Dinner that evening in the palace was rice and three small dishes of pickled vegetables.
Junwu, somewhat embarrassed by this, explained that he had just issued a decree the day before calling on everyone to “share the hardships together,” and couldn’t slap his own face today by eating well. But Ning Ji didn’t mind — he’d come from a scouting background, having eaten insects and tree bark before; compared to that, the material conditions of the great southwestern war hadn’t even been particularly harsh. During the Xiaocang River period, most of the elite soldiers who survived had eaten corpses to live. Ning Ji wouldn’t have minded eating a Jurchen corpse either, though he’d never had the opportunity — though in the thick of battle, he had once bitten straight through an enemy’s throat. The taste, of course, wasn’t good, but watching the enemy convulse in a pool of blood had felt quite satisfying.
These were things there was no need to describe vividly to someone who hadn’t lived through them. He hadn’t even told Qu Longjun.
“But my older brother loves hunting down good food — every time he arrives somewhere new, he goes off alone, carefully, secretly searching for it.”
Ning Ji, eating heartily, shared family anecdotes with Junwu.
“My father… apparently used to love good food in his younger years, but lately says it’s not that interesting anymore — he likes to steal my brother’s snacks instead. Every time my mother has him bring things to my brother in Chengdu, he always ends up splitting it in half, and sometimes even accidentally eats the whole thing, so my brother ends up with nothing…”
“Every time my brother brings snacks for me, it’s the same — he only leaves me a little bit…”
“Though sometimes I fight with Wenwen and Ningke over food too… I find that pretty fun as well.”
Liking to fight his younger siblings for food was something that had started after he came back from the battlefield. Before that, he had also been the caring older brother looking after his siblings. But after eating bugs and roots, and truly, viscerally biting through a man’s throat, Ning Ji had come to find it genuinely enjoyable to fight his younger siblings over food — the food tasted better that way. This was the evil that war left behind. He had once written this reflection, in crooked handwriting, into a school essay, but later felt too ashamed of it and never turned it in.
“Ohh…” The emperor sighed with admiration and envy. “When I was young, my imperial sister was never that fun. She always kept a straight face, like it was written across it: I am formidable…”
“Hm?”
“You’d better not look at her face. Everyone granted audience at the Princess Imperial’s residence is warned — do not look at the Princess Imperial’s face, offenders are to be beheaded. I’m the emperor, I don’t lie.”
“Uh…”
Night had long since fallen, and a scattering of stars hung in the palace sky. The mismatched pair of brothers-in-the-same-master finished a simple dinner and strolled along the imperial way toward the palace walls, catching the evening breeze, watching the night scenery of Fuzhou city. Despite the difference in age, the two shared a similar temperament at heart, and there was plenty to talk about. After Ning Ji finished pointing out the flickering lights within the city and recounting the schemes of Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui, he — having by now developed a good deal of goodwill toward the emperor and worried about him dying someday — decided to teach him how to shoot. But it turned out that when the two of them went to the palace drill ground, Junwu’s skill with a firearm was already impressive; even at night, using the long muskets already issued in the army, he managed to hit the target seven times out of ten.
“I was involved from start to finish in the improvement of the gunpowder,” Junwu said about this, quite naturally. “On my hands, on my body, here, look here… I’ve had burns before, my face got singed once, nothing serious. As for the barrel-bursting that can blind a man during firearm testing, I’ve never once run into that — for the army, that kind of luck counts as excellent, heaven-blessed. I often tell the officials in charge of management — the finished product has to be tested by your own hands. If you don’t test it yourself, how would you know if it works? You risk your own life to test it first, and that’s how the soldiers’ lives in the army get protected. Though compared to the Institute of Investigation in the southwest, I’m still far behind. I’ve heard…”
The two of them finished shooting and sat down on the stone steps beside the drill ground. During that day’s conversation, the emperor mentioned the Institute of Investigation in the southwest for the twenty-seventh time, going on and on, and then discussed with Ning Ji: “Years ago — right after the great southwestern war ended, at that meeting in Chengdu — I wrote a letter and had Zuo Xiuquan take it, asking for help, whether Director Lin Jingwei and the others could come give me some guidance… You know, now that Lin Jingwei’s been hurt in the explosion, if I bring this up again, do you think the Master might agree? What if I write again, and tell the Master — your son is here with me now, you give me Lin Jingwei, and I’ll trade you…”
Ning Ji, whose head already ached at the thought of the whole gang of nerds at the Institute of Investigation, felt his face flatten out at this. Not entirely sure whether the man was showing his true colors or not, he rolled his eyes. “Then go ahead and write it — my father will definitely say he doesn’t have a son like me. Go ahead and lock me up, that’ll be one less headache for him. And besides… even if he sends Uncle Lin over to you, I’m still not going back.”
“…Your reputation as the ‘Five-Foot Lecher’ really doesn’t lend itself to a homecoming, does it.” Junwu rubbed his chin, muttering.
Ning Ji turned to glare at him.
“Well then, this matter — senior brother here can help clean up your reputation. See, I’m the emperor, I’ll proclaim it across the realm, that you’re in Fuzhou doing good deeds every day, championing justice, letting the whole world know your name…”
“Little Hei and the others have already run into me in Jiangning, no one’s going to believe you, and doing good deeds every day on top of it — if those bastards heard that, they’d die laughing all over again…”
“I’m just giving the Master an excuse. If he sends Director Lin over, I can go back on my word — say you ran off. I’m the emperor, being this sly, going back on my word — the Master would be delighted.”
“Well then, go ahead and write it…” Ning Ji said, not particularly caring; his reputation in the southwest was already dead, he was past caring about anything now.
“Let me think it over. Your situation is complicated, I can’t just write the letter carelessly, or if someone intercepts it, that’ll be the end of it. But you’ve been away from home for over a year now, the Master must be dying to know how you’re doing — I could let him know you’re safe, on your behalf…”
“He already knows what I’ve been up to in Jiangning…” Ning Ji propped his chin on both hands and sighed.
“But you’ll have to go back eventually, won’t you? When are you thinking of going back?”
“Once I kill Lin Zongwu, once Little Hei and the others know I’m the greatest martial artist under heaven, I can go back.”
“Ohh…” Junwu looked up at the stars. “Your mother must be so worried about you…”
“…”
“Senior brother here, though — my father and mother are both gone. Mother passed early… and my useless father died at sea. I wasn’t with him when he died, but my sister says he was still thinking of me right to the end.”
“…”
“Well, all right, all right, I’ll stop talking about it…”
“…”
“By the way, your mother is Miss Xiao Chan, right? I used to call her older sister…”
Buzz buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz buzz…
…
After finishing the important matters, they spent a while talking about family, until Ning Ji, having had quite enough, felt a murderous urge toward the emperor. Sensing the threat, Junwu reluctantly let him go. “I’d originally hoped you’d just stay and rest in the palace tonight. There’s so much more I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I still need to seek justice for Zuo Xingzhou. And I have to see Pu Xingui first thing tomorrow morning.” Ning Ji claimed he had real business to attend to.
“Sigh…” Junwu sighed, and as Ning Ji was finally about to leave, said, “About this whole business inside the city — a lot of it has gone through Master Cheng. His arrangements interlock in ways even I can’t quite follow. As for what concerns you, I think he understands the priorities — you should keep that in mind while you’re out there doing things.”
“What… what do you mean…” Ning Ji frowned. “You mean… Cheng Zhouhai might do something out of line…”
“No…” Junwu smiled. “What I mean is, you should be a bit more careful too. Don’t cause too big a fuss, or in the end, in front of Master Cheng, you’ll lose face for the both of us, senior brother and junior brother…”
Junwu lowered his voice.
“After all, he’s Chancellor Qin’s direct disciple, and he’s known for his schemes. On the surface he seems to be on our side, but with that murderous scoundrel of a Master of yours, there’s some rivalry there too… you’ll come to understand, slowly…”
Not long after, a thoroughly puzzled Ning Ji left the palace through a secret passage.
Junwu had spent the afternoon intercepting his little junior brother at the Princess Imperial’s residence, and catching up with him and reminiscing had eaten up too much time. After seeing him off, Junwu returned to the imperial study to begin reviewing memorials. Halfway through the pile, a weary Cheng Zhouhai came to request an audience.
He clearly already knew about the meeting between Junwu and Ning Ji.
“…I hear Your Majesty dismissed all attendants, and then gave a firearm to Ning Ji — that was truly reckless, imprudent. This is beneath the dignity of an emperor. It can happen once, but never again…”
Cheng Zhouhai began his earnest, patient lecture. Junwu pulled a sheet of paper from his desk.
“When the report about the firearm was submitted, didn’t Master Cheng already anticipate this? You might as well not have told me about it at all.”
Cheng Zhouhai sighed. “Even in telling you, I hoped Your Majesty would decide on some other course of action. No one else in the hall, and you hand him a firearm — that’s handing him your life.”
“When I rode in the same carriage as him, wasn’t I already handing him my life then. Master Cheng, I bet correctly. This little junior brother of mine has a pure, innocent heart — he wouldn’t need a firearm if he wanted to kill me.”
“‘Handing him your life,’ said so lightly! Your Majesty, you are the most exalted of all — if word of this gets out, what will the Confucian ministers think? Will they still be willing to serve you with their lives? Your Majesty, you’ve let yourself get carried away!”
“…”
Junwu froze for a moment.
Not long after, he made a self-criticism.
Cheng Zhouhai sighed. “This is… exactly the outcome I least wanted to see, when I brought you that intelligence. Your Majesty, when it comes to matters concerning the southwest, you are not mature enough. In the future, you will need to negotiate, fight, and haggle with them — with so many people placing so much hope in you, how can they trust you, acting this way?”
“…” Junwu was silent for a moment. “I did keep it quiet…”
“This palace leaks like a sieve — there’s no such thing as truly keeping something quiet here… Your Majesty, so often, you show pure, wholehearted sincerity, but the moment it touches on the southwest, you become a child again, and that’s not good. The people following you have their own hopes, their own aspirations placed in you. You carry the legacy of the Wu Dynasty on your shoulders, the tradition of hereditary rule, the mantle and responsibility of the Confucian tradition — even if it’s all performance, you must still play your part well…”
“…I originally thought Master Cheng was testing my attitude toward the southwest, but I never expected…”
“…Your Majesty, after all this time together, is there anything about your feelings toward the southwest that I don’t already understand in my heart?” Cheng Zhouhai sighed. “What I truly wanted to see was Your Majesty’s skill and depth of judgment. Your Majesty, how you think doesn’t matter — what matters is what you can actually accomplish.”
Junwu nodded slightly at his desk, and after a moment said, “Master Cheng… what you’ve always cared about… is Grandfather Qin’s legacy, isn’t it?”
Cheng Zhouhai neither confirmed nor denied this, and after a long silence, finally spoke.
“My master devoted his entire life, heart and soul, to this cause. The Confucian tradition spans a thousand years, flowing on and on. Ning Yi’s methods are extreme, and mine have never been entirely upright either, but at the root of it, he still walks the path of establishing the mind of Heaven and Earth, securing the livelihood of the people, and bringing lasting peace to all future generations. What he violates is the Confucianism of later ages, not that of Confucius and Mencius themselves — he cannot overturn the heavens entirely! “
He paused briefly. “…It’s really nothing more than needing to redefine what counts as the wisdom of the ancient sages, and what counts as lost learning. Your Majesty, there’s no need to lose heart.”
Junwu nodded. “But Master Cheng… I feel that… everything the Master says is right…”
“A great deal of what he says IS right! If he wins in the end, we’ll be left with our scholarship, for him to pick through as he pleases. If he loses, we’ll still honor him as a sage of the past, and fold his ideas — equality among all people, the investigation of things to attain knowledge — into Confucianism. What of it!”
In the years since Junwu had taken the throne, even though he had at times shown remarkable warmth toward the southwest, Cheng Zhouhai had never made any comment on it. But at this moment, clearly provoked by Junwu’s reckless gesture of putting his life in Ning Ji’s hands, he had spoken a few words of genuine feeling.
As the conversation reached this point, Junwu knew he was right — putting one’s life in another’s hands was the greatest recklessness a ruler could commit, and the greatest disrespect toward all his followers. He accepted the lesson and made his self-criticism, and Cheng Zhouhai said no more on the matter.
Afterward, Cheng Zhouhai reported on some of the day’s affairs, and just as he was about to leave, Junwu called him back.
“Master Cheng.” he said. “You are my teacher, and my elder. As a junior, there’s something I want to ask you.”
Cheng Zhouhai nodded.
“…Today, meeting this little junior brother of mine, I treated him with sincerity, and I was happy for that sincerity. But at the same time, I also knew, quite clearly, that this was the very thing that could win me the greatest benefit — winning his sincerity in return… Master, I have so many conflicting thoughts in my heart. Tell me — was that true feeling, or was it an act?”
Cheng Zhouhai was silent for a moment, then smiled wearily, and sighed.
“Your Majesty… as an elder, I would say — that you could even ask this question shows you still have the heart of an innocent child. And as your minister, I would say — Your Majesty, please, just don’t torment me any further, all right?”
“Hahahaha…” Junwu laughed loudly.
Cheng Zhouhai sighed, turned to leave, and walked to the door — then, after a moment, turned his head slightly.
“Your Majesty, actually… this Ning Ji fellow, growing up in Zhang Village, shaped by exposure to Ning Yi — he’s not nearly as single-minded and simple as he looks. If you had truly harbored ill intent today, giving him that gun might really have gotten you killed…”
“…Is that… so?”
Junwu frowned, startled for a moment.
…
Leaving the palace through the secret passage Junwu had arranged, by the time Ning Ji returned to the Princess Imperial’s residence, it was already quite late. Qu Longjun had already been sent back by the Princess.
Ning Ji sat in the courtyard, telling Qu Longjun about the whole course of his meeting with his “senior brother” that day. “My father taught many disciples in the southwest, but I really think this one is a bit like a long-lost eldest senior brother of mine… though some of his ideas are rather… rather… pessimistic. Like when I asked him why he didn’t bring troops into the city, he told me…”
Ning Ji rambled on about his impressions, and Qu Longjun gradually pieced together, from all this, the picture of the “emperor” the young man had met that day — which was, in fact, somewhat similar to the younger brother the Princess Imperial had described over the past two days, though genuinely quite different from the sort of ruler one read about in books.
“Actually, it’s understandable.” Qu Longjun said. “The two siblings never got to enjoy the pleasures of power. Ever since Master Ning slew the emperor, all that fell on their shoulders was a terrifying mess to clean up, trembling with fear the whole time — and afterward they were chased across the whole country by the Jurchen. With the shame of the Jingping disaster as a lesson right in front of them, if it were me, I’d be afraid too.”
“It’s just that in the end he got a bit long-winded… always wanting me to go back to the southwest, saying he worries my father and mother miss me… so naggy…” Ning Ji pouted, displeased. In truth he was a bit homesick too, but with his reputation ruined, there was nothing to be done about not being able to go back — bringing it up only added to his troubles.
“Actually… Master Ning and… and your mother, must miss you too, I’d think…”
Qu Longjun, forgetting to read the room for once, said this too, and Ning Ji found himself recalling the letter that silly Qin Weiwen had sent when he left home; his nose grew sore, and looking at Qu Longjun, he said, gruffly: “If we have a child, I’ll go back.”
Qu Longjun’s face turned red, but she said nothing, only looked quietly at Ning Ji, then nodded slightly.
“Mm.”
Ning Ji didn’t know that she had already, that very morning, decided on names for three children — though if they did go back to the southwest, it would most likely be Master Ning who chose the formal names; the ones she’d picked could just be their childhood pet names.
Ning Ji, unlike her, wasn’t nearly as thick-skinned. She wasn’t shy about it, but he was, and before long he changed the subject, talking instead about Pu Xingui and Chen Shuangran. That afternoon, having been intercepted by the emperor and taken to the palace, he hadn’t managed to kill or stir up as much trouble as he’d meant to; by tomorrow, he’d need to go out and make Chen Shuangran’s underlings bleed in the streets, so that Monk Tunyun would come out to negotiate with him again, after which he could go along with it and use it to make Pu Xingui’s loyalty oath…
…
The stars in the sky watched over the land beneath the night.
On the other side of the city, at his hideout, the “loyalty oath” met with Cao Jinlong and an envoy sent by Elder Ai.
The letters had already been sent to the various elders the night before, and Pu Xingui had prepared himself to argue his case in words. But Cao Jinlong’s face was full of good cheer, and the envoy representing Elder Ai spoke with notable deference.
“Damn it… if only you’d written those letters a month earlier…” Cao Jinlong cursed, gripping his hand.
“Hm?”
“Not to hide it from Young Master Pu — these past two days, our own people have been fighting each other within the city, and it’s had the elders quite worried,” the envoy explained with a smile. “Last night your letter arrived, and Elder Ai was originally rather angry. But he also knows your standing among the brothers, and with Great Hero Cao mediating besides, Elder Ai gave your proposal careful consideration, and today discussed it with Miss Chen. Once they compared notes, it gave them quite a shock.”
“…Huh?”
“That little lady, so reckless, no experience at all,” Cao Jinlong lowered his voice. “We’d originally thought this mysterious plan Chen Shuangran was sitting on and keeping quiet was something extraordinary. Today, when both sides carefully compared notes, Elder Ai got so angry… it turns out that this plan Chen Shuangran has been sitting on has quite a lot in common with your own, Young Master Pu!”
“—Huh?”
“So, a time has been set…” Cao Jinlong gripped Pu Xingui’s hand. “Tomorrow afternoon, the two of you will meet and talk things through properly, clear up the misunderstanding. This time we’ll all work together, do something big—”
“Huh?”
Pu Xingui stood stunned for a good while.
“Really?”
“Really… what a damn coincidence!”
“…Then… who will take the lead on this?”
“By the looks of it, it’ll be you, Young Master Pu… though we still need to discuss it, Chen Shuangran got a good tongue-lashing from Elder Ai, for not trusting her own people.”
Pu Xingui looked at the two men before him, painting such a vivid picture.
He didn’t fully believe the logic behind all this. For instance, many things — the general framework of the plan — he had already tried lobbying the elders about before; why hadn’t they compared notes then, but did now? But clearly, having rallied so many brothers to his side over the past two days, and unwilling to back down, the other side had no choice but to change their tune.
You see, this was how the underworld worked.
Stand firm, and the other side softens.
…
“Also, we’d like to ask Young Master Pu to please have a word with that surnamed Sun killer star,” the envoy said, walking alongside Pu Xingui, pleading earnestly. “For the sake of the bigger picture, ask him to stop killing.”
“Well… I’ll try?”
—Such was the underworld.
…
The city’s lights faded quietly into the night, and the moon climbed to its zenith.
The daytime had cost far too much time; the emperor didn’t finish reviewing memorials until very late. He sat beneath the eaves outside his study, thinking quietly for a long while, recalling the childhood memories that Ning Ji’s visit had stirred up, and reflecting too on the present — the path he and Cheng Zhouhai and the others had forged together through thorn and thicket. The past had been beautiful, but so many memories had become impossible to tell apart from fantasy; the present was heavy, but that weight carried its own substance. However it happened, he had, almost without noticing, become a man in his thirties, carrying responsibility as heavy as a mountain.
Outside the palace walls, Cheng Zhouhai sat beneath the eaves of his own courtyard too. His work finished, he blew out the lamp; all was silent. He thought of the two siblings he’d met so many years ago, and of the roiling, tumultuous journey since then. The years passed, and the tides of this age truly moved with too much violence.
In her lamplit room, Chen Shuangran listened to the mediating envoy from Elder Ai while eating pastries, smiling faintly, wild and unruly. Once the man had left, the girl clutched her stomach and laughed for a long while alone in her room.
Pu Xingui knew he had stepped onto the stage. He turned over the many things ahead of him in his mind, barely sleeping through the night, yet feeling not the slightest fatigue.
Ning Ji and Qu Longjun slept once more in the same bed. He dreamed of his father and mother, his brothers and sisters in the southwest; he and Qu Longjun, carrying their children, returned home, and everyone regarded him with awe, no longer bringing up the past…
The night breeze was clear and cool, all the way until dawn.