The sun burned low toward the horizon.
On the small plain beneath Banner Mountain, the once-sturdy estate had already been broken open. Squads of soldiers and captured tenant farmers were scattered across the surrounding view. Beneath the collapsed courtyard walls, technicians were recording the marks and force of the blast damage; the fleet swept in from the waterway, and off in the distance, occasional stirrings of unrest could still be heard.
It was as if a fierce wind had swept across the plain.
Wu Qimei was dragged back over.
“Zou Xu.” Cheng Zhouhai turned the name over slowly. “He’s in the Central Plains, recovering his strength — why would he set his sights on the Southeast?”
“Ha ha ha ha…” As if he’d already accepted his fate, Wu Qimei laughed on the ground, then broke into weeping again. “Set his sights… you think just striking at you counts as a scheme? He wants you all dead — is that not enough for you… ha ha… you mediocre lot, and you, Cheng Zhouhai — calling yourself a clever man, what a joke — you can’t even begin to imagine how far-reaching his plans really are. Since last year, he’s already been planning your deaths—”
“Since last year…”
“Ha ha ha ha… strike where the enemy is unprepared, attack where they don’t expect it. This is the victory of military strategists, and it cannot be revealed beforehand… He who calculates many advantages before battle will win; he who calculates few will lose — how much more so for one who calculates none at all… calculates many, wins; calculates few, loses; calculates many, wins; calculates few, loses…”
The old man swayed his head on the ground, beginning to recite phrases Ning Ji couldn’t quite follow. Cheng Zhouhai found a large rock nearby and sat down on it. When his deputy led over a man carrying an assortment of torture implements, he finally shook his head. “Enough with the quotations, Lord Mei. What exactly has he done…”
“Heh heh… ha ha…” Seeing the man with the implements approaching, the old man no longer stalled. “Haven’t you already guessed some of it? Why do you think Lord Fei, Old Ai, Old Apothecary Sun, and the rest could be persuaded by me?… Because it was never me who persuaded them. It was Zou Xu — Zou Xu’s people who persuaded them, who promised them that your days were numbered… ha ha ha ha, and it’s not just them, either…”
“There’s more…”
Cheng Zhouhai never got to finish the question — a messenger soldier came riding up at speed. Once he was close, he spoke quietly with the deputy, whose expression turned tense. He reported in a low voice; Cheng Zhouhai slowly rose to his feet, gazing off toward the distant waterway, then turned to glance at Ning Ji.
Wu Qimei laughed, wretched and complicated, on the ground. “Heh heh… ha ha, so you caught him after all, with all this fanfare… but what use is that? He was just one of that man’s people — just one person…”
Ning Ji looked in that direction too. The messenger’s voice had been quiet, but he’d caught it anyway: one of those captured while trying to flee had claimed to be a staff officer of the officer corps of the Third Division, Fifth Army of Huaxia, a man named Zheng Songyan.
“Bring him here.”
Cheng Zhouhai said this, tilted his head slightly toward Ning Ji, then turned his gaze back to Wu Qimei.
“You. Keep talking. Tell it all clearly, and I’ll leave you your body whole.”
Wu Qimei’s lips had gone deathly pale, his jaw trembling. He sat there, his expression shifting through several states, and after a good while, finally raised his head.
“As for everything else… none of it’s urgent. But there’s one thing — the trump card he’s been preparing. Now… ha ha, I don’t know if it’s too late already…”
The sun blazed like fire. Not long after, the messenger soldier spurred his horse and galloped back toward Fuzhou at astonishing speed.
…
Night fell.
Within the palace, there was a brief flurry of disturbance, which then settled back into a quiet, grim stillness.
Of the three consorts taken six days earlier, one had died in the confrontation just past; another had been wounded by her own gold hairpin, though fortunately not seriously.
Over the course of more than two chaotic, sweltering months, Chen Shuangran had believed she’d gotten hold of a rare secret, and had planned to lead trusted fighters into the palace to assassinate the Emperor on the day the typhoon struck. To that end, she had laid down an enormous amount of misdirection — stirring up the mood of rebellion on one hand, while laying down countless smokescreens on the other.
But in the midst of all this, Zheng Songyan, who had come from the Central Plains with a record of service in the Huaxia Army, had never once staked everything on that one deranged young woman. In the process of building up all those layers of smoke and misdirection, he had turned a woman of a great noble family and quietly slipped her into the palace itself.
The Emperor was a battle-hardened ruler, familiar with blades and muskets, who had been on the battlefield himself — it wouldn’t be easy for one weak woman to succeed at an assassination on her own. But according to Zheng Songyan’s original plan, the hope was, at the very least, that she could kill the other two consorts who had entered the palace alongside her — that alone would utterly ruin the whole show the Emperor had staged of taking a new consort, and give the greatest possible boost to the wave of rebellion sweeping Fujian. Of course, if she truly could manage to kill the Emperor outright, that would be the best outcome of all.
But the moment these women entered the palace, they were watched closely; the Emperor himself had been working overtime day after day, avoiding his marital duties, which meant the three newly arrived consorts had never been given much freedom to begin with. The right opportunity simply never came.
The stifling heat drained slowly from the palace air; scattered points of lamplight flared up one by one, and figure after figure began gathering toward the palace. The Princess Imperial, with Qu Longjun in tow, found Ning Ji looking somewhat downcast out on the plaza. Wenren Buer and Li Pin arrived as well; Tie Tianying, still recovering from his wounds, came to take his place in the proceedings too. Then Cheng Zhouhai returned, carrying the preliminary results of the interrogation, and asked after the situation within the palace.
“How could she possibly have dared to do such a thing? An untrained woman, without the strength to truss a chicken… whether it succeeded or not, she was doomed either way…”
“It must have been Zheng Songyan winning her over — telling her about all manner of… wrongs done by the Martial Dynasty, and then preaching Dai Mengwei’s theories to her. Once Consort Chen was surrounded, she used these very same wild claims, screaming and shouting, and at the very end, called out a single name — ‘Zheng.'”
“…”
Cheng Zhouhai, having heard the account, went still for a long moment. He had put in an enormous amount of work over the years, and this time, though a price had been paid, virtually all of Chen Shuangran’s major moves had been locked down by his preparations. And yet, in the end, this consort’s actions had still slipped past everything he’d calculated for — when it came down to it, someone willing to throw their life away would always find some opening to bite back.
And on another level — from Zhou Zhe all the way to Zhou Yong, the Martial Dynasty had done no end of absurd, indefensible things, and even now was, in name, still the legitimate order of the realm. And yet, as the other side had built up their own body of theory and launched their propaganda offensive, they had somehow, forcibly, managed to gouge open a breach in the legitimacy of the Martial Dynasty itself.
However closed off Fujian might be, however foolish and lovestruck this particular woman might have been, the fact that she could be stirred to throw her life away like this said a great deal — and Cheng Zhouhai understood exactly what it said.
He gave a wave of his hand, then finally let it fall, powerless, and went inside to the hall, gathering the news together with everyone else.
Li Pin, Wenren Buer, the Princess Imperial Zhou Pei, and the Emperor Junwu had all already gathered inside, seeming to find the account of the interrogation dull once they’d heard it through. Ning Ji hadn’t gone in; he was outside, strolling through the palace grounds with Qu Longjun.
Cheng Zhouhai laid the interrogation records out on the desk.
“…According to Wu Qimei, a great deal now makes sense… Zou Xu first made contact with him back during the Jiangning period last year. The envoy he sent was named Ding Songnan… In truth, by that time, Lin’an held little value in these men’s eyes anymore — but Ding Songnan approached the man Wu Qimei had sent out first, and pointed out a path for him: he said Lin’an was bound to fall sooner or later, and that both he and Tie Yan would meet a bad end no matter whose hands they fell into. But he advised Wu Qimei that, once the city fell, he should make his way to the Southeast instead — since Wu Qimei had once been part of the Martial Dynasty, he understood our weaknesses and problems better than anyone. Handled properly, he might just be able to raise a righteous army right here in Fujian and tear this place apart.”
“…In fact, if we hadn’t finally caught his trail these past few days, with Zheng Songyan’s help, things might well already be unfolding exactly as Zou Xu had planned…”
“…His confession happens to line up with some other pieces of information as well. According to… according to what that boy outside recalled, there was a chaotic brawl on Jinjie Street in Jiangning at the time — Tunyun stepped forward, suddenly, out of nowhere, and killed Gu Anhe, the envoy sent by Liu Guangshi. Later there was another assassination attempt, which nearly killed Li Yanfeng, Liu Guangshi’s deputy envoy…”
“…Wu Qimei says this was at Ding Songnan’s request — once Gu Anhe was dead, Dai Mengwei’s envoy would be able to act with authority within the city on Liu Guangshi’s behalf, and made a promise to everyone there that, before long, they would march into Bianliang, and hoped that once they did, everyone could gather there for another grand martial-world assembly. Everyone assumed at the time that Dai Mengwei was simply entering Bianliang alongside Liu Guangshi — but it’s clear now that Zou Xu and Dai Mengwei had already arranged Liu Guangshi’s death from the very start… which explains everything about the great battle in the Central Plains at the end of last year.”
“Ning Yi’s raised himself quite the disciple…”
Inside the imperial study, Cheng Zhouhai let out this remark.
Wenren Buer, beside him, nodded. “Scheming quietly, without a word, ever since last year, all the way to this point — arranging Liu Guangshi’s death, and even laying groundwork here on our end… It’s quite different from what we’d heard of him before. When Liu Guangshi was killed, the whole world assumed it was Dai Mengwei pulling all the strings — and even the reports that came back about his business dealings in the Jin territory earlier this year describe the man as remarkably humble.”
Cheng Zhouhai smiled. “Many years ago, when Ning Yi first arrived at Xiaocang River and defeated the Western Xia, and the Jurchen came afterward to demand an accounting, throwing the head of Lu Yannian of the Bamboo Chronicle right in front of him — he was the picture of humility then too. Back then, the man who accompanied Ning Yi in receiving the Jurchen envoys was none other than Zou Xu.”
“But why would he set his sights all the way over here?” Li Pin said, frowning. “However you look at it, the Southeast is awfully far from the Central Plains.”
The lamplight flickered; the men gathered in the room all nodded along.
“…That, precisely, is the heart of the matter.” Cheng Zhouhai sighed, looking around at everyone, hesitating a moment before speaking. “On this question, Wu Qimei offered an explanation. Your Majesty, everyone — hear me out on this.”
Everyone held their breath. Cheng Zhouhai cupped his hands and bowed toward Junwu before slowly continuing.
“Zou Xu believes that, should the day ever come when the Southwest suffers some great disaster, there are a handful of powers in this world who might ally themselves with the Huaxia Army and lend it their full strength — and the Martial Dynasty is one of them.”
“Er…”
At these words, the corner of Junwu’s mouth twitched, his expression turning both embarrassed and a little defensive. Zhou Pei glanced at him, brow furrowing; Wenren Buer and Li Pin, too, both turned the implication of the words over in their minds.
After a moment, it was Li Pin who spoke first, his expression grave. “The Martial Dynasty and the Southwest do, of course, have their difference in doctrine — but it cannot be denied that, since His Majesty came to Fujian, Ning Yi’s side has, in fact, given us considerable help. Should the day ever come when the Southwest truly faces some unspeakable catastrophe, the Martial Dynasty ought to lend its aid as well. A dispute over doctrine is one thing; repaying a debt of gratitude is another. There’s nothing in this that runs against the greater principle.”
“Well said, Master Li!” Junwu voiced his agreement at once. Zhou Pei turned her face away.
“That’s not the point here.” In the room, Wenren Buer thought for a moment, then turned to Cheng Zhouhai. “You said this is the heart of the matter. So let me ask — has Zou Xu already accounted for some disaster befalling the Southwest? And, this world being what it is, which powers exactly could ally with the Huaxia Army? Who are they…”
“…Or, put another way — if he’s already placed one idle pawn all the way out here in the far Southeast, has he made moves against the others too?”
The lamp inside its shade let out a faint crackling sound; there was no wind in the room, only sultry, heavy silence. Everyone’s expressions had gone rigid. After a moment, Junwu turned and pulled out a blackboard from behind him, marked with a map of all the powers of the realm.
“…As for who could ally with the Huaxia Army — leaving us aside, that would just be… the Jin territory, Shandong…” He stuck two flags into the board.
“Shandong’s already essentially their own people…”
“Then that leaves…” Junwu turned back around. “…The Fairness Party? He Wen?”
He stuck in another flag.
Cheng Zhouhai watched quietly, and at this point, finally stepped forward. “Your Majesty, forgive my presumption.” He walked over, took hold of the flag marking He Wen, and pulled it out.
“Your Majesty… forgive my bluntness, but this may well be one of the things we most need to worry about…”
“Hm?” Junwu frowned. “He Wen… didn’t he come out of the Southwest himself? He even studied their… that democracy thing. All this fighting and bickering — he may not submit to me, but surely he’d submit to our teacher?”
“According to Wu Qimei, Zou Xu may already have reached an alliance with He Wen. We should know for certain within a few days… The Southeast is remote, and even if Zou Xu strikes at us, he can’t possibly march his forces all the way here. Lord Fei and the other great families rising up in rebellion in the mountains were, from the start, afraid of being left isolated without support — but this time, once they make their move, He Wen will issue a proclamation in the name of the Fairness King, denouncing the Martial Dynasty. At that point, everyone who rebels will receive nominal recognition and titles from the Fairness Party. Your Majesty… something big is coming.”
Li Pin frowned. “He Wen — would he really do such a thing?”
Wenren Buer drew a breath. “This wouldn’t cost the Fairness Party much of anything. As far as He Wen’s concerned, the fall of the Southeast has always been something he’d welcome — it’s simply that he’s still occupied fighting his own wars right now, and can’t spare the resources. But looking at the realm as a whole, as the leader of a major power, He Wen doesn’t fully trust Zou Xu, and Zou Xu likely doesn’t fully trust He Wen either. But if the two of them are going to join forces on something… this really would be the ideal first move for it…” He turned to Cheng Zhouhai. “Did Wu Qimei say roughly when this might happen?”
“There’s no fixed timeline for it. But according to him, once trouble starts here and the other side responds in kind, that alone would prove where He Wen stands. And once we’ve reached that point…”
In the heavy, stifling room, the assembled men fell silent. Zhou Pei walked to the side and slowly opened all the windows around them, letting a few threads of cool air drift in. Among the silhouettes cast across the hall, some sat lost in thought, some paced, some settled into their chairs, all their eyes fixed on the map marking out the entire realm.
“If Zou Xu really has laid out a scheme this vast…”
“And our side made our move here…”
“Does that mean… elsewhere too… the fires have already been lit…”
“Why would he do this…”
“Because he’s afraid of our teacher…”
“The Southwest is carrying out land reform. Once our teacher breaks out from the Southwest… he’d be finished…”
“So exactly how much has he already put in motion…”
“We’re all the way out here in the far south — news reaches us last of anyone…”
“Maybe in just a few more days…”
“…it’s going to come.”
In that small room, a great map of the entire realm spread before them, the assembled men paced and conferred, occasionally picking up a flag to mark some location, working through what might happen next. In this moment, a vast shadow loomed over everything — none of them had ever imagined that when that turncoat disciple from the Southwest first revealed his malice, it would set off a scheme this immense, one that might well come to cover the entire realm…
Zhou Pei turned her head and looked out through the study window. In the distant lamplight, Ning Ji and Qu Longjun were walking hand in hand — the young man once unmatched under heaven no longer bouncing about, no longer laughing and joking. What the two of them might be talking about at this very moment, no one could say…
And somewhere in the sky, from a radius of thousands of li away, a storm was already sending forth its first tremors of dread and its first low moan.