Zhù Lian privately grumbled as he listened to Chen Meng’s account. When Chen Meng paused to drink some tea and clear his throat, and then looked over at him again, Zhù Lian respectfully asked, “What exactly is it that you have in mind?”

Chen Meng said, “There is nothing for it now but to proceed according to propriety — that carries the least risk of going wrong.”

Zhù Lian said, “And that would mean?”

Chen Meng said, “The Empress…”

As Zhù Lian listened on, he felt increasingly uninterested. If this were before he had gone south, in the days when he was still in the capital, being included in such a conversation would have thrilled him. After years spent in Annan, however, he found himself thinking that the matter of who succeeded to the throne was not so important.

Zhù Ying had often said: whoever became Emperor did have an impact on major policy, and therefore should not be ignored — one still needed to understand and study the situation in order to respond appropriately. But she had just as often said: one should never place everything on the shoulders of any single person, especially one who was known not through his abilities but through the accident of birth. Zhù Lian agreed completely.

He asked Chen Meng, “The oldest son by the Imperial Noble Consort Yan is the eldest — is that not suitable?”

“He is a little like his father,” Chen Meng said, with deliberate indirectness.

Zhù Lian thought to himself: meaning he has a little cleverness but is impatient and impulsive, with no sense of his own limits? That was indeed troubling. In the current state of things, the realm would truly rather have a fool as a puppet emperor than someone without self-awareness who would drag everyone down. The current Emperor had done quite enough damage.

Zhù Lian said, “My teacher is far away in the south, and messages take time to travel back and forth — news is often out of date by the time it arrives. I would not presume to guess at my teacher’s wishes. What I can say is that in recent years my teacher has become increasingly free and natural in her manner, no longer so concerned with outward things.”

Chen Meng thought to himself: in other words, you’re saying she no longer feels like giving the Emperor face.

Zhù Lian bowed slightly.

Chen Meng said, “I understand! When you return, if there is some development, come back and collect a letter from me to carry south. If there is still no clarity, go back and tell her that I can only proceed as circumstances allow.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Lian made his rounds of the capital without following Wang Shuliang’s reminder to stay quietly out of sight. The Emperor’s prejudice against Zhù Ying was not going to change simply because he stopped going out. The Emperor couldn’t do anything to Annan right now in any case, so he kept up his visits.

Many of Zhù Ying’s acquaintances from her earlier years had passed on. Old faces Zhù Lian had known in the Court of Review, the Court of State Ceremonial, and the Ministry of Finance had also died off one by one; he paid his respects and visited their families. The Ministry of Finance no longer quarreled with the loosely affiliated prefectures over the exact amount of their taxes — those prefectures were outside the Ministry’s evaluation authority. Before, Yao Chenying had been able to negotiate and bargain with Zhù Ying; that was a thing of the past, and nobody now had the standing to do so.

Zhù Lian paid a call to the Yao estate and, unexpectedly, learned something: Yao Jinxia had acknowledged Yao Chenying as his adoptive father. The invitation from the Yao estate had been personally delivered by Yao Jinxia, who had said simply: “The adoptive father wishes to invite the envoy for a conversation.”

Zhù Lian asked in passing, and Yao Jinxia, who already knew him, explained: “Among those now in the Grand Council, only the adoptive father has commanded troops on the western frontier. He alone truly understands the suffering of the northern territories.”

Zhù Lian understood.

The two of them went to the Yao estate. Yao Chenying looked a little older and a little heavier than before, his eyelids puffier — the very picture of a senior chancellor. Zhù Lian also knew that Yao Chenying was a man of the school of non-interference; he preferred nothing to change. Given that, it was best simply to listen to what Yao Chenying had to say.

But Yao Chenying did not repeat his usual arguments. Instead he asked, “Has your teacher said whether the proposals of Chancellor Wang and Chancellor Shi are workable or not?”

Zhù Lian answered respectfully, “My teacher says that people’s intentions are always good; whether those intentions can be carried out is another matter. Chancellor Wang and Chancellor Shi do not appear to be incompetent men.”

Yao Chenying sighed. “I understand. When you go back, send your teacher my regards. Tell her: what can be maintained, I will maintain; those who can be protected, I will do my best to protect.”

“Yes.”

Yao Chenying continued, “The affairs of the salt bureau — how much do you know?”

“Not too much, not too little,” Zhù Lian said. “If Your Excellency has something to say, I will certainly deliver it.”

“The previous head has been reassigned. The court is to appoint a new person.”

Zhù Lian said immediately, “Someone like Yu Qingquan is not someone we can tolerate.”

A faint smile crossed the corner of Yao Chenying’s lips. “Of course not. I have a letter — take it to your teacher for me.”

“Yes.”

Yao Chenying handed him the letter, saying as he did so, “I expect His Majesty will wish to see you. Whatever he says, just listen. His Majesty’s thoughts are quick-moving — once you’ve heard them, that’s enough.”

“Yes.”

Yao Chenying was very busy. In addition to his regular duties, he now had to manage Xian Jing’s opposition. So he let Yao Jinxia see Zhù Lian out. The two of them chatted briefly, and Yao Jinxia said, “Please convey to the marshal: above all, take good care.”

“The same to all of you.”

——

Yao Chenying’s information proved accurate. A few days before the New Year, the Emperor did indeed summon Zhù Lian.

The Emperor had only a faint impression of Zhù Lian, and Zhù Lian upon seeing the Emperor could barely recognize him either. Zhù Lian showed traces of time’s passage — his hair and beard were shot through with a few threads of white. The Emperor had put on two full layers of weight, with a protruding belly; his sash was fastened below the round, drum-like abdomen, giving him exactly the silhouette of emperors in painted portraits.

Zhù Lian’s appearance was still presentable — not tall, but proper in bearing. Seeing a man in the great hall was, to the Emperor, more comfortable than seeing a female chancellor. He appeared a touch more gracious than usual, and asked in the customary manner about the hardships of the journey.

Zhù Lian said, “The new road has been opened; it is far easier than before.”

The Emperor expressed interest in the new road, inquiring about the journey’s schedule and the scenery along the way. Zhù Lian said, “It has saved nearly half the time compared to previous years. Because so many are traveling to the capital at once, the road is never empty, so there’s no picking a quiet moment to travel faster. I was occupied with thinking about tax revenues and had no attention to spare for other things.”

The Emperor said, “What was once barren wilderness has now become farmland.” He then proceeded to praise Annan’s governance as exemplary, saying the officials there had not failed the court’s trust.

Zhù Lian bowed his head respectfully and deeply, wondering internally whether the Emperor had come down with some ailment — praising Annan, of all things? There was surely a catch.

The Emperor continued, “The Deputy Military Governor, Zhù Qingjun — is this the Zhù Qingjun I am thinking of?”

Zhù Lian’s ears pricked up. “Yes.”

“A female general as well. She has served under Zhù Ying for many years. At first, some people told me they feared Zhù Ying had peculiar tastes; as it turned out, everyone guessed wrong — she is a woman herself, and of course she would have women around her. But Zhù Qingjun is a military officer, is she not? When it comes to pacifying the people and managing affairs, that is your strength, surely. You entered officialdom as a civil official working directly among the people. The one who should be Zhù Ying’s deputy in Annan ought to be you.”

“My teacher surpasses me greatly. Whatever arrangements my teacher makes, there is always reason behind them. Since I fall short of others, I follow orders.” Zhù Lian’s voice was steady.

The Emperor thought to himself: too composed — an excess of composure is itself a kind of composure lost. He said slowly, “Annan borders the Western Tribes. How could one not pay careful attention? You are a pillar of the state. Strive, strive!”

Zhù Lian continued to receive the words with respectful deference.

The Emperor sighed again: “Zhù Ying — what is she thinking?”

Teacher chose Qingjun and established the succession plan precisely to prevent someone like you from wreaking havoc, Zhù Lian thought. His head remained bowed; his eyes rolled quietly upward. He would sooner die than pick up the thread the Emperor was dangling.

But the Emperor only pressed to that point. He bestowed generous gifts and then sent Zhù Lian away. Zhù Lian emerged from the palace and stood outside the palace gates, drawing deep breaths of air. He sniffed; for no particular reason, he felt as though his nostrils were filled with the smell of decay. He waved his hand in front of his face, then returned to his lodgings wearing a stony expression.

The gifts, it turned out, were quite deliberately arranged. Zhù Ying was placed first — fabrics, curios, gold and silver — then Zhù Qingjun, whose portion was ranked equally with Zhù Lian’s, and below that the rest, Zhao Su and the others, distributed by rank.

When will you please go and die? Zhù Lian thought.

Looking up at the snowflakes drifting from the sky, Zhù Lian pulled his fur coat tighter and genuinely missed New Year in Annan. New Year in Annan didn’t carry the heavy weight of the capital’s celebrations, though in recent years it had been gradually growing more significant. Since starting his own family, with He Yueming managing things, the New Year at the Bozhou governor’s residence had always been warm and lively.

Ah — who knew what they were up to right now.

——

He Yueming was spending the New Year in Bozhou. Zhù Ying had originally intended to invite her to the marshal’s office, but He Yueming felt that since she held an official post, she should be at her post in Bozhou when there was nothing pressing — she ought not to leave for the marshal’s office simply because her husband was on assignment away. She only asked Zhù Ying to send her parents to Bozhou, so the three of them could look after each other.

Zhù Ying, having read her letter, truly sent someone to deliver He Yueming’s parents-in-law to Bozhou.

With Lang Rui heading north, Zhù Ying sent A’Fa back to Talang County to spend the New Year. Su Zhe also used the holiday to return home, with Zhù Ming trailing behind her. None of the governors came; each remained in their own prefecture to preside over the New Year celebrations and share in the people’s joy.

The marshal’s office was on holiday as well. Officials selected from the various prefectures and counties had left; only a few on duty rotation remained. Still, most of the household staff and guards had settled their roots in Xizhou, so the marshal’s office did not feel deserted.

As for Zhù Ying’s household — Liu Ao and Liu Yan were both there. On New Year’s Eve, Zhù Qingjun sent someone to bring Liu Kun back. All three of the aunt-and-niece group were overjoyed; upon meeting, they clasped hands and bounced on the spot. Realizing they had been “undignified,” they patted their cheeks, composed themselves, and then volunteered: “Marshal, let us help decorate!”

The previous New Year, they had still been in mourning. With Hua Jie gone, there had been no one to look after the household either. This time, the three of them set about their work unburdened, teaching paper-cutting for decorations and explaining how to arrange auspicious displays.

Du Dajie watched the young women flutter in and out, and her own spirits lifted. She smiled. “Annan has real flowers at New Year — no need to make paper and silk ones.”

Liu Ao smacked her forehead. “Oh goodness, quite right — I nearly forgot. In the north we make artificial flowers precisely because there are none. Now that we have real ones, who needs the fake?”

Though the three were busy with New Year preparations, they did not forget to share their experiences. As they talked, it turned into each one reporting on her work. Liu Kun said, “People truly do differ in wisdom and capability. Now I understand why they say our great-grandfather in his youth had a full heart of fervor and wished to educate and transform all nations — and then later became so sharply incisive in his words.”

She was the same way — she had wanted so badly to guide everyone toward becoming civilized and enlightened, yet some people, even once there was a common language and they all spoke the same tongue, simply “couldn’t understand a word said to them.”

Liu Kun had been thoroughly frustrated.

But there were also interesting things — songs, for instance: some singing of hoping for a sweetheart, some singing of hoping for the husband to die, others singing to curse the matchmaker. Liu Ao and Liu Yan both smiled. Liu Ao asked, “Do the local tribes have their own legends and oral traditions?”

“What kind do you mean?” Liu Kun asked. “I heard one — about our marshal’s encounter with a deer on a patrol.”

Liu Yan said, “I’ve heard legends from the Qixia people that have something of a historical record to them.”

“Oh?”

Liu Ao said, “Annan has been established as a frontier district for so long, and yet there is no local gazetteer. I’ve been thinking about this lately — we cannot lift heavy loads or carry burdens on our backs. Whatever we do must be within our reach. Compiling books and writing essays is one thing, but in truth that is simply the marshal being indulgent of us — it’s really for our own reputation. We should also compile a history for the marshal — at least a local gazetteer, recording her achievements and passing them down for later generations. Such things must not be buried. And while we’re at it, recording the origins of each tribe… and, hmm, gathering records of the misdeeds of the old tribal chieftains…”

The three of them gradually set down the work in their hands and clustered together in quiet conspiracy. Liu Kun, having been out in the world, had richer experience, and said softly, “Why go to the trouble of fabricating anything? Do you think these chieftains were doing anything good before? It’s really only the Su and Lang families and a few others who converted early and are decent now. Even those families — forty years ago, they were still practicing human sacrifice.”

“Heavens!”

Liu Kun said, “In the villages I’ve visited, I’ve heard quite a lot. There are still people there with hands and feet cut off by chieftains’ order.”

“Corporal punishment,” Liu Yan said.

“Exactly.”

The three discussed for a long while and agreed this undertaking was imperative — while those who had lived through it were still present, they should gather materials as thoroughly as possible before putting pen to paper. Three young women, upon realizing that at their age they were already contemplating “writing a history,” felt a wave of excitement wash over them. They sketched out the general plan, then went together to find Zhù Ying, because once the New Year was over Liu Kun would return to Pu’an Prefecture, and the matter had to be settled before she left. Then, once back in Pu’an, she could discuss it with Zhù Qingjun, request some personnel, paper, brushes, and funds, and begin the work.

All three were a little nervous. Liu Ao first asked Zhù Ying what entertainment she had planned as an opener, then moved to storytelling, then mentioned that she had heard from Su Zhe the epic tales of the A’Su family.

Zhù Ying said, “You three — coming to me for stories? There’s no need to circle around. Say what you actually came to say.”

Liu Ao had no choice but to say it directly: “We want to compile a local gazetteer, and we’d also like to collect the stories and traditions of the various tribes.”

Zhù Ying laughed. “A local gazetteer? You are the experts! Very thoughtful of you. You mean the A’Su family one? I know it.”

“Ah?”

Zhù Ying smiled. “Come — let me tell you about it.”

It happened to be that there was no other business over the holiday and the marshal’s office was on break. Zhù Ying was also at leisure. So she told them from the beginning how to write the epic myths and legends of the Qixia people — and she had not lied: she simply told it in a more captivating way.

The three already had the inclination, and now they were greatly inspired. As dusk fell, the four of them were gathered around a round table eating, bowls in hand. Liu Ao said, “Then — let’s start writing! We’re a little short of people and paper and ink, but this is something that absolutely must be done. I’m willing to put in my own salary…”

Zhù Ying said, “No need. The office will fund it. When I was a county magistrate I already had it in my mind to compile a county gazetteer. There were too many things to do in Annan, and not enough educated people. Now that you are willing to take on the responsibility, we can begin.”

“Let’s start by collecting materials…”

The four of them ate their meal quickly. Zhù Ying filled her stomach in short order; the three young women ate little, and Liu Kun, whose appetite had grown somewhat, only refilled her bowl once. When the meal was over, they immediately put their heads together again to plan. The three had read widely; Zhù Ying had compiled a gazetteer before. They first determined the broad categories and chapter structure, leaving the rest to be filled in.

Liu Ao started by asking Zhù Ying about her birth year and her parents and ancestors. Zhù Ying said, “I have dates for myself, but nothing for others. Do we need ancestors’ names as well?”

“Of course,” Liu Ao said. “We’re writing biographies.”

“The names of my ancestors were lost long ago — all the ones in use now are names I gave.”

“Ah? Is there no written record?”

Zhù Ying had no choice but to explain: “I was born without a household registration — not even an unregistered dependent, more like a ghost household. Of course there are no records of my ancestors.” As she told it, the story took a turn, and she moved on to Yu Miaomiao. The three young women listened as though to a tale of wonder, listening late into the night and only getting as far as the journey to the capital.

Zhù Ying said, “It’s past midnight.”

Outside, firecrackers burst into sound. The story, for now, was paused.

——

When Liu Kun’s holiday ended, she left with a heart full of things unsaid, glancing back at every third step as she returned to Pu’an Prefecture. In truth, Zhù Ying seldom spoke much about her own complex and eventful past — she would pass over most things in a single line, and only when the three nieces and aunt pressed her would she say a little more. What she spoke of at greater length were stories of women — women who had taken their own lives, women who had fled, women who had been harmed, women who had done harm to others…

It was remarkable that her memory remained so vivid; even now she could speak of these things in a way that held the listener spellbound.

Liu Ao was most eager to know about Zhù Ying’s own experiences; Liu Yan wished to ask about Zhù Ying’s thinking when she decided cases; Liu Kun wanted to understand how she had governed her various territories.

Over the entire holiday, Zhù Ying had done nothing but coax children with storytelling.

Once Liu Kun finally left, Zhù Ying felt herself relax. She sprang up: “Good, let’s get to work! A’Lian can actually return a little earlier this year!”

Liu Ao said, “Su-daren and the others will be back sooner! Don’t forget — they need to assign people to assist us.”

“I won’t forget.”

The moment Su Zhe and the others returned, Zhù Ying was already assigning personnel, funds, and materials for the three young women’s use. Upon hearing about the gazetteer project, Su Zhe said, “This is a great undertaking — of course we must support it!”

Wu Ren and Xiang An also needed to cooperate, and both said they would do the accounting at once. Since the books had been closed for the year-end, it would have to wait two days.

Zhù Ying said, “No rush — a gazetteer isn’t written in a day. Allocate a portion now, and the rest can follow.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying asked Su Zhe, “The child — aren’t you bringing him over?”

Su Zhe smiled. “Let me settle the household first. Once the weather warms up next month, I’ll bring him.”

Zhù Ying nodded, making a mental note to have a gift ready when the child arrived. Then she asked Wu Ren, “How are things at home?”

Wu Ren said, “The new governor below the mountain hasn’t arrived yet, so I stayed at home quite comfortably. It’s just that my parents are getting older… My mother asked me to thank you profusely, my lord. She said she loves all the things you sent. And she says the silk is too fine and precious — she’s already had it made up as burial clothes to wear when she goes.”

“As long as she’s pleased.”

Finally there was Xiang An. Before Zhù Ying even asked, she spoke first: “My lord, I… would like to adopt a daughter from my second elder brother’s family. We have chosen an auspicious date and plan to hold a small feast. My second brother and his wife will bring the child here. At that time, would it be possible to ask you to serve as a witness?”

Zhù Ying said, “So that was what you were hesitating about just now.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. As long as your family has all agreed among yourselves.”

Xiang An also smiled with relief. She had thought this through carefully. A daughter would be close to her — that was one consideration. The practice of adopting girls was common enough among those around her, and it would not make her stand out. Moreover, the best scholars in Xizhou right now were Liu Ao and the others — women. For a daughter to pursue studies in the future, it would be more convenient.

Since Zhù Ying raised no objection, she knew her plan was sound, and she began to tidy up her own residence as well. The auspicious date fell in the third month, when Annan’s climate was warm and the spring planting was past, leaving everyone at relative leisure. By that time, Zhù Lian and Zhao Ji and the others should have returned and would be at the marshal’s office — the gathering would be large, and the occasion would look well.

Xiang An, with a thread of joy in her heart, quietly waited for the auspicious day to come.