The wind had turned fierce since the morning.

Rolling dark clouds seemed to stretch out tentacles, spreading in from the sea, and the howling wind sent leaves and mysterious sheets of rice paper spinning up into the air. Jun Wu stood with his arms folded, watching a group of eunuchs and palace guards hauling heavy wooden planks, hammering away at the palace roof with a constant clatter.

After a while, a palace attendant led in several consorts along with his five-year-old daughter, Zhou Fuyang. Jun Wu waved a hand toward the hall: “Everyone huddle together, no sense wasting extra hands.”

The imperial Zhou clan had always struggled to produce heirs, and Jun Wu himself had not shown any particularly outstanding fertility either — though that didn’t necessarily mean there was something seriously wrong with him. The line of Prince Kang, Zhou Yong, had originally just been wealthy nobility from Jiangning. Jun Wu’s childhood had been easy, but the moment he came of age he was abruptly made Crown Prince. In his first two years he’d been consumed with the study of natural science, eager to accomplish something great, but not long after, the Jurchen campaigns of “combing the mountains and searching the sea” left a deep scar on him. Throughout the Jianshuo era, Zhou Yong indulged himself freely in pleasure, while Jun Wu poured all his energy into breakthroughs in natural science and building up the defenses of the Jiangnan region, treading carefully at every step. As for women, he had never shown any unusual interest.

Five years ago he’d had his first daughter, and just before the great battle for Jiangnan, a son as well. But when Lin’an fell, his father and elder sister fled by sea, and after ascending the throne in Jiangning he himself had fled to Fuzhou — he never once got to hold the infant before it died.

Across the whole realm, millions had died before his eyes; countless parents and children had wept and wailed in front of him, and yet he had still been forced to abandon the people of all Jiangnan, fleeing like a hunted dog. Guilt and the constant threat of death had filled his heart every single day — there had even been the humiliating possibility of being captured and kept like a dog in the Jin state, though he had long ago resolved never to accept that outcome. Because of this, the loss of his child hadn’t stirred any especially deep feeling in him. He had even thought, on occasion: if he were captured by the Jurchens, raised in the Jin state, and paraded daily as the humiliated “Crown Prince of Wu,” that would truly be the more miserable fate.

Dying so soon after birth was, by comparison, an ordinary thing.

If he was honest, real grief had only become an affordable luxury after he reached Fuzhou.

After arriving in Fuzhou there had been a great deal of new business to attend to, but under the urging of officials like Li Guang and Hu Quan, he had put in a bit more effort in that other department as well, and now Shen Ruxin was with child. He felt he could, for the time being, consider the matter settled, and threw himself back into state affairs, working around the clock once more.

In ordinary interactions between men and women, Jun Wu tended to be somewhat domineering, which left several of his consorts, Shen Ruxin included, in a rather weak position. But in truth his heart was soft. Last year, in hopes of strengthening the imperial line, someone had even suggested taking in Yue Fei’s adopted daughter, Yinping, as a consort — on the one hand it would protect her, and on the other, presumably, she might produce some plump, healthy baby. But Jun Wu had hastily refused. Taking in a woman of such formidable temperament, when he himself couldn’t even win a fight against her, would surely mean being bullied for the rest of his life — as a boy, Jun Wu had had a domineering elder sister above him, and he carried no small psychological scar from that experience. Of course, such a reason could never be spoken aloud; on the surface, naturally, he claimed it was for the sake of the young lady’s own happiness.

In truth, being a straightforward man who had spent long enough in the imperial household, he didn’t particularly care about any one woman’s happiness — what unhappiness could there possibly be in marrying the Emperor? He simply didn’t want to marry her, that was all. Hmph.

When Tie Tianying, who was making his rounds inspecting the palace grounds, came to report, dense raindrops had already begun falling alongside the howling wind. Jun Wu still stood there gazing at the small, fragile city beneath the sky, brow slightly furrowed. The old man, draped in a straw raincoat, his temples streaked with white, hurried over to remind him, and only then did Jun Wu come back to himself, walking somewhat reluctantly back inside the hall.

As if, by standing outside the hall, he could still somehow watch over the city with his gaze alone.

Once inside, his daughter came over and pestered her father for a while. Jun Wu spoke a few words with her — as a father, the Emperor was always gentle-spoken and smiling with his family, though prone to spacing out and losing focus. After a few sentences he trailed off, absorbed once more in calculating the disaster-relief arrangements to come. His daughter called him back, he spoke a couple more lines, then drifted off again, until one of the consorts came and coaxed the princess away to play games elsewhere.

Jun Wu walked to his writing desk and began laying out the pieces in his hand.

He was a man of only middling talent, and had to concentrate fully on whatever he was doing. Only once a matter had been arranged to a stopping point did he emerge from his thoughts, glancing over at his daughter playing with the consorts not far away: also a bit of a fool, he thought — the future of Wu could never rest on her shoulders — though she was indeed, without doubt, his own flesh and blood.

Outside the window the wind and rain howled, as if ten thousand demons were crying out. Watching his daughter at play, Jun Wu thought back to his own childhood — had a storm like this come along back then, he could easily have listened to it all day without growing bored. But now… relief efforts, arrangements…

With that thought, he spread out the drawings on his desk once more and began drafting a detailed disaster-relief plan…

…

The howling wind and rain lasted a full day and night before finally weakening.

On the afternoon of the twentieth of the fourth month, the rain was still falling, and Jun Wu had already gathered his ministers in the great hall to begin planning the relief effort. In truth, Fuzhou saw typhoons of various sizes make landfall every year — what was then called by the scholarly term “hurricane” — and every region already had some standing arrangements in place. It was still only the fourth month, and this particular typhoon wasn’t among the worst, so Jun Wu committed part of the reorganized and refined army, including the Beiwei Army, to the relief effort.

Regarding the army’s involvement in this relief work, a number of senior officials led by Li Guang expressed concern and opposition — indeed, the previous year, Han Shizhong’s Zhenhai Army, Yue Fei’s Beiwei Army, and troops from several other units had all clashed with local communities over relief matters. Military discipline in these times was not always strictly enforced; in the most severe disasters, deploying troops to save lives was reasonable, but when a disaster wasn’t especially severe, the army itself could sometimes end up causing serious problems instead. Among the several armies currently in Fujian, only the Beiwei Army maintained the strictest discipline, capable of avoiding disturbance to civilians to the greatest extent. But Han Shizhong’s Zhenhai Army and some of the other units, once let loose, were liable to create trouble of their own.

That said, ever since the slogan “Honor the Sovereign, Expel the Barbarian” had been raised the previous year, the Southeastern Military Preparatory Academy, with help from Zuo Wenhuai and others, had already completed an initial round of ideological and self-motivational education for its first batch of young officers. Judging from feedback from all sides, these young officers had performed rather well across the board. Sooner or later, a mule has to be led out to see whether it can pull a cart.

After a round of debate in the great hall, Jun Wu made his decision and gave the order to proceed.

Using the army for disaster relief served both to win over the hearts of the people and to train the troops for whatever might come next. To underscore the significance of this effort, Jun Wu specifically had the cabinet draft an official proclamation demanding strict military discipline from every unit — not so much as a single thread was to be taken from the common people, or offenders would be dealt with harshly.

Fervent mobilization campaigns followed in every region.

On the twenty-second of the fourth month, a unit under the Beiwei Army entered nearby Hou Guan County to assist with relief — clearing rubble, treating the injured, moving bodies, relocating property. That afternoon, some local disaster victims accused the soldiers of taking advantage of the situation to loot valuables. Perhaps because the government had already been broadcasting heavily, in the run-up to the relief effort, that any disturbance to civilians or breach of discipline would be dealt with severely, the crowd this time gathered unusually fast, and the military police unit stationed nearby also rushed over quickly to investigate.

Not long after, among the belongings of a squad leader named Zhong Ergui, a bundle containing various valuables was uncovered.

Public sentiment immediately erupted like a volcano. With the local government present, the military police present, and the relief soldiers present as well, the crowd found itself packed onto the road in the middle of the county seat, unable to move forward or back. Yue Yinping, who happened to be in the area and had volunteered to help with the relief effort, rushed over to vouch for Zhong Ergui and argue on his behalf — this man was one of the elite of the Beiwei Army, a former miner by background, fearless in battle, and by nature straightforward and even-tempered in daily life. He would never do such a thing.

By the time they realized how badly things had gone wrong, dusk had already fallen, and in the pouring rain the crowds lining both sides of the street had grown difficult to control. The young officers of the military police, trained at the academy, first accused Zhong Ergui of tarnishing the army’s reputation; only when they realized the situation was escalating far too fast to contain did they grasp that an organized, premeditated frame-up — and the beginnings of a mutiny — were about to unfold right before them.

Their reaction had been too slow.

They now faced two choices: the first was to use the troops already on scene to suppress everything that followed…

Not long after, they attempted to have Zhong Ergui punished under military law in order to quell public anger. Facing a street full of jeering abuse, Zhong Ergui dashed his head against a roadside pillar and died.

This was the first political disaster the southeastern court faced that summer, the third year of the Zhenxing era.

In the following days, conflicts between soldiers and civilians arising from the relief effort, along with all manner of grievances and complaints, poured in one after another from across Fujian — some true, some false, coming faster than anyone could keep up with…

…

On the afternoon of the twenty-fifth of the fourth month, the rain brought by the typhoon had temporarily let up, though the city of Fuzhou remained a mess.

Entering the side hall used for lesser government business within the palace, Li Guang saw that Hu Quan, Zhou Pei, Wenren Buer, Cheng Zhouhai, and the others had already arrived. The Emperor, Jun Wu, sat at the head of the room — this was a small meeting he had called with those he trusted most. Seeing the Emperor’s complexion looking poor, apparently from staying up too many nights, Li Guang sighed quietly to himself.

This Emperor loved the younger, more aggressive faction, and had been deeply influenced by the southwest, which made him none too close to the old Confucian scholars at court. But as a monarch, he was truly diligent, truly conscientious, and possessed of great benevolence — compared to several previous emperors of Wu, he carried far more of the weight of a true father to his people. It was only a pity that the circumstances under which he had inherited power had been so terribly difficult.

Had he inherited the realm of the Jinghan era — or had Emperor Jianshuo stepped down early — the Wu dynasty as it stood now might well have worn an entirely different face.

So he sighed inwardly, while the topic under discussion in the hall was, naturally, the various complaints of soldier-civilian conflict arriving from around the region in recent days. Before long, Jun Wu asked for his opinion on the matter, and Li Guang spoke frankly: “This matter stems from resentment that has built up among the clans of Fujian ever since the court’s land survey and tax reform last year — a backlash, if you will. Your Majesty should know that, after the reorganization, incidents of military misconduct have already dropped sharply across the board. It’s only that last year, when the army did misbehave, the great clans of each region said nothing; this year, when the army behaves properly, the great clans instead fabricate accusations and stir up trouble out of nothing…”

“And the true danger of this affair is that if it is not handled well, we risk losing both the trust of the people and the morale of the army…”

The very thing Li Guang and the other Confucian officials had been worrying about all along was, in fact, precisely this kind of conspiracy and unforeseen incident…

The discussion in the side hall went on for some time. When the meeting broke up, tasks had already been assigned, and Hu Quan left together with Li Guang. In truth, the two of them had already advised the Emperor more than once about being too aggressive during his time in Fujian. Now, the younger Hu Quan fell silent for a long moment before sighing: “It isn’t easy for His Majesty…”

Li Guang nodded. “Let’s just do our own jobs well.”

…

Once the larger meeting had temporarily dispersed and the others had all left, Zhou Pei finally spoke to Jun Wu about a more pressing matter inside the hall: “…There’s only a little over two hundred thousand taels left in the treasury. As we discussed before, we were considering whether military spending could be trimmed a bit, but after Zhong Ergui’s death, morale in the army has grown unsteady too, and we still need them for relief work, and to guard against things getting worse. It looks like the soldiers’ pay can’t be delayed any longer.”

Jun Wu sat in his chair, lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head. “If we don’t want the army disturbing the people, the precondition is that they’re paid in full. Military pay cannot be cut.”

Zhou Pei nodded. “The things we brought out of Lin’an have long since been sold off. The privy purse has been empty for some time. I’ll think of something — see where else we might be able to shift funds from.”

“…The fleet that went out last year — do you think it might come back a little earlier this year, elder sister?”

“I’ve told you many times already, even at its fastest it probably won’t be until the second half of the year.”

“Perhaps the fleet will take pity on my hardships and hurry back sooner…”

Zhou Pei said nothing. After a moment, Jun Wu laughed at himself, self-mocking, then after a pause said, “Elder sister, have they found out yet who was behind Zhong Ergui’s death?”

“At this point, it’s no longer something that can be fixed by settling this one incident alone,” Zhou Pei reminded him. “Right now, there are at least four or five places in Fujian causing trouble.”

“But yesterday afternoon, that girl Yinping from the Yue family came into the palace to cry to me about it… no, it wasn’t crying, it was cursing me out. Zhong Ergui was a poor man who used to work in the mines, brave on the battlefield, straightforward off it — whenever ordinary people ran into trouble, he was always the one to lend a hand. A truly good man… and a good man like that, a good soldier like that, was driven to his death in front of everyone.”

“Miss Yue came looking for me too…”

“I imagine so.” Jun Wu sighed. “In the end, it’s my fault. ‘Honor the Sovereign, Expel the Barbarian’ has produced people loyal to the court, people who genuinely think of the common good — but they’re still too inexperienced, too hasty in their actions. No matter how large the incident, it should have been handled by the book — investigated properly, reviewed properly. How could they simply deal with it on the spot just to quiet public anger? Ah… thinking of how Zhong Ergui must have felt in his final moments, my heart aches. I could just…”

He gritted his teeth and raised a fist, then slowly brought it down onto the table — a helpless, powerless anger. Zhou Pei watched him for a while.

“In the end, we underestimated the methods of people like Cao Jinlong and Pu Xingui. We assumed they could only rely on the strength of local clans and gentry to carry out the occasional assassination attempt in the mountains and remote areas — that they couldn’t get into Fuzhou or the other major cities, and that any assassin who did manage to slip in would keep failing, as they always had. Who would have thought they’d pull off a stunt like this instead. We’ve reviewed what happened in Hou Guan County — to whip up a disturbance of that scale within half a day, throwing the county magistrate into total disarray, that’s not something two or three people could manage alone. There must have been a good number of people planted among the crowd posing as ordinary civilians.”

“Wouldn’t more people involved make it easier to catch their trail, though?”

“We’ve picked up some word now — the rumor going around outside is that it was planned by Chen Shuangran, the young lady of the Chen family, including this whole business of framing our troops in various regions and using local civilians as the front line, so that if anything went wrong they could just claim they’d been deceived. All of it, apparently, planned by her.”

“Chen Shuangran… too careless of us. Wasn’t she the very beautiful one from the Chen family, the one mentioned before?”

“Mm.” Zhou Pei nodded. “The Chen family claims to be maritime merchants, but they’re actually pirates. When we crushed the Chen family last year, I heard this young lady had already become betrothed to the young master of the He household in Yanping, just about to be married. By the end of the year, though, the He household had been wiped out, and it was only afterward that the great clans quietly pushed her forward, along with Pu Xingui and Cao Jinlong. By rights, she should only be a figurehead — so whether this rumor is even true, we can’t yet say.”

Since establishing a firm foothold last year, Jun Wu had made his intentions plain — building up the Military Preparatory Academy to strengthen the court’s internal foundation on the one hand, and clearing away outside obstacles on the other. In the middle of last year he’d eliminated the maritime merchants, and by the end of the year he’d used himself as bait to lure out several great clans harboring rebellious intentions. It had been a gamble, but a beautifully executed one, with all the flair of an emperor who had risen from the saddle. And ever since last year’s land survey and attempted tax increase in Fujian, resistance from certain great clans had already fallen within expectations — even as isolated, ugly incidents like the “Kill the Yellow Dogs” assassinations of officials broke out here and there, government authority had already taken firm root in several major cities. As for the contest for control at the grassroots level, that had always been something that needed to be handled step by step.

Whenever the other side moved to assassinate, this side sent in more men and tried to make arrests. When the great clans resisted, this side gathered evidence and dealt with them one family at a time — first stabilizing one’s own base, then meeting whatever force came with whatever countermeasure fit, gradually tightening control over the periphery, step by step. Jun Wu could not claim to be a heaven-sent genius, but through prolonged setbacks and hardship he had developed no shortage of patience and resilience in facing off against others.

Given all that, this incident had, in the end, proven that the likes of Pu Xingui, Cao Jinlong, and Chen Shuangran — small-time clowns pushed onto the stage — had still been underestimated and overlooked. After all, up until now, every single assassination attempt they had organized within Fuzhou had failed.

Setbacks were, of course, emotionally hard to bear. Zhou Pei thought it over and offered some comfort: “Master Cheng and Lord Tie are already working on tracking this down. We’ve long known these people were preparing all sorts of assassination plots — they’ve even sent out open invitations to disreputable martial artists of dubious character elsewhere, inviting them into Fujian to commit violence. But up to now it’s always been a lot of noise and no real action, and after Lord Tie took over the garrison of Fuzhou, we honestly didn’t devote too much attention to dealing with them. After this, though, I think we need to put some real effort into rooting them out completely. It’s just that Your Majesty shouldn’t be spending so much of his own energy worrying over people like this.”

“Catch them sooner, kill them sooner,” Jun Wu muttered. “Everyone’s already run themselves ragged over this business. Zuo Wenhuai wrote up a self-criticism and took thirty strokes of the rod for it — he can barely get out of bed now, and he’s still trying to go smooth things over in the army. Master Li has already rallied Confucian scholars everywhere to write in support. The Beiwei Army has suffered this humiliation, but General Yue is still insisting on continuing the relief work, and that discipline must be strictly enforced regardless. As for Li Guang and Hu Quan — I’ve never been especially close to them in ordinary times, but the moment something happens, they throw themselves wholeheartedly into handling it… Everyone is busy. It’s nothing if I spend a bit more energy and effort too. Given the current situation — if this Chen Shuangran really is this capable, and I can’t manage to kill her, I might as well just take her in as a consort.”

He said it as a joke, and Zhou Pei laughed along.

“Is Your Majesty thirsting for talent here, or just going after a pretty face?”

“I’ve always thirsted for talent — if she really is a person of ability, then I…” Jun Wu trailed off, his finger pausing in midair. A moment later his eyes flickered with a sudden change. “I’ve got it. Sister, I’ve got it.”

“What?”

“Money! I’ve got the answer.” He waved his finger, already growing excited. “Take in consorts! Take in consorts! Haven’t the southeastern gentry always felt I keep them at arm’s length, that I’ve been taking their things away these past two years? Haven’t there always been voices urging me to take in consorts anyway, saying it’s not safe for me to have no Crown Prince yet… No Crown Prince is exactly the point! Let these great households send their daughters over — we can get by for a few more months just on the dowries, sister!”

Zhou Pei frowned. “Haven’t you always said you were afraid of trouble from consort clans — that if you took in a consort, no matter how strict the requirements, her family would still be courted and manipulated in all sorts of ways? Even the small, humble families you took in before led to that whole business with Shen Ruye. And now you’d take in daughters from the great clans…”

“There’s no room left to worry about all that. Relations with every side are already strained, tax revenue is what it is, and you’ve already shipped off everything of value you brought out of Lin’an last year. The money isn’t coming back — for now, we just have to cross each bridge as we come to it. Officials can’t be sold, military pay can’t be cut, so I’ll sell myself off for once. Heh heh heh…” By now he was growing genuinely excited. He spread out a sheet of paper, ground some ink, and prepared to write. “For this kind of thing, I won’t even be picky. Mm, pretty is best… no wait, ugly is fine too — the uglier ones can bring bigger dowries. Mm, as long as money is the standard, pretty or ugly, it’ll all come down to my luck. Ha ha…”

The proposal of taking in consorts to win over the consort clans and forge ties with the great families had actually been raised once before, shortly after he first arrived in Fuzhou, but the idea carried no end of future trouble, and back then things hadn’t yet been so dire, so Jun Wu had flatly rejected it. Recalling it now, he felt a wave of relief, his words growing lighter and more relaxed, sitting at his desk happily drafting the initial outline.

Zhou Pei watched her younger brother’s expression at that moment, and a flicker of pity gradually crossed her eyes as she sat down beside him. “…It seems, going forward, you might sell me off in a round too.”

“No, that won’t do. Selling myself is one thing, but you, elder sister, cannot be sold.” In the side hall, the Emperor spoke with an easy, unguarded cheer as he bent over his writing, and he laughed. “…I’ll look after you.”

Perhaps it was because his tense nerves had suddenly loosened, but in that moment Jun Wu’s words carried an innocence like that of many years ago, when he was still a boy. Zhou Pei looked at him for a long while, then finally nodded.

“…Mm.”

…

Having thought up a stopgap solution to the immediate financial crisis, even though such a major matter couldn’t be settled all at once, his mood eased somewhat. After a while, Princess Imperial Zhou Pei left the palace. Jun Wu sat in his chair, rubbing his forehead. It was the afternoon just after the typhoon had passed; distant light, bright and dim by turns, spilled in through part of the hall doorway, but it never quite reached the throne where the Emperor sat.

Exhaustion still weighed on him. He thought over the whole business of taking in consorts for money, then thought of the state of the armies scattered across the region, and of Zhong Ergui’s wrongful death. At the end of last year, he’d even had something to celebrate — but now, tendrils woven out of darkness had reached from behind and wrapped themselves around his hands.

What he faced was not open combat with clear enemies and drawn swords; everything was like a swamp, blood-sucking insects crawling unnoticed up his body, and there were times he could hardly tell friend from foe anymore.

Thinking this way in the darkness, at some point, he raised his hand and slammed it down hard onto the table.

A guard outside the hall, hearing the noise, poked his head in to check on the commotion. The Emperor, caught in the middle of his gloom yet still carrying his dignity, glanced over. A moment later, he sighed softly and waved a hand toward the door.

“It’s nothing…”

He soothed the guard with a sigh.

Like a deflated ball.

And after a while longer, he would even have to pump himself back up again, and keep working…

…

The third year of Zhenxing, the twenty-fifth of the fourth month, evening.

While the people of Fuzhou were caught up in this whirlwind of political trouble, at the southwest gate of the city, a shabby carriage pulled by a jujube-blossom horse carried two traveling young people slowly into the ancient city, still a mess from the storm damage.

The floodwater brought by the wind and rain had not yet fully receded; the streets ran with filth, garbage piled along the roadsides, and there were collapsed houses here and there, with people still clearing out their storm-damaged homes.

“Wow, so lively!”

At the front of the carriage, a young man in patched clothes, holding a horsewhip, widened his eyes and let out a strange exclamation.

Inside the cabin behind him, the girl forced into the alias “Long Aotian” was tidying up their things while gazing at him tenderly.

Ning Ji and Qu Longjun had likewise weathered the typhoon a few days earlier.

They had been lucky enough to find a small cave in the nearby mountains to shelter in. When the typhoon hit, the whole sky turned dark, wind and rain howling as though ten thousand horsemen were charging past, and Ning Ji had watched from the cave in wide-eyed, thrilled amazement. Because the cave was small, Qu Longjun had ended up letting Ning Ji hold her, and the two of them had squeezed together with their jujube-blossom horse, “Bald Donkey.”

Once the wind and rain had lessened somewhat, Ning Ji had even gone out to practice his fists several times — because, according to the teachings of the Huaxia Army, sparring against mountain floods and tidal waves could markedly improve one’s martial cultivation.

The typhoon really had been amazing, thrilling beyond words.

After the storm passed, they’d come down from the mountain, switching along the way to a broken-down carriage belonging to someone else’s household. Having heard that Fuzhou often saw big storms — and that this one might not even be the biggest — Ning Ji was already looking forward to it eagerly. He and Qu Longjun had made plans: they would head to Fuzhou together, convert this broken carriage into a mobile general store, buy and sell goods and make a fortune, then rent a sturdy house in the city, and when the next typhoon came, the two of them would sit inside eating hot pot and singing songs, savoring the whole experience properly.

As for everything about being together with him — Qu Longjun, naturally, looked forward to it just as eagerly.

At that very same moment, several dozen li away in Hou Guan County, Yue Yinping and Yue Yun were pouring a jug of strong liquor onto the very street where their comrade had died wrongfully three days earlier, mourning their fallen friend.

And on the other side of this world, a name — Chen Shuangran — was passing from mouth to mouth among the leaders of the great clans, on the verge of becoming a legend of the underworld that summer…

Amid the noise and chaos of the city, the sea breeze blew, threads of cause and effect stretching outward, and some stories had yet to unfold.

They were about to begin…