The brawl that had broken out at the head of Xiaoyingzhou had not, in truth, lasted very long.

By the time news of the disturbance reached the main boat, Prefect Lu was still in discussion with a group of scholar friends about the situation in the region around Hangzhou. He was forty-seven this year — squarely in the prime, golden years of an official career — and now serving as prefect of a place as prosperous as Hangzhou. So long as this term of office passed without any major mishap, his future prospects would be limitless.

The southwestern reaches of Hangzhou prefecture were currently troubled by Fang La’s rebellion, but as far as Lu Tuizhi was concerned, it wasn’t a serious problem. Hangzhou was a hub of trade and commerce, a starting point for water transport, and was specially guarded by the Wude Army — no matter how fierce the banditry grew, it would be kept firmly outside the city’s gates.

Of course, to those who had rarely left Hangzhou prefecture and had never set foot in any real danger, Fang La’s rebellion wasn’t quite as calm an affair as they imagined. By now, numerous prefectures and counties in southwestern Hangzhou had already been swept up into it — land redistributed, officials killed, rebellion raging — and alongside the collapse of order came famine, with the starving dead littering the roads. These were things the people sheltering comfortably in Hangzhou could scarcely imagine. Lu Tuizhi and several of the men seated with him had some word of it, naturally, but there was no need to share too much with the rest.

As for the current campaign against Fang La, in the Jiangnan region the Wuwei Army under Chen Shisheng held the south, while Kang Fangting’s Wuzhou Army held the north, and the Wude Army blocked the eastern approach at Hangzhou — in the eyes of most people present, the spread of the bandit trouble was, at the very least, already under control. What mattered most now was the war against the Jin and Liao states, and the swelling domestic sentiment eager to join the fight; so long as, after the seventh month, Lu Tuizhi could hold the water transport routes and grain supply lines secure and ensure there were no troubles at home to worry about, then when the day came to settle Yanyun in a single decisive campaign — an achievement for the ages — he, Lu Tuizhi, would surely have his own share of the credit.

“…And so, when Kang Fangting took the field at the start of this year, the likes of Fang La fled at the mere sight of his banners. This trouble, while not entirely trivial, is truly not much cause for concern. It’s the matters surrounding the autumn harvest that will require all of your help…”

Just as Lu Tuizhi reached this point, a soldier came in to report the disturbance that had broken out below. This first report was, naturally, a simple one: a man who had married into another family as a matrilocal son-in-law had been caught carrying on with a maid, and upon being discovered, had turned violent and assaulted people — by now more than a dozen scholars had already been injured. Most significant of all was the news that the Lou family’s second son, Lou Shuweng, had also been beaten and knocked into the lake.

“Such an outrageous scoundrel exists?” Lu Tuizhi, a man of steady temperament, slapped his hand down on the tea table beside him, brow furrowing. “Whose household does this man come from?”

“Unknown, sir — it seems… he isn’t from Hangzhou at all, but a merchant who’s come from Jiangning.”

Once the messenger had finished, everyone in the hall rose indignantly at once: “Such a thing could happen?”

“Does he think Hangzhou has no one to answer for this!”

“A mere matrilocal son-in-law daring to run wild — Lord Lu, I’ll go have a look myself!”

These men, righteously indignant, rose to their feet, and Lu Tuizhi himself stood up, brow furrowed. “Where is this man now? With such an incident occurring, could the soldiers stationed below really have failed to stop it?”

At his level of standing, he had long since learned not to put much stock in one-sided accounts delivered in a moment of heated emotion. The soldier who’d brought the news had come the instant he’d seen trouble breaking out, without knowing how matters would develop further, and could only reply that “others have already gone to stop it.” By this point several men in the hall had already stormed out to see for themselves, and Lu Tuizhi strode forward, intending to go have a look as well, when another middle-aged man entered and bowed to him — this was one of his aides, a man named Zhuo Qingran, who had apparently already witnessed the events outside. Lu Tuizhi asked him: “Qingran, what’s become of this scoundrel? Has he been apprehended?”

Zhuo Qingran related how someone had drawn a blade and subsequently been subdued, then lowered his voice slightly: “…After that, Deputy Commander Yuan arrived and engaged him directly — the two exchanged a single strike, then faced off for a moment. After that, the man…”

“The man actually crossed blades with Yuan Dingqi?” Lu Tuizhi cut him off, brow furrowing. This Yuan Dingqi was a deputy commander in the Wude Army, said to be highly skilled in martial arts, and Lu Tuizhi knew him personally. Zhuo Qingran paused a moment, then nodded.

“Only a single exchange, and neither gained the advantage. After a brief standoff, the scholar set down the blade — partly because his wife had arrived by then, and Lou Shuwan also stepped in among the crowd to stop both sides from fighting further; it seems she’s acquainted with this couple. I felt there might be more to this matter than meets the eye, sir, and so I came to report it — this shouldn’t be treated lightly. And this man was carrying an invitation issued personally by Elder Qian.”

“Elder Qian himself, or the Qian household?”

“Elder Qian himself.”

“Understood. Go have another look.”

Lu Tuizhi nodded. Among the great families of Hangzhou today — Qian, Mu, Tang, Chang — the Qian family’s reputation stood highest of all. But Qian Xiwen, in cultivating his standing, spent his days traveling about and lecturing, approachable and easygoing, never involving himself in the sort of petty matters that touched on competing interests. Years ago, during the great drought in Hangzhou, it had been Qian Xiwen who initiated and led that Start-of-Autumn gathering — a matter of the greater good. It was also thanks to the reputations of himself, Mu Bochang, and Chang Yu’an that the then-prefect, Xiong Runing, had been able to carry off that gathering so successfully, which went on to become the single greatest achievement of Xiong Runing’s later career advancement.

But once that particular great matter had passed, Qian Xiwen no longer troubled himself with the smaller affairs of the following years — the interests of the Qian household, naturally, were maintained by the broader Qian clan. Under these circumstances, an invitation issued personally by Qian Xiwen and one issued by the Qian household carried, of course, entirely different weight.

Before he could get over there, the hall had already erupted into a clamor of voices, with everyone crowding onto the main boat. Had he still been down below, Lu Tuizhi could simply have gone down himself, but there was no need to rush and make an appearance now. He waited a moment in a side hall, listening to how the situation was developing.

At this point, the anger in the crowd seemed mostly directed at the idea of a Jiangning man running wild in Hangzhou — but with the perpetrator and the injured all now aboard the boat, and the earlier fight already fresh in mind, few remained impulsive enough to act rashly. And within the crowd, opinion didn’t seem to be lining up entirely along regional lines either — several young men were arguing with the others, apparently trying to speak up in the offender’s defense. Lu Tuizhi recognized these as junior members of the Qian family — it seemed that once the man had produced his invitation card, these Qian relatives, though not privy to the full story, had already begun taking his side.

Qian Xiwen’s standing, both in Hangzhou and within the Qian clan, was extremely high, but as far as Lu Tuizhi could see, the stance these young Qian family members were taking was unlikely to do much good this time. This was, after all, a matter that had provoked public outrage along regional lines, and he could only side with the Hangzhou faction. Even holding an invitation from Qian Xiwen didn’t necessarily mean any deep relationship existed between the two parties — given Qian Xiwen’s temperament as a man of letters, it wasn’t hard to imagine him, in a moment’s enthusiasm while lecturing out in the countryside, handing his calling card or an invitation to someone who struck him as unusually perceptive. The odds that there was any truly significant relationship at stake seemed slim.

For the moment, he found himself both puzzled by Qian Xiwen’s attitude and rather curious about the whole affair. To beat more than a dozen men and hold his own against Yuan Dingqi — one would expect such a man to be some burly, brawny fellow, and yet by all accounts he was merely a scholar, said to be a matrilocal son-in-law, though the reports that followed suggested he might also be a famous talent from Jiangning. For a moment, Lu Tuizhi found himself rather curious to see just what sort of man this actually was.

With something worth watching, the crowd surged toward the boat with remarkable speed, and before long Zhuo Qingran came in to report that things had more or less settled down. Lu Tuizhi rose to head out, and as he passed along the ship’s side, he happened to spot the Qian family’s chief steward, Qian Yu, being led over in his direction. He treated the elderly man with due courtesy: “Has the old gentleman heard of what just happened? What are Elder Qian’s thoughts on the matter, I wonder?”

“My master will be along shortly. This humble old servant, fearing Your Excellency might have some misgivings, came ahead first. That Ning Liheng, he is…”

He spoke a few quiet words with Lu Tuizhi, whose brow now furrowed deeply. “This matter… has become rather difficult to handle…”

“Your Excellency need only act with fairness. This humble old servant has met this Ning Liheng once before — the man carries himself with considerable bearing, hardly the reckless, impulsive sort. There may well be more to this than appears. Of course, if he truly did act with force and provoke public outrage, my master will show him no leniency either…”

Lu Tuizhi nodded, gaining some sense of the Qian family’s leaning, though he found the matter itself only more difficult to judge. He made his way out to the main hall, where the crowd had quieted somewhat, though several people rushed up at once demanding that he, as prefect, punish the offender severely — among them men who had clearly been beaten and injured.

Sweeping his gaze across the room, Lu Tuizhi took in the layout of the hall.

Dozens of round tables, arranged six rows by seven columns, were by now mostly filled with people. Seating had originally been assigned, but by this point everyone had simply taken whatever seat they pleased. Near the front tables sat those directly involved — the injured scholars, along with those who had taken part and clearly stood with the Lou family, filled a good four tables and more, with physicians tending to them amid a chorus of groans, though they forced themselves to hold back at the sight of the prefect’s arrival.

The offender appeared to be seated with his family at a round table toward the front of the third row — only four people in all. The young scholar standing there with such steady composure was strikingly young; it was hard to imagine someone that age carrying such a bearing. His face bore the marks of several blows, his lip somewhat bruised and split, with traces of blood that had since been wiped away. His blue robe was somewhat disheveled, but compared to those who’d taken the beating, his injuries were far lighter. In the chair beside him sat a woman with a calm, composed expression, holding his hand; in her other hand she held a handkerchief, dabbing gently at the split skin on his knuckles from the fight.

In contrast to the physicians elsewhere in the hall, with their medicine boxes and bandages, all that sat on this table was a basin of clean water — understandable enough, given the circumstances: no physician would dare treat this scholar now, and his wife, naturally, had no access to medicine or bandages either, and could only dab at his wounds with a cloth dipped in plain water.

Beside them sat a young maidservant, clearly having cried — this must be the maid at the center of the whole affair. Another man, also around twenty, sat there unharmed — he must be a relative accompanying the family; apparently the wife had two cousins who’d come along, and this must be one of them. Of the six columns of tables in the hall, they sat only four people strong, and yet had positioned themselves at the front of the third column rather than shrinking discreetly off to one side — a certain bearing to that choice that gave one pause.

At the front of the hall, Tang Xiuxuan of the Tang family had already arrived. Lu Tuizhi went over to greet him, and the elder said: “Your Excellency need only handle this matter fairly. If this man has truly conducted himself improperly, I have no doubt Elder Qian would never shelter such a reckless offender.”

“Naturally so.”

Lou Jinlin had also arrived by now, and given his second son’s face swollen up like a pig’s head, the head of the Lou family was clearly furious, his expression dark and grim. At the front of the hall, he had, remarkably, already squared off against the very son-in-law who had assaulted his son — the whole situation was… exceedingly strange.

The bearing of the two sides, as it happened, seemed almost evenly matched.

Lou Jinlin was known throughout Hangzhou as a ruthless man — not the petty ruthlessness of a street thug, but something else entirely. The Lou family lacked the deep-rooted foundations of the Qian, Mu, or Tang clans; that Lou Jinlin had brought his family this far was, in the eyes of the outside world, largely down to his own formidably domineering methods — call him a self-made strongman, and it wouldn’t be far off the mark. He rarely let his emotions show on his face, but when he did choose to act, he seldom left anyone a way out. Now in his fifties, hair and beard half gray, once this man grew angry, few could withstand the pressure of it. And at this moment, with nearly the entire hall standing behind him, as he approached with his expression darkening, even the young Qian family members who had spoken up earlier fell silent at once.

The young man named Ning Liheng stood there, watching him with a faint smile. His wife rose as well, still composed and quiet, and bowed politely toward Lou Jinlin — perhaps offering a greeting — before falling silent again, standing a little behind and to the side of her husband, her hand resting on the back of his bruised, broken-skinned one. Neither of them showed the slightest hint of backing down.

In any standoff, it’s never easy to say who truly holds the upper hand. Most young men would claim they wouldn’t back down before anyone, but that’s usually just gritted teeth and bravado — real presence has never been a matter of who refuses to retreat or bow their head. Given the sheer power Lou Jinlin now commanded, in a hall where public sentiment was so overwhelmingly against them, even men of similar age and standing would likely have felt their nerve falter; a young man would be even more prone to losing his composure — whether through hysterics or forced bravado, even daring to curse Lou Jinlin to his face would, in the eyes of onlookers, look no better than a clown making a fool of himself, his spirit visibly broken. But none of that was happening here. The scholar’s manner was entirely natural, and his smile showed not the faintest trace of forced composure.

Honestly, when Lou Jinlin spoke up, most onlookers assumed the other side would come off looking rather weak — after all, it was just a young couple in their twenties, and however things went, today’s situation was bound to be difficult for them. Before Lu Tuizhi could make his way over, Lou Jinlin was already saying: “…Bo Yong and I are close friends — you and Shuweng ought to have been like brother and sister, Liheng, and the two of you like brothers to each other. I don’t know what Shuweng did, but for you to strike him so viciously…”

His words were sharply accusatory, aimed first at the woman named Su Tan’er, and carrying no small measure of contempt and anger toward the matrilocal son-in-law as well. Su Tan’er lifted her gaze, about to speak, when the scholar beside her raised a hand and patted her shoulder — a light, unstudied gesture, seemingly without deliberate intent, and yet in that instant, he seemed to naturally absorb the whole weight of the pressure Lou Jinlin had directed their way, as though the dark, oppressive air of Lou Jinlin’s fury had been reduced to something almost trivial.

His response was simple and sincere: “As for this matter, perhaps it’s best to ask young Master Lou himself. It isn’t only you who finds it strange, uncle — I’m rather puzzled by it myself.”

That Lou Shuweng had ended up in this state — he found it strange too… and yet the whole of him seemed to carry this as a matter of course. Lou Jinlin stared at him; Ning Yi looked back, his gaze gradually shifting. After a long moment, Lou Jinlin, furious to the point of laughter, bared his teeth: “You. Very good.”

Ning Yi simply kept looking at him. A moment ago, Lou Jinlin’s gaze had carried the ruthlessness one reserves for a junior in the wrong; now Ning Yi’s own gaze seemed to carry something similar — as though he, too, were looking at a junior — his brow slightly furrowed, his composure edged with a touch of boredom. Lou Jinlin had never, in facing a young man of twenty, encountered a response like this before, and his heart was now filled entirely with rage.

At that very moment, Lu Tuizhi had already begun making his way over.