The carriage returned to the Qin family estate, where a Qixi banquet was likewise underway, arranged jointly by Madam Qin and Yun Niang. Though the Qin household had only recently been restored to prominence and many relatives had yet to arrive, in the capital, when the mansion of the Right Chancellor extended invitations, there was never any shortage of guests eager to attend. Students, old associates, close and distant relations alike had already accepted their invitations days before and were preparing to come; even those without a formal invitation, if they had any connection at all, racked their brains trying to find a way in, hoping for a glimpse of some important figure or another.

A great household of this scale operated as a whole system unto itself, one whose full workings even those within it, let alone those outside, could scarcely grasp entirely — comings and goings, what to write, what gifts to send, what cards to present, what words to say, which paths to walk, whom to speak with — every single detail governed by its own unspoken rules. At this moment, the Right Chancellor’s mansion, amid its lively festive atmosphere, was running through layer upon layer of complex yet orderly operation: guests feasting and chatting in the main hall, while maids, stewards, houseboys, gatekeepers, cooks, and all the rest bustled about their respective duties throughout the estate. Of course, once such rules had been established, there were always certain people who need not concern themselves with them at all.

Qin Siyuan stepped down from his carriage and entered through the main gate, exchanging greetings with the guests in the hall and speaking with a few of them briefly before making his way toward the rear courtyard, stewards and servants trailing beside him, reporting matters and awaiting instructions. Those countless invisible threads of protocol wound around him as he made his way toward the back of the estate — but upon reaching his study, he waved everyone away; they scattered somewhat, though the rules, of course, remained in place regardless. The study had already been lit; once the door was closed, the surroundings fell quiet. He opened a hidden compartment in the bookshelf and drew out two thin paper packets.

There were several such hidden compartments throughout the room used for filing away documents, but he remembered the contents of every single one with perfect clarity. Setting the packets on the desk, the old man opened them under the oil lamp and looked them over for a while — files and records of some kind, though what exactly they documented was not immediately clear. Having reviewed them roughly once through, the old man ground his own ink, took out paper, sat down, and began to write letters.

Through the window came the faint sounds of the banquet still underway in the main hall. The old man’s hand was steady, his thoughts clear. He wrote two letters in all, pausing hardly at all in between; once finished, he sealed them into envelopes. He had been about to rise when, after a moment’s thought, he sat back down and wrote a third letter as well. Tucking all three into his sleeve, he picked up the two packets of documents and walked out of the study, where the steward and servants hurried back over to him.

“Have Qixian and Yubai arrived?”

“Both young masters are already waiting in the side hall.”

“…See that no idle onlookers come near.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The group made their way toward one side of the mansion, and as they passed a covered walkway, the lights of the main hall came into view, along with the sound of lively laughter drifting over. The side hall, by contrast, was relatively quiet. As the old man entered, the two young men there rose to their feet — one dressed in a scholar’s robe, the other in a military officer’s uniform, the latter marking him as a regional military commissioner, a man who, in ordinary times, held command over an entire army — the highest-ranking officer of a regional force such as the Wulie or Wude Armies. He must have returned to the capital just now for a report or some other official business.

“Master Qin.”

“Master Qin…”

“Sit, no need for formalities.” The two young men, one a civil official, one a military one, rose and bowed; Qin Siyuan waved a hand. “Qixian, Yubai — you’ve both heard about what happened today, I take it?”

The young scholar, named Fang Yubai, nodded first. “Hangzhou has fallen. I’ve already heard about today’s debate at court — those men are shortsighted fools…”

Before he could finish, the military commissioner named Chen Qixian spoke up as well, brow furrowed: “I hear Wang Bing and Yang Keshi are to lead the northern campaign while Commissioner Tong heads south — sooner or later, they’ll come to regret this…”

“Regret can wait for later — what matters now is how we respond. I’ve already recommended the two of you accompany the army; the official orders will come down tomorrow. There will also be Tang Sixian, Yu Rui, Shen Qipeng, and Ji Haifang, whom you already know. For now, Wang Bing will serve as commander, Yang Keshi as army supervisor, Sixian as deputy commander, and after him, Qixian, you; Yubai can assist you. The role the rest of you can play in all this shouldn’t be underestimated — though it will certainly prove troublesome.”

Qin Siyuan continued, his brow furrowing. “I don’t need to investigate to know that Tong Guan has already summoned his trusted men into his residence, working on Wang Bing and Yang Keshi even now. Knowing him, he’ll surely tell them how much he’s pinned his hopes on this northern campaign, how it’s an unprecedented achievement for the sake of the nation and its people, how that matters above all else. Though he… cannot go north himself for now, everyone must still strive their utmost for the country, to reclaim Youyan — and when the day of victory comes, he’ll drink together with them all, and see that the soldiers and officers are properly rewarded…”

…

At that same moment, in the residence of Grand General Tong, his officers had gathered exactly as expected, and Tong Guan, brow furrowed, was addressing them.

Though widely known to be a eunuch, Tong Guan bore no resemblance to the typical image one might imagine — tall and broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, carrying himself not only with an upright bearing but with a physique like bronze and iron, giving off an impression of extreme hardness, his voice booming with vigor whenever he spoke. That a man of eunuch status could rise to command all the empire’s armed forces was itself a testament to a certain commanding presence in his every gesture. At this moment, in response to today’s events at court, he was addressing his men.

“…The rebel scourge of Fang La, the disaster at Hangzhou — these are already matters of dire urgency. To deal with threats from without, we must first root out the chaos within — His Majesty sending me south is precisely a mark of how seriously he regards this matter! But… for our dynasty today, suppressing this rebellion is not, in truth, the most important task before us. The Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun have been lost to us for nearly two hundred years now, and with them the northern buffer that once protected our realm — as ministers and soldiers of this dynasty, we ought to feel the urgency of this every single day! Allying with the Jurchens to strike at the Khitan is a strategy I have been cultivating for years now, and this present moment is a rare and precious opportunity — precisely the time for men to distinguish themselves, achieve an enduring legacy, and have their names recorded in history for all time. As you march north, give your utmost in assisting Commanders Wang and Yang in reclaiming the northern territories. I shall move as quickly as I can to put down the rebellion and then head north myself — though I cannot march with you at this moment, my heart to achieve merit and strike down the enemy remains with you all the same…”

…

“Wang Bing and Yang Keshi aren’t here, but having said all that, those two will know exactly what to do. This northern campaign is bound to be plagued with delay after delay, wasting grain and pay for nothing. Because they’ll know full well that if they claim credit that should have gone to Commissioner Tong on this campaign, however glorious it may seem for the moment, Tong Guan will make them suffer for it later, in ways too miserable to speak of.”

Back at the Qin residence, Qin Siyuan was speaking as he set out two document files and three letters.

“But His Majesty has placed great hopes in this northern campaign as well. If they drag their feet and accomplish nothing, Tong Guan may well try to compensate them for it afterward — but should the Emperor’s own wrath fall on them, that is something they will have to face regardless.”

He set the items down on the desk, his expression turning cold. “Tong Guan will speak up on their behalf, and if His Majesty alone were involved, that might well be enough to keep them safe for a time. But add myself and Chancellor Li on top of His Majesty’s displeasure, and whether they can withstand that is something they’ll need to think carefully about… I have here certain evidence of their wrongdoing — their arrogance and abuse of power, their extortion, their families’ misdeeds in bullying the local people back home. None of that concerns me much on its own; by itself, it wouldn’t be enough to convict them of anything serious, and even if it were, it would amount to no more than minor punishment. But add the matter of this northern campaign on top of it…”

“Once you’ve gone north, give this letter to Sixian and the others to read — let them know my thinking. Though the south is in turmoil now, most of the rest of the country has already reached autumn harvest, and I will personally see to it that all grain and military supplies remain fully secured from the rear. Whatever the army needs, it shall have — we must grit our teeth and see this campaign through properly. I’ll arrange for people to stir up trouble at the border by whatever means necessary, and you may seize whatever opportunities arise from that. The fighting must happen — this chance cannot be allowed to slip away.”

The old man paused. “Once the fighting begins — or if any problems arise beforehand with Wang Bing and Yang Keshi — show them these two documents and these letters, and tell them this: I want victory. I want a victory won against the Jurchens themselves, whatever the cost — a narrow victory, even a costly, bloody one, it makes no difference, so long as it’s the kind of victory that can decide the course of events. If they win, I, Chancellor Li, and even His Majesty himself will see that they come to no harm, that their names go down in history, that they live out their lives in wealth and honor. I, Qin Siyuan, do not speak idle words — but if they refuse to fight, or dare to lose, you tell those two men this as well: Chancellor Li and I will spare no effort in seeing that not even a chicken or dog is left alive among their entire clan. Let that serve as… a warning to whoever comes to take their place after them…”

His voice was not loud, but each word landed with absolute finality. The two young men spoke with the old man a while longer before departing to carry out their orders. The old man sat alone in the side hall for a time, until someone came in carrying a lamp — it was Madam Qin herself, dressed in her finest, carrying a small bowl in her hands. Married for decades now, the old woman needed only to see her husband’s expression to understand the gravity of the situation, but she said nothing of it, simply setting the small bowl down on the table beside him.

“I saw your expression out front just now — I suspected you still hadn’t eaten. I slipped away for a moment and heard Qixian and Yubai had already left, so I came to check on you. These are all things you like. The quail eggs turned out especially well this time — have a few first.”

The old man nodded and picked up his chopsticks. “You needn’t have troubled yourself, my dear.”

The side hall fell quiet. The old man ate a few bites, then, seeming to recall something, turned his head and said: “Hangzhou has fallen…”

The old woman blinked. “Ah… that Qian Xiwen, and young Liheng too — they should both still be there, shouldn’t they…”

“Yes. I’d thought the Wude garrison at Hangzhou were seasoned troops — even after the earthquake, surely a determined rabble like Fang La’s men shouldn’t have been able to take the city. And yet… with reinforcements from both sides failing to arrive in time, it fell before anyone could reach it. Ai. Wherever Fang La takes a city, he slaughters the gentry and the wealthy nearly to the last man. Now that Hangzhou has fallen, the surrounding country is overrun with rebel troops besides. I can only hope… that they managed to get out safely, that they’re unharmed…”

He sighed, his gaze drifting past the hall’s edge, out beyond the courtyard walls, where the same starry sky stretching a thousand li away also hung over Bianjing. A firework rose into view and burst apart.

That same Qixi evening, a thousand li away in the city of Jiangning, a similar air of festive joy filled the streets. Along the Qinhuai River, pleasure boats decked out in splendor drifted by, and flower-strewn carriages paraded through every lane and alley. In a small, somewhat secluded building by a bend in the river, a cool breeze drifted across a terrace hung with a few lanterns, laden with all manner of fruits and delicacies. Two women were holding a small Qixi gathering of their own — one, dressed in white with flowing hair, was Nie Yunzhu; the other, in a goose-yellow dress, hands pressed together and swaying playfully upward like a serpent, was Yuan Jin’er.

Not far off, the glow of the city’s festive lights shone in the distance; along the riverside road here, the occasional passerby or carriage went by. Under the silvery cascade of moonlight, Yuan Jin’er’s dance blended with the warm orange glow of the surrounding lanterns into an utterly delightful scene. Nie Yunzhu, meanwhile, simply watched with a smile, idly plucking at the guqin beside her, joining in the fun in her own quiet way. But her smile carried a certain strained distance to it — her heart, clearly, was elsewhere.

Yuan Jin’er understood this well enough, of course. Over these past days, news of the Hangzhou earthquake and Fang La’s rebellion had, one way or another, made its way to Jiangning as well — anyone determined enough could learn of it easily. Sister Yun Zhu had been anxious about it all day; though she’d tried at first to keep her composure on the surface, that anxiety had gradually become impossible to suppress, and by now it showed plainly on her face. Had she not also known that worrying would accomplish nothing, she likely would have packed her things and set off for Hangzhou already.

It was precisely because of this that Yuan Jin’er made an effort each day to keep smiling, hoping to lift her elder sister’s spirits at least a little — though the effect was, admittedly, limited, there was little else to be done for the moment. At the same time, a part of her couldn’t help but resent, just a little, that matrilocal son-in-law scholar off in Hangzhou, now without word — if not for him, if Sister Yun Zhu had never met him, wouldn’t everything be so much simpler, with no one left to worry over…

At this small gathering, the two women were the main attraction, with Yuan Jin’er’s maid Kou’er bringing out various refreshments. Partway through the gathering, Hutao — Yun Zhu’s maid, now married — arrived as well. Hutao seemed to be carrying some worry of her own; she spoke quietly with Kou’er while busy outside, then joined the gathering as though nothing were amiss. But Yuan Jin’er noticed something was off with her, and when the opportunity came for a trip to the washroom, she pulled Kou’er aside outside to ask.

Kou’er, too, was frowning. “Hutao said — Hutao said her husband Ernu just heard some news, brought by merchants traveling from the southeast. They said… the whole southeast region has descended into chaos, that Hangzhou has been overrun, that rebels have risen up everywhere all around it, that… no one’s managed to escape from there…”

“What—” Yuan Jin’er’s eyes went wide, and for a moment she couldn’t even tell what she was feeling. Before she could gather her thoughts, Yun Zhu’s voice came from behind them: “What did you say…?”

Turning around, they found Yun Zhu standing in the doorway, watching the two of them. Her face had gone as white as paper, her slight frame swaying faintly — in her white robes, she seemed almost to glow faintly, rendering her strangely translucent, as though she might vanish from this world at any moment.

That was, of course, only an illusion — but in the very instant that thought crossed Yuan Jin’er’s mind, Yun Zhu had already gathered up her skirts and rushed out the door. Jin’er let out a sharp cry and threw her arms around her friend’s waist, pressing her head desperately against her, calling out: “Kou’er! Ready the carriage! Ready the carriage, ready the carriage—! Sister Yun Zhu, I’ll come with you, I’ll go with you—aaahhh—!”

Before long, the carriage rolled through the city streets and came to a stop before the gates of Princess Chengguo’s residence. The two women stepped down and rushed toward the entrance, only to be stopped by the guards; the beautiful woman in white robes at the front trembled faintly, weeping as she pressed her palms together, begging entry, while the woman behind her hurried to catch up. After some time, someone finally came out from the gate and led the two women inside. In the side hall, they found Kang Xian; the moment Yun Zhu saw the old man, she ran forward, weeping, and fell to her knees, with Jin’er following close behind and kneeling as well. Kang Xian hurried over to help them both up…

Meanwhile, in the vicinity of Hangzhou, there was no festive light to be found.

The Milky Way stretched across the sky above; along the winding mountain roads, only scattered torches lit the way, appearing from a distance like fireflies — only up close could one make out voices, footsteps, the sound of carts and horses. Countless people crowded together along this mountain path, ordinarily traveled by so few, stretching on endlessly into the darkness ahead.

The sound of hoofbeats passed by somewhere in the darkness nearby. Ning Yi, a child cradled in his arms, held Su Tan’er’s hand as he walked forward through the middle of this fleeing crowd, surrounded almost entirely by members of the Su household. He had taken some minor injuries in the fighting at Taiping Lane, but they had all been bandaged and posed no real danger; now, amid this seemingly endless march, all he felt was a faint, throbbing ache from the wound on his right arm, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

The area around Hangzhou was, by now, thick with refugees — those who had scattered when the city fell, along with those Fang La’s forces had driven ahead of them from elsewhere. Order of any kind had long since collapsed entirely; slaughter and violence lay scattered everywhere. Only this group, the one Ning Yi and the others belonged to, counted among the largest bands of refugees fleeing the area — soldiers among them, along with the household guards of wealthy merchants and gentry that Ning Yi had rallied together, and so on; most of those with any real property to protect had joined this particular group, making them, too, a prime target for Fang La’s forces. Several armies were surely closing in from behind even now, pressing their advantage after the city’s fall — already, along the way, they had been spotted once and had fought a small skirmish; some of the elderly, the weak, women and children had fallen behind during the flight, and were likely dead by now.

The starry night deepened, and dark clouds gradually crept back over the Qixi sky. Before long, a rider on horseback, torch in hand, arrived with orders summoning Ning Yi to a council up ahead in the column. Ning Yi nodded, took his wife’s hand, and made his way over. As the night wind blew past, he found himself feeling faintly cold — perhaps, after so many days of exhausting both body and mind, he’d caught something of a cold…