Zhù Lian returned somewhat earlier than Xiang An had anticipated — he was back in Annan before the third month. At the northern pass, he met Su Sheng, and that was as good as being home.
When Zhù Lian had set out, he’d had a long cart convoy — transporting grain and supplies required many carts, horses, and laborers who had to carry their own provisions along the way, and the grain carts in particular were many. On the return journey, the carts were empty, and merchants had loaded them with all manner of northern goods. The passing traders looked on with a start — trouble, the competition is moving in! For at least two or three months, the price of northern goods would be difficult to hold.
The more quick-witted merchants were already signaling urgently to their clerks, managers, and young relatives: move! Get the goods in hand sold off first, take whatever price you can. Some young fellow who didn’t know any better was still asking his elder, “Sixth Uncle, if they want to sell first, let them. Once this stretch passes, we can sell at our usual price. Wouldn’t selling at a discount now be a waste?”
“Sixth Uncle” raised a hand and gave him a slap. “What do you understand?! Did you forget everything you were taught? Goods sitting in your hands — where’s the money? Where are you going to find money to buy new inventory? No goods to sell, and the whole operation still has mouths to feed top to bottom. Wait, wait, wait! Once something’s been bought, it won’t be bought again. When the time comes and it’s sitting in your hands, enjoy your tears! The whole family will starve! Get moving!”
Larger merchants were better positioned — they had fixed channels and could sustain losses for longer. Small traders felt the pressure most acutely. Inside the northern pass, there was a general commotion of horses neighing and people shouting.
Zhù Lian did no trading himself; his father-in-law’s family were merchants, so he was all the more careful to avoid any appearance of impropriety. Zhao Ji and Lang Rui, by contrast, did carry along some merchants from the Wuzhou and Xizhou guildhalls heading south. Su Sheng watched the commercial caravan pass with a smile of contentment, as though watching money flow steadily into his pocket — all of this was taxable, though the rate was light.
Whatever taxes one may or may not have paid elsewhere — once inside Annan, tax was due, even if an official was traveling with the group. Zhù Ying herself had been a master of tax evasion in her youth; when it came to her turn to administer, of course she would not let others off easily.
Su Sheng asked cheerfully, “Was the journey going well?”
Zhù Lian said, “The road was smooth. What about at home?”
“Everything is fine at home. The marshal inspected just a few days ago — went from Xizhou all the way to your Bozhou. No need to worry about the spring planting there. She covered it, including the winter wheat — all taken care of for you.”
The corners of Zhù Lian’s mouth kept lifting. He coughed and said, “I — didn’t ask about that.”
“Oh. The marshal came out from your place, made a detour, and is now in Pu’an Prefecture. You know what she’s there for. She’s been spending a little less time at the marshal’s office lately and likes to be out and about more.”
Zhù Lian knew why Zhù Ying was in Pu’an Prefecture, and said naturally, “Where is she now? I’ll go see her first.”
“In the new garrison lands.”
Zhù Lian told Zhao Ji and Lang Rui to rest at the pass for two days. He himself took only two attendants and went to find Zhù Ying.
——
Zhù Ying, Zhù Tong, and Liu Kun were crouched at the edge of a field. She picked up a handful of soil and rubbed it between her fingers. “Acceptable,” she said. Whether land was fertile or not came down to reading the soil. This area, from the time of clearing to now, had begun to take on a proper character — not comparable to Xizhou’s flatlands, but better than some of the more mountainous terrain.
Zhù Tong and Liu Kun both copied her example, though neither understood much about farming. The two of them were there to give Zhù Qingjun more time to remain in the governor’s residence. Zhù Tong was normally stationed at the military camp, but when the governor’s residence was short of hands she was also called in by Zhù Qingjun to help, so she and Liu Kun had grown more familiar.
Both of them looked somewhat askance at Bai Ling, but since the marriage had been performed, there was no point in going to great lengths to pry the two apart. For newlyweds, the right thing was to give them a relatively peaceful environment to spend time together.
The moment Zhù Ying arrived, the two of them had pushed the prefecture’s other business onto Zhù Qingjun and rushed over — out of sight, out of mind.
Neither was skilled at farming; Zhù Tong was better but still limited, and Liu Kun had only ever looked on. The two could tell wild grass from wheat seedlings, but observing and reading the soil was still quite foreign to them. After careful study, they had only managed to commit the appearance of this particular field to memory.
Zhù Ying smiled. “You’ve simply seen too little. Look at many different plots of land — look long enough, and without anyone teaching you, you’ll be able to judge them yourself.”
Liu Kun said, “The spring planting in the north doesn’t start this early, and the farming tools are larger…”
While they were talking, Zhù Lian arrived.
Zhù Ying patted her hands and stood up. “All right — I’ll leave this to the two of you. A’Lian — does the Twenty-Fifth Young Lady have a letter?”
Zhù Lian shook his head. A flash of disappointment crossed Liu Kun’s face before she recovered her warm, sweet expression. Zhù Lian jumped down from his horse. “Teacher! I’m back!”
Liu Kun and Zhù Tong each clasped their hands in greeting and stepped back, leaving only Zhù Qingxue to stand by in attendance.
Zhù Ying said, “You’ve grown thinner.”
Zhù Lian came closer and said, “Out of frustration.”
Zhù Ying heard those two words and laughed. “Your temper never used to be this short.”
“Before I had to keep it in. Now I don’t,” Zhù Lian muttered. “That Emperor! How did you put up with him all those years? I’m truly in awe of how the current chancellors can still be respectful to him. Chancellor Wang and the others are not having an easy time.”
Zhù Ying asked, “Wang Shuliang and Shi Jixing — have they changed?”
“Grown older. Their original hearts appear unchanged.” Zhù Lian said this as he passed the letters from both of them to Zhù Ying.
Zhù Ying held the letters and asked again, “Is their health still good?”
“They look robust, though they show some signs of age. I saw all the chancellors. Chancellor Xian’s white hair and beard are more pronounced now; his temper has grown even more stubborn, and Chancellor Wang, having less seniority, can only barely hold him in check. I paid a call at the Zheng estate — things there are quiet.”
Zhù Ying walked slowly with him along the field dike, listening to him recount the small details of the capital: rice prices had risen; wages for laborers hadn’t kept pace; the city still looked prosperous, far grander than Annan in scale, but somehow the energy there felt spent and listless. There had been envoys from foreign nations — their presence gave the New Year court audience a grand appearance that could at least soothe the Emperor’s vanity.
Jin Liang and his wife had passed away; Jin Biao was still well. He had paid calls at the homes of Zheng Xi’s two daughters, both of whom offered return gifts and seemed curious about Zhù Ying’s life in Annan.
And there was a little news from the palace: the Empress appeared to be with child — at the formal New Year court gathering, many people had noticed her figure had changed. The various princes were showing a certain restlessness; even someone like Zhù Lian, a man from the south, had been approached by people connected to several of the princes. Zhù Lian had played dumb throughout, saying only that he was a southern barbarian and far away from it all. He had refused to be drawn into this great affair.
The Emperor’s desire to cultivate royal clan power and grant territorial fiefs had been firmly blocked by a unified front of the Grand Council and the nobility.
Zhù Ying laughed. “Enfeoffment with territorial fiefs means many attendants and officials, and possibly a glory of ‘founding service’ — how is it that none of them were moved by that?”
Zhù Lian said, “Chancellor Yao said: no money.”
He relayed the status of the various chancellors and then conveyed what Chen Meng had said about establishing a crown prince. At this point, it seemed the realm would actually prefer a fool sitting on the throne to serve as a puppet rather than someone without self-awareness to drag everything down.
Zhù Ying listened to all of it, then said slowly, “You’ve done very well. This trip has been a hardship. These new roads, though useful, still leave us far too distant from the capital. When there are major events, we cannot respond in time. Without trusted people in the capital, Annan has difficulty participating in court affairs. We must keep a constant watch, and the flow of information must not be cut off — and we must know how to verify and evaluate it. My old acquaintances are gradually passing away; from here on out, it falls to all of you.”
Zhù Lian said, “Why say such things? The temple courts… never mind! Annan is always safe. Let’s focus on recuperating and building strength. When a wise ruler finally emerges, we’ll be in a different position by then, and may not fear them the way we once did.”
Zhù Ying heard his confidence and did not point out that when “that time” came, she might no longer be here. It was good this way. If, after a lifetime of building, her younger generation still depended on her at the end, she would feel like an old ox worked to death without a moment’s rest.
Zhù Ying said, “What is there to fear from them? They can barely manage their own affairs. Goodness — I’d be thanking heaven and earth if they just didn’t unravel on their own.”
“And yet they’re trying to poach from others!” Zhù Lian gave a quiet snort and stepped slightly forward, lowering his voice to recount what the Emperor had attempted to tempt him with. Then he said that he himself had no such inclination whatsoever: “Annan and the Central Plains are different. They don’t understand Annan. But I know that no one in their house is worth trusting.”
Zhù Ying reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go — say hello to Qingjun, and then we’ll head back to the marshal’s office together.”
“Yes.”
It was inconvenient for Zhù Ying to remain in Pu’an Prefecture for long. Though Zhù Qingjun’s heart was reluctant to let her go, she could only see her off. At the moment of parting, she hesitated several times before asking, “What do you think of A’Tong?”
Zhù Ying said, “She’s acceptable.”
Zhù Qingjun said, “If there is further trouble in the west, may I let her go along and learn something from it?”
Zhù Qingjun herself was tied down in Pu’an Prefecture and couldn’t easily leave. Unless it was a large-scale battle, there would be no call for her. Minor skirmishes at the western pass were handled by the various officers in rotation; the current situation was not one of major warfare, just one or two small clashes per season. Zhù Qingjun felt this was suitable for a new person to get started.
Zhù Ying asked, “You think highly of her?”
Zhù Qingjun said, “She has talent. They say hard work is what matters, but for hard work to yield results, there must first be a measure of natural aptitude. Without the slightest aptitude, it’s like trying to climb a tree to catch fish — no amount of effort will get you what you need. She has the aptitude, and she also works hard. Her age is right — a little younger than me, which means there’ll be no generational gap. When it comes to the troops — soldiers can be trained to think of nothing, to simply learn to follow orders; with good food, good armor, good blades, regular training in combat and formations, the results will show in battle. A general cannot do that. A general doesn’t go into battle personally, and without that, it’s very hard to understand how a battlefield shifts — very hard to know how to issue the right orders. She needs to be more familiar with combat than any of these soldiers.”
Zhù Ying said, “Fine. I expect it won’t be long before there’s trouble over there again. Let her stay here for now; when she’s needed, I’ll call for her.”
“Yes. Ah…”
“Hmm? Something else?”
“This child is very attentive and bright, and she has a strong sense of her own purpose. These past days, her work managing the camp has been done well — handling disputes and deciding cases, she’s capable at all of it. I don’t want her to only be able to become a military officer in the end. I want her to learn more. As for her safety…”
“You want to develop her?”
“Yes,” Zhù Qingjun said. “In the future — in Pu’an Prefecture, or wherever else there might be — if there is a need for an official in charge, could she perhaps be given a chance to try? Her academic studies are also solid, and the work she does — none of it falls short of others. Nothing is beyond her.”
“Committing to her so early?” Zhù Ying asked directly.
Zhù Qingjun said quickly, “Not committing — just observing first. I’ve been watching her during this time, and she’s done well. I and Su-xiaomei and the others spent many years at your side learning both civil and military matters. The children of around her age who are in the marshal’s office — there are a few of them — I haven’t spent enough time with the others to evaluate them properly. I’d ask you to look them all over carefully. We don’t want to end up like the court — talent running thin, and every manner of demon and monster getting the chance to wreak havoc.”
Zhù Ying smiled. “You’ve been thinking ahead. Keep Xiang An’s date in mind.”
“Yes.”
——
Zhù Lian headed first to the northern pass, where he reunited with Zhao Ji and Lang Rui, and they all traveled together to the agreed point on the road to wait for Zhù Ying.
Zhù Ying returned to the marshal’s office without taking Zhù Tong along — that poor child still had to work in Pu’an Prefecture. Lang Rui and Zhao Ji were in high spirits; unlike Zhù Lian, they had few of his deeper reflections. They simply felt that the capital was indeed grand and magnificent, and that Chancellor Wang and Chancellor Shi had considerable presence, while Chen Fang and others of his circle were quite refined and cultured. Once outside the capital, though, and not far from it at that, the livelihoods of the common people became visibly strained. Many places were worse off than Xizhou and Wuzhou’s city districts, and some scattered villages were little better than the mountain hamlets of Annan.
Zhao Ji shook his head. “If the fine people in the capital would just waste a little less, a few more common people might be spared starvation. Everyone talks about the people being the foundation of the state — from what I’ve seen, they don’t really care about the foundation at all. Aren’t they afraid the state will fall?”
Zhù Ying said, “Afraid? Of course they’re afraid. But they don’t think they need to cherish the common people — and they can’t bear to give up their comforts. They’re accustomed to luxury; asking them to eat one less mouthful is something they’re unwilling to do. When people starve to death, there are always more poor people to be born. Until the ones who are left alive have no other option but to drag the wealthy down with them into the well.”
“Short-sighted,” Lang Rui pronounced with a certain superiority.
Zhù Ying said, “And you — are you never short-sighted?”
“I’m certainly not like that!”
Zhù Ying said, “And yet you still envy the lives of the capital’s wealthy?”
“Envy is one thing — I’m not stupid!” Lang Rui said loudly.
Zhù Lian burst out laughing. Lang Rui, now more familiar with him, urged his horse over and jostled him; the two of them jostled and laughed together. Zhù Ying watched from the side, in good spirits. Zhù Lian had delivered everything she had asked, and Wang and Shi had also managed to block the Emperor’s foolish ideas — that was enough. Here in Annan, Zhù Qingjun was also giving her great satisfaction; the girl was thinking far ahead. Zhù Lian was also good — honest and measured.
The road back to Xizhou was a smooth one. The marshal’s office was running in good order. Liu Ao and Liu Yan had already begun compiling the local gazetteer. Everything was in place.
Except that not long after, the Western Tribes sent out another small force to prod and probe. Annan had grown accustomed to this — generally it meant a skirmish, then a rotation of new soldiers to get experience, and then the friction would pass. Zhù Ying, as she had promised, transferred Zhù Tong to the western pass.
The document was again drafted by Liu Ao, who said softly as she wrote, “Zhù Tong… isn’t she too young?”
Zhù Ying said, “Too young? She’ll grow up in the fighting.”
Liu Ao was left without words.
Zhù Ying added, “Have her stationed there for another year. When she rotates back, she’ll come to the marshal’s office first, then escort the Twenty-Third Young Lady to Pu’an Prefecture and bring the Twenty-Fifth Young Lady back. The Twenty-Fifth Young Lady has spent years gathering impressions out there — she’ll have a great deal to contribute to the gazetteer.”
“Yes.”
So Zhù Tong was transferred to the western pass. Passing through the marshal’s office on the way, she delivered Zhù Qingjun’s congratulatory gift to Xiang An in person, but did not get to attend the feast herself. She set out westward with her unit. Xiang An, on the auspicious date that had been divined, set up a banquet at her own residence. Xiang Le with his wife, and Xiang Yu and Xiang Ting, along with the girl to be adopted — a child named Xiang Xiuxiu — all arrived in Xizhou.
Zhù Ying came along with Liu Ao, Su Zhe, and the others. Xiang Le and Su Zhe were already acquainted, and they had much to catch up on. Xiang Le and his wife showed a trace of reluctance about parting with their daughter, yet still smiled — though not too broadly. Xiang Ting was the eldest branch’s son; he had originally been slated to be adopted by someone else, but Xiang An had changed her mind. Being adopted by Xiang An had its advantages, and though neither of the two brothers had any mercenary intentions, the interests were real and present.
Zhù Ying saw it; Su Zhe saw it; Liu Ao saw it; Zhù Qingxue and the others saw it too. Everyone pretended not to notice, ate the celebratory wine together, and gradually departed.
Back at the marshal’s office, Zhù Ying said to Zhù Qingxue, “You’ve been at my side for some years now, haven’t you?”
“Yes — from when you returned to Annan, it’s been over twenty years.”
Zhù Ying said, “That’s enough. It’s time you had some experience of your own.” She turned and called for Zhù Qingye.
“Yes.” Zhù Qingye came at a run. Zhù Ying said, “Don’t worry — just sit down, drink some water, and listen.”
She was going to send Zhù Qingye out to a post, also to Pu’an Prefecture, to begin as an official at the governor’s residence before progressing to serving as a county magistrate and working her way up. She would shift Zhù Qingxue into Zhù Qingye’s former position, managing seals and other confidential matters.
Zhù Qingye asked, “And your side, Marshal?”
Zhù Ying said, “Isn’t there still Jin Miao?” Jin Miao was a classmate of Lin Ge and Zhù Tong — he lived in the dormitory next to the marshal’s office. He was a boy of currently sixteen years, and from his surname one could tell he was from the Jima people of Xizhou; his family worked in the gold mines.
Zhù Qingye had her reservations. “Lin Ge and Zhao Ji — wouldn’t they be better suited? Before, you used us attendant girls; now you are the military governor. Having Lin Ge or Zhao Ji attend you, who could object? And Jin Miao is younger than them — having him at your side would give one cause for worry.”
Zhù Ying smiled. “You don’t understand. Zhao Ji has his own duties; there is a shortage of people outside right now. As for Lin Ge — she already draws attention by living in the compound. To also keep her at my side would make her uncle’s heart uneasy, and he might start creating problems for her. As for you — I’m going to send you out to train just as I sent the others. What would I keep you here for? Give the whole lot of them some work to do.”
So, as with Zhao Ji and the others, official duties were assigned and they officially began as junior trainees. Some were sent to help Liu Ao copy books; others were dispatched to various prefectures and counties, busy enough to keep them fully occupied. Lin Ge was assigned to Lu Danqing; Lin Feng and Lu Danqing were already acquainted, with similar backgrounds, and would be more able to comfort and understand each other.
Among all of them, the most outstanding was still Zhù Tong. She adapted well at the western pass — Zhù Qingjun’s assessment had been quite accurate. She even ventured more than a hundred li into Western Tribe territory, and returned safely. Over the course of one year, she exchanged blows with the Western Tribes several times, and showed hints of a talent that did not shame her biological father’s reputation as a warrior.
When she rotated back on her next cycle, she presented Zhù Ying with a map she had sketched.
Zhù Ying said, “When you report this to your commanding general, keep your expression serious.”
Zhù Tong lowered her head and retracted her neck, but would not admit any fault.
Zhù Ying said, “All right — go home and see your brothers and sisters.”
“Yes!” This time Zhù Tong answered happily.
——
Zhù Tong ran off with a light step. The young women throughout the marshal’s office were unlike those elsewhere — they liked to hitch up their skirts and walk briskly, sometimes at a small trot, weaving here and there through the compound. From time to time they’d laugh, or say a few words, speaking just a touch faster than average. Only in front of Liu Ao and Liu Yan did they moderate themselves slightly — and even then, only slightly.
She hadn’t run many steps before she slowed and stopped: Liu Ao was walking over with a stack of examination papers in hand. She greeted her respectfully as they passed, and then Zhù Tong ran on again.
Liu Ao shook her head with a smile, then carried her heavy burden onward. In addition to compiling the gazetteer, editing books, and teaching, she also presided over examinations. She was coming to discuss the examination papers with Zhù Ying. In recent years, quite a number of scholars from the surrounding areas had taken an interest in Annan — none of them extraordinary talents, but some were literate, and Annan did not turn them away; they simply had to sit the same examinations as everyone else.
Liu Ao had revised the examination content, eliminating poetry and lyrical composition in favor of practical matters. For the classical portion, she had adjusted the content, but still retained some traditional questions: “Like-minded people working together — this reveals a person’s true nature. A person can memorize our new texts and answer those questions well enough. But when confronted with questions about the proper relations between ruler and subject, parent and child — that is when some people start to slip.
It is a little cunning, I know, but it cannot be helped. Looking at what they write in answer to these questions, I can learn what gaps remain in the new books I haven’t yet noticed. Which is how to improve them.”
Her manner carried a faint echo of Liu Songnian’s air.
Zhù Ying rested her chin on her hand and watched the young woman’s slightly self-satisfied expression, then nodded. “Good.”
“So it’s decided?”
“Fine,” Zhù Ying said.
Liu Ao gathered up the papers, took an envelope from Zhù Ying’s desk, slipped the papers inside, and sealed it. Zhù Ying sat with her arms folded and watched her bustle about. Once the envelope was sealed, Jin Miao came over quickly, clutching an official gazette. “Marshal, the gazette.”
The biggest piece of news in today’s gazette was that the Emperor had changed the titles of his sons’ enfeoffments. The third son was enfeoffed as the Prince of Qi; the fourth son as the Prince of Qin. His fifth son had died young. The sixth son was enfeoffed as the Prince of Song. These three were his adult sons. He also had two young sons who had received no titles this time.
From the gazette, these princes still had no territorial fiefs — they remained in the capital.
As for the Empress, whom there had been reason to suspect was with child, there was no further word. Who knew what had become of that child. Being so far from the capital was sometimes genuinely inconvenient, Zhù Ying thought. She would need to ask Qingtian to pay closer attention.
She passed the gazette to Liu Ao, who scanned it and said, “Time to enfeoff them — shall I write a congratulatory memorial?”
“No rush — finish what’s in your hands first, then write. Don’t wear yourself out.”
Liu Ao said with a rueful laugh, “Since when did you start being considerate?”
Zhù Ying said with great seriousness, “Of course — I have always been thoughtful and considerate.”
At last Liu Ao understood why her grandfather, when he mentioned Zhù Ying, would sometimes wear an expression of barely-restrained exasperation. She said, “Fine. I’ll go do proper work.”
The enfeoffment of princes was not a major affair. Annan went on about its daily business. Liu Ao presided over an examination and selected twenty candidates; they first received instruction at the Xizhou school, then were distributed to official posts across the various prefectures and counties. Only two of the twenty were from outside Annan — one who had come from the north, one from the east, each accompanied by their families. The rest were still Annan people.
Liu Yan took over from Liu Kun. Zhù Tong returned to Pu’an Prefecture; a year later, there was another rotation at the western pass. By the time Zhù Tong cycled back again from the western pass for rest and recovery, two years had passed without one noticing, slipping by quietly. Nothing of great significance had occurred in Annan throughout.
Until one day — the usual carrier of the official gazette had already passed through. Around midday, another courier arrived from the capital, dressed in white mourning cloth. He was stopped at the northern pass.
Su Sheng was very suspicious. He asked, “What does your dress mean?”
The man replied, “His Majesty has passed away.”
Su Sheng leaped to his feet.