Afternoon sunlight streamed into the courtyard. A hen led a few chicks about the yard, clucking softly. Ning Yi set down his brush and gazed through the window at the sight of the hen wandering by, momentarily lost in thought. The chickens were being raised by Xiao Chan and the children at home; besides them, there was also a dog named Jiujiu. Xiao Chan, the children, and the dog were all out of the house at the moment.
Then Qin Shaoqian came in.
The one-eyed general held a few sunflower seeds in hand, humming some little tune under his breath — thoroughly disreputable, very much like his old self from over a decade ago, wandering the brothels of Bianliang and elsewhere. Coming into the study, he set down the last two sunflower seeds he’d apparently pilfered from somewhere on Ning Yi’s desk, and glanced at the manuscript he was still writing. “Chairman, working so hard?”
“Time to deal with family matters has to be squeezed out of somewhere. I’ve put off over a dozen meetings, fallen behind on a lot of writing — now it’s all coming due. By the way, I’ve sent Weiwen after Ning Ji.”
“The little fellow’s got no backbone, letting some woman trick him into fighting his own brother — I say neither of them should’ve been let off, whichever one gets beaten to death, so be it!” Qin Shaoqian went off to the side to fetch tea leaves and pour himself a cup, still muttering as he did. “But handling it this way isn’t bad either — send him after Ning Ji, let the two of them clear the air between them, so there’s no lasting grudge down the road. Or if Qin Weiwen turns out to have some backbone, going off to see the world alongside Ning Ji wouldn’t be a bad thing either.”
“Don’t get me started. Because of all this, I still don’t know how to console his mother.”
“Whose mother, again?”
“…”
Ning Yi looked at Qin Shaoqian, only to see the one-eyed man across from him laugh, teacup in hand. “You know, funny thing — a few days back I came rushing over meaning to give the two boys a proper thrashing, get it out of my system. I’d only managed to kick each of them once when your household’s women — well, I’ll be damned — they all jumped in front of me at once, telling me not to lay a hand on their sons. Not to speak out of turn, but in your household, it’s the second son who’s clearly the most doted on, and you… well… you certainly know how to manage your household. Impressive.” He gave a thumbs-up.
“Old Qin, you’re getting more and more disreputable by the day.”
“Let’s talk business. This whole affair needs to be sealed up, top to bottom — I’ve already given strict orders on my end that whoever leaks word of it dies. I’m not worried about your side, but I’m afraid your eldest lacks experience, so you’ll want to keep an eye on him. Since ancient times, whenever it comes to matters of succession in a ruling household, no one ever comes out of it clean. You’ve taken on a different title these days, but power is still power — if anyone wants to unsettle you, the simplest way is to throw your household into disorder first. Honestly, Weiwen getting caught up in this affair is a real test for him. As for young Ji, well — that’ll depend on fate.”
Ning Yi nodded, without saying much more, then laughed. “How are things on your end? I hear you and Lu Qiaoshan have been getting along well lately?”
“Not bad — he’s a capable man. I never would’ve guessed you’d keep him under wraps for so long before finally putting him to use.”
“From our first battle coming out of the three counties of Heden, all the way to Zizhou, we captured him partway through. He’s loyal to the Wu Dynasty, stubborn as they come, but honestly, he never had any major black marks against him, so I didn’t plan to kill him — let him go around, see things for himself. Later he was even sent to work a year in a factory. When the Jurchen western army pushed into Jianmen Pass, he applied to join a suicide squad in the army — I turned him down. After we drove the Jurchens back, he gradually came around to us, and became someone we could put to use.”
Ning Yi spoke of this with a smile.
Since the end of the southwestern campaign, the Chinese Army had faced, on one hand, a rapidly expanding territory, and on the other, a sharp decline in its own troop numbers. Before last year’s Chengdu conference, the various armies had first devoted themselves fully to reorganizing the surrendered troops — keeping those who could be used, disbanding those who couldn’t, and punishing those with serious past crimes. After the Chengdu conference, they’d moved into a phase of rallying support and training new recruits.
Throughout this process, the Fifth Army’s core territory had remained anchored around the Chengdu Plain down to Jiange, while, since the southwestern campaign had finally wound down at Hanzhong, the Chinese Army had gained an additional stretch of territory running from Jiange toward Hanzhong, straight through to the Han River — a corridor for trade and a potential future staging ground for campaigns, currently under the Seventh Army’s watch.
The Seventh Army had lost more than half its strength in the Battle of Hanzhong, and afterward, aside from absorbing some of Wang Zhainan’s elite troops, hadn’t undergone any large-scale expansion. It wasn’t until this spring that Lu Qiaoshan led a reorganized and retrained force of over twelve thousand men to join the Seventh Army.
Within the Chinese Army, there was, in truth, a fair amount of disdain for these troops who had surrendered and been reorganized. After all, the Chinese Army had long built its reputation on defeating larger forces with smaller ones, its record outstanding — the Seventh Army especially, having crushed Zonghan and Xiyin’s western army of over two hundred thousand with just over twenty thousand men, already carried something of the aura of the finest army under heaven. They’d rather take on eager new recruits fresh to the army than deal with Wu Dynasty Han troops with a stain of having once defected to the enemy.
Yet once these twelve thousand men had arrived, been reorganized and dispersed, and gone through some time in the field, the Seventh Army’s officers found that the men assigned to them were, if anything, probably the most usable portion of all the surrendered troops. Most of them had been through the life-and-death trials of the battlefield already, and whatever mistrust they’d carried toward those around them had, after half a year of reshaping, largely eased. There was still room for further adjustment, but they were, without question, far more useful than raw recruits.
On another front, as part of the Chinese Army’s outward-facing extension, the Seventh Army’s current territory had, over the past two years, taken on the main responsibility for diplomacy, trade, and logistics. These specific matters weren’t, of course, led by the military itself, but the Seventh Army still had a considerable role to play in them — and the whole force’s style tended to be too blunt, too hard-edged; excellent at killing and taking cities, but not much good at handling relations with the people around them smoothly. After several rounds of discussion between Ning Yi and Qin Shaoqian, they’d sent Lu Qiaoshan over — this seemingly soft-spoken but sharply focused surrendered Wu Dynasty general — to take charge of part of this work, which had noticeably cut down on complaints from the merchant community.
“…There were a few reasons behind sending Lu Qiaoshan over there, and so far it seems to be working out well — take a look at this draft.” Ning Yi said, opening the drawer beside him and handing Qin Shaoqian two sheets of paper.
Qin Shaoqian took them and skimmed them over. One was a draft proposal for establishing a second wave of recovery hospitals across various regions for the wounded from the previous great campaign, along with improved benefits for troops. The other was a plan concerning the tightening of military discipline — one that looked steady and even-handed on the surface, but in truth carried a distinct undertone of bloodshed both inside and out.
“When are you planning to announce this?”
“Give it another two months,” Ning Yi said. “Since ancient times, whichever army controls the customs points along foreign trade routes always reaps the richest profits. After we defeated the Jurchens last year, we had a stretch of relative calm — the wounded were recuperating, the army was being reorganized — but the temptation is coming now. The Seventh Army hasn’t reacted to it yet, but that doesn’t mean they never will. Those two disciplinary violations you handled at the end of last year were basically outright robbery — thank goodness no one was killed. But you know the men under your command — once they start realizing how good the money can be, they won’t be shy about killing to keep it.”
Qin Shaoqian set the papers aside and nodded.
“So I sent Lu Qiaoshan’s people over there, along with those who were reorganized in… those are genuinely good soldiers, but there are some ringleaders among them who’ve seen the world before — last year’s reorganization might not have been enough to keep them steady. Now that they’ve landed somewhere with real opportunity, they’re getting restless again… I know there’s also grumbling within the Seventh Army itself, that these surrendered troops coming in are eating into their share of the profits. Well, those very profits are about to become a chopping block. They’re the chickens killed to warn the monkeys — without those chickens, we’d have to start executing our own war heroes against the Jurchens instead.”
“That’s the right call — needs to be done,” Qin Shaoqian said. “Though we can’t kill them all either — from last year into this year, I’ve had a few under my own command start getting ideas too. In a couple months, we’ll do a joint rectification campaign together.”
“Mm.” Ning Yi nodded with a smile. “That’s really what I wanted to discuss with you today — how the Seventh Army handles its own rectification is still something you all need to work out yourselves. No matter what, going forward, the Chinese Army’s principle has to be: the military only fights and follows orders, and is never to be involved in politics or business — that has to be the absolute highest principle. Whoever reaches their hand out where it doesn’t belong, that hand gets cut off. But outside of combat, we can be generous with open, legitimate benefits — I’ll bleed myself dry to make sure they live well.”
“Poor Lu Qiaoshan, left holding that particular bag… though I can tell you’ve genuinely taken him in.” Qin Shaoqian said with a smile, then added, “I hear you might be about to move against Li Rulai?”
“Lu Qiaoshan has backbone, and real ability. Li Rulai’s different,” Ning Yi said. “He surrendered on the eve of battle, made some contribution, but not a major one. Most importantly, we can’t let people think that arson and murder followed by amnesty is somehow acceptable. Li Rulai… word going around outside is that I’m cracking down on people like them — but the truth is, we’ve taken them in, and now it’s up to them to demonstrate their real worth. If they’ve got nothing positive to offer, they should gracefully step aside — I’ll see to it they get a peaceful end. But if they don’t realize this, I’ll have every last one of them cleared out within two years.”
“Not worried about people saying we’re kicking away the ladder once we’ve climbed up?”
“The whole point of a political system is to keep this ship of ours sailing steady. Loyalty and brotherhood are things you show for other people’s benefit. The day you and I become useless, we ought to be removed too… Of course — that’s how it should be.”
Qin Shaoqian laughed, offering a different view. “Looking good matters too, though.”
Ning Yi thought this over and nodded, genuinely convinced. He looked at the half-finished manuscript on the desk and let out a sigh.
“Honestly, recent events have really worn me down. We’ve defeated the enemies we could see — but the invisible ones have already got their hands in. The army’s one thing; Chengdu’s another matter entirely these days. Ever since we beat the Jurchens last year, huge numbers of people have been pouring into the southwest — by this April, over twenty thousand scholars have arrived here. Since we’ve allowed open debate, the newspapers are full of sharp back-and-forth, and some common ground has emerged — but honestly, in some areas, we’re barely holding our own.”
Ning Yi spoke of this half-sighing, half-laughing. “These men — they’ve spent their whole lives living off the pen. Their essays are polished, balanced, packed with classical allusions, and every one of them argues that the Chinese Army’s system of the four classes has gone wrong somewhere. In some respects, they genuinely win people over — some of our own students, sitting down to debate with them, come away feeling like they’ve heard something truly eye-opening.”
“Didn’t you say from the very start this would happen?” Qin Shaoqian laughed.
“Different arguments will fuse together through the clash of debate, and eventually find some path forward that most people can accept — I knew that would happen. But when it actually arrives, it’s still exhausting, you know. We’ve rallied the lower classes through theater, vernacular writing, newspapers — but the lower classes can’t write essays, can they? The students our crash-courses have produced don’t have a fully developed enough system yet — not many of them are sharp enough with a pen to go head-to-head with those great scholars. Most of the time, the only ones we can really put forward are people like Yong Jinnian, Li Shishi…”
Ning Yi tapped his fingers on the manuscript and laughed. “So I’ve had to go into the fray myself, anonymously, day after day — sometimes I even rope Yun Zhu in as extra manpower. But honestly, in this tug-of-war, we’re nowhere near as dominant as we are on the battlefield. Overall, we’re actually at a disadvantage — the only reason we haven’t been routed entirely is thanks to our having beaten the Jurchens on the battlefield.”
Qin Shaoqian’s brow furrowed, his expression growing serious. “Actually, a few of the tutors under my own command hold views along these lines too — that opening up the newspapers in Chengdu, letting everyone debate politics, policy, and so on, shouldn’t have been done. Looking across every dynasty in history, unifying thought has always been one of the most important things a ruler can do. Letting a hundred flowers bloom might look impressive, but in practice it only breeds chaos. As far as I know, thanks to the military drills during last year’s parade, security in Chengdu itself has held up fine — but in several of the surrounding cities, gangs have been stirred up into private feuds, even a few homicides, and there’s some influence from this in that.”
“‘A hundred flowers blooming brings chaos’ — that’s not wrong. But the real question with unifying thought is: unify around what thought. In past dynasties, once they were established, they simply took existing ideas and put them to use — and in the chaos of those times, those ideas actually did develop further. Here, what I’m hoping is that our own thinking can push a few steps further still — but stability can wait until later; we can afford to go a bit slower. Of course, right now it really does feel like ants trying to drag a cart wheel forward with everything they’ve got. Old Qin, aren’t you Confucian-trained yourself? You used to play the fool while hiding your talents — now that your brother’s in a bind, why not lend a hand with the writing too?”
“Pity my elder brother isn’t here — his pen was the sharp one.” Qin Shaoqian said, with a note of regret.
“If your father and elder brother were still here, they’d be my greatest enemies of all,” Ning Yi said, shaking his head, tapping the newspaper on the desk. “What I’m writing to refute today is this very piece. You talk about equality among all people, and he cites the classics to argue that people are born unequal by nature. You talk about social progress, and he simply points out that Wang Mang’s reforms failed a thousand years ago, telling you that moving too fast will get you into trouble — argument and evidence, all present and accounted for… This piece really does read exactly like something Old Qin would write.”
Qin Shaoqian picked up the newspaper and looked it over.
“Sun Yuan… that’s an old family friend I met once, isn’t it? Must be in his seventies by now — came all this way to Chengdu?”
“You see? Exactly like this…” Ning Yi shrugged, picked up his brush. “The old fossil — I’m going to write something really cutting, drive him to distraction.”
“These old scholars have remarkable self-restraint. Once they find out the rebuttal was written by you personally, they won’t get angry no matter how much you insult their ancestors eighteen generations back — they’ll only get more excited, eager to sit down and debate you properly. After all, that’s a direct exchange with Master Ning himself — something to brag about to their whole clan…”
“That’s exactly why I write anonymously,” Ning Yi said with a sly grin.
“They’ll figure out it’s you anyway…” Qin Shaoqian muttered.
“…If you’re going to talk sense, talk more of it.”
“No, I mean — since we’re at a disadvantage overall, why not use a few more private methods? Just grinding it out head-on like this? In every past dynasty, especially at the founding of a new one, people like this were simply killed.”
“The continuity of a system of thought is a law you can’t violate. If killing them could really settle it, I’d honestly be tempted to just throw out my own ideas and spend a few decades forcing everyone to accept the new thinking wholesale. But…” he sighed, “in practical terms, we can only go slowly — using the old ways of thinking as our starting point, changing one part at a time, then another, until eventually it’s transformed beyond recognition. But that process can’t be skipped…”
“But in the past, they could just kill them off…”
“Because in the past, every ruler’s so-called new ideas, whatever reforms they carried out, were always still grounded in the old Confucian framework.”
“You…”
“I’m like Wang Mang — born already knowing. So the advanced ideas I hold can only be handled this way.”
Ning Yi stood up, waved a hand, made a half-joking, half-shameless remark, then refilled his own teacup with hot water. “It’s fine, really. Debate calls for citing the classics, sure, but it’s also grounded in real-world results. A few more years, and once the achievements of natural science spread widely, once we win a few more battles on the battlefield, our disadvantage in the debate will naturally turn into an advantage. And that process will itself be a process of everyone being gradually influenced. There’s still hope. For now, though… well, a man can only grit his teeth and hold on.”
He said all this with an air of optimism, blew on his freshly poured tea by the table’s edge — and just as he finished speaking, his secretary came in from outside, handing him an urgent report. Ning Yi glanced at it, and his whole face darkened. He set his teacup down hard.
“What happened?” Qin Shaoqian stood up.
“…Go prepare the carriage and escort. To the Leshan Institute…” Ning Yi said, handing the report over to Qin Shaoqian. Once the secretary had left the study, Ning Yi flung his teacup against the wall with a crash, sending shards flying.
“This is exactly what I was talking about…”
These past days, between family troubles and all manner of trivial matters, Ning Yi’s mood had honestly been none too good. The problems Ning Ji would face out in the world — Qin Shaoqian had only just spoken of them, but Ning Yi understood them just as well himself — and now, on top of it all, this bad news had arrived, finally provoking him into venting in front of Qin Shaoqian.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about… just like over in Chengdu — I laid out an entire set of safety standards for their factories, and they thought it was all too elaborate, unnecessary, kept cutting corners! People die, and they practically think it’s acceptable — call it a rare, peaceful age, since there are plenty more workers pouring into the southwest anyway, more than enough to spare! I set up traveling courts with rule after rule, standard after standard, and they think it’s all too fussy, that I’m playing at being some upright magistrate! Praised from top to bottom, all of it!”
“And now look — the Leshan Institute, the strictest safety protocols anywhere, that I put in place myself! Not enough people had died yet, so they thought it was excessive — and now, look what’s happened! The prototype boiler’s blown itself to pieces, and Lin Jingwei’s been critically injured in the blast! This is exactly what I’ve been saying — ants dragging a cart wheel forward. You hand them something good, and nobody appreciates it — every safety standard, every law and regulation, has to be written in blood before anyone takes it seriously. You try to spare them even a little of that, and they won’t have it—”
“All right, all right, no need to get so worked up.” Qin Shaoqian came over and patted his shoulder. “The problem hasn’t even been confirmed yet, has it?”
“It’s almost certainly it — it’s got to be. How many incidents like this have there been lately!” Ning Yi gathered up his things, tidying the half-finished manuscript, and as he was about to head out, he suddenly remembered. “I was actually planning to go console Xiao Chan about all this too…”
“Then don’t go to Leshan for now — get someone else to handle it.”
Ning Yi thought it over. “…No, I’ll still go. We’ll talk again once I’m back. By the way, you’re heading back today too, aren’t you?”
“Mm.” The two of them walked out together, Qin Shaoqian nodding. “I’m planning to stop by the First Ordnance Works — the new rifling’s been drawn, and a batch of rifles has come out. Going to take a look.”
“This batch of rifling’s decent, relatively stable now, from what I hear. We’re headed different directions — see you another time, then.”
“I’ll walk with you a bit further, so you don’t get too sentimental about parting.”
“I wasn’t feeling sentimental about you in the first place.”
The carriage and escort had already been readied quickly. Ning Yi and Qin Shaoqian left the courtyard — it was around three in the afternoon by then, with everyone who had work to do already at it, and the children off at school. Tan’er and Hongti hurried back in from outside, and Ning Yi filled them in on the whole situation. “…Where’s Xiao Chan?”
“Out at the market with some people, buying things. Should we call her back?”
“…” Ning Yi was silent for a moment. “Never mind. I’ll comfort her once I’m back.”
“Boys reach an age where they have to go out into the world. Parents worry, sure, but it’s nothing they can’t get through,” Tan’er said with a smile. “No need to console her over it.”
“…Still ought to, though… never mind. We’ll sort it out once I’m back.”
He climbed into the carriage and took his leave of everyone.
The carriage train set off. Jostled along in the carriage, he managed to more or less finish the manuscript, and once his head had cleared a little, it occurred to him that what had happened at the Leshan Institute was probably not simply a matter of failing to follow safety protocols. The operating procedures at Chengdu’s many factories had already been quantified to the point where a whole standardized process could reasonably be fixed in place. But research work was always venturing into new territory — often the standards simply couldn’t be pinned down in advance, and excessive rigidity, in that context, could actually stifle innovation instead.
Since defeating the Jurchens last year, the southwest had gained the standing to carry out large-scale trade with the outside world, and in the research community, people had optimistically said, “Finally, we can start building some of the big projects.” And yet now, of all things, the number-two prototype steam engine had ended up exploding, with Lin Jingwei critically injured in the blast — genuinely maddening, a bunch of people too eager for glory, too careless.
He thought of his son, who’d run off from home today — where was Ning Ji now? Had Qin Weiwen caught up with him yet? What would the two of them say to each other? Would his second son be fooled by that letter of his and simply decide to come home after all, staying put for good? Rationally speaking, that wouldn’t actually be a good thing — but emotionally, he found himself half-hoping Ning Ji would just give up on leaving altogether. It was a feeling he’d never quite had before in this life.
Thinking of Ning Ji naturally brought Xiao Chan to mind too — he really should have comforted her more this morning. In truth, he hadn’t been able to find the right words to console her, hadn’t known quite what to say, and so had used the backlog of work these past few days as an excuse to put it off, originally planning to deal with it tonight, with something like “Let’s have another child” to ease her sorrow through words and actions both — only for this business at Leshan to come up instead.
On a larger scale, it was still these formless enemies that troubled him more than anything. In his past life, running a company, all he’d needed to worry about was economic performance. In this life, waging war, all he’d needed to do was kill his enemies. But now, the enemy had become something formless — he could kill any visible spokesman for an idea, but if the new way of thinking he put forward wasn’t genuinely understood by people, then any so-called truth remained nothing more than dogma, its greatest use reduced to nothing more than a weapon people would wield to kill each other in one political struggle after another.
For new ways of thinking to take root, they needed to be argued over, debated — through debate, ideas fused into something new. But no one could guarantee what shape that new thinking would ultimately take, and even if he killed everyone who opposed him, he still could never fully control how it turned out.
The carriage rolled on toward Leshan, and amid the jostling, he gradually drifted off to sleep. Once he arrived at his destination, there would still be a great deal of work waiting for him.