“Four people made it back from the north in total.”

Lights glowed in the courtyards along the street, spilling faint illumination onto the road; in the distance, the sounds of children running about, roosters crowing, and dogs barking could be heard. Ning Yi and his party walked along the road at the edge of Zhang Village, Peng Yueyun walking beside him, speaking in a low voice about Tang Minjie.

“…Besides Tang Minjie, there’s a woman — the younger sister of a regiment commander named Luo Ye. She’s suffered a great deal of torment and isn’t quite right in the head anymore; she’s been left temporarily in Hanzhong. There are also two skilled Han fighters, one named Yu Shuinan, the other Wei Su — rivers-and-lakes men in the north who worked under that Lady Han.”

“…Once the four of them turned up in Hanzhong, a first round of questioning was carried out. Tang Minjie… made a full confession. In Yunzhong, it was he who broke discipline and identified Lady Han to the enemy, deliberately stirring up conflict between the eastern and western courts. As for Lady Han — she saved him, handed Luo Ye’s sister over to him, forcing him to return south, and secretly sent Yu Shuinan and Wei Su to escort the two of them down…”

“Because of how complicated this matter is, Hanzhong split the four of them up — two men were sent to escort Tang Minjie back to Chengdu, while Yu Shuinan and Wei Su were escorted by a separate team, arriving in Chengdu within half a day of each other. I’ve conducted a preliminary interrogation and rushed the records over… The conflict between the eastern and western Jurchen courts is already the talk of every newspaper in Chengdu, though no one yet knows the details behind it. Yu Shuinan and Wei Su have been placed under protective confinement for the time being.”

Ning Yi and Peng Yueyun walked in front, with Hongti and Lin Jingmei chatting behind them. Once Peng Yueyun had finished his account of Tang Minjie, Ning Yi glanced at him. “A preliminary interrogation… and you don’t already know what came out of it?”

“Tang…” Peng Yueyun hesitated, then continued, “…Senior Brother has confessed to everything, and there’s not much conflict with what Yu Shuinan and Wei Su say. In fact, from Yu and Wei’s perspective, they wanted to kill Senior Brother — and as for the man himself…”

Peng Yueyun fell silent for a moment. “He doesn’t seem… like he wants to go on living.”

The words were spoken lightly, but there was a faint bitterness in them by the end. Men die with hearts of iron — the Huaxia Army was full of hard men who faced death without flinching, and Peng Yueyun had long grown used to that. But with Tang Minjie alone — a man who had endured unspeakable torture on his own body and survived, and yet had, because of what he himself had done, come to wish for death — it was this unresolvable contradiction that stirred something even in such an offhand account.

Ning Yi walked on in silence as well, his eyes drifting to the darkness at the far edge of the village.

“Yu Shuinan and Wei Su said they carried a message from Lady Han, but they had no token on them to prove it.”

“That’s right.” Peng Yueyun nodded. “Before they left, the lady only had them bring that one line — that Tang Minjie’s talents were of use to the realm, and asked that he be allowed to live. Yu and Wei once asked her about a token — whether she wanted to send us a letter — and the lady said there was no need. She said… it didn’t matter if the message couldn’t be delivered, and it didn’t matter if there was no proof at all if she died… All of this has been recorded…”

In the darkness, Ning Yi’s footsteps slowed, and he drew a deep breath. Both he and Peng Yueyun, of course, understood exactly what lay behind Chen Wenjun’s refusal to leave any token. Using such methods to stir conflict between the eastern and western courts served the greater cause of resisting the Jurchens, but the moment the details of how it had been done came out, they would inevitably face condemnation for how brutal Tang Minjie’s methods had been.

Judgment from later generations was, in a way, the lesser concern. With the Jin state not yet destroyed, if this affair became known now, it could well spark a war of words over the Huaxia Army’s willingness to sacrifice an ally. And by leaving behind no token at all, Chen Wenjun had made it so the Huaxia Army could deny or maneuver around the whole affair with a clean conscience — an utterly rational choice for the cause of resisting the Jurchens, but an extraordinarily merciless one toward herself.

“…What a shame.” Ning Yi spoke, his voice slightly hoarse. “Over ten years ago, when old Qin was imprisoned and handing over the affairs of the intelligence bureau, he told me about this hidden asset he’d planted among the Jurchen leadership… said she was pitiable, but not entirely controllable — she was the daughter of an old friend of his, who happened to end up in that position. He’d meant to bring her back one day…”

“The old man said, if it were ever possible, he hoped she’d have a good ending. A good ending, my ass… Now look at her, so noble and selfless, and what Tang Minjie has done — what does that even amount to. What do any of us amount to—”

His last words came out heavy with anger, and Hongti and Lin Jingmei, walking behind, couldn’t help but look up at him.

After a moment to compose himself, the group continued on. Before long, having left the riverbank behind, they found the road busier with pedestrians, mostly people returning from the wedding feast. Seeing Ning Yi and Hongti, they came over to greet them.

That was as far as the discussion of Tang Minjie’s case could go with Peng Yueyun for the night. That evening, Ning Yi, Su Tan’er and the others sat and talked with Lin Jingmei about her relationship, and the next morning, when Peng Yueyun was called in again, Ning Yi finally told him, “Find a time to come formally ask for Jingmei’s hand.”

He added with a sigh, “This will be the first time I’ve married off a daughter… it’s really something.”

Thinking back on it, Ning Yi’s heart had, in truth, always been unusually cold in certain ways. Years ago, when he’d gone up to the capital following old Qin, recruiting men under the banner of the intelligence bureau, the many skilled fighters of the rivers and lakes had, in his eyes, been little more than cannon fodder. Among the men he’d recruited back then were upright figures like Tian Donghan and “Five Phoenix Blade” Lin Nian, as well as men of darker reputation like Chen Tuozi — it had made no difference to him. Control people through scheming, drive them with self-interest, that was all there was to it.

Who could have known that, along the way, so many of these people had fallen by the wayside, and that, in his heart, they had gradually come to matter to him. Back during the first Jurchen invasion south, Lin Nian had fought on the battlefield until she’d given everything she had, and Ning Yi had taken that yellow-haired girl in as his adopted daughter. In the blink of an eye, that little girl was now twenty-four or twenty-five. Fortunately, she hadn’t foolishly kept pining after that He Wen fellow, and now that she could be with Peng Yueyun — a descendant of martyrs of the Western Army, and now a capable administrator in his own right — Ning Yi finally felt he’d lived up to the trust Lin Nian had placed in him back then.

“I’ll look into Tang Minjie’s case personally once I’m back in Chengdu,” Ning Yi said. “You’re granted two days off here — settle the arrangements ahead with Jingmei and her Aunt Su and the others. Jingmei’s work can be transferred to Chengdu going forward too.”

“Chairman, about Tang Minjie, he…”

“I know he saved your life once, back then. Don’t concern yourself with his case any further.”

“…Understood.”

All three boys of the household were away from Zhang Village now — Ning Xi and Chuyi had gone to Chengdu, Ning Ji had run away from home, and the third son, Ning He, had been sent to the countryside to toughen up — leaving only a few of the lovely daughters at home.

That morning, after seeing off the daughters headed to school, and once he’d finished meeting with Peng Yueyun, Lin Jingmei, and a few others, settling the matters at hand, it was already nearly noon. Ning Yi boarded a carriage bound for Chengdu, waving goodbye to Tan’er, Xiao Chan, Hongti, and the rest. The carriage carried a few winter garments meant for Ning Xi and Chuyi, along with a roast chicken that Ning Xi loved — a small symbol of maternal affection.

He handled government business in the carriage, finalizing the agenda for the next day’s meeting. He finished off the roast chicken. In the spare moments between his work, he thought over the question of what to do about Tang Minjie, without reaching a decision.

Just as Peng Yueyun had said, Ning Yi had something to worry about nearly every single day. The matter of Tang Minjie could only really be counted as one small item among many.

He arrived in Chengdu near midnight, and gave instructions to the secretariat for the next day’s meeting. The following morning began with a briefing from the secretariat on recent developments, followed by several meetings — one on deaths at a mine, one on new crop research at the farming estates, and one on how to respond to the new situation following the conflict between the Jurchens’ eastern and western courts. This last meeting had already been held several times; it mainly concerned the positioning of forces in the Jin region and around Liangshan. Given the great distance involved, meddling too freely risked amounting to little more than armchair strategizing. But with the situation around Bian Liang also poised to shift, opening up more channels to strengthen material support for the Liangshan forces could still meaningfully increase their room to maneuver going forward.

“At the current stage, the only real stepping-stone for materially supporting Liangshan is still the Jin region. But according to the latest intelligence, the Lady Chancellor there has decided to place her bet on Zou Xu in the coming Central Plains war. We’re bound to run into a problem sooner or later — this Chancellor Lou may well be willing to spare enough grain to keep our people in Liangshan alive, but she’s unlikely to want to see the Liangshan forces grow any stronger…”

“Can we talk to He Wen’s side about it?”

“Given how He Wen operates, even if he were willing to work with us on this, it’s unlikely he could restore large-scale production within the next year… Right now he’s got his eye on swallowing up Lin’an.”

“The young emperor’s side has seaships, and they’ve kept hold of some assets in the field of Investigating Things. If he’s willing, he might be able to supply some grain and weapons.”

“Even if the young emperor’s willing to give something, Liangshan has nothing to trade with — how would that work?”

“Borrow against our own credibility?”

“Don’t forget Wang Shanyue is the young emperor’s man — even if the young emperor can spare something, he’ll obviously support Wang Shanyue first… Still, though the odds aren’t great, we should hand off negotiating power on this front to Liu Chengzong and Zhu Biao’s forces, let them actively reach out to the little court in the southeast themselves. Whatever they end up owing the young emperor, we’ll honor it. That way, it’ll also be easier to negotiate on more equal footing with the Jin region.”

“But given Chancellor Lou’s temperament, wouldn’t this move risk provoking her instead? Give her an excuse to stop supporting Liangshan altogether?”

“The Lady Chancellor is a shrewd calculator, but putting on a show of outrage — that she’s certainly capable of. Fortunately, she’s the one who struck the deal with Zou Xu first, so we can go ahead and issue a round of criticism against her; if she flies off the handle over it later, we’ll have good grounds to point to. The technology transfer with the Jin region is still ongoing, after all, so she won’t push things too far…”

The room buzzed with discussion for a while, and eventually someone raised the question of whether to play along with Zou Xu and borrow passage through his territory temporarily. This suggestion was raised only as one option to consider objectively, and was dismissed after brief discussion.

Once the meeting ended, the decision to condemn Lou Shuwan was at least tentatively settled. Beyond a public rebuke, Ning Yi would also need to write her a private letter scolding her, and notify Zhan Wu and Xue Guangcheng to put on a show of outrage as well, to see if they could squeeze a bit of the supplies Lou Shuwan had sold to Zou Xu loose and redirect it to Liangshan.

In truth, the distance between the two sides was simply too great. If the balance between the Jurchens’ eastern and western courts had indeed already broken down, then judging by the temperaments of men like Liu Chengzong, Zhu Biao, and Wang Shanyue, their forces might already be preparing to move on their own. By the time the condemnation actually reached its target, an entire battle might well already be over. The Southwest could only do its best to offer what help it could from a distance, and trust that the people working the front lines would find ways to improvise.

The letter condemning Lou Shuwan wasn’t easy to write; it also included some analysis of Zou Xu’s character, so she wouldn’t end up cheated by him in their future dealings. By the time the letter was finished, it was nearly evening. With a bit of free time at last, Ning Yi boarded a carriage to go see Tang Minjie. Along the way, he found himself thinking, inevitably, of Zou Xu, Tang Minjie, Qu Zhengyan, Lin Qiu, Xu Shaoyuan, Peng Yueyun — all these young people he’d personally raised up himself.

In the years at Little Cangriver, Ning Yi had brought up no shortage of talented people, though it had really been those three brutal years of war that had tempered them most. Many originally promising young people had died along the way — Ning Yi still remembered many of them, could even recall the exact moments they had suddenly vanished amid one battle or another.

Of those who had survived, the most formidable now was, of course, Qu Zhengyan — though Ning Yi would readily admit that Qu Zhengyan’s gift for military strategy wasn’t something he himself could have taught; it was purely a wild, instinctive talent, drawn out by war itself. Beyond Qu Zhengyan, among the students who had survived that period, Ning Yi had once thought most highly of Zou Xu.

In the political arena — especially as a leader — Ning Yi knew this kind of favoritism toward one’s own proteges wasn’t a good thing. But having personally raised them, understanding them more deeply, finding them easier to work with — he couldn’t entirely escape treating the matter differently in his heart either, however much he might wish otherwise.

And among those students, Tang Minjie had never actually ranked among Ning Yi’s particular favorites. Back then, that chubby boy had tended to overthink things, and much of his thinking had run dark and, worse, useless — dark thinking in itself wasn’t necessarily a problem, but if it was useless as well, then, at least back then, Ning Yi hadn’t been inclined to invest much attention in him.

But in the brutal fighting that followed, Tang Minjie had survived, and under extreme conditions had pulled off two remarkably high-risk operations. His way of taking risks differed from Qu Zhengyan’s — Qu Zhengyan walked the tightrope in extreme situations, but subconsciously, his calculations were always sound underneath. Tang Minjie, by contrast, was closer to pure recklessness. And yet, being able to come up with a plan and take a decisive gamble under such extreme conditions was, in itself, a rare capability beyond what most people possessed — many people lose all reason under extreme pressure, or freeze up and refuse to make a choice at all, and that was the real mark of uselessness.

Later, when the Huaxia Army made its difficult retreat from Little Cangriver, the unit Tang Minjie served in as a staff officer ran into several dire situations, and he had led the rearguard, cutting off retreat when necessary, finally forcing out a path to survival — this was a genuine achievement to his credit. But it may have been because he’d been through so many extreme situations that, later on in Liangshan, his methods began to show signs of a violence bordering on brutality, which became something of a genuine headache for Ning Yi.

In the end, he’d had no choice but to send him north, to work alongside Lu Mingfang in operational execution.

In fact, thinking back carefully, if Tang Minjie’s operational ability hadn’t already been so formidable — almost mirroring many of Ning Yi’s own traits from years past — his excessive extremism in method probably wouldn’t have stood out so sharply in Ning Yi’s eyes either.

The carriage came to a stop outside a courtyard with light walls and grey tiles on the eastern side of the city — the same courtyard that had previously held Chen Shanjun, Li Ximing, and others under temporary guard. Ning Yi stepped down from the carriage; evening was drawing near, and sunlight fell into the walled courtyard, vines climbing the walls, moss gathering in the corners.

Tang Minjie was reading.

The room he was staying in had its window open, the setting sun slanting in through it, so that his figure, bent over his desk reading, was clearly visible. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, then stood.

Ning Yi crossed the courtyard and entered the room. Tang Minjie brought his legs together and raised a hand in salute — he was no longer the chubby boy of years past. There was a scar on his face, and at the corners of his tightly pressed lips, a twisted gap could be seen. His slightly narrowed eyes held both gravity and a rippling undercurrent of grief. The fingers raised in salute showed twisted, torn flesh; his thin frame, even standing as straight as he could manage, didn’t look much like a soldier’s — and yet there seemed to be something within it more unyielding than any soldier’s bearing.

Ning Yi returned the salute, looking at him gravely. For a long while he stood like that, before finally lowering his hand.

“The whole way here, I kept thinking. What you did — how is it any different from what Dai Mengwei does.”

“…There’s no difference. This disciple…” Tang Minjie only blinked, then answered in a calm voice, “What I have done is an unforgivable crime. Tang Minjie… admits his guilt, and submits to punishment. And as for being able to return here to face judgment, I feel… it’s good. I feel fortunate.” Tears rose in his eyes, and he smiled. “That’s all I have to say.”

“…” Ning Yi was silent for a moment, then finally drew a deep breath. “…Sit, then.”

Tang Minjie sat down, the setting sun falling through the open window onto his face.