Night fell, and lights gradually came alive within Chengdu’s city walls — first scattered points here and there, then gradually merging into sweeping lakes of light.
In the more than a decade since Ning Yi’s arrival had nurtured the fruits of natural philosophy, and following two years of explosive growth in Chengdu, this city had become one of the most singular places of its age.
The industrial districts on the city’s outskirts continued spreading ever further outward. Scattered points of lamplight showed that many workshops remained at work even into the night. With the Huaxia Army’s military industry at its core, the massive influx of newcomers had also ignited a surge in domestic demand within the city — cement, brick and stone, sand, firewood… every industry connected to construction and daily life was flourishing, and as the Huaxia Army opened up its technology for widespread sharing, countless merchants from elsewhere had begun putting down roots here, learning and advancing all manner of industrial and handicraft techniques.
Sichuan had long been known as a land of natural abundance, but in peaceful times, given the prosperity and flourishing of the Central Plains, it had at best been considered a pleasant place to retire. But now that the Central Plains and Jiangnan had both fallen and war raged everywhere, the Huaxia Army’s victory over the Jurchen western army had finally drawn in a great wave of wealthy gentry and merchants.
Commerce under the old Wu Dynasty had already been quite developed, and now, any merchant with any ambition or capital at all would think to come take a look at the Southwest. Once they saw the technology the Huaxia Army openly shared, most would end up investing something here, putting down roots. Because any merchant with foresight understood that even if they couldn’t make money in the Southwest right now, the technological accumulation and efficiency innovations happening here would determine the life or death of their entire trade in the future.
After two years of rapid development, block after block of industrial zones on the city’s outskirts still appeared somewhat chaotic, with crowded shantytowns in places, but the sight of such a massive concentration of people still gave off a strange sense of bustling vitality when the scattered lights merged together in the night.
Even among the industrial districts, large numbers of pedestrians moved about even after nightfall. At the city’s northern and southern edges, two glowing strands of light stretching into the distance formed a striking sight — these were the wooden cart-rail tracks completed just this year, built by laying wooden rails on a foundation of gravel and sand, with large wheeled carriages running along them, drawn by pack horses to haul heavy loads. The lanterns hung on these large freight wagons would, at night, form a stretch of orderly, glowing lights winding forward, a sight pleasing to behold.
These wooden rail carts had initially been dismissed by critics within the city as a flashy but useless “eccentric endeavor” — some considered it merely one of Ning Yi’s “peculiar habits.” Yet after several months in operation, the efficiency figures these large carts demonstrated in cargo transport had stunned everyone.
Using the same number of pack horses, the rail carts could easily pull twice the load at twice the speed; even now, newly deployed and having suffered several malfunctions, the rail carts’ cargo transport efficiency still exceeded that of ordinary freight carts by more than three times. Such figures had, for a time, made discussions of efficiency a hot topic across the city for months, and had greatly eased the bottleneck in cargo throughput that had followed the growth in efficiency and output across various trades outside the city.
The light from the outer factory districts came largely from overtime work at the factories, but crossing through the old, weathered city walls into the city’s inner core, the lantern-light along some of the bustling streets grew even denser. All manner of food stalls, theaters, restaurants, and teahouses converged to form the sprawling nightlife of this city. Old Confucian scholars and new Confucian scholars alike, dressed in long robes, debated loudly amid the buildings; the new intellectuals gathered in teahouse halls, reading newspapers and discussing current affairs. This was a city of transformation, with endless things to discuss, every single day.
Amid these bustling streets, pleasure boats drifted along the waterways, public carriages traveled between the city’s major districts, streams of light flowing like the city’s vital arteries, blood coursing ceaselessly through them. Some pedestrians carried lanterns, chatting leisurely as they strolled among the ancient trees; others were merchants hurrying about their business, or travelers newly arrived in this distinguished place… some ragged and alone, others in groups of three or five, calling out to friends, all gazing at the bustling night scene of the city, or at the strange sights along the streets, utterly astonished.
A fierce cultural clash was unfolding here.
As the two poles of this cultural conflict, one end naturally consisted of the city’s Confucian scholars. This was the elite bred by both the old culture and what remained the mainstream culture in substance — their basic characteristics typically included wearing elegant long robes, being advanced in age and virtue, speaking in classical allusions, minds that had grown extremely resistant to change; society generally referred to them as “old Confucians.”
Corresponding to the old Confucians were the relatively younger “new Confucians” — many of them disciples of the great scholars, students of the sages’ classics who still hoped that someday their learning would be put to use serving an emperor, bringing peace to all under heaven for ten thousand generations. But through their debates with the Huaxia Army, they had gradually absorbed some elements of efficiency-based, natural-philosophical thinking. In terms of outward appearance, these “new Confucians” often wore Huaxia Army-issue boots or shoes even while dressed in long robes; some of them also carried convenient graphite pencils and notebooks for writing on the go, and to accommodate this, they’d have more practical pockets sewn into their robes as well.
Corresponding to Confucian thinking, naturally, was the natural philosophy, Four Peoples doctrine, and dialectical materialist thinking that the Huaxia Army had always advocated — few people could clearly grasp the latter. Natural philosophy emphasized efficiency and empirical verification, human equality diminished notions of hierarchy, and dialectical materialism required that teleology and methodology work in tandem. In simple terms: Confucius’s teachings represented his own vision, in the Spring and Autumn period, of how to reach a Great Harmony society — limited by the constraints of “one time, one circumstance.” Anyone unable to see this teleological framing, who believed the Great Sage’s every word was absolute truth, who thought a single methodology applied universally to all matters, was, quite simply, a complete idiot…
The clash of cultural viewpoints was, of course, complex, and the external manifestation of thinking on the Huaxia Army’s side was largely embodied in that outfit sewn all over with pockets, the “short jacket.”
In the culture of the past, the elegant long robe had been a symbol of status and nobility, while short-cut clothing had largely belonged to lowly manual laborers. This was partly because cultured people could afford to move at a leisurely pace, to look elegant, and partly because the development of the textile industry meant that soft, drapey fabric tended to look best made into a long robe.
After Ning Yi’s uprising, he had first imposed a whole set of new demands on military uniforms, and the deep foundation of the Su family’s textile industry had risen to meet these needs; after over a decade of innovation and refinement, the Huaxia Army’s military uniforms today were sharp and handsome. This development had gradually extended into civilian clothing as well, giving rise to a wave of clean, practical, work-friendly “short” outfits that wouldn’t get caught on machinery — and these, too, had become a kind of symbol in this cultural confrontation.
In present-day Chengdu, the young people who championed Ning Yi’s Four Peoples thinking and efficiency-based mindset came primarily from the ranks of officers who had gone through the Huaxia Army’s training programs — whether military personnel or government civil servants, they didn’t tend to be particularly attached to the symbolism of clothing. But beyond this core group, on a broader social level, a large body of literate workers and managers capable of writing and doing arithmetic had rapidly become the main force in this ideological confrontation on the Huaxia Army’s side.
Among these people, some had once been down-on-their-luck impoverished scholars; more were ordinary people from poor families, along with a small number of low-status merchants and accountants. In the years since the Huaxia Army had broken out of Mount Liangshan, it had run all manner of training programs, absorbing people from society’s lowest rungs into its factories, enabling them to learn basic literacy and arithmetic. In this process, many bright individuals had been discovered through their work or study, and had then gone on to actively pursue further learning, gradually coming to understand the realities of the world.
The Huaxia Army’s training programs placed heavy emphasis on actual results, and those who rose to the top through them were of exceptional intelligence. As the Huaxia Army’s industrial foundation rapidly developed, these individuals gradually became figures who could hold their own in their respective fields — some had a deep understanding of assembly lines and efficient coordination, some made rapid breakthroughs in mathematics, and others worked out principles of management entirely on their own. These people began, of their own accord, contributing to the “theoretical legitimacy” of the Huaxia Army’s cause.
Their learning tended to be somewhat one-sided, and their attitudes correspondingly rather extreme, but through round after round of debate and argument, these “instant” intellectuals — shaped through work and life — had also been rapidly solidifying their own worldviews and logical frameworks. Their unified symbol was the Huaxia Army’s practical, pocket-covered short work uniform, and most of them, for the sake of convenience in work and grooming, had cut off their “hair received from their parents,” opting instead for a crew cut or even a shaved head — this, too, was among the things that often drew criticism in the city’s public debates.
In the course of fierce written debates, Ning Yi had deliberately smuggled in his own views through several anonymous articles, defining these people as “New Culturalists” — a term that had gradually gained public acceptance. Yet we still cannot know whether, in this age, this term would ultimately become a pejorative or a laudatory one.
Out of this two-poled conflict came even more strange and unconventional styles of dress appearing throughout the city.
The cultural clash was fierce and chaotic, knocked off the tracks of Confucianism yet not settling into any direction Ning Yi himself was familiar with either. New thinking and old culture tore at each other, though parts of them gradually began to merge as well, and all manner of strange and curious ideas kept emerging one after another.
But regardless, amid such fierce cultural debate and rapidly evolving development, the entirety of Chengdu now presented an air of being “at the center of the heavens and earth” — even the most staunchly conservative old Confucians could not help but admit that this place had now become the political and cultural center of the entire realm.
On this October night, a political and cultural storm was brewing over this city, leaving countless people whispering to each other, uneasy and apprehensive.
In the city’s north stood the most exclusive dining garden, named “Yingzhou.” Lanterns had already lit up in clever arrangement among the ancient pines and cypresses, the winding corridors and rockeries of the garden. At the quarter-hour of Xu, a carriage pulled in through a hidden side gate of the garden, and Lin Qiu, reeking of alcohol, stumbled down from the carriage, found a corner, leaned against the wall, and retched a few times.
Several people had been waiting to receive him in the garden’s inner courtyard; seeing this, the one in the lead hurried over, while the middle-aged, portly man who had come down from the carriage alongside Lin Qiu waved a hand: “Director Lin’s had a bit much to drink — this is already his second party of the night, I dragged him away from that bunch at Hu Haiwen’s dinner, showing you all plenty of face here, so everyone take it easy on him.”
“If it’s already the second party, we should’ve just rescheduled for another day,” said the one leading the group, gently patting Lin Qiu’s shoulder, looking genuinely troubled. “Old Tan, why didn’t you take better care of Director Lin?”
The others echoed in agreement: “That’s right, another day, another day!”
“My mistake — but isn’t this all because you all were so eager to see Director Lin?” the middle-aged, portly man said, apologizing while also talking back.
My health’s gotten worse…
Leaning against the wall, Lin Qiu felt the change in his body, momentarily dazed, but then waved a hand and turned back around. “Still, it’s Brother Chen here who looks out for me the most.” A faint smile crossed his face. “But there’s no need to blame Old Tan either — first, when Brother Chen summons me, how could I, a mere department director, dare not come? Second, I’d already grown tired of the place that fellow surnamed Hu invited us to, so I wanted to come sit here for a while instead.”
His smile was somewhat forced, and his words weren’t entirely kind either. The other man immediately cupped his hands. “No, no, that’s not it at all — Director Lin’s standing is on an entirely different level from the rest of us, isn’t that exactly why we all rely on you? With all the major developments happening lately, we’ve really been wanting to see you, which is why we had Old Tan…”
“Couldn’t we have met at the office?” Lin Qiu looked at him, then after a moment, his expression shifted into a smile, and he gave the man’s shoulder a pat. “Alright, alright, let’s eat, let’s eat. Honestly… Brother Chen’s been really, really busy lately, but it’s all good news for you all — I don’t even know what you’re all so anxious about. Come on, come on, let me get some good food in me…”
His expression eased, and the group finally relaxed, gathering around him as they headed inside. Before long, the party made their way up to a spacious private room on the second floor, seating themselves around a grand round table, as dishes of every kind flowed in like a stream. The man surnamed Chen among the group picked up a piece of golden-brown tofu and placed it in Lin Qiu’s bowl.
“We know Director Lin likes tofu — this is a new dish here, Eight Treasures Tofu, uses eight kinds of delicacies from the mountains and the sea, but what it really highlights is simplicity! By the way, should we bring the wine out?”
“Pour it — I won’t put on airs in front of you brothers.”
“Director Lin coming here is the greatest honor of all. Just a little bit, then.”
Smiling, wine was poured, and Lin Qiu moved his chopsticks toward the tofu before the other man spoke. “Director Lin, it’s not that we can’t hold ourselves together — these past two months, our hearts have been racing. Seeing the Huaxia Army really about to make its move, about to launch an unprecedented feat unseen in a thousand years — whatever help we can offer, we all want to offer it. We’re just waiting on the word from you and the higher-ups—”
Amid the delicacies pleasing to the eye and the intoxicating lamplight, in that opulently furnished room, the others chimed in agreement. Lin Qiu raised his cup and laughed along with them…
…
“A gathering of storms. The rain is about to come.”
While Lin Qiu, snatching moments from his busy schedule, rushed from one banquet to the next, in a relatively quiet courtyard at the city’s southwestern edge, Yu Hezhong was drawing back the curtain by the window, gazing out at the interwoven lights of the city.
Not far behind him, Li Shishi sat at her desk, working on an essay. The Huaxia Army had been extraordinarily busy lately, with the land policy pressing close at hand, and propaganda work made up a large portion of that effort; most of her staff had already been pulled to assist various work teams. On top of that, given her past diplomatic work, now that the Huaxia Army had announced it would be reclaiming land, many of the gentry and landlords she had previously won over in negotiations had been taking turns coming to see her, leaving her wishing she could split herself in two lately: half for work, half for venting to Ning Yi.
Yu Hezhong’s visits were among the few things she didn’t need to expend much effort dealing with, and often she could even glean some gossip from him that others wouldn’t dare tell her directly.
Of course, compared to how reserved and lacking in confidence this friend had been when they first reunited, after more than a year as one of Chengdu’s most prominent figures, Yu Hezhong was now at the very peak of his life. His bearing and manner of speech now, seen and heard, carried even more composure than a decade ago; he often spoke in classical allusions while peppering his speech with plenty of fashionable new terms. Within Chengdu, he’d acquired several regular female companions, and it was said his eloquence and bearing had won over the hearts of quite a few visiting society ladies as well.
In substance, he had by now become one of the most important connection brokers in the city — this was because, on one hand, he had Dai Mengwei’s backing and could call upon Yan Daolun, and on the other, he was on old, familiar terms with Ning Yi and Li Shishi, while also maintaining good relations with Lin Qiu in practical matters. As such, whether it was old or new Confucians, or the Huaxia Army’s new cultural elite, he could connect with and speak to all of them as an intermediary — and precisely because of his utility-tool nature, none of these parties guarded against him excessively, which instead granted him a rather transcendent standing within this whole environment, earning him countless benefits.
“…People are quite anxious out there right now,” Yu Hezhong said, gazing at the lights. “Those old Confucians outside all say Ning Yi’s gone stark raving mad, wanting to build an eternal hegemony but going about it entirely the wrong way.”
“When has he ever not gone stark raving mad.” Hearing this, Shishi laughed. “From the regicide back then, to attacking the Western Xia, then attacking the Jurchens and killing Loushi, then those years at Xiaocang River, all the way to the recent Southwest War — he goes stark raving mad every few years. You get used to it eventually.”
“That’s not quite how it is — this time, everyone feels it’s a real pity.” Yu Hezhong said. “Look at all these lights, Shishi — don’t you think it’s already more magnificent than Bianliang once was? Look… ‘The east wind blows open a thousand trees of blossoms at night, and blows down even more — stars like rain.’ ‘Splendid carriages and fine steeds fill the roads with fragrance. The sound of phoenix flutes stirs, jade pots turn their light, and all night long the fish and dragon dance…’ Two hundred years of Bianliang, gone — that’s why everyone feels such regret.”
“By the numbers…” Shishi paused her writing. “It’s already surpassed it, in fact.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Two years of Chengdu has already surpassed two hundred years of Bianliang… Lately, out there, both the old and new Confucians have very complicated feelings about it. Shishi, do you know that the great scholar He Rongchao said just the other day that he wants to petition together with his disciples and friends, asking Mr. Ning to rescind this decree — the state seizing people’s land, going after the landlords, all in the name of fairness — sounds fine on the surface, but once this state reaches its second or third generation, who’s going to stop its corruption then? This He Rongchao has always opposed the New Culture movement, with something of a ‘won’t eat the grain of Zhou’ kind of stubbornness about him — but now that Ning Yi’s actually going through with this, he’s panicked, afraid the good days are about to end, and he’s actually willing to submit a memorial over it.”
“That much is certainly true.” Shishi pursed her lips and smiled. “Quite a few people have been submitting memorials to the higher-ups lately — many who previously wouldn’t even bother speaking to us are now unable to resist coming to offer their counsel. This is actually a good thing — Mr. Ning’s side says it’s a validation of our work these past two years.”
“Validation, sure, that’s certainly true — the situation in Chengdu these past two years, especially this whole doctrine of efficiency in natural philosophy, has the Confucian scholars privately admitting Mr. Ning really does have foresight. Even if they refuse to acknowledge Ning Yi’s own contributions, look at how the Confucian side is now championing Mozi, saying Mozi ought to be ranked alongside Confucius and Mencius, elevated to the status of an eternal sage… But their worry is real too, genuinely real. This time none of them are stubbornly holding firm anymore — people are actually starting to soften up toward Ning Yi, saying: go ahead and stir things up all you like, just don’t stir Chengdu right out of existence…”
Yu Hezhong went on, unable to hold back a wry laugh, before finally continuing after a moment. “Shishi, over on Ning Yi’s side — is there really not a shred of fear? These old and new Confucians, in the new terminology, have devoted their entire lives to education. I’ve seen the recent propaganda materials — they say once the populace is enlightened, they’ll be able to hold the government in check. But… that’s just fine talk, isn’t it? ‘The gentleman’s virtue is like the wind, the common man’s virtue is like the grass’ — what do those country farmers even understand? You’d have to educate them to actually understand reason, and on a massive scale at that, for this to work. But look at these great scholars — even their own children, they can’t manage to teach reason to most of them; only a handful ever amount to anything. They’re the ones who understand education best of all, which is exactly why they’re so afraid…”
Shishi paused her writing for a moment in silence; Yu Hezhong paused too. “And besides… to put it plainly, what does everyone actually want? Isn’t it just this kind of prosperous, peaceful age? Shishi, I may be dull by nature, but after hearing all this back and forth, I think I finally understand it too. Those Confucian scholars, you see — they claim to oppose Ning Yi because he says he wants to eliminate Confucianism, and he wants to eliminate Confucianism because he wants to develop natural philosophy. But natural philosophy has already developed. He now commands strong troops and formidable generals; going forward, those rockets and whatnot can keep developing further, and someday, once he’s defeated the Jurchens and brought the whole realm under his sway, spreading Chengdu’s splendor everywhere — I think even if he keeps shouting about eliminating Confucianism, those scholars would genuinely be able to stomach it. Ning Yi has his grievances with them, and that’s fine, that can be compromised on — but this land policy step, why bother with it at all? Look at what’s happened everywhere land’s been redistributed…”
“And… speaking from the heart here, Shishi, I’m afraid too… that this prosperity in Chengdu might suddenly vanish, just like Bianliang did. Getting to where things are now — that’s already enough, truly, more than enough…”
At this point, the room fell quiet. Shishi thought for a moment, wrote a few more strokes on the paper, then smiled. “So who exactly are you gathering intelligence for here?”
“Yan Daolun, who else could it be.” Yu Hezhong made no attempt to hide it. “This whole thing — according to your own propaganda, if it’s really carried through, then of course it would be an unprecedented feat unseen in a thousand years, just like universal Great Harmony — pull it off, and who wouldn’t be an emperor for all ages, a sage for ten thousand generations? But fail, and it’ll be the death of everything. You see how Ning Yi’s staking everything on this single gamble, terrifying those pedantic scholars witless — of course everyone else is scared too… Yan Daolun and his people have been busy lately setting up factories and making money, and he hopes Chengdu’s development can last for a thousand generations — I think he’s practically forgotten the mission Lord Liu gave him. Enjoying the moment here, no thoughts of the Central Plains anymore.”
“…So what exactly does Yan Daolun want to know?”
Shishi thought about it for a moment.
“How the land will actually be used is indeed the focus of this effort, but Hezhong, you know the specific plan will have to change based on how the land collection actually goes — so right now it’s just an idealized basic framework. If the land collection goes smoothly, that will drive a large amount of new planning to follow — which land gets distributed to villagers, which gets developed commercially, where the roads go — all of this requires overall planning, so for now I really can’t say who might stand to benefit from it. Of course, if what he’s asking about is whether there are loopholes to exploit during the land collection process itself — that’s something we’d very much like to know ourselves right now, too.”
“What Yan Daolun mainly wants to understand, I think, is how resolute you’ll be about this land collection — whether there’s room for compromise, whether it can be negotiated, and even whether there’ll be killing, and how much. Let me put it this way… back in Bianliang, anyone in Ning Yi’s position at the time probably wouldn’t have chosen to kill the emperor — but he said he’d kill him, and he did…”
“…Later at Xiaocang River, when the Western Xia invaded, the Huaxia Army had barely ten thousand men at the time. From what I understand, Zuo Duanyou tried to talk him out of fighting, but he said fight, and he fought anyway… Then came the Jurchens’ third southern invasion, with Loushi as commander. Xiyin sent men to Xiaocang River to persuade Ning Yi, nominally offering submission — and you all know how that turned out… Later, including through the years of great battles at Xiaocang River, and even right before the Southwest War, when the entire realm had already fallen, Xiyin still sent men, saying they could talk it out — and Ning Yi’s only reply was: you come to the Southwest, and I’ll bury you.”
“Hezhong, every single time the Huaxia Army has been resting and recuperating, its posture has been remarkably gentle. In business, Ning Yi has always operated on a principle of goodwill toward others. Before each of these major decisions, the Huaxia Army has always, like these past two years in Chengdu, worked hard at developing, worked hard at doing business… These past two years in Chengdu, we’ve opened our doors wide, welcoming everyone in — Ning Yi even let these great scholars publish whatever opinions they liked in the newspapers, and plenty of people opposed him — but in the end, we ushered in tremendous growth… Now these Confucian scholars treasure Chengdu’s development as though it had something to do with them, as if Ning Yi’s heart had been standing alongside theirs throughout these two years of Chengdu’s growth. But that’s not it at all — Ning Yi’s attitude has always simply been to do what he wants to do. Sometimes these people understand him, sometimes they don’t, and when they don’t understand him, it’s not that Ning Yi’s attitude has changed in any way whatsoever…”
“Honestly, there are times I can’t fully understand him either — we’ve argued about it in the past…” Shishi smiled. “But over all these years, so many things have proven him right. Hezhong, you can tell Yan Daolun to look at how politics operates within this city. In August, the Council formally passed the proposal to advance the Four Peoples doctrine into practice; by mid-month, over six hundred councilors voted through the basic framework of the new land policy. Then seven different departments held successive meetings, setting up the basic structure, issuing directives, researching implementation methods, and then began drawing personnel from the mid-to-lower levels to form work teams. The propaganda department has been compiling promotional materials and formulating strategy; the work teams held meetings and then underwent training — Ning Yi personally took part in every single actual training session…”
“Over the course of two months, an operation involving tens of thousands of people — three days ago, the first list of one hundred villages was announced, and the first batch of personnel has already been deployed. There’s already a contingency plan in place for whatever happens next. The six thousand troops transferred over from the Seventh Army had already completed their garrison rotations at every key point long ago. The person leading this campaign is Ning Yi’s Madam Liu — do you know what that means? All these years, she’s been the staunchest supporter of the Four Peoples doctrine — why put her in charge of this?”
“Some of the major landlords who’ve come to Chengdu lately have threatened to flee to the mountains — we’ve been gathering intelligence on this, but the army hasn’t moved at all, hasn’t taken any measures, isn’t making any preemptive moves. You can watch and see what happens next. On this matter, the contingency plan is entirely clear: whoever dares to act, the Huaxia Army will act too.”
“The great scholars outside have submitted petitions to Ning Yi hoping he’ll rescind the decree — Ning Yi finds it funny. Do you know what he said about it? It’s like… a machine that’s already been set into motion, with tens of thousands of people as its components. If anyone stands in front of this machine, the machine will crush them. If anyone tries to sabotage it from within, someone will come to repair it, to clean it out. Two years of prosperity in Chengdu has made outsiders think he’s gentle, think the Huaxia Army is some kind of gentle… great marketplace…”
“But when it comes to something he’s decided must be done, Hezhong, the Huaxia Army has, from over a decade ago until now, been more resolute than any other force or power. If we’re to use the enemy’s own words to describe it — the Huaxia Army, when it acts, can be even more ruthless than the Fairness Party. He Wen sat through a few years of lessons in the Southwest, went out and made an utter mess of things, yet still managed to become a warlord of his own domain — but don’t forget, Ning Yi has been mulling over this very matter, obsessively, for over a decade now.”
Sitting behind her desk, her words came out gentle, even the word “ruthless” delivered lightly, as though telling a child a fairy tale, carrying a peculiar tenderness. Yu Hezhong found himself momentarily stunned. After two years immersed in this gentle refuge that was Chengdu, he’d almost come to believe, in a daze, that the Huaxia Army had become a benevolent, goodwill-toward-all sort of organization — one that, having grown wealthy and grand, now seemed to want to put on shoes and step ashore, so to speak. But at this moment, Shishi had truly reminded him: this was an entity that had accomplished countless astonishing things while facing the direst adversity.
He thought about it for a while, and finally nodded.
“Thinking back over a decade ago, meeting Liheng, and actually sitting there having a grand old conversation with him — it really does feel like something from another lifetime…”
Shishi thought about it too, and smiled. “If you want to see him, you still can, going forward. Brother Yu, the Huaxia Army… has its own ideals, and all these years, it’s been steadily working toward them, step by step. Lately, though the territory’s grown larger, manpower is in desperately short supply. If you…”
At this point, Yu Hezhong waved a hand. “Ah, I know, I know, but… I’ve been dull-witted my whole life, Shishi, you… this… let’s not talk about this, alright. Actually, in front of you, I don’t want to talk nonsense either. Tell me — if Lord Liu’s campaign in the Central Plains goes well this time, and Zou Xu gets captured, could I get promoted or something? That’s actually what’s been nagging at me lately.”
Shishi rubbed her forehead. “That, I really wouldn’t know.”
Though she claimed not to understand, she naturally understood Yu Hezhong’s anxieties perfectly well. Over this past year, serving as the go-between for Liu Guangshi and the Huaxia Army, he’d enjoyed unprecedented comfort and status in Chengdu — but this was the result of Liu Guangshi wanting to stay on good terms with the Huaxia Army, and of her own backing on the Huaxia Army’s side. Once the outcome of the Central Plains war became clear, the relationship between the two sides would inevitably shift, and for someone of his relatively modest abilities, it was only natural he’d feel anxious about it.
But in truth, the plans Shishi had already made on his behalf were embedded in what she’d said earlier — he’d turned it down, and as a friend, she wouldn’t press the matter further. As a man in his forties who understood life’s compromises, many of his choices would, in the end, be his own to bear the consequences of.
She lowered her head to keep writing, and the two chatted a bit more. Yu Hezhong changed the subject: “So what’s Ning Yi up to these days? Must be nothing but endless meetings, right?”
Shishi lifted her head, thought about it, and smiled. “He has been quite busy lately, but at this particular hour today, hard to say — probably not too busy, actually…”
“Hm? What kind of riddle is that?”
“It’s not really a riddle.” She smiled. “The First Lady’s here. Probably out shopping together with him.”
With that, she lowered her head and continued writing her essay.
Yu Hezhong let out a long breath and turned to look out the window, at the shifting shadows of light across the nighttime city. He recalled the various things said about this First Lady of the Ning family among the common folk, especially the many detailed, more specific accounts he’d recently heard from various merchants regarding just how formidable she was: “That head of the Su family — now there’s a formidable character, not someone ordinary people can even get an audience with…”
He turned back around, a torrent of anxious words on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, his instinct for self-preservation stopped him from saying any of it.
“…I’ll take my leave, then?”
“Go ahead.”
Beneath the lamplight, Shishi twirled her pen and smiled as she said this. As she made this small smiling gesture, the lamplight caught the strands of her bangs, dyed golden by the glow — and for a moment, she looked uncannily like that yellow-haired girl from the old Fan Tower days. Yet time had flown by, and Yu Hezhong knew, in the end, there was no going back to those days…
…
The flowing lights reflected in the sky above, as if mingling with the stars scattered across the heavens. Just as Yu Hezhong stepped out of Shishi’s courtyard, feeling uneasy about a certain figure’s imminent arrival, atop a stretch of city wall at the northwestern edge of the city, a group of people stood gazing out at the distant nighttime view of the city from the heights.
Far off, the lanterns of the freight carts running along the tracks at the city’s outskirts glowed like a line of ants marching in orderly procession, drawing exclamations of wonder from those watching. Within the city’s inner core, countless lights spread out in a dazzling display — pleasure boats on the waterways, carriages on the roads, the ornately carved beams and painted rafters of courtyard after courtyard, all laid out before the eye like an exquisite miniature model.
Standing on the city wall now, wide-eyed as she took in this whole scene, was Su Tan’er, the Ning family’s First Lady, now widely regarded in many rumors as a formidable and fearsome presence — dressed simply in plain white. She had the delicate, melon-seed face typical of a Jiangnan water-town woman, with a slight build, standing somewhat taller than the average Jiangnan woman, yet more delicately graceful than a northern woman. Though the years had brought her through much, giving her a composed, dignified bearing before most people, in front of Ning Yi she still retained a relatively lively, unguarded side.
“It’s already more beautiful than Jiangning was…”
She stood at the edge of the wall, gazing off into the distance, sighing in admiration.
Since the Huaxia Army had taken full possession of the Chengdu Plain, this was her second visit to Chengdu for sightseeing, and compared to the last time, everything had changed dramatically.
Ning Yi handed her a telescope from beside her.
“Already more beautiful than Bianliang even! Look over there — the rail carts, I told you about those, haven’t seen them before, right? Eventually we’ll switch the rails and carriages over to iron, that’ll really shock you country folk.”
Tan’er laughed. “Every time Xi’er comes home, he goes on and on about Chengdu — what’s so surprising about it. Oh, right, last time he was home, he told me about you stealing his roast chicken…”
“Ah… that ungrateful brat.”
“You steal his food, and then turn around and blame him for it.”
“Alright, alright, let’s not talk about that unpleasant business with our ungrateful son.” Ning Yi patted her shoulder, naturally steering the conversation elsewhere. “Let me show you the exploits of our other ungrateful son.”
“What?”
“Old Qian the Eighth and his group sent word back from Jiangning about the Fairness Party — the main group’s moving slowly, but they had someone send a few reports ahead first, and tucked in among them were a few sheets of newspaper. I’ve read them through twice, still not quite sure I understand it all — read till midnight last night before I finally started making sense of it. Every line of it just feels like it’s mocking me mercilessly.”
As Ning Yi spoke, he pulled a few folded newspaper clippings from his pocket. Tan’er took them, had someone bring the lantern closer, and read them under the light.
“This… what’s this — a martial arts tournament, heterodox master… these are all bounty notices — this Five-Foot Lecher thing… hm, this nickname is quite something. At first glance you might think it means ‘Shameless Lecher,’ but on closer look it’s really ‘one-two-three-four-five’… hahaha, what’s wrong with that?”
Tan’er held the newspaper up against the light, checking whether there might be a hidden layer tucked inside it.
“Sigh…”
Ning Yi watched her do this and let out a sigh.
After a moment, he couldn’t help laughing a little, then sighed again.
“What a…sin… this is…”
Tan’er watched his expression, furrowed her brow in thought for a moment, then looked back at the wanted notice, her own expression shifting several times over, before finally saying, “An… another ungrateful son… you… you don’t mean to say… Ji’er, he… he’s been done in by this Lecher…”
“Huh?” Ning Yi blinked, then sucked in a sharp breath, his cheeks twitching into a strained smile. “You… that’s… well, that’s certainly one way to look at it… When he gets back, I should help spread the word about this a bit…”