The southwest. Chengdu.
Just past noon, the bright June sunlight fell across the tree-lined path beside Moha Lake, the muggy air ringing with the cicadas of late summer. Lin Qiu walked along the sparsely populated road, heading toward Fengyin Hall.
This was the twelfth of the sixth month in the second year of the Huaxia calendar — an unremarkable day amid the daily grind of work. Lin Qiu was thirty-one, one of the Huaxia Army’s most accomplished young officers.
He’d joined the Huaxia Army back in the Little Cangriver period, gone through the first batch of young-officer training, seen combat on the battlefield, and, thanks to his skill in handling detailed administrative matters, had passed through the secretariat, the General Staff, the intelligence department, the commerce department, and more. In short, from age twenty-five onward, owing to his sharp, expansive way of thinking, he’d mostly worked in the core departments under Ning Yi’s direct control, becoming one of his most trusted aides for a stretch of time.
Though in the army’s early founding years, talent had generally been shuffled around wherever needed, having touched a bit of everything still made for an impressive résumé among his peers. In the later stages of the southwestern campaign, when Ning Yi negotiated with Zonghan and Gao Qingyi at the Lion Ridge front, the man he’d kept at his side to relay his intentions had been Lin Qiu, precisely for his agile mind and exceptional adaptability.
After the Huaxia Army defeated the Jurchens and threw open its doors to sell off technology in auction-style deals and expand trade routes, Lin Qiu had handled several of the most important negotiations in that process. Once that was done, as Chengdu entered its phase of major development, he took a deputy directorship at the Chengdu Commerce Bureau, overseeing the detailed work of industrial and commercial development. Since Huaxia Army territory at the time was confined to the southwest, with Chengdu as its core, his work, in effect, often reported directly to Ning Yi.
After the founding of the Huaxia People’s Government, Ning Yi maintained two working locations in Chengdu: one was the chairman’s office near the People’s Government building in the city’s north, mainly for meetings, gathering personnel, and handling major state affairs in a concentrated fashion; the other was Fengyin Hall, here beside Moha Lake.
Now that the People’s Government’s work had settled into a routine, Ning Yi no longer needed to be stationed here at all times. He spent roughly half the year in Chengdu, and barring major deviations in schedule, would usually spend mornings at the government office and afternoons back at Fengyin Hall. Matters that didn’t require too many hands were often handled by summoning people here.
Other department heads also typically kept offices near Fengyin Hall, though it generally wasn’t too bustling. Passing through the main gate, the spacious roof cutting off the summer heat, he walked familiarly down the corridor to the side hall where visitors waited to be received. No one else was in the side hall; the secretary outside told him two people were ahead of him, though one had already stepped out to use the restroom.
The side hall’s room was spacious but without any luxurious furnishings. Through the open window, the flowering trees outside glowed pleasantly in the sunlight. Lin Qiu poured himself a cup of cool water and sat down to read the newspaper, and it seemed no fourth visitor would be arriving, meaning there wasn’t much on the afternoon’s agenda.
Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside — probably the friend who’d gone to the restroom. He looked up, and the figure approaching the door glanced this way too before stepping in — someone he knew.
Hou Yuanyong walked in, rubbing his hands together with a smile. “Brother Lin, heh heh heh heh…” For some reason, he couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning.
“Yuanyong. Sit.”
Hou Yuanyong was a few years younger than him, but also came from an old Huaxia Army family — practically family of the very first generation of soldiers. As an adult he’d mostly worked in the intelligence department; unlike most of his colleagues there, he had a rather offbeat personality, occasionally cracking odd jokes, but he’d never caused trouble and was counted among the Huaxia Army’s most trusted core members.
“Heh heh, Brother Lin.” Hou Yuanyong sat down in the chair beside Lin Qiu. “You know what the hottest gossip going around lately is?”
Lin Qiu gave him an amused look. “Don’t want to know.”
“It’s like this,” Hou Yuanyong said with a grin. “Tell me, who’s the fiercest person in the whole Huaxia Army? The one the Jurchens fear most…”
“That’d be me, probably?” Chatting with someone from the intelligence department who talked nothing but nonsense meant you couldn’t let yourself get pulled along by his rhythm, so Lin Qiu thought it over and answered with a straight face.
Hou Yuanyong ignored his answer entirely. “It’s Sister Juan’er.”
“Ah…”
“The one the Jurchens fear most — it should be Sister Juan’er.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ehehehe, there’s a story here…” Hou Yuanyong leaned in with a grin. “The year before last, in the thick of the southwestern campaign, Ning Ji was helping out at the wounded soldiers’ central camp. Later, a bunch of fools raided the camp, trying to kidnap him. When word got back, Sister Juan’er got furious. She told Peng Yueyun, this won’t do — if they’re going after children, then I’ll have Zonghan’s children killed too. Little Peng, put out a bounty for me, I want both of Zonghan’s sons dead…”
Hou Yuanyong’s voice rang out in the quiet hall. “The bounty went out — and then what happened? Everyone knows… Zonghan lost the battle but didn’t die himself. His two sons — not a single one got away. Heh heh heh heh… so, isn’t Sister Juan’er the fiercest of all?”
Lin Qiu thought about it. “You people and your nonsense…”
“The Chairman made the joke himself, heh heh heh heh… anyway, I’m off.” Hou Yuanyong patted his arm and stood to leave. Lin Qiu shook his head with a wry smile. In theory, gossiping about the leadership and those around him wasn’t exactly appropriate, but over these past years the Huaxia Army’s core circle had all gone hungry together, charged into battle together, and hadn’t grown too precious about such things — and Hou Yuanyong wasn’t entirely oblivious either; from the casual way he’d brought it up, this joke was probably already fairly popular back at Zhang Village.
Since they crossed paths often enough, sometimes even running into each other at the mess hall, Hou Yuanyong didn’t bother with formal parting words like “see you later” or “let’s grab a meal.”
Not long after Hou Yuanyong left, the second visitor also came out — and it turned out to be exactly the Peng Yueyun that Hou Yuanyong had mentioned earlier. Peng Yueyun was one of the surviving seeds of the destroyed Western Army — young, loyal, reliable. After the founding of the People’s Government, he too had entered the intelligence department, but where Hou Yuanyong handled the compilation, categorization, analysis, and organization of intelligence, Peng Yueyun was directly involved in commanding and coordinating the espionage network. If Hou Yuanyong’s work could be called rear-echelon, Peng Yueyun’s touched on the front lines of espionage and counter-espionage. The two of them, in fact, hadn’t crossed paths in some time.
They exchanged smiles and greetings, a few pleasantries. Compared to Hou Yuanyong’s offbeat manner, Peng Yueyun was steadier, and the two didn’t chat long. Given that Hou Yuanyong handled intelligence and Peng Yueyun handled espionage and counter-espionage, combined with what Lin Qiu himself was currently working on, he began to form some guesses about what today’s meeting would concern.
A while later, he was received by Ning Yi in the room by the inner lake, and began reporting on the Commerce Bureau’s recent and upcoming work — beyond development around Chengdu, there was also the matter of Dai Mengwei, and the issue of merchants from outside buying up long-term contract workers.
“…At present, many of these factories are engaged in private dealings with outside parties, signing twenty or thirty-year contracts at extremely low wages… These people could become a serious hidden risk down the line. On top of that, people like Dai Mengwei, Liu Guangshi, and Wu Qimei may well have planted a large number of spies among these workers, intending to stir up trouble later. We’ve noticed that some newspapers are already saying the Huaxia Army claims to respect contracts, so let’s just see when we decide to break one…”
“…We think we need to prepare for this in advance… though there are concerns, of course — if we cut off these unreasonable long-term contracts all at once, it might discourage outside parties from sending people over so readily. After all, on our route out of Sichuan, Dai Mengwei still stands in the way. He’s promised not to block trade routes, but he might find every way possible to obstruct population migration instead… So what we’re currently considering is laying some groundwork first — raising the baseline gradually. For instance, we could require factories with these long-term contracts to provide certain protections for the workers, so they’re not exploited too severely. Once we’ve laid enough groundwork, we can gradually squeeze the room these unscrupulous merchants have to operate. In another year or two anyway, whether we’re marching out to war or otherwise, we probably won’t care much about whatever trouble Dai Mengwei causes…”
The Huaxia Army had long been aware of the issue of unscrupulous merchants, long-term contracts, and even spies planted among the workers. Though Lin Qiu had been assigned to oversee commerce, his grasp of the bigger picture hadn’t diminished at all. Of course, protecting these workers’ interests while still needing to attract a large influx of outside labor created some tension, and he’d spent considerable time working out some preliminary constraints to lay the groundwork.
He’d already submitted these ideas to Ning Yi before, and seeing Hou Yuanyong and Peng Yueyun here today as well, he guessed today’s meeting would touch on this area too.
Sure enough, from among several files, Ning Yi specifically pulled out the one on unscrupulous merchants, set it on the table, and listened to him at length, considering carefully. Once Lin Qiu finished speaking, he rested his hand on the document, fell silent for a moment, then spoke. “What I want to discuss with you today is exactly this. This is your main responsibility… let’s take a walk.”
“Yes, sir.” Lin Qiu stood, though a faint sense of puzzlement stirred in him. Having followed Ning Yi this long, he’d been through countless major events — even now, with countless things happening in and around Chengdu — the issue of unscrupulous merchants, even if it involved Dai Mengwei and touched on questions of contracts, theoretically had various solutions available. Given Ning Yi’s usual style, he’d typically settle such matters in a few short sentences. But the expression on his face right now carried a deeper gravity and wariness.
Leaving the room, Lin Qiu followed Ning Yi toward the lakeshore, sunlight scattering shade across the path, cicadas droning. It was an ordinary day, but even long afterward, Lin Qiu would remember every moment of it.
“There’s something I’ve thought about for a long time, and I’ve decided it still needs to be done. Only a few people will be involved. What I tell you today will leave no record afterward — it won’t leave a trace in history. You might even end up bearing blame for it. You and I will know what we’re doing, but if anyone asks, I won’t admit to it either.”
Ning Yi paused. Lin Qiu frowned slightly, then nodded and answered quietly: “Understood.”
“Regarding these unscrupulous merchants — you’re not to restrain them. You’re to encourage them.”
“Encourage them…”
“For these merchants colluding with outside parties, I want you to hold to a certain measure. Don’t crack down on them for now — recognize their contracts as valid, let them earn what they can earn. But at the same time, don’t let them run rampant either — bad money driving out good — keep some deterrent pressure on them… What I mean is, I want a clear divide formed among these manufacturers, between the lawful and the corrupt. Let the law-abiding ones earn their money, but let the problematic ones grow more reckless still — push them to squeeze their workers’ livelihoods even harder. Any thoughts on how to manage that?”
Lin Qiu thought for a moment, head down. “It sounds like… collusion between officials and merchants?”
“You can take a bit of money for it,” Ning Yi nodded. “There are two things you need to keep in mind. First, don’t disrupt legitimate merchants’ livelihoods — you should still actively encourage normal business activity. Second, don’t let those taking advantage get too comfortable either — carry out a few genuine crackdowns now and then to keep them on edge. Over two years, three at the most, I want you to drive them half mad. Most importantly, I want their methods of exploiting their workers to reach an absolute extreme.”
“…Dai Mengwei’s people will seize the opportunity to stir up trouble…”
“We’ll place our own people among them too — helping stir things up in the early stages, then controlling it in the later stages,” Ning Yi said. “You’ve followed me for several years now, and you understand my thinking fairly well. We’re still in the early founding period — as long as we keep winning battles, our internal strength will remain strong, which is why I can afford to let outsiders gossip and criticize freely. As for this nascent capital — merchants pursuing profit — they’re naturally profit-driven, but right now they still have reservations about us. Left to develop naturally toward pure profit-madness, with their workers reduced to utter destitution, that could take at least eight or ten years — maybe longer, if a few conscientious officials show up along the way. Workers who signed thirty-year contracts might well live out their whole lives under such terms…”
“I don’t want to wait that long. Two years, three at most — I want genuine resentment stirred up in these workers’ hearts. Dai Mengwei’s people will naturally help us cause trouble, stirring up the workers. But in the later stage, our own people need to give them a way out. I want it to end in a march, not a full-scale riot. Once they’ve done something like that, they’ll discover their resistance actually worked — we’ll correct the injustices of the past… I want to spend three years establishing, in their hearts, the thesis of civil rights among the four classes of people.”
Sunlight fell, the lake rippling with light, a breeze drifting past, cicadas droning around them. No one would ever know this conversation had taken place.
“Some people will die. In the historical record to come, it will be an undeniable conclusion that the people’s own awakening and struggle brought all of this about. You’ll get no credit for it — and if you make a wrong move, I may not even be able to protect you. Think it over — decide whether you want to take this on.”
Lin Qiu considered it, weighed the methods involved, and gave an answer that, naturally, held no suspense.
After Lin Qiu left, Shishi came in.
That afternoon, stealing a quiet moment from the day’s business, they did some intimate things together, after which Ning Yi told her the outline of a story called “The White-Haired Girl”…