingjun answered lightly: “Training exercises.”

Chen Fang asked: “Training… for what?”

“The Western Barbarians.”

Chen Fang and the Captain were both very interested. Even the Adjutant leaned in to listen.

The “bandit troubles” within Annan had been largely suppressed, and the maps had been updated twice accordingly. The census and budget records under Witch Ren and Xiang An had also been revised twice. But the Western Barbarians remained restless. The alliance had been struck, and on the surface both sides — including Kun Da Chi — had acknowledged non-hostility. Yet small barbarian bands would still harass the area from time to time, and Annan could never fully let its guard down.

When formal written complaints were sent, the reply would come back that someone had “acted on their own initiative,” with Kun Da Chi expressing willingness to manage the situation. Annan could not simply turn hostile over this, and so continued recruiting soldiers and rotating training.

The one benefit of this was that through friction with the Western Barbarians, they had developed a measure of cavalry. Due to costs, the numbers were limited — but the quality far exceeded that of the “Western Campaign” forces.

Zhù Qingjun gave no specific numbers. They were close to Zhang Xiangu now, and everyone fell quiet. Zhang Xiangu was exactly what those men had imagined in their minds as a typical older noblewoman — clean and tidy, but without particular grandeur or refinement. Those two finally felt the comfortable familiarity of recognition and bowed in greeting.

And Zhang Xiangu was just like a certain type of older noblewoman one might imagine — she smiled and chatted with them, asked after their families, and told them to be properly looked after — so entirely as expected that she seemed the most normal person in all of Annan, if only she did not regard everything extraordinary about Annan as perfectly ordinary!

The Northern Pass held a banquet to entertain them. At the table, the Captain finally could not hold back and asked: “Commissioner — in this officer’s observation, your troops are strong and your horses numerous, and the Western Barbarians are unsettled. Why not strike out and rout them?”

Zhù Ying replied with a question: “And then what?”

“Then they could no longer cause trouble.”

Zhù Ying said to Zhù Qingjun and Zhao Su and the others: “Tell him.”

Zhù Qingjun said: “Rout them? That takes enormous effort and long preparation. And right now there is one Barbarian Chief who can still restrain them. Once we rout them, there will be scattered groups everywhere, impossible to ever fully subdue.”

Zhao Su said: “Any military campaign brings losses and expenditure. Dealing with the aftermath is its own headache, and we don’t have enough hands for what comes after.”

Zhù Ying said: “Both of you have part of it right. War is like a human life. A person is born, grows from infant to child, and keeps growing until their youth and prime — it all looks so promising. Yet the moment a person reaches their greatest strength is also the beginning of their decline. Age cannot be stopped; a person goes on growing older until they die. If a war is not stopped at the most advantageous moment, it will be the same as a human life — it declines. Victory becomes the beginning of defeat; the greater the victory, the greater the failure if you do not stop in time. Those who don’t know when to pull back will exhaust themselves to ruin. It’s like climbing a mountain: once you reach the peak, if you don’t stop your feet, you will tumble down the other side. War is never just about the fighting.”

The Captain half understood, half did not. But Chen Fang and the others nodded repeatedly.

Huajie, seeing that Zhù Ying had finished speaking, remarked: “Lecturing again. Our home is like this — every place becomes a classroom. The food has gone cold.”

Chen Fang said: “Auntie is right.”

Everyone returned to eating and drinking.

Toasts were made, probings exchanged, laughter shared. Zhao Su carried his cup over to Chen Fang, offered a toast under a pretense of small talk, and said: “Now that the road is open, Annan is closer to the court — all of it thanks to our Commissioner’s efforts. The court really ought to grant a noble title. Not doing so simply will not do.”

Chen Fang was startled: “Certainly. Ah — and the memorial…”

Zhao Su smiled cheerfully: “No need to trouble yourself — the civilian and military personnel of Annan have already co-signed the petition.”

Chen Fang smiled ruefully: “Then why consult me at all?”

Zhao Su smiled and said nothing further. Chen Fang had no choice but to yield: “If the court asks, I will report honestly.”

Zhang Xiangu called down from the head of the table: “What are you two talking about?”

Zhao Su said: “Something good — we’ll tell you when it’s done; if we say it now, it won’t come true.”

Zhang Xiangu laughed: “All right.”

Chen Fang departed with a task to accomplish, along with Zhù Qingtian. As Annan’s envoy carrying the congratulatory memorial, Zhù Qingtian led a long trailing commercial caravan — a practice common among tributary states and frontier regions. With the post road now open, Chen Fang returned to the far bank and began issuing travel passes. Zhao Su and the others each returned to their own territories to manage affairs related to the post road.

Zhù Ying and Zhang Xiangu stood at the bridgehead. Zhù Ying said: “If you like it here, we can stay a while longer before going back. Look — the road is open. Sooner or later, I’ll take you across to the other side for a visit.”

Zhang Xiangu took another look, then shook her head: “Let’s go home. Wait until the court comes around — then you can go.”

“All right.”

——

On the return from the Northern Pass to Xizhou, Zhang Xiangu truly needed several days of rest before she recovered. She also began to worry that Zhù Ying’s petition for ennobling might not come through. Titles of nobility and official posts were different things — this she knew. In truth, she didn’t care much herself. Her daughter was certainly worthy of it, but Zhù Ying had neither son nor daughter, and no one to carry the line — with Annan, they had enough. Going back and forth with the court over a title, getting scolded in the process, was really not worth it. If there was energy to spend, they might as well get something more useful — the court’s meager stipends didn’t mean much to anyone who had Annan to their name.

But Zhù Ying did things for her own reasons, and Zhang Xiangu held her tongue. She had long since stopped being able to follow what Zhù Ying was doing, and knew she shouldn’t add to the trouble.

Naturally the court had yet another round of debate. But the post road was already open, and since no title had been given for the previous achievements of expansion, it truly could not be withheld again. The Emperor, holding his nose, agreed with the opinion of the Council of State and conferred upon her the title of Dingnan Marquis. In Chen Meng’s view, granting a Military Commissioner the title of Duke or Commandery Duke would not be unreasonable, but Xian Jing always felt that the title of “Duke” sat a little oddly on Zhù Ying.

Chen Meng turned the thought over and felt there was a slight awkwardness to it as well, so he did not press the point.

With the matter settled, and there being nothing particularly pressing, no special envoy was dispatched. Instead a young member of the Leng family was sent, bearing the imperial edict and ceremonial garments, to travel the new post road all the way to Annan for the conferral ceremony.

He was around thirty, handsome in appearance, looking exactly as one might imagine a “noble young gentleman” to be. The new road was considerably shorter than the old one, and he had far fewer hardships to endure. Only on the iron-chain bridge did his face turn an ashen grey. He dismounted from his horse and climbed into a sedan chair, closed his eyes, and rushed through a page of Buddhist scripture — he crossed with a fright but no mishap, arriving safely on the other side.

After that, the road became much easier. When he emerged from the mountain switchbacks and looked out over a wide plain below, he was startled: “What a different world this is!”

When he reached Xizhou City, a female official came out to meet him, white cloth tied at her waist. He looked at her curiously and his heart gave a sudden lurch: this couldn’t be — could it be that the person he’d come to ennoble had died?

He asked carefully: “You are…?”

Lu Danqing said in a low voice: “The Grand Madam has passed away.”

“Oh no!”

Lu Danqing said: “Please, this way.”

“Ah — might I ask your name, Miss?”

Lu Danqing said: “Lu Danqing. You may address me as Captain. Please.”

There was silence the whole way to the guest quarters. The guest quarters were passable. He sent his attendants to tidy up and asked: “When might I have an audience with the Commissioner?”

Lu Danqing said: “Please rest and settle in first. Tomorrow our Commissioner will have the incense table prepared, and I will come to escort you to the military headquarters.”

“Very well.” He replied, and dutifully withdrew.