Having finished recording the scattered details, and after Hou Yuanyu came to collect Yu Hezhong and take him away, Shishi finally had Xiaoling bring in some more food. She picked up a piece of pastry, still turning over what Yu Hezhong had just told her, then looked up to see Xiaoling seeming to want to say something but holding back. “What is it?” she asked.
“I just think… Miss Shishi, you really worry yourself too much over Mr. Yu…”
Xiaoling smiled as she said this, though the words rang somewhat insincere. Shishi finished her pastry, then smiled as well. “Xiaoling, your impression of Mr. Yu isn’t very good, is it?”
“I just think… it’s so late, Miss Shishi should really rest earlier…”
As Shishi’s personal secretary, Xiaoling was familiar with all sorts of daily matters and kept track of them closely. Knowing Yu Hezhong’s usual character, she naturally couldn’t think too highly of him—especially given how much care and effort Shishi had poured into this latest arrangement for him, which, in practical terms, obviously required no small amount of time and energy. It was only natural she found it hard to understand.
Shishi thought for a moment behind her desk, and after a while, finally spoke. “Master Ning… often talks about revolution.”
“Mm…”
“Revolution—transforming one’s own fate, and transforming the fate of others. So how does one go about transforming the fate of others, Xiaoling?” Shishi held her brush and smiled. “When we run schools in the countryside, when we write stories in books, and some people learn something from them, are inspired by them—of course we’re glad. We think, these people are… driven, striving forward, we think they’re worthwhile, and we’re happy to see them. But Master Ning… once said something to me. He said, Shishi, look at this world—some people are simply born with good character, or by the time we come to know them, they’ve already developed ambition, and they become the kind of people we’re fond of. But far more people—whether in the cities or in the countryside—have lazy, unappealing dispositions, faces you can’t stand to look at. Sometimes, even if you’re utterly sincere, holding out something good right in front of them, they won’t even reach for it. Even if you break down good principles and explain them in the simplest possible terms, they still can’t understand. So what do we do about people like that?”
Shishi paused. “The Huaxia Army in the past… rallied together those who had already been awakened first, as comrades, and also began, through this method or that, awakening those who were easier to awaken. Back in Bian Liang, regarding those who hadn’t yet awakened, Master Ning said they would simply die… But sooner or later, the day will come when the Huaxia Army breaks out beyond our current borders, and everyone will come before us. Xiaoling, what do we do about the people with flaws? Talk alone won’t get through to them. Tell them stories, and they won’t understand. What about people who cheat and cut corners, or who are simply lazy, simply selfish? What do we do about this—I mean, what should we do about this. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to think about it…”
She tilted her head back slightly, thought for a moment, and smiled faintly. “I remember… at the time, I was mainly protesting to him, asking why our stories couldn’t be written a bit more elegantly. He said they could be more elegant, but they should also be a bit more vulgar too—precisely because we’ll eventually have to face these very people. If they commit crimes, we can deal with them, even kill them if necessary. But if someone is simply unambitious, or lazy, or foolish—shouldn’t we consider all sorts of methods, like making the stories more entertaining, breaking the principles down even more simply—even if you all think it’s not as refined, it might do some good for others…”
“…Brother Yu is a very ordinary scholar. When he was in his teens and twenties, he received my care, saw good times, but his abilities were limited, and he never much strove to improve himself. This past year and more, a life of soft indulgence has made him lose himself even further. Compared to many people in the Huaxia Army, there’s something genuinely off-putting about him. But looking at it from another angle, he’s at least read books, knows some characters, understands some principles. He’s not particularly bold, but he can take certain advice to heart. Even with some power and money at his disposal, at most he throws money at people to make trouble—he’s never truly abused his position to bully others… For someone like this, isn’t there something that can be done, to help him… become just a little more driven?”
“…Of course, it’s partly because Brother Yu is a friend of mine, so I’ve thought of these particular methods just for his sake, even mobilized people within the Huaxia Army—there’s some personal motive in it, whether that’s right or not, I can’t really say. But it’s like those monks I saw as a child—they save the world, but they also save one person at a time. If you can save even one, that’s a small joy in itself… Xiaoling, say you had a friend like this, someone you found irritating—if you had the chance to help him, would you?”
“Um…” Xiaoling struggled for a moment. “I just… think Miss Shishi should take care of her health, and could help many more people instead, and… I hadn’t really thought about it that deeply…”
Shishi laughed, and after a moment, as Xiaoling was about to turn and leave, she asked one more question. “Xiaoling, have you heard any rumors about General Li Ruilai?”
“General Li… what rumors?”
“…Rumors about him giving women away to people, here and there.”
“That…” Xiaoling thought about it. “No, I haven’t. I’ve only heard… that although he’s a surrendered general, he has very extensive connections. There’s talk that this side took away his military command, and to reward his contributions, maybe let him have his share of prosperity, letting him open a number of factories. But giving away women… even if others knew about that, they wouldn’t tell me…”
“I see,” Shishi nodded.
After Xiaoling left, Shishi sat there thinking for a while longer. Li Ruilai sending women into the army touched directly on Ning Yi’s bottom line. But as Xiaoling had said, even if some people knew about this, they wouldn’t easily spread word of it to the women soldiers’ side. So the question was whether Ning Yi already knew—had he long since put Li Ruilai on some kind of blacklist? Whether to ask him about it, or to verify it first before bringing it up, was something requiring careful consideration.
In theory, if Ning Yi was already on guard about this, he should already have it in mind. But if he didn’t know, how should she go about investigating it herself? If she needed to ask, whom should she ask? And what if the very person in the intelligence network she asked had also taken favors from Li Ruilai? She couldn’t help but be cautious.
If only she could run her own version of Fan Tower… The thought rose in her mind unbidden—brothels had always been gathering points for every kind of information. Back in the capital, in her day, all sorts of news, big and small, would eventually find their way to her sooner or later. But now, imagining how Ning Yi might react if she proposed this idea to him, she couldn’t help but laugh to herself.
Having thought this over for a while, she went to bed to rest.
The next morning, light snow fell once more in the courtyard outside. She performed a set of dance movements as a form of exercise, then returned to her study, gathered her thoughts, and sat down at her desk to write a letter to Ning Yi.
When she went to work, she brought it to the secretariat, having them seal this “confidential memorial” in wax and forward it on.
This was the morning of the seventeenth of the twelfth month.
The secretariat bundled together the important intelligence and correspondence gathered from the previous day and sent it out of Chengdu by fast horse. By around the hour of Shen that afternoon, it caught up with Ning Yi’s traveling convoy, then in the middle of an inspection tour. At the time, Ning Yi’s group was resting briefly at a Fifth Army camp north of the plains, and Ning Yi happened to be meeting with He Zhicheng, commander of the Huaxia Army’s Fifth Army, who was stationed there—the two intended to discuss in detail Dai Mengwei’s recent “major move” and the Huaxia Army’s current situation.
Around the second quarter of the hour of Shen, the daylight had already begun to dim somewhat. The two men, without bringing many guards, were fishing by a small stream outside the camp, the surrounding land and hills lightly dusted with snow.
As commander of the Fifth Army, He Zhicheng was lean and spare in build; aside from overseeing the troops, his only hobby was the occasional bout of fishing. Steady in temperament, meticulous and patient in his work, some even joked that it was precisely because he liked fishing that Ning Yi had put him in charge of the Fifth Army’s affairs.
Sometime past noon, Ning Yi had happened to mention fishing, and He Zhicheng had promptly dragged him out to this riverside, then proceeded to ramble on at length about the rules of fishing—how in winter, given the cold weather, the best time to go out was around noon, how the hook should be set deep, how live bait should be used whenever possible, how the scent needed to be strong, and so on. Ning Yi, who valued efficiency, didn’t actually care for fishing at all—he preferred using nets, or simply dynamiting fish outright—but having already agreed to come, he had no choice but to sit through two full hours keeping the man company, feigning enthusiasm.
In between, they discussed military affairs.
Following the victory in the great southwestern campaign, at the current stage, both of the Huaxia Army’s main forces remained eager for battle, and there was no difficulty in launching a new round of propaganda work alongside implementation of the land policy. But…
“…I’ve been thinking lately that we should reduce how often the troops go to Chengdu and Zizhou. The idea’s still taking shape—I’d originally planned to bring it up when we all meet over the New Year.”
“What’s going on?”
“Indulgence and excess—it’s stirred up some incidents,” He Zhicheng said. “It wouldn’t have been anything unusual back under the old Wu Dynasty, you know—soldiering for pay, risking your neck for a living, and once the formation breaks up, soldiers go looking for a good time. Sometimes, even after a victory on the battlefield, the troops can’t be reined in—there’s been burning, killing, looting, mistreatment of women. In all the years since you led everyone in killing Zhou Zhe, you’ve disciplined and trained the troops, given them awakening—the army has taken on an entirely different character. That’s one of the things that’s pleased me most…”
“Get to the ‘but.'”
“But these past year and a half or so, something’s shifted. In the past everyone was hard up, the places we came from were poor—from Small Canghe all the way to Liangshan, we came up through hard times, and discipline was strong because of it. But lately Chengdu and Zizhou have grown lively, rivaling even the old Bian Liang. Some of the soldiers who’ve been over there come back talking endlessly about all the good food, the good times to be had, and some of them don’t much want to come back. Honestly, if it were just a matter of spending their own money—even finding a woman, eating, drinking, gambling—that wouldn’t be a problem in itself. Soldiers need some pleasure in life. But more and more, there are people willing to seek them out, to entertain them for free…”
“…” Ning Yi listened quietly.
“This past August, Niu Chengshu led a group to Chengdu on business, and a few of his men went to a brothel, nearly got into a street brawl with soldiers from another unit. Niu Chengshu, to his credit, had some sense—he punished the lot of them, pulled them straight out of Chengdu, and reported it up the chain, canceling all leave for a year, forbidding anyone from going there again… I’ve looked into it carefully, and I doubt this is an isolated case or two. Sometimes it’s just one or two soldiers getting drunk in the city, picking fights out of bravado, nothing too serious. But this business of people footing the bill to entertain them—sooner or later, that’s going to blow up into something much bigger… For now, all I can do is tighten discipline, require that when they do get leave, they avoid the big cities unless necessary—but once they’re on leave, I can’t really stop them outright.”
“Who’s been footing these bills? Any records?”
“Some records, all sorts of people. This kind of relationship-greasing, warming up cold connections for future use—back under the old Wu Dynasty, this would’ve been unremarkable. But these people are just entertaining, and so far not many have actually committed a crime, so there’s nothing to arrest anyone for. And honestly, this kind of thing hasn’t been seen in nearly ten years—now it’s suddenly appearing again, and I’m not even sure whether to call it normal or not.”
Ning Yi nodded, fell silent for a long while, then sighed heavily, as if talking to himself. “Developing capital… it’s bound to affect the army…”
“Like I said, back in Bian Liang this wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you’ve trained this army into something this good, and now I find myself reluctant to let it slip. Soldiers like these are hard to come by… It’s not that we can’t let the cities flourish just because we want the army to stay sharp—of course they should flourish. But… we need to find some way to handle this. I’ll tighten discipline on my end—see what else you can do on yours. I’ve already dealt with the few obvious offenders I could identify, though none of it was very serious.”
“It’ll grow bigger, given time.”
“Maybe we should just march out sooner, then.”
“…The land policy still has to be completed, personnel still need training, the army still needs to expand—that’ll take another year or two at least. Out there is such a vast territory—hand it to you, and how would you even govern it? Even with Chen Fan, Zhu Biao, and Liu Chengzong added in, we’ve only just barely caught our breath. Taking territory just creates more problems. Look at the land policy alone—the people we have who can actually manage it are stretched painfully thin. They need to be able to hatch results on their own…”
“Alright, I understand. I’ll keep holding things together with the army for now…”
“Tighten discipline, and I’ll think of ways to improve their rations on my end—maybe add a few more entertainment troupes, what do you think?”
“Pretty young women, a bunch of unruly brutes fighting every day, endless romantic entanglements…”
“Pursuing romance is better than spending money running off to have fun elsewhere—once they’re married, they’ll settle down. And if they fight, you’ll have grounds to discipline them—send them on cross-country runs, field drills, that sort of thing. It’s not a bad idea, really. Go ahead, add some more people…”
“I do have the authority to expand the entertainment troupes myself—why are you so concerned about this?”
“I’m just offering you some advice, aren’t I, old He?”
They rambled on, scattered and unhurried, all the way until the sky began to darken, and only then did Ning Yi take a few large fish from He Zhicheng’s creel and head back with him. Once back at the barracks where he was staying, in the time before dinner, Ning Yi opened up the various pieces of intelligence and requests for instruction that had arrived from Chengdu and began drafting his responses. Among the material sent along were two comparatively important letters, and he opened Shishi’s first.
The information in this letter was, on the whole, gentler in tone. It opened with a subtly worded love poem saying she missed him, then went on to roughly explain the new phase of public opposition unfolding in Chengdu, along with the personal decisions she’d made, out of her own private feelings, regarding Yu Hezhong. In the latter half of the letter, she relayed what Yu Hezhong had told her regarding the matter of Li Ruilai.
Since she wasn’t sure whether Ning Yi already knew the details, Shishi, after weighing it carefully, ultimately decided to hand the investigation of this matter over to Ning Yi himself—because if he already knew, there was no need to say more about it, but if he didn’t, the implications would be very serious indeed.
At the end, she also raised the question of whether the Huaxia Army’s intelligence network ought to operate a few brothels of its own in Chengdu, Zizhou, and elsewhere.
Having finished reading the details concerning Li Ruilai, Ning Yi sat there in silence for a long while. When he reached the suggestion about the brothels, he couldn’t help but give a faint smile—though his expression remained cold underneath.
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk. The room was silent as ice. After a good while like this, Ning Yi put the letter away and opened the second one.
This one had come from Jin territory—a dispatch from Lou Shuwan.
This hot-tempered woman had little in the way of pleasantries, but what she had to say was mostly business. Ning Yi opened the letter to find her getting straight to the point, launching into the question of the northwest.
Ever since the Jurchens had swept south, the entire Central Plains had fallen into chaos, and by the fourth time the Jin forces withdrew their troops, many regions had been battered into ruin, beyond any hope of recovery.
The northwest, after years of brutal fighting since the Small Canghe campaigns, had been all but slaughtered into a wasteland by the Jurchens. After the Jurchens withdrew, they’d left the surrendered warlord Zhe family to hold the region, but a few years earlier the Zhe family had been massacred, and the steppe people who had already conquered the Western Xia moved in from there into the Central Plains. Later, taking advantage of the Jurchens’ undefended rear, they’d marched north from Yanmen Pass into Jin territory, plundered what they could, and withdrawn back to the steppe.
And when Nianhan’s great army came south for the fourth time, they hadn’t spared the Tiger King’s forces in Jin territory who had championed resistance either—Lou Shuwan had at one point even burned Weisheng to ashes. Even after Liao Yiren later died and Jin territory retained a spark of vitality, by now the region north of the Yellow River remained sparsely populated, with many areas beyond anyone’s ability to manage.
And the northwest was the gateway to the Central Plains.
After repeated massacres, that entire region had become nearly a thousand miles without the crow of a rooster, with only a handful of bandits living off the blade’s edge and a scattering of refugees still surviving within it—conditions were said to be brutal, with many areas descending into something close to a lawless purgatory.
After receiving technical assistance from the Huaxia Army, Lou Shuwan had at one point gone looking in every direction for partners, setting her sights on the northwest and even the steppe peoples further beyond. In sending people in that direction and investigating the local conditions, she had already come to recognize the enormous problems present there.
If the steppe peoples were to push east from there, the original Hengshan defense line would have nothing left to hold against them. Of course, whether the steppe peoples were truly so ferocious, whether they counted as enemies, remained an open question for now—they might end up fighting the Jin state, or scheming against Tibet, or even becoming allies. And stepping back further, even if they did push into the Central Plains, they might not pose any real threat to Jin territory—just as Zou Xu could cross the Yellow River too, and Lou Shuwan wasn’t afraid of that either, let him try.
But regardless, despite being short-handed, out of a desire to plan ahead, Lou Shuwan was already considering, well in advance, the idea of retaking the northwest, establishing the Hengshan defense line, and laying the groundwork early.
Her proposal, naturally, was rather cleverly framed. In the letter, she spoke, in her characteristically coquettish way, of the Huaxia Army’s glorious years fighting in the northwest, noting that the region was now essentially ownerless territory, yet the Huaxia Army still commanded enormous prestige there—so would Ning Yi consider simply transferring Zhu Biao’s forces from the Liangshan side back to this ownerless stretch of the northwest, coordinating with Lou Shuwan and Wang Juyun’s people, and developing and managing this fertile land together, three parties working as one?
This past year had been the most comfortable one Jin territory had known in a long time, and even discussing serious matters in her letter, one could clearly sense a certain relaxation in Lou Shuwan’s mood. She didn’t seem to genuinely regard that band of Western Xia bandits as a major threat—from their past exchanges and communications, Ning Yi could sense that what she was really coveting was that force stationed at Liangshan.
During the Jurchens’ fourth southern campaign, not long after Tian Shi was assassinated, Zhu Biao and others had led over ten thousand Huaxia Army troops in a series of impressive engagements against the Jurchen western army, right up until Wang Shanyue was trapped at Daming Prefecture; the more than ten thousand troops who went to relieve him were scattered in the process, though the remnants later regrouped. These past two or three years, they’d scraped by on hard times, living off whatever they could scavenge from raids into Jin territory—and while Lou Shuwan’s willingness to extend goodwill and lend grain wasn’t only about her dealings with the southwest, it was also clearly her eyeing Zhu Biao, Liu Chengzong, and their men hungrily.
When the Jurchen eastern army withdrew north, they had nearly clashed with the Liangshan forces again, and she had even subtly hinted, half-jokingly, that these people might as well all come take refuge in Jin territory—this woman was, in truth, trying to win over this Huaxia Army detachment through one sugar-coated overture after another.
Having caught something of a breather, Lou Shuwan’s ambition to expand into the northwest and rebuild the Hengshan defense line might well be something of an idle gambit—also serving as a kind of provocation or probe directed at the southwest. If Zhu Biao and Liu Chengzong really did come, she could all the more easily poach people under the guise of cooperation, given their proximity. But for Ning Yi, this letter conveyed something else that demanded far more serious attention.
—The Mongols.
Lou Shuwan looked down on them. Despite her political shrewdness, which had let her immediately grasp the strategic importance of the northwest, she showed no fear of the steppe peoples at all—even suggesting that if they came to contest Hengshan with her, she instinctively assumed a three-way alliance would be more than enough to handle them.
So what were the steppe peoples actually doing? If Lou Shuwan had already vaguely sensed something in this direction…
Ning Yi folded the letter and set both letters down on the desk.
A curious feeling.
The most important information of the entire day had, of all things, come from two women’s letters.
He couldn’t even quite tell which of the two letters carried the more significant substance.
He sat there quietly, thinking for a while, until He Zhicheng came in from outside, calling him to come eat the fish. Only then did he put the letters away and rise to head out the door.
The end of the year was approaching.
Lou Shuwan had said so.
He needed to make his decision soon.
This chapter was originally going to be titled “A Letter from Two Women.”