In the second year of Wu Zhenxing, early in the fifth month, the land of Jin.

Outside the eastern gate of Weisheng City, a new official road had been cleared, wide and broad.

This road, a rare sight of such breadth in the land of Jin, had been under construction since September of the previous year. It ran along the hills and highlands outside the city, stretching east for more than ten li, before coming to a stop at a place called Chen Family River, where the existing village had been widened and a new town built beside the hills and river.

As if bearing some grudge against words like “West” or “South,” this town, personally overseen by the Lady Chancellor, had been named “East City.”

By early May, everything here felt tense and bustling. Carriages and caravans moving in and out of the city were funneling enormous quantities of goods through it. Entering from the west, the encircling city wall wasn’t yet finished, but watchtowers and patrolling troops were already in place. The city was crisscrossed with simple roads dividing it into sections, with construction sites still bustling with activity everywhere. Here and there were small clusters of shantytown housing, and markets that looked rather disorderly, with small vendors pushing carts or carrying shoulder poles, delivering food or water to one construction site after another…

Since the second half of the previous year, news of the great southwestern gathering had gradually swept across the entire realm.

The “world’s number one martial arts tournament,” fodder enough to enrich the storytellers’ repertoire, was really just a minor detail among all this news. The Chinese Army’s near-total “opening up” had, in the time since, touched nearly everyone across Jiangnan and the Central Plains — scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants alike. A power that had crushed the Jurchens through the study of natural science was now generously beginning to sell its achievements to the outside world — and those with sharp instincts could sense that a great wave was about to break.

Take the land of Jin, for instance: since last September, word had gradually spread that the southwest intended to sell technologies for ironworking, cannon-making, glassmaking, papermaking, and more to this region. The southwest would send a delegation to teach these various crafts to the people of Jin, and rumors that the Lady Chancellor intended to build a new city to house all these trades had kept fermenting throughout the winter. By the time spring arrived, nearly every major merchant house in Jin was already stirring with anticipation, converging on Weisheng in hopes of getting a share of the pie.

In the past, with Jin lying so far from the southwest, the exquisite trinkets, glassware, perfumes, books, and even weapons that made their way here had their value inflated dozens of times over. And now, with a place like this being built right in Jin, well-crafted goods from hundreds, even a thousand li around, would flow outward from here — there was no one who didn’t covet a share of the profits to be had.

Riding this wave, even before East City had broken ground, Lou Shuwan had already parceled out no small share of the profits involved, at what amounted to a staggering price. Aside from military manufacturing, which was never to be shared, every other industry touching daily life and even luxury goods — glass, perfumes, textiles, books, canned goods, all of it — was generously divided among all parties. The Chinese Army’s own teachers would first train a first batch of masters from Jin, establishing the most important model workshops; each family would then send people to learn from them, before finally rolling their own businesses out on a large scale.

This amounted, essentially, to the government stepping in to bring new technology to every household, and the sheer scale of the profits at stake mobilized everyone’s enthusiasm. By the later stages of the eastern road’s construction, virtually every major clan and merchant house in Jin had already thrown itself in. They organized their own personnel, mobilized their own resources, and poured a steady stream of manpower into the newly built town — a mobilization on such a scale, and with such visible enthusiasm, that it left more than a few Jin officials astonished.

At the same time, Lou Shuwan’s generosity had also forged a “shared interest” among the vast majority of Jin’s gentry and merchant powers. Over these past few months, praise for the Lady Chancellor had climbed steadily throughout Jin, and the assassination attempts and slanders that had, in the past, arisen from various causes had likewise dropped off sharply.

After all, in private, rumors that the Lady Chancellor of Jin and the southwest’s “Demon Ning” had once had a romantic entanglement had never really stopped circulating. And this time, with the southwestern gathering, well-informed observers had quietly compared the gains each faction had received — and by any open reckoning, what Jin had secured stood on par with, and perhaps even exceeded, what the notoriously wealthy Liu Guangshi had walked away with. As people saw it, if not for some deep bond between the Lady Chancellor and the southwest, how could Jin possibly have come away with such an advantage?

That was how the rumor went — but the truth of the matter was often so tangled that even those involved could hardly say for certain. At last year’s southwestern gathering, the delegation led by An Xifu had indeed achieved great results — but unlike Liu Guangshi’s mission, these results hadn’t come at any real, substantial cost. If truth be told, under the Lady Chancellor’s guidance, they’d been something of shameless opportunists about it, essentially treating the two past favors done for Liu Chengzong and the Liangshan Chinese Army as an inexhaustible bargaining chip, brazenly demanding this and that without restraint.

In the end, Ning Yi, half exasperated and half amused, had agreed to most of their demands.

In his own candid conversations with others, two genuine reasons emerged for this: first, of course, was simple gratitude toward the Liangshan contingent, repaying a favor with a favor; second was his view that among all the powers across the realm, Jin represented the force resisting on behalf of the Han people with the truest fighting spirit — and so, even without their asking, Ning Yi had already planned to give over much of it regardless.

This second reason, of course, was highly personal, and for reasons of confidentiality was never widely publicized. Given that the Lady Chancellor of Jin herself only ever met such rumors with a smiling silence, it’s hardly surprising that what has come down through later history about this period is mostly little more than gossip.

The first parts of East City to take shape, built through the collective effort of every household, were the military camp, residences, and model factory district on the city’s eastern side. This wasn’t any single family’s own turf, but no one voiced any complaint about being the first to contribute labor and resources here. By this point in early May, the crucial ironworks district had already erected two experimental blast furnaces, which had just been lit and fired in the past few days — black plumes of smoke rising into the sky, with many of the visiting blacksmiths already thrown into the work.

To the northeast of the town, in an area with a small stream running past nearby hills, lay a residential and study district connected to the military camp. Currently housed here first was a delegation of over three hundred people from the southwest, including more than a hundred craftsmen, over twenty instructors, and a reinforced company of Chinese Army escort troops. The delegation’s leader was named Xue Guangcheng.

Besides the Chinese Army’s own people, a large number of craftsmen and quick-minded young scholars selected from across Jin had already gathered here. Before the workshops opened, these craftsmen and scholars would first go through a round of instruction in natural science — mathematics, physics, chemistry — meant not only to give them the basic principles so they could reason things out for themselves, but also to help identify, among these craftsmen, those with the potential to become researchers, so that the cycle of scientific advancement could keep moving forward.

This kind of foundational instruction in natural science, the Chinese Army priced very high — even Liu Guangshi’s side hadn’t purchased it — yet for Jin, Ning Yi had all but forced it on them as a package deal.

This also included shares in every technology outside of military manufacturing, “shared profits” with Jin’s great clans, and an extensive package of supporting plans to draw them into building the new industrial zone together — things that, apart from the new court in Fujian, no other faction could obtain by any means. When Lou Shuwan had first seen this, she’d muttered dismissively, “This fellow wants to teach me how to run things?” But after some thought, she’d come to feel there was a fair amount of overlap between their two approaches, and after adapting it to local conditions, her mutterings had shifted to things like “they’re overthinking this in some places” or “this part’s frankly too fussy” — shaking her head with a sigh even as she adopted it.

In the afternoon, a crowd had gathered in the northern study district, filling more than a dozen classrooms. Outside the first classroom on the eastern end, curtains had been hung over the windows, with guards posted outside. Inside, a female teacher had lit an oil lamp and was in the middle of a lecture, running an experiment on pinhole imaging.

“…The first person to actually carry out this experiment was, in fact, the ancient sage Mozi. He described something of this very kind in the Mo Jing, saying that the image is inverted, forming at a single point, matching the length of the object — the explanation lies in that point. What that means is… through experiments in physics and optics like these, which might seem ordinary, we can arrive at principles of real use. And it’s because of exactly these principles that we’ve built the far-seeing scopes used on the battlefield — and someday, perhaps, we’ll manage to build scopes that can see even further, thousands or even tens of thousands of li… In the southwest, in fact, a great far-seeing scope for viewing the moon has already been built…”

The female teacher wasn’t especially pretty, but her manner of speaking was warm and clear, remarkably well-organized to listen to. And seated at the very front, in that moment, was none other than the Lady Chancellor of Jin herself, Lou Shuwan — clad in a robe of deep blue-green, carrying an imposing bearing even seated as she was — accompanied by Shi Jin and An Xifu. She watched the experiment with real interest, even going so far as to ask, “What’s up there on the moon? Did anyone see Chang’e?”

The teacher went on to speak, drawing on the “round heaven, square earth” theory, about the strange new idea that the earth was a sphere, and the moon a sphere as well — leaving the assembled craftsmen and scholars marveling in astonishment. Lou Shuwan, on hearing there was no Chang’e or rabbit on the moon, was somewhat disappointed, and asked afterward whether perhaps the southwest’s scope simply wasn’t good enough yet, not clear enough to see properly — to which the teacher could only nod and agree that was probably so.

“I suppose that must be it,” Lou Shuwan said with a smile.

Having listened through most of the lesson, Lou Shuwan, Shi Jin, An Xifu, and the others left the classroom, followed by a number of young officials who had also sat in on the lecture. Lou Shuwan spoke to An Xifu about Ning Yi.

“…I remember, many years ago in Hangzhou, before the Sage Duke’s army had marched through, Ning Yi and his wife Tan’er came for a visit. There were two young sisters from an official family in the city who stayed shut up at home all day, gloomy and unhappy, and no one knew what to do about it. Su Tan’er went to see them, and Ning Yi came up with an idea — sending over a box of silkworms. Before long, those two sisters were out picking mulberry leaves every day to feed the silkworms, and their spirits picked right back up…”

She gave a cold little laugh. “‘Those draped in fine silk are never the ones who raise the silkworms.’ Later on, Ning Yi went about managing people’s hearts and minds, achieving one success after another — outsiders called him the Demon of the Heart, saying he’d seen through the deepest workings of the human mind. But looking at it now, it seems what he really wanted was to master the workings of all things in heaven and earth — the human heart was only ever a small part of it.”

Up in the classroom, her smile had been mild and agreeable enough, but once out of the room, her pace quickened, her words came faster — a quiet, commanding presence without any show of anger. The young officials around her, hearing such a story of the past come from someone of her stature, dared not respond. They soon entered a small building not far off, into a room set up for receiving guests and discussing matters, where Lou Shuwan finally waved a hand, letting everyone sit.

“This teacher, Hu Meilan — clear thinker, quick on her feet. What does she usually like? Does anyone here know?” Lou Shuwan asked, turning to An Xifu beside her.

An Xifu nodded and laid out, roughly, the teacher’s usual preferences — what kind of food she liked, her interest in painting, occasionally picking up the brush herself, and so on. Lou Shuwan looked around at the officials in the room. “As for her background — where does she come from? Does anyone here have a guess?”

“Surely from a family steeped in learning…”

“Her forebears must have included some great Confucian scholar…”

The officials offered up their guesses one after another. Lou Shuwan raised an eyebrow at An Xifu, who looked around at everyone. “This woman comes from a farming family. But she’s had a good temperament since childhood, and a great deal of patience. After the Chinese Army arrived in the southwest, they took her into the schools as a teacher — her sole task being to instruct students. She’s never been widely read, and her painting isn’t especially good either — but when it comes to teaching and imparting knowledge, she does it remarkably well.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the officials exchanging glances. Lou Shuwan laughed, tapping her fingers a few times on the small table beside her, then let the smile fade.

“In the past, we always assumed that people of such quick wit and clear thinking must come from families steeped in learning — the same way one memorizes the Four Books and Five Classics by rote in childhood, and only in middle age, after seeing and thinking a great deal, finally learns how each principle ought to be applied. And to be able to teach students as flexibly as she does — you’d think that would take even more years still. But in the southwest, that man-butcher Ning does things entirely differently. He doesn’t force people to memorize the classics — all instruction there is grounded purely in practical use. This teacher, Hu Meilan, was trained specifically to teach. The method that produced her, if used well, could turn out dozens of teachers within a few years — and those dozens of teachers, given a few more years still, could become hundreds…”

“You are the second wave of officials to come here. You’re young, sharp-minded — some of you have spent over a decade steeped in the sage’s teachings, full of scholarly phrasing and classical airs, but that can be corrected. I’m not saying the old methods are so terrible, but there’s a new method here, and it falls to you to understand it, to learn it thoroughly. So set aside the classical learning in your hearts for now. While you’re here, apply yourselves humbly to mastering the southwest’s methods, thoroughly — that’s the task I’m setting for you. Whoever learns it well, I will put to greater use in the future.”

Lou Shuwan looked around at everyone. “Beyond that, there’s another matter… You are all among the finest young people our family has — well-read, full of ideas, some of you good at socializing, at making friends. You all hold official positions, which means you represent the face of Jin… The masters and teachers who’ve come from the southwest are our honored guests. Since you’re here, you should make an effort to befriend them. There will be times when our side falls short, overlooks something — pay close attention to that. Whatever they want, find a way to provide it. See to it they eat well, live well, are treated well here — make them feel completely at home…”

“Ultimately, the hope behind all this is that they’ll choose to stay in Jin. But be generous about it, be attentive without being crude, and don’t make your purpose too obvious. Making friends with people from the Chinese Army will do you a great deal of good going forward as well — they’re staying here a year or two, and they’re men of real talent. The more you learn from them, the wider your own path forward will be. So don’t botch this…”

“…And of course, for anyone who does choose to stay in Jin, we won’t be stingy with rewards — official rank, fame, and fortune, all of it available. I’ll guarantee them a lifetime free of worry over food and clothing. And for those who have family in the southwest, I will personally negotiate with the man-butcher Ning myself, to have their families brought over safely, so they need not worry over that. As for those of you who succeed in accomplishing this task, there will be substantial rewards for you as well — Lord An will explain the details to you in the days ahead…”

Even before their arrival, rumors had already been circulating about winning over the delegation. The young officials exchanged glances, nodding one after another. Lou Shuwan added a few more words of instruction before finally waving them off. Once the officials had left the room, An Xifu spoke up. “Xue Guangcheng has been keeping a tight rein on his Chinese Army people lately — it’s likely to be a while before we see any real results.”

Lou Shuwan smiled and nodded. “There’s still plenty of time — we’ll take it slow. Xue Guangcheng is no simple man. Back in the day, he kidnapped Liu Yu right there in Bianliang, and after sending Liu Yu off, went back into Bianliang alone, using the little prince Wanyan Qingjue as a bargaining chip to save the lives of everyone in the city — and lived to walk out of it himself. A man like that is nowhere near as easy to handle as Zhan Wu. And now that he’s thick as thieves with Zhan Wu, he’s grown even bolder. Keep a close eye on things while you’re here — the last thing we want is for our people to act rashly and just make themselves unwelcome.”

“Then why lay all this out so plainly with them right now?”

“This has to be done with an open hand — it’s fine if word gets out ahead of time,” Lou Shuwan said. “We want to keep these people here, offer them high position and rich reward — but we also need to make clear that even if they stay, it won’t mean bad blood with the Chinese Army. I’ll negotiate with Ning Yi myself, openly and above board — that way, they’ll have far less to worry about.”

“And Ning Yi’s side… will he agree to it?”

“If he was willing to send these people here in the first place, he must already be prepared for this. He’s a merchant at heart, likes making deals — as long as these people nod their own consent, I’m certain the southwest side can be brought around. As for our end, we can put a bit more thought into it — the beauty stratagem works too, doesn’t it? They’ll be here for a few years with no one to look after them — if there’s a well-mannered, cultured young woman from some family, we could arrange a meeting. If both sides are willing, there’s no shame in it for anyone… And there’s also that Teacher Hu — she has family in the southwest, but she’ll be here alone for such a long stretch. She might well be lonely…”

As Lou Shuwan spoke, An Xifu had been nodding along, but at the mention of Hu Meilan, his brow furrowed slightly. Lou Shuwan noticed and paused, then after a moment shook her head with a rueful laugh. “Never mind — that sort of thing is a shabby business, too petty. It’s fine for those without a family of their own, but for someone who has one, let’s leave it be, let things take their natural course. We can arrange for a few well-bred young women to become her friends instead.”

A light breeze stirred the curtains in the room, afternoon sunlight seeping in through the window. As Lou Shuwan spoke of these matters, something complicated flickered across her eyes. In her mind rose the image of herself, years ago in Hangzhou — yet all that came out of her mouth now was that single remark about being “too petty.” Her lips, brushed faintly by a stray lock of hair, carried the ghost of a sigh…

In the next moment, the complicated look in her eyes cleared away, her gaze growing bright and composed again. “Oh, right — Liu Guangshi has been stirring restlessly over the Central Plains. He’ll likely be marching north before long. In the end, he means to take Bianliang and all the territory south of the Yellow River — that much is already clear.”

“People in Chengdu saw this coming as far back as last year,” An Xifu said. “We’re the ones receiving the delegation here; he’s the one receiving the first batch of military equipment made in the southwest. With strong troops and well-fed horses now, it’s no surprise he’s ready to move.”

Lou Shuwan smiled. “Once he marches north, Yin Zong and Zou Xu are bound to grow anxious — after all, Zou Xu defected from the Chinese Army, and in this round of southwestern dealings, he hasn’t gained a thing. Ning Yi’s ruthless too — he’s told Liu Guangshi privately that if he can crush Zou Xu and hand him over to the Chinese Army, he’ll refund one or two tenths of what Liu Guangshi has already paid. That’s no small deal — Liu Guangshi’s practically rubbing his hands together over it.”

An Xifu’s brow furrowed slightly at that. “Has there been any response from Zou Xu’s side?”

“Clever of you to guess.” Lou Shuwan said. “He wants to work with me — buy some things from us to tide him over in an emergency. He’s willing to come to Jin in person to discuss the details.”

An Xifu looked at her. Lou Shuwan said, “I agreed.”

“Zou Xu is no small figure — isn’t he afraid we might sell him out back to the southwest?”

“Why would I sell him out? Ning Yi and I aren’t even that close. There’s the matter of my father’s death, after all.” Lou Shuwan laughed. “Besides — if Ning Yi can sell things to Liu Guangshi, then I can sell things to Zou Xu too, can’t I? The two of them fight it out in the Central Plains, and we sell to both ends — the longer they fight, the better for us. There’s no reason the southwest should be the only one profiting from this. This deal is worth doing. As for the actual negotiations, I’d like you to take part.”

An Xifu nodded, then glanced back toward the school outside. “Still — given that we’re in the middle of building East City right now, if the Chinese Army raises an objection…”

Lou Shuwan laughed lightly.

“Then let Ning Yi write me a letter from the southwest and scold me for it. Who’s afraid of whom?”

As the afternoon sun slanted lower, the light coming through the window grew ever more golden. Once Lou Shuwan had finished arranging everything ahead of her, and An Xifu had taken his leave, she called Shi Jin in from outside, had him sit down beside her, and poured a cup of tea for this swordsman who had followed and protected her for years.

“Master Shi, you’ve seemed to have something on your mind lately. Has something happened?”

Shi Jin had been at her side for years now, and there was no telling how many times he’d saved her life — Lou Shuwan had always held this great hero in high regard. Shi Jin’s brow furrowed slightly, then he looked at her and gave a small smile.

“Some news has come through the martial world these past few days. I admit it’s been weighing on me somewhat.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“I’ve spent these past few years searching for Brother Lin’s child — the Lady Chancellor knows this. When the war struck Wozhou, the child’s whereabouts became impossible to trace, and given how things have been in Jin these past years, many people are simply gone for good, never to be found. But recently I heard something — that the great monk Lin Zongwu has been traveling the martial world, with a young monk at his side named Ping’an, eleven or twelve years old, but remarkably skilled in martial arts. As it happens, Brother Lin’s child was originally named Mu Anping, and the age matches almost exactly…”

Lou Shuwan nodded. “You think they might be the same person?”

“When I was gathering information about Wozhou at the time, I heard people say that around when Brother Lin met his end, this great monk fought a duel against a madman — a disciple trained by Grandmaster Zhou — and the monk very nearly lost that fight. If that really was Brother Lin, who’d lost everything in that disaster, then perhaps Lin Zongwu later found his child. I don’t know what was in his mind — perhaps he felt he’d lost face, and kidnapped the child out of some wish for revenge. But then, word came that Brother Lin had died, and he took the child on as his disciple instead.”

“That’s certainly possible,” Lou Shuwan said softly. She looked at Shi Jin for a moment. “Master Shi, you’ve kept me safe all these years — in this life, Shuwan can never fully repay that debt. Now that this concerns the child of that great hero Lin, this is no small matter. I won’t presume to keep you here against your will. If you wish to go and search for him, Shuwan can only let you go — you needn’t hesitate over this for my sake. The situation in Jin has settled somewhat now, and there are far fewer would-be assassins than before. I only hope that once you’ve found the child, you’ll come back — this place can certainly offer him the very best.”

The evening light poured in through the window, sweeping across the room, as Lou Shuwan spoke of this with an easy smile, open and unguarded. Shi Jin looked at her, then laughed just as openly, shaking his head. “The matters here are more urgent. I’ve already sent people out to look for the child — it’s just that thinking of it these past days, my heart’s been stirred a little, that’s all. I’ll stay here. I won’t go.”

Lou Shuwan stood there, head tilted, looking at him, and after a good long while finally let out a deep breath. She bent her knees slightly, patted her chest, her eyes crinkling shut with genuine relief, and said, “You scared me half to death — I really thought I might be about to lose you there for a moment. Master Shi says he’s not leaving — that’s wonderful.”

She rarely showed this kind of playful expression in front of others, one that still carried faint traces of her girlhood. After a moment, they left the room together, and she settled back into her usual bearing — commanding without anger, every inch the imposing Lady Chancellor of Jin.

It had been a busy day, and there were still plenty of people left for her to see, including that difficult delegation leader from the Chinese Army, Xue Guangcheng. But at this moment, Lou Shuwan felt that even facing off against that Master Ning of the southwest himself, she’d hold her own without falling behind.

Of course, it had also been a very, very long time since they’d last seen each other…

When that moment of reunion finally came, what would it be like?

She sometimes found herself wondering about it.

Perhaps… they’d both be getting old by then…

But still, she found herself looking forward to it, all the same…