The night wind had already replaced the day’s heat, and with each successive gust, the commotion stirring through Fuzhou gradually settled. The government constables patrolled the streets around the Princess’s residence again and again, black-robed officers inspecting the sites of the fighting, tallying the damage, while passersby on the streets talked in small clusters about the day’s unrest. Because of the tense atmosphere, occasional small disturbances and ripples still surfaced further out in the city’s streets — like sudden little sparks flaring up, hints of a great city whose gears weren’t turning quite smoothly.
The exhausted Emperor sat in his carriage, gradually making his way back to the palace. He wanted to rest, but a lingering excitement and unease still stirred in his mind — that girl named Xiao Chan’s son was somewhere in the city right now, bringing him memories of the past and news of a certain towering figure, and at this very moment he felt as though he were piloting a small skiff through towering waves, uncertain how he would one day explain this whole journey to himself.
Behind the Princess’s residence, little Zhou Fuyang was waving her hands about, chattering away to her aunt seated in the recliner, gesturing with her small, clumsy hands, lollipop in hand, mouth opening wide to try stuffing it in — though of course her tiny mouth couldn’t quite manage that. The silly little girl and her aunt in the chair both laughed, and before long, Zhou Pei, rubbing her temples, began patiently explaining to her that little girls shouldn’t do that sort of thing, that it would stretch her mouth out of shape and look unbecoming. Zhao Xiaosong came in and whispered in her ear that a certain troublemaker had been properly settled.
Tunyun made his way through the dim city, savoring the depth and fullness of the internal energy coursing through his body, replaying in his mind that battle against hundreds of pursuers just now. Every so often, a hard fight like this one reminded him of the blood surging through his veins, and of the true strength of his own skill — with Zhou Tong gone and the old figures of the jianghu scattered to the winds these days, he was, without question, stronger now than he’d ever been. In the past, he hadn’t cared for or valued this sort of brute, head-on clash, but tonight, his own heroic bearing had surely been burned into that lecherous youth’s memory.
Before long, he would head back to Jiuxian Mountain and casually recount his encounter with the young man. He had no need to explain his own strength to anyone — anyone who’d witnessed tonight’s killing commotion around the Princess’s residence would already understand it all. As for how to build trust and make contact with that lecherous youth, that was Chen Shuangran’s business now; Tunyun understood that once she learned the young man had charged into the Princess’s residence multiple times and still survived, that fickle, unhinged girl would already have taken an interest.
That madwoman wasn’t a proper match by any means — beneath her passable exterior lay a rotten, foul mess through and through, worse even than a courtesan who’d spent years working the pleasure houses. Tunyun, a man who’d spent his whole life enjoying women, felt no interest in her whatsoever. He knew the woman’s interest in the youth likely carried some twisted, perverse undertone; if the boy truly took the bait, he’d probably end up as pitiable as that foolish Cao Jinlong. But no matter — a man only truly grows after being wounded by a woman, and with Tunyun keeping half an eye on things, he could well let the youth see the true face of the world afterward, and perhaps teach him a few lessons about life while he was at it.
— These sorts of lessons were precious, the kind a person only got once or twice in a lifetime, wounds cut deep enough to teach real growth. Better learned young than old.
The mortal world churned like a tide of people, and having grown old himself, he’d begun to envy children still unshaped by it.
Of course, what he didn’t know was this: in that particular regard, Ning Ji had long since been thoroughly corrupted already.
The warm night wind drifted on, gradually thinning out the pedestrians in the streets, and as it blew on past midnight, the city’s curfew bell rang out. After a brief spell of calm and rest, certain corners of the city began stirring back to life.
In the early hours.
Li Pin had already woken, and Luo Shouwei, who shared his bed, rose at nearly the same moment. She helped him dress, then had a maid bring in water for washing his face.
“…Today’s a big day.”
“I know.” Luo Shouwei fastened his buttons for him.
Li Pin reached out and squeezed the back of her hand. “There might be fighting.”
“Mm.” As she tied his sash, Luo Shouwei embraced him briefly, then turned to wring out a washcloth for him.
This was a rhythm the two of them had long since grown familiar with — a quiet routine carrying its own tacit warmth and intimacy. Luo Shouwei was a female Daoist priestess of the Zhengyi sect, carrying in her heart the vengeance owed for her father and brother, and admiring Li Pin’s talent and learning, though she had her own strong personality too. In their time together, the two occasionally clashed and argued — Luo Shouwei tended to sulk in silence when upset, while Li Pin wasn’t one to coax and soothe, which often led to cold silences between them.
In truth, years ago Li Pin had actually had a rather easygoing, accommodating temperament — back in Jiangning, he’d been able to get along well with Ning Yi, and just as easily with all manner of other literary men, whatever their character. But after taking on the defense of Taiyuan, the weight of family and nation had gradually reshaped certain parts of his disposition; many of the small, refined touches that might be called a scholar’s elegant bearing, he’d deliberately set aside — especially after his falling-out with Ning Yi at Xiaocang River. Much of the pressure he carried, in fact, tormented him in private, and few understood that at times, focusing his attention on those around him and on family could bring on an overwhelming sense of guilt.
With the Xiongnu not yet destroyed, how could he claim to have a home?
Whether this kind of temperament was good or bad, outsiders had no standing to judge. In truth, Luo Shouwei likely understood Li Pin’s character better than most — she’d get upset from time to time, the two of them would occasionally part ways, but there was always some reason that would bring them “inevitably” back together again. Just as she’d come now to guard his safety without needing to say much about it, the two often shared a bed, occasionally engaging in rather intimate behavior. More often than not, Luo Shouwei also helped Li Pin look after his gravely ill first wife, observing the etiquette due a concubine — to her mind, none of this was any great matter; both of them had far more important things to attend to.
The guards arranged by the court had already assembled in the courtyard, and before long, the carriage left the academy, heading toward the newspaper office, already hard at work.
Beyond the carriage curtain, the night sky hung in a quiet slate gray. Li Pin looked out for a while. “What was that business at the Princess Imperial’s residence last night? Did anyone go ask about it afterward?”
“It caused quite a stir, but Zhao Xiaosong was being all mysterious about it, only gave a two-word reply: ‘no harm done.’ Though it’s fairly certain now that Tunyun was indeed involved.”
“Sounds like a complicated affair, more than a few words could explain…” Li Pin sighed. “The Princess’s residence has been struck twice or three times now — these bandits are getting bold. Is there really no one who can rein in this Tunyun?”
“His lightness skill is unmatched — he can fight and flee both. Genuinely difficult to deal with.”
“Mm.”
Li Pin nodded, then pulled a box out from beneath the carriage seat, took out the item inside, examined it carefully once more, and loaded it with gunpowder. This was a matchlock gun that Cheng Zhouhai had taken from Ning Yi’s side and passed along to him.
“When it comes to dealing with jianghu types, Ning Yi really did have foresight, and experience too.” He looked at the gun in his hand, then rested it in his lap. “With this on me for protection, even if I run into some skilled fighter, I won’t be entirely without a way to fight back. If that Tunyun comes for us, don’t meet him head-on — protecting yourself comes first.”
Luo Shouwei sat across from him, watching him. “How to protect people is for me to decide… Master Dexin.”
“Then let me ask you, as a man asking a favor — don’t get hurt too badly,” Li Pin said. “…It wouldn’t look good.”
As Li Pin said the first half of that sentence, Luo Shouwei’s expression had softened, and she’d been about to agree — but on hearing that last bit, she gave a small, cold huff instead, turning her head aside to look out at the night beyond the carriage curtain.
“…My body’s never looked good to begin with anyway.”
She muttered it under her breath.
As a martial artist of the jianghu who’d fought her way to Fuzhou alongside the court, Luo Shouwei’s body carried scars everywhere. Li Pin didn’t actually mind that at all, but the way he’d phrased it hadn’t sat well with her, and she was a little put out by it.
Li Pin let out a sigh and didn’t bother saying more.
The carriage fell quiet, passing through layer upon layer of night, and by the time it reached the newspaper office, the first print run of the paper had already come off the press.
With the news of Lin’an’s fall spreading, the rebellious factions, sensing the court’s various pressures mounting, were newly energized, and the court, after a full day of deliberation, had finally reached its decision. That decision had now been set into print, ready to be released come morning, to spar in a new round against the various restless factions. Li Pin went over the paper carefully once more, then set aside several copies to be sealed and instructed a servant: “Send these to the palace.”
A messenger rode out through the night on horseback, racing toward the imperial city.
In response to Lin’an falling once again, and to the current suffering of the people of Jiangnan, the court had first dispatched envoys to negotiate with and offer amnesty to several of the Fairness Party’s warlord factions, offering to cede a great many powers of the court in exchange for pleading that whichever faction entered the city treat the people of Lin’an well. At the same time, the two armies under Yue Fei and Han Shizhong had begun marching north, tasked with taking in and comforting all the common people affected by the fighting.
Zhou Junwu, meanwhile, issued a self-reproaching edict published in the paper. Given the court’s tight finances, immediately reclaiming Lin’an from the flames of war wasn’t realistic, but the court would do everything in its power to resettle every commoner who reached the safe zone. To support this expense, starting immediately, the court would carry out large-scale spending cuts — even the palace’s standard budget would be reduced to thirty percent of what it had been, and the Emperor himself would eat only one meal a day. Once the southbound fleet returned, the court would immediately march north to rescue all the suffering people of the Wu Dynasty.
And to ensure the greatest possible relief for the people affected by this war, the court had also adopted a great many measures, now recorded in dense detail in the paper.
This was an extraordinary, rare, and remarkably detailed edict…
The paper was delivered into the palace.
Work at the newspaper office continued back and forth under the lamplight, and Li Pin toured the workshop, gathering the various supervisors together, repeatedly confirming and refining the slogans and phrases the papers would need — words that would filter down layer by layer into the mouths of newsboys, paper sellers, and storytellers, eventually reaching the ears of every single person who received them.
Some would notice something unusual in these words…
The rooster crowed.
At the Military Academy, the horn sounded, and a great many students were roused, gathering out on the training grounds.
Zuo Wenhuai and Xiao Jingyi stepped forward.
“…Classmates, brothers, regarding the matter of Lin’an, His Majesty has already made his decision, and it will be put into action this very morning… And what needs to be said here is: your studies are, for now, over. Exams are coming—”
Zuo Wenhuai raised a hand beneath the pale gray dawn sky.
“All of you gathered here today — some longer in your studies, some shorter. During your time at the Military Academy, you’ve studied military strategy, studied warfare, studied the way of governance — but what matters most is what? It’s learning how to be a person of true integrity, learning what it means to ‘answer to the Son of Heaven above, and rescue the common people below’… and what comes next is when we truly put that rescue into practice—”
“Classmates, gathered here today in this Military Academy, you come from different places, your families rich or poor — but regardless, you’ve been able to study here in peace, to have food to eat. But we should all remember, that at this very moment, countless people out there, countless people just like us, are suffering — displaced, their families torn apart… We’ve discussed this before, we’ve weighed the gains and losses, some of you came from Jiangnan yourselves, we’ve felt righteous indignation, we’ve felt it in our own hearts — and regardless, classmates… the time for action has finally come.”
“From here, we will go to the front lines, living and eating alongside the soldiers of the Beiwei and Zhenhai Armies, alongside our countrymen, our common people, putting our training to use, so that as many people as possible can survive. So that everyone — can survive—”
“All of you, the situation in Fujian is not stable. His Majesty means to carry out great reforms, but those who think only of themselves, the profiteers, the selfish, won’t allow it — they cannot see the great danger of a rigid, ossified system, cannot see the overwhelming disaster that comes from neglecting the common people… Nearly three hundred years, this court, with no new ideas, no new solutions, teetering on the edge… His Majesty could have chosen the simplest path, prolonging the Wu Dynasty’s life alongside the old profiteers, propping up a decaying old system that limps along… but that system, those methods, never truly held the common people, the ordinary folk within them. And so His Majesty wants a new way — one where everyone under heaven is equal, whether landed gentry or lowly peddler, His Majesty hopes they can all live as equals… equally, and enduringly…”
“What we’re walking now isn’t an easy road, because the reforms have only just begun — many don’t understand, many won’t accept it… but that’s how things always are. We’ve discussed it, we’ve said it ourselves — someone has to be the one who wakes up first, who walks ahead of everyone else. And in this, His Majesty is counting on us…”
“His Majesty is counting on us to set aside the parochial thinking in our hearts, to do everything we can to save the people of this land—”
“His Majesty is counting on us to let this whole world truly see what it means to answer to the Son of Heaven above and rescue the common people below — what the common people truly are—”
“His Majesty is counting on us to break through this wall of ice… Gentlemen, ruling the world alongside the scholar-officials alone leaves it a stagnant pool of dead water — only by ruling the world together with all its people can that water be stirred back to life—”
“Gentlemen, what His Majesty wants to achieve, the new order he wants to bring, the eternal nation he wants to build — he wants to place power, and the possibility of awakening, into the hands of every single person in this world… and he hopes that we can be the example.”
“Gentlemen, be that example. One day, history, and countless common people, will remember us—”
The curfew had already lifted, the sky at the horizon showing streaks of pale yellow and white dawn, and as birds flew over the city, the students of the Military Academy formed ranks and marched out through the gates, drawing the gaze of early-rising residents along the road.
Those distributing the papers began fanning out in every direction, weaving a spiderweb across the city, and before long, newsboys were running through the streets, calling out the day’s headlines.
Jun Wu had slept in, rubbing his eyes as he woke from his dream. The chief eunuch handed him the paper, and before long, he climbed the palace walls to look out over the city below, taking in every detail.
In truth, all the various city leaders, Chen Shuangran included, had already learned of the court’s decisions and arrangements in the early hours of the morning.
Yesterday’s deliberations had run so long that there was no morning court session held today. The heads of the scholar-official faction — Li Guang, Hu Quan, and several others — met instead at a teahouse in the city, papers in hand, poring over every detail on the pages. Noticing the unusual frequency of certain phrases in the print, and having heard word passed down about the Military Academy’s departure speech, some sat back in their chairs, deflated, while others slammed their hands on the table and stood.
“Wolfish ambition, plain as day…”
“The Zuo family has seized control of public discourse…”
“‘Common people, common people’ — dressed up so nobly… this is the southwest’s ‘Four Classes’ talk—”
“The blade’s out of its sheath now… Ning Yi means to replace the very blood of Confucianism — and why would Li Pin support this—”
Someone walked over to the window, looking down at Fuzhou in the early morning.
“No wonder the various great clans won’t stand for it…”
“Just watch, there’s trouble coming in this city…”
At the newspaper office, Li Pin’s carriage pulled away from the mouth of the alley.
Arrows came flying, whistling as they flew.
Li Pin reached for his matchlock gun, resting it against his knee.
Luo Shouwei drew her sword and threw back the carriage curtain, stepping out.
Ahead, blade-wielding attackers were closing in.
Jiuxian Mountain.
Chen Shuangran, newly bought paper in hand, finished reading it through.
“Those old fools have no way out now.”
…
“…Let’s fight.”