Dense shade from the trees wrapped the air in waves of cicada song; overhead, great white clouds gathered into lazy, cottony masses. Craftsmen were measuring the debris around the collapsed courtyard gate when the Emperor arrived. Ning Ji was under the eaves playing gomoku with Qu Longjun, the two of them sitting on the same side of the table, pressed close together, so that it was hard to tell who was playing black and who white.

The craftsmen were dismissed at once. Zhao Xiaosong walked ahead, calling out loudly, “His Majesty has arrived!” — only to be waved off by the Emperor himself. “It’s the middle of the day — why are you shouting at the top of your lungs, waking people from their naps? All right, off you go, get back to your work.”

Zhao Xiaosong never got to see whether Ning Ji actually knelt.

He didn’t, in fact — having spent so long in the Southwest, he’d never developed the habit. The two of them simply scrambled to their feet in a fluster; Qu Longjun blushed, trying rather transparently to cover it up. Once the greetings were done, things felt rather awkward, until Junwu leaned over to glance at the board. “Hey, I know this game! Are you finished? Let me get a round in too!”

“This humble girl — this humble girl will go fetch some drinks?” Qu Longjun offered, somewhat presumptuously, then made her escape once the Emperor nodded his approval.

Ning Ji said, “Fair warning, I’m quite good at this.”

“So am I.” Talk of gomoku brought a certain dignity to Junwu’s bearing. He frowned slightly, then pulled two chairs together side by side, cleared the board, and smiled. “Actually, this way of playing was invented by our teacher, you know… Back then he used to play Go with Chancellor Qin and Grandpa Kang along the Qinhuai River. My sister and I would go watch, and find it too tiring to follow, so he taught us this game to play against each other instead. Only later, someone in the princely household’s tutoring staff heard about it and gave me a good scolding — said such a childish little game was beneath the dignity of Go and an insult to its refinement… After that my sister stopped playing with me. Never mind, though — I passed this game on to my friends around the city back then, and none of them could ever beat me at it… Ah, it’s been years since I’ve played it, come to think of it…”

“Your Majesty’s old friends from back then… what became of them?”

“The people and affairs of this world — aren’t they always like that.” Junwu said. “Back then they were all pampered sons of great households. When the Jurchen swept south, some died, some scattered. Later, once my father took the throne, some said they wanted to serve their country — and ended up as corrupt officials instead. I killed two of them with my own hands, men who preyed on and abused others — they deserved to die and no more. Then again, since coming to Fujian, there’ve been a couple who broke apart their family fortunes to donate what wealth they’d managed to bring south. One of them holds a minor official post now — comes by to pay his respects on holidays, still.”

“Oh.”

Ning Ji found himself somewhat curious about this elder martial brother’s life story, but when it came to reflecting on life’s meaning, he found he had little to add, and simply nodded along, playing it up. The two of them set up the board and began placing stones, clacking away. Junwu mused further: “You see, this game is endlessly varied and yet simple and delightful — it truly embodies the idea that the greatest principles are the simplest. Those fellows who play Go all day, their heads are like blocks of wood — how could they ever grasp the subtlety in this?”

Ning Ji nodded along eagerly, having picked up a fine new phrase — “the greatest principles are the simplest” — which he could certainly put to use describing himself from now on.

“Has elder brother been busy these past couple days?”

“You can tell?”

“Your eyes have big dark circles under them, and your breathing’s uneven.”

“Well, the business in the city has, after all, come to a close for now. On the surface, I’m the one who orchestrated everything and won a great victory — the troublemakers were routed and sent packing, and anyone with divided loyalties will have to shelve their ambitions for now… On my end, though, I’ve had to properly reassure a number of people. If nothing else goes wrong over the next few days, this crisis should more or less pass. Weighing the right measure for how to close things out isn’t easy either — who to reward, who to reassure, who to forgive, who needs to die — I’ve had to turn it all over in my head again and again. I haven’t slept well these past two nights.” Junwu’s brow creased. “Oh, right — you’re a physician, aren’t you, little brother? Back in the Southwest… is there anything that could sharpen the mind, keep you alert?”

“…Just try getting to bed on a regular schedule for a few days. You’ll be fine.”

“Ah…” He nodded along, and after a moment, said, offhandedly, “Oh, right, little brother — you and Miss Qu… have you two already…”

“…”

“You know… that… have you two already… gotten together.”

“…Mm.” Ning Ji made a muffled noise of assent.

“That’s good — Miss Qu is a fine match.” Junwu clapped his hands together. “Still — I know the children of the martial world like to say they’re free spirits, unbound by convention, and traveling together, relying on each other out there, you two can certainly claim exception to the rules. But now that you’ve settled down, little brother — don’t you think it’s time you gave her a proper wedding?”

“Hm?”

“Here’s the thing — I’ve been thinking, elder brother that I am. The two of you being together is, in its way, a serious matter. Sooner or later, once you go back to the Southwest, you’ll need to give our teacher an account of it. Knowing his open-mindedness and Little Qu’s character, of course he wouldn’t object — but when the time comes, he’s bound to give you a proper lesson about it regardless, wouldn’t you say?”

“…Hmph…” Ning Ji made a defiant sound through his nose, though it carried a hint of guilt as well.

“Why not hold a wedding here?” Junwu placed a stone. “After all, you’ve come to my territory. Even if we can’t announce it too openly, our teacher will always know I’m his eldest disciple, won’t he? Holding a wedding here does two things — first, it gives Miss Qu a proper accounting, and second, by sending a letter from my end announcing the news to the Southwest, you’ll be reporting your safety back to our teacher, Lady Xiao Chan, and everyone at home. We can send along the newspaper about killing Fan Zhong and Tunyun at the same time, too.”

Ning Ji placed his stones mechanically; Junwu just kept smiling.

“Some things are hard to say out loud, but you know — even though you left the Southwest after suffering an injustice, how could our teacher and Lady Xiao Chan possibly not worry about you? And it’s probably not just your safety they’re worried about — after being slandered by that woman surnamed Yu, they’re likely also worrying you might not trust other women anymore, worried about what happens then… If you formally marry here, with letters sent jointly from the Southeastern court and the Zuo family, that would settle the matter in the most open and aboveboard way possible — everything they’ve been worried about would get an answer. When you go back one day, even if you still end up getting a beating, that’s a very different kind of beating from one that comes with no news at all beforehand, wouldn’t you say?”

“…There’s also a third point… Miss Qu is an exceptionally fine girl, but her past has been a rocky one. She was sold off, and that’s how she ended up in the Southwest, and how she came to know you — a fortunate turn, in its way, but there’s much about it that can’t be spoken of openly. But now that she’s here in the Southeast, in the eyes of the Martial Dynasty, she’s the descendant of loyal, worthy people, with my sister and me standing behind her, backing her up — from now on, anyone who tries to speak ill of her will find her able to stand tall and unashamed. Little brother, this is something my sister brought up — it’s an important matter.”

“Mm.” Ning Ji nodded. “Then… let me talk it over with her.”

“This needs to be treated with the seriousness it deserves.”

The two of them chatted as they played several more rounds, clacking away — Junwu won three games, Ning Ji two, more or less evenly matched, and both grew rather into it. After a while, Ning Ji asked about the weather forecast from the Astronomical Bureau, and Junwu said, “Did Master Cheng tell you about the typhoon?”

“Yeah.” Ning Ji nodded. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“I know full well what Chen Shuangran’s waiting for. Master Cheng just didn’t mention that he’d told you too… Well — after all, I’m the Emperor, busy with the affairs of state day and night, or so it’s supposed to go. According to him, this whole thing’s about to be wrapped up — and you still want to get involved?”

“Mm.” Ning Ji told him about Zuo Xingzhou.

Junwu fell silent for a moment as well. “…They fought and bled in the Southwest, survived nine deaths out of ten, came all this way to the Southeast, and it comes to this — that’s a failure on my part.”

“It’s not.” Ning Ji shook his head. “If it hadn’t been Zuo Xingzhou who ended up like this, it would have been someone else. Fighting always costs something. But since it’s already happened, I still owe Chen Shuangran a reckoning for it.”

“…Chen Shuangran knows a great deal.” Junwu turned a stone over in his fingers, brow furrowed. “Master Cheng may well not let you kill her… After she’s been interrogated, and only then killed — would that still satisfy you?”

“…” Ning Ji drew a breath, and set down a stone with a sharp click.

“Also, the Astronomical Bureau says there’s not likely to be a typhoon anytime soon…” Junwu muttered a bit, then leaned in over the board, lowering his voice. “Let me float an idea — might not be right, mind you… What if Master Cheng is telling us something not quite true, playing you and me both?”

“…Huh?” Ning Ji’s mouth fell open.

“Not necessarily out of any ill will — but this sort of thing has happened before…” Junwu muttered on. “Maybe he’s got some other plan for Chen Shuangran, and he’s worried you might not be able to hold yourself back from doing something, so he simply gave you a deadline — said, once the typhoon comes, he’d give you an answer… And if the typhoon just never comes, well, what can he do about that? You’d wait and wait, the typhoon never arrives, the whole affair resolves itself — I think that’s a real possibility too…”

Beneath the eaves, the more the Emperor thought about it, the more plausible it seemed to him. “When you get down to it, everything that’s happened in Fuzhou over the past month or two, in the end, all traces back to that witch Chen Shuangran stirring up trouble. She chose to make her move right when I was taking a new consort — there’s bound to be some grand scheme behind it. Now that the farce in the north of the city has come to an end, you could say she’s already thrown away a pawn to lull us into complacency. But if I take a few more days to settle every faction and smooth things over, then even if she wants to cause trouble again, she likely won’t be able to manage it. Waiting for the typhoon… if this typhoon takes half a month, even a whole month to arrive, all her scheming will have gone to waste.”

Ning Ji blinked, then frowned again at his so-serious elder martial brother across the table, scratching his head. “Elder brother… you’re the Emperor. Laying out Cheng Zhouhai’s scheme to me like this so plainly… isn’t that not exactly proper?”

“Hmph, it’s nothing much.” Junwu shook his head, entirely at ease. “Master Cheng is a mysterious one — plenty of the time, I can’t do much about him either. Sometimes he doesn’t report the small things directly, but in the end you find out that, however he arranged it, things came out for the best… If you can see through his scheming, then go ahead and see through it. I’d actually rather like to see the look on his face when it happens, ha ha…”

Still smiling, he placed another stone. “But all in all, I think even if you and I joined forces, it’d be hard to throw off his arrangements.”

Ning Ji leaned in as well, lowering his voice. “…I’ll go work it out with my Little Qu.”

Junwu leaned in too. “…That’s not a bad idea. She’s clever.”

“Heh heh!”

Rather pleased with himself.

The light through the gaps in the trees dappled the afternoon breeze, and amid the cicada song, the Emperor — briefly free of his responsibilities — and his now-unmatched-under-heaven junior martial brother went on chatting about a great many things: past experiences and reflections, Zhou Fuyang’s bathroom troubles, local governance in the Southwest, and the future prospects of the Southeast now that the fleet had returned. During this, Qu Longjun brought over some almond jelly, but had it tasted first by the eunuch steward waiting outside before bringing it in; she didn’t come in to interrupt the two men’s chat, instead chattering away for a while under the eaves outside with the head steward.

Later, Zhou Pei came by and, seeing the two poor students at their game, dragged off the far more promising Qu Longjun to help review official documents instead.

That night, Ning Ji brought up the matter of the wedding with Qu Longjun, laying out the Princess Imperial’s reasoning, watching her carefully as he did.

He’d expected that her past — sold off as a “thin horse,” then brought to the Southwest to cause trouble — might be something of a sore point for her, and that the Princess Imperial’s thoughtfulness would move her to tears. Instead, Qu Longjun’s manner was calm. Her eyes drifted for a moment as she thought it over. “Tell them we still need to think it over…”

“Hm… you…” Ning Ji was puzzled. “…Don’t want to?”

“Having a proper status, of course, is a good thing.” Qu Longjun said. “But honestly, this isn’t as serious as they’re making it out to be. Do you remember, back in the Southwest, when your sister-in-law, that Chuyi, came to see me and arranged my situation?”

“Mm.” Ning Ji nodded.

“And that this matter was even something Master Ning had her personally handle.”

“Yeah.” Ning Ji kept nodding.

Qu Longjun smiled prettily. “Which means my situation had already been reported to Master Ning himself. If he, or Sister Chuyi, had had any doubts about my true identity back then, they could have quietly dealt with me right there. But instead, in the end, Sister Chuyi had you settle me in, had you heal my injuries, even had you give me an allowance to live on, didn’t she?”

“Mm…” Ning Ji nodded slowly, drawing the word out.

“So what do I have to be afraid of? Since Master Ning and Sister Chuyi have already taken this stance, from here on I have to speak for our own house’s interests. How things end up between the Southeastern court and the Southwest — that’s still very much undecided. His Majesty and the Princess Imperial may be on close terms with Master Ning, but at the end of the day, they represent the Martial Dynasty — they represent Confucianism… The two sides may well end up fighting one another someday. Little Long, whether the two of us end up becoming a reason for peace between them, or a thorn standing in the way of Master Ning taking action here — that’s something we really need to think through carefully.”

“…” Ning Ji’s eyes darted about. “But I do think, if the Southwest really did attack, elder brother would probably surrender right away.”

“He wouldn’t.” Qu Longjun shook her head seriously.

“But this elder brother of mine…”

“Little Long, what I’m saying isn’t that His Majesty harbors any ill intent — it’s precisely because he respects Master Ning that he would especially need to fight him.” Qu Longjun took his hand. “Doctrine, belief — these aren’t invisible, intangible things. Master Ning opposes Confucianism; the Southeast venerates Confucianism. Master Ning killed Zhou Zhe of the Martial Dynasty, and yet the Southeast is precisely what represents the Martial Dynasty now… Confucianism, the Martial Dynasty — what they represent isn’t just a slogan spoken from the Emperor’s mouth. There are thousands upon thousands of people in this world who believe in it. You can’t change them with a single imperial edict or a single decree.”

“It’s the same as how foreign peoples wanting to rule over the Central Plains need round after round of killing to do it. If His Majesty wants to hold the Southeast, he needs one show of strength after another… Once the show is properly staged, thousands upon thousands of people will know who’s won and who’s lost in this struggle. If Master Ning wants to change Confucianism, Confucianism will resist — and that resistance will have someone leading it, someone who fights with everything he has, and if he still can’t beat Master Ning, then and only then will everyone accept the outcome, understand that circumstance has proven stronger than the man. But if His Majesty falls to his knees the moment he sees the Southwest coming, the will of Confucianism won’t be extinguished — they’ll simply choose someone else, some other champion, and fight the Southwest for a few more rounds before they’ll finally give up…”

“And what the Southeast is carrying isn’t even just Confucianism, either… Master Ning has handed His Majesty the idea of a constitutional monarchy. Whether or not that path can actually be walked, His Majesty has no choice but to give it everything he has, no matter what… These past few days, watching His Majesty’s character, I think that’s exactly the kind of person he is — gentle in temperament, but in truth, steady and conscientious. Ah, if Zhou Zhe back then had had even half of that quality in him, the Martial Dynasty wouldn’t have ended up the way it is today…”

“That makes sense…” Qu Longjun explained it all in such detail that Ning Ji finally understood, nodding again and again. The two of them lay in bed, holding each other, kissing a few times, and then, in the sultry warmth of the night, Ning Ji finally said quietly, “So what you’re saying is, you’re worried that the Martial Dynasty being friendly to us here might, in the future, become a factor that interferes with my father’s decisions.”

“What I’m saying is, this whole thing has both good and bad sides to it, and exactly how far it should go is something I need to think through carefully too — I don’t want to rack up a pile of troublesome debts of gratitude. Honestly, His Majesty and the Princess Imperial aren’t what worries me most — it’s Mister Cheng, Cheng Zhouhai. If, someday, he uses the two of us as leverage against Master Ning’s side, all I’ll be able to do is kneel in the courtyard and admit fault.”

“That won’t happen. Worst case, I’ll just take you and run.” Ning Ji declared this with great confidence, then frowned. “Although — Cheng Zhouhai really would be capable of something like that…”

He discussed it further with Qu Longjun, but on the question of whether the typhoon story was accurate, she didn’t have enough information to say much of substance, and in the end could only offer Ning Ji some advice on how to throw his weight around and play the shameless card using his status.

Once the serious talk was done for the night, of course, the rustling and closeness followed naturally again. Qu Longjun’s body was still sore, and some things weren’t possible just yet, but with her wealth of theoretical knowledge, and now as a married woman, curiosity mixed with a bit of shyness, the two young people spent that night eagerly exploring plenty of things not fit to speak of to outsiders, both of them finding it thrilling and exciting all at once…

The next morning, Ning Ji headed off, full of vigor, to the front office of the Princess Imperial’s residence and found Cheng Zhouhai.

He pestered the man for a good while with jokes and banter, then obliquely brought up the matter of the Fish King. “I’ve got a few little brothers… not exactly good men in the past, but they’ve actually done some good deeds now… for my sake, shouldn’t the authorities let them go…”

Having been pestered for a good while, Cheng Zhouhai kept his head down over his paperwork, not bothering to look up, writing as he responded. “As for the business at Yinan Manor, you cut a bloody swath through the martial world’s finest — Gao Xingzong and the others have been held at the yamen for a while now, but that’s for their own protection. Now, treating them all fairly and going through the proper formalities, the authorities will grant them a proper status going forward. If you really care about them, don’t ask for special favors.”

“…Oh.”

Ning Ji’s real motive in wanting the Fish King released was to have him become his own set of eyes and ears, to obliquely dig up more information on Chen Shuangran. But the old fox’s argument was airtight; Ning Ji scratched his head and had to give up.

That was the morning of the thirteenth of the sixth month. Having gotten nowhere with his inquiries, he spent the rest of the day playing cards and grilling skewers in the courtyard with Yue Yun, Yinping, and the others, drinking wine, singing and dancing with the little princess in tow, stirring up a fine racket.

On the fourteenth of the sixth month, before dawn, he went to pester Cheng Zhouhai again. Cheng Zhouhai caught the drift. “You suspect me?”

“Who wouldn’t suspect you, Uncle Cheng!” Ning Ji jumped up. “There hasn’t been a hint of a typhoon lately at all! What is Chen Shuangran even waiting for…”

“…” Cheng Zhouhai rubbed his forehead, troubled. “That’s the intelligence we’ve received. I’m not lying to you this time.”

“…” Ning Ji stared at him.

Cheng Zhouhai sighed. “I understand why you don’t trust me, but on a great many things, our interests are aligned. I think the business with Fan Zhong and Tunyun has already proven where I stand.”

“You lied to me on that one too.”

“If I’d told you about Qu Longjun’s part in it beforehand, could you have pulled the whole thing off?” Cheng Zhouhai looked at him. “And besides, that newspaper clipping you wanted — it’s already been made, hasn’t it? The news around the city lately has been going all out promoting your and Yue Fei’s exploits… Can’t you just sit still a few more days and let me handle it?”

“…Hmph!” Ning Ji crossed his arms, refusing to concede.

Seeing that Cheng Zhouhai’s attitude remained vague, giving him nothing solid to go on, Ning Ji went out wandering around the city outside the residence that day, dragging Yue Yun along, swaggering through the streets without a care, and going back to make another round through Yinqiao Ward. This time, quite a few people recognized him, and came over one after another to talk. No end of people — even the auntie at the neighboring stall known as “Rice-Bowl-with-a-Side-of-Dog-Kibble” — came by to greet him and pepper him with questions.

“…I knew Young Hero Long would be fine — such an open, generous soul, gentle and refined as jade.”

“…You two brothers, Young Hero Sun, are so impressive!”

“…You killed that whatever-his-name, and Young Hero Long killed that lecherous monk — remarkable, truly remarkable.”

“…Look at that, young master Yue’s become his personal follower now…”

“…The hell! Whoever said ‘follower,’ get out here and say that to my face—”

Amid the chattering voices, Ning Ji walked with his chest puffed out, thoroughly full of himself — this was the most brilliant, dazzling moment he’d had since arriving in Fuzhou.

At just that moment, a whole flock of beauties came swarming over from Jinqiao Ward — a group of courtesans and brothel girls who’d heard the young heroes had returned, led by Fang Ruitao, mistress of the establishment called Xiaodie, all rushing over to offer their hospitality to the two young heroes. No small number of them craned their necks, calling out, “Where’s Young Hero Long? Where’s Young Hero Long…”

Young Hero Long, of course, had no time for any of this. Young Hero Sun, who had often been given a hard time by the brothel girls in the past, found himself, upon receiving this kind of treatment now, so startled that he stumbled back a few steps before making his escape with a burst of lightness skill, dragging along Yue Yun, who was still arguing about who exactly was whose “follower.” Behind them, the crowd sighed: “Young Hero Sun really does run beautifully…” and “You know, I think I could go for Young Hero Sun too…”

Even fame, it seemed, had its troubles.

Another day passed — the fifteenth of the sixth month — and he went back to pestering Cheng Zhouhai again.

The weather had stayed sultry and hot for days on end, with no sign whatsoever of any typhoon, but even wanting to do something about it, Ning Ji couldn’t for the life of him find any place to start. Fortunately, his relationship with Qu Longjun was going strong, his injuries were gradually healing, and he had plenty to occupy himself in the courtyard — sparring with Yinping and Yue Yun, or taking Zhou Fuyang out to raid bird nests. There was always something to do each day. But every day, when he went to visit the steadily weakening Zuo Xingzhou, an inexpressible resentment kept coiling in his heart.

He’d told Cheng Zhouhai he wanted to kill Chen Shuangran, of course, but deep down he suspected the man would never actually agree to it — after all, Chen Shuangran still held plenty of secrets, and once she was truly captured, the court would certainly want to interrogate her thoroughly first.

On the sixteenth of the sixth month, another clear day. That afternoon, Yue Yun, who had vanished for a while, suddenly came looking for him. “Mister Cheng wants us over there! Urgent business!”

Ning Ji glanced at the clear, windless sky and followed him all the way to the front courtyard, where he found several familiar leaders already gathered. Cheng Zhouhai seemed to be handing out orders one after another, and the moment they arrived, they were led inside.

“The operation is closing in. As agreed, Chen Shuangran is yours. You and Yue Yun can move in first.”

“But…” Ning Ji frowned, pointing toward the window. “Didn’t you say we needed a typhoon…”

“Typhoon my as—” Cheng Zhouhai cursed with a scowl. “Goddamn lunacy—”

Neither Ning Ji nor Yue Yun had ever seen Cheng Zhouhai swear like that before. As two men who liked to strut around and show off, but who had also witnessed firsthand what this man was capable of, they both felt their bravado deflate a little, more than a little afraid of what might happen if he really lost his temper.

Then they watched as Cheng Zhouhai turned and pulled out a map marked with the various districts and buildings of Fuzhou, and began laying out the operation ahead.

Ning Ji listened for a while, then asked, somewhat timidly, “So, Master… Master Cheng… you’re saying… if I go in first and, um, accidentally kill her…”

“Careful or not, I don’t care — catching her is all the credit you’ll get. If you want to hack off her hands and feet, be my guest, too… a wretched, vicious woman like her, getting a whole pile of people killed…”

Ning Ji scratched his head, but couldn’t help asking anyway. “But… you’re not going to interrogate her anymore?”

“Already squeezed dry.” Cheng Zhouhai gave him a glance. “Your part in this is just the mop-up, not the main event. Time’s precious — go do whatever you want to do, and stop wasting my time with chatter.”

Ning Ji studied him carefully for a moment.

Then broke into a grin.

“—All right then!”