The seventh day of the seventh month — the Qixi Festival.

For this prosperous nation of Wu, this day ranked among the most important festivals of the year. Young women threaded needles and laid out banquets, praying to the Weaving Girl star for wisdom, deft hands, and a good marriage to come. Great households and the imperial court alike typically held all manner of extravagant feasts, with entertainments of every kind running through the night.

That morning, an air of festivity had already begun spreading through the streets of Bianjing, and by evening, as the lanterns gradually lit up, one flower-strewn carriage after another from the pleasure quarters paraded down the main avenue amid the din of gongs and drums, marking the formal beginning of the night’s celebrations. Men and women in resplendent dress — young gentlemen, scholars, maidservants, and ladies alike — filled this understated yet rich ancient festival with an air steeped in literary refinement.

Within the imperial palace, lanterns and decorations had gone up as usual, but that festive mood had not carried beyond the palace walls. In the rear palace, princesses, consorts, and maids had likewise prepared their own Qixi banquet — such gatherings were typically hosted by the Empress, with the Emperor customarily attending as well. But tonight, well after nightfall, the Emperor still hadn’t appeared. Several young princesses and imperial nieces were already competing at threading needles in the middle of the banquet, and the festive mood remained as intoxicating as ever. Only now and then would someone particularly well-informed glance, almost unconsciously, toward the silent main hall of the palace, before quickly looking away again, turning back to the festivities at the center of the banquet, smiling and clapping, offering a few words of good fortune.

The main hall of the palace was, in truth, nowhere near as silent as the women imagined. A little to the west, in the Zichen Hall where matters of state were handled, the clamor, argument, and grim tension had, in fact, persisted the entire day. By now that clamor had largely died down, and the officials who had taken part should already have left the palace and returned home — but the Emperor himself had not yet emerged, and that alone spoke to the gravity of the situation.

To many, the fall of Hangzhou meant, in effect, that half of the Jiangnan region had already collapsed.

Qin Siyuan was among the last to leave the palace, accompanied by Li Gang. Not long before, the court had reached its decision: in three days’ time, Tong Guan would lead one hundred fifty thousand elite Imperial Guards south to suppress Fang La’s rebellion, while Wang Bing and Yang Keshi would lead one hundred thousand troops north to campaign against the Liao. Tong Guan had already returned home, but Qin Siyuan, ordinarily a man who knew when to press and when to yield, had stubbornly insisted on trying once more to persuade the Emperor. Li Gang had stayed behind with him. Emperor Zhou Zhe of the Jingtan era held both left and right chancellors in high regard, and had kept them for a meal — but even after the meal was done, nothing had really been resolved.

Setting aside Zhou Zhe’s own views on the matter, once a decision like this had already been made, there was little hope of reversing it even if the Emperor himself had second thoughts.

In recent days, news from the south had come flying in like scattered paper, all of it bad. Hangzhou was under siege, and the Wuzhou Army attempting to march south to relieve it had been blocked along the way. Rebellions had risen one after another across the southeast — in Suzhou, in Huzhou, in Wuzhou, in Yongkang, in Chuzhou, in Taizhou, in Yuezhou, in Quzhou. Some of these rebel leaders were already notorious names on the government’s wanted lists; others had been complete unknowns until now. But judging by how events had unfolded these past days, it seemed likely that Fang La had, well before the formal assault on Hangzhou began, already been quietly coordinating with these groups in preparation for exactly this moment.

Reports of these uprisings had erupted one after another across the southeast, and however large or small each individual rebellion, together they had effectively blocked reinforcements from reaching Hangzhou. In these past days, with Hangzhou now cut off and isolated, the situation at court had shifted by the day, as the factions favoring external campaigns, internal pacification, war, and peace each played their hidden cards, launching attack after attack against one another and against the Emperor himself.

At present, men like Tang Ke, Li Bangyan, and Wu Min represented the faction favoring internal pacification first. They had no objection to campaigning against Liao in principle, but most of those around them held interests concentrated in Jiangnan, and what concerned them most was the order of operations — with the south now in such turmoil and the rear unstable, how could one possibly campaign abroad? Better to put down the rebellion first. Put this way, the argument sounded reasonable enough.

Among this internal-pacification faction, there was also a certain contingent favoring peace — those who had never wanted to provoke the Liao in the first place — and they too had aligned themselves with the pacification camp, throwing their full support behind suppressing Fang La. Even the old northwestern general Zhong Shidao, though not currently in Bianjing, had sent an urgent dispatch advising that Fang La be put down first, a recommendation that drew considerable support among the officials.

As Left Chancellor, Li Gang upheld the principled path and had originally been a staunch advocate for war, but with news of the Hangzhou disaster now arriving, he too had wavered somewhat, reasoning that if Jiangnan remained unstable, even a successful campaign against Liao would inevitably sap the dynasty’s vitality — and in recent days his stance had grown more cautious. Yet, curiously, the court figure most resolutely insisting on prioritizing the Liao campaign these past few days had not been Qin Siyuan — after all, he had been away from politics for too many years, and even with some influence restored, it hardly counted as the greatest in court. Rather, it was Tong Guan — now hailed as “the foremost general of the Wu Dynasty,” Military Affairs Commissioner, and holder of military authority — who pushed hardest for the Liao campaign, wielding the greatest force behind that position.

But once news of Hangzhou’s fall arrived today, even Tong Guan’s resolve finally recognized the impossibility of the situation, and unable to withstand the mounting pressure, he ultimately accepted the order to lead his army south. Only Qin Siyuan, even at this final juncture, continued to insist on maintaining the northward strategy unchanged — and when Tong Guan recommended Wang Bing and Yang Keshi to lead the northern campaign, several of Qin Siyuan’s own trusted allies voiced their objections, and in the end managed to have a few of their own officers placed within the army. Once the meeting broke up, Tong Guan and the others returned home at once to prepare their next moves, while Qin Siyuan and Li Gang lingered a while longer before finally leaving the palace.

The evening breeze blew past; along the imperial avenue outside the city, fireworks blazed like trees of silver blossom. The two most powerful old men currently at court walked along the road together.

“A night of fish and dragons dancing…” Qin Siyuan sighed faintly. “General Zhong is a clear-eyed man…”

“Zhong Yishu?” Li Gang frowned. Though Zhong Shidao’s views had been raised as a bargaining chip throughout the day, his actual influence here in Bianjing remained fairly limited. “Why bring him up so suddenly, Siyuan?”

“If we cannot campaign against Liao, then we might as well sue for peace with them instead. Liao, compared to Jin, would make for a far easier neighbor to deal with.”

“Jiangnan is far too important a region — in all honesty, I too believe we ought to march south first. Didn’t you yourself say just days ago, Siyuan, that if Hangzhou fell, our dynasty’s vitality would be gravely wounded?”

Qin Siyuan smiled faintly. “Does Old Ji, too, think I’ve lost my senses today, chasing after credit for myself?” These past few days, people had often leveled exactly this accusation at him — that his return to power had really been about the situation in the north, and that he was disregarding the bigger picture for his own ends. Having said this, Li Gang shook his head with a wry smile: “We’ve known each other for many years now, Siyuan, and I know you’ve always acted with an honest heart — in matters of conduct, I fall far short of you. But today’s decision was truly forced upon us by the larger situation; there was nothing either of us could do about it…”

The two men walked on down the street, carriages and servants trailing behind them. Qin Siyuan fell silent a moment, then sighed. “How could I not know how important Jiangnan is? It’s only that the northern situation is now far more perilous. If we truly must divide our forces to march south, I would sooner have had Tong Guan himself lead the northern campaign — as for who leads the southern one, that matters far less to me…”

“Among those currently in the army genuinely capable of fighting, aside from General Zhong in the northwest, Tong Guan really is the only one left…”

“It’s not a question of capability, but of willingness — whether he dares to actually fight. Old Ji, do you know why I opposed appointing Wang Bing and Yang Keshi as commanders today?”

Li Gang smiled faintly. “In the end… it still comes down to Tong Guan, doesn’t it.”

“Just so.” Qin Siyuan nodded, lowering his voice. “Daofu’s insistence on war — you and I both understand the reason behind it, however unflattering it may sound. He is a eunuch. Having already amassed his fortune, what he wants now is a lasting name in history. His corruption is one thing — that hardly matters to me. But once a man like that sets his heart on being remembered by history, he will fight with everything he has. The campaign against Liao is his best chance yet to build that legacy — and should that chance fall to someone else instead… heh. Wang Bing and Yang Keshi are both men of Tong Guan’s own faction, men who’ve pledged their loyalty to him…”

Li Gang nodded. “In that case, a hundred thousand troops march north, and the Liao campaign becomes little more than an empty gesture.”

“A pure waste of money and grain, nothing more.”

Qin Siyuan added this, and the two elders walked on a while longer. Ahead, fireworks and firecrackers were being set off before the gate of a grand residence — a beautiful sight. This was the mansion of Tang Ke, Minister of Revenue, and it was clear a lively banquet was underway inside as well — combined with Tang Ke’s faction’s victory at court today, it was, one might say, a double cause for celebration.

“Qinsou’s second granddaughter is to be betrothed,” Li Gang remarked.

“Betrothed to Wu Min’s nephew, isn’t she? The Wu family is marrying above its station.”

“Heh…”

Having exchanged a few such remarks, the two men passed by the mansion. A young official approaching from the other direction recognized them and came over to pay his respects; Li Gang returned the courtesy, then waved him off with a smile. Once the man had gone, Qin Siyuan said: “Old Ji, I suppose you think me far too set on this Liao campaign as well — so tell me, what do you make of our dynasty’s current age of song and dance, of peace and prosperity?”

“It is, of course, a fine thing indeed — isn’t preserving exactly this peace and prosperity what you and I are both striving for?”

Qin Siyuan sighed. “But in striving to preserve that peace and prosperity, we’ve let our claws and fangs grow dull… While I was in Jiangning, there was a young man who once discussed this with me. There is, in truth, no difference between one man and another — warrior, Liao, or Jin, all are the same in this. Our dynasty has known peace and prosperity for so many years now that those willing to risk their lives have grown few and far between. When the Liao first rose, Yelü Abaoji possessed extraordinary talent and vision — but by now, even they have gradually lost their edge amid this long era of peace, though we have lost far more of ours than they have theirs. The Jurchens, meanwhile, have clawed their way up out of the ice and snow of their frozen homeland, their edge still sharp, ravenous as hungry wolves and tigers. When ten thousand Jurchens gather, none can stand against them — and letting them pass us by will do us no more good than facing them ourselves.”

Li Gang said nothing, and Qin Siyuan continued: “What men like this value most is not negotiation, not scheming — only raw, simple strength can make them regard you as an equal. Old Ji, everyone at court says the Jurchens are too few in number to threaten our dynasty — but should they seize that vast expanse of Liao territory, would raising an army truly be so difficult for them? We could barely defeat the Khitan as it was — why would the Jurchens prove any easier?”

“Which is exactly why I say Zhong Shidao is a clear-eyed man. He foresaw from the start how unwise it would be to drive out the Liao only to let the Jurchens take root right beside our own pillow. Qinsou and the others don’t see it that way — having relied on scheming and intrigue for so long, they assume they can simply let the two nations exhaust each other in battle while we sit back on the mountain and watch the tigers fight, then swoop in to reap the rewards. Scheming, scheming — what use is scheming on the battlefield?”

“Old Ji, that young man was right. In stirring up war between two nations, what we stand to gain is not a guaranteed advantage, but merely an opportunity — and even then, the advantage still has to be seized with our own hands. If, in this opportunity, our dynasty can win several decisive victories while the Liao are already exhausted, the Jurchens will naturally come to hold our dynasty in wary respect. But if our own soldiers prove incompetent, merely scavenging scraps at the margins and even losing at that, then once the Jurchens replace the Khitan, all we will have accomplished is trading an aging wolf for a young tiger… Old Ji, I fear that if that comes to pass, we truly will be remembered as the guilty men of an age. We really do need to think of a countermeasure…”

Fireworks rose into the sky, blossoms of silver fire. Li Gang fell silent for a moment. “Who was this young man?”

“A chess companion I happened to meet by chance.” Qin Siyuan smiled faintly. “Though… he’s trapped in Hangzhou right now, as it happens…”