As the mother river of the Chinese nation, the Yellow River flowed on endlessly, gentle at times and violent at others across the long span of several thousand years. Its countless breaches and shifts in course had brought disaster after disaster, but the silt carried and deposited by its waters also left behind, after each shift, land of extraordinary fertility. Humanity was thus able to take root here, clinging to the river’s violence or calm, multiplying generation after generation, and building up prosperous civilizations.
The Chinese nation had radiated outward from this center. Around the Yellow River, one settlement after another gradually grew into cities — some endured for thousands of years, others were slowly swallowed by the passage of time, leaving behind only a name and a memory. Among these, Kaifeng Prefecture’s city of Bianliang was one of the most brilliant names of all.
Situated at the tip of the vast alluvial plain of the lower Yellow River, Kaifeng Prefecture had been prosperous since ancient times, blessed with fertile soil, a favorable climate, a crucial geographic position, and convenient water and land routes linking north and south. Since the Xia dynasty, more than two thousand years before this era, it had already served as the capital of a dynasty for the first time, and across the more than four thousand years that followed, a total of ten dynasties made their capital here. The Yellow River had nurtured this city, and had also ceaselessly destroyed it — with each major shift in its course, the old city would be submerged, and once the waters passed, a new city would rise up to take its place. In another two thousand years, Kaifeng Prefecture would still be an immensely prosperous great city, but the cities and memories of the past would lie buried, layer upon layer, beneath the silt of the Yellow River, never to be seen again.
In this age of the Wu Dynasty, Kaifeng Prefecture’s city of Bianliang was still the ancient capital of six dynasties — a city of which Ning Yi held no memory of his own. A thousand years on, the Kaifeng of that later age would stand far higher than this stretch of ground did now. This city, one that in theory would one day be buried beneath the earth, appeared here both ancient and young at once. Beneath the lead-grey curtain of rain, the city’s old and new architecture mingled together, carrying, as every rapidly developing city does, its hurried, mismatched blend of old and new memories and contradictions, an air that could inspire both nostalgia and distaste, leaving behind, in the river of time, the traces of the people who had once lived here.
Beneath this city there might well lie ancient traces of the Xia dynasty, the city walls of Daliang from the Warring States period, the crumbling remains of Bianzhou from the Tang dynasty. Thinking of this, one could not help but feel a faint, curious stirring in the heart. Stepping down from the ship, Ning Yi stamped his feet on the ground twice.
The docks were chaotic and noisy in the rain.
Having traveled together all the way from Jiangning, the moment had finally come to part ways. The birthday gifts would be handed over by imperial officials come to receive them; the various imperial relatives and nobles traveling north each had their own connections to seek out, relatives to meet. News did not travel especially quickly in this era, and with all manner of delays along the way, those in the capital could not easily predict the exact hour of arrival. Some of higher standing, more mindful of their status and reputation, had already sent servants racing ahead on fast horses the previous evening to bring word to the capital, and now there were people of evident standing waiting to receive them at the docks. Others — such as the young princess — held rank high enough, and had guardians like Kang Xian concerned enough for her safety, that word had already been sent ahead to the capital, with people posted at the docks daily to wait for her. Such attentive treatment was itself the surest proof of status.
The affairs of the Secret Investigation Bureau were not run with quite the same rigor these days as when fully operational; Wenren Buer and the others heading to the capital were mainly there to pay respects to Qin Siyuan. He had always treated Qin Siyuan as his teacher by rite, and now that the ship had docked, he would go to the chancellor’s residence to pay his respects that very afternoon. As for Ning Yi, a visit to the chancellor’s residence would in principle also be expected of him — but with Xiao Chan, Su Wenyu, Su Yanping, Yun Zhu, Jin’er, four or five trusted servants and guards from the Su household all in tow, along with no small amount of luggage, there was no way he could bring the whole group along. So for the afternoon, he would first need to find an inn to settle everyone in. As for the three Qi brothers, Lu Junyi, and the others, they were already well acquainted with everyone by now, so there was no harm in having them stay at the same inn.
Arriving in Bianliang for the first time, they were, in truth, strangers to the place. Fortunately, among those accompanying the Su household was one with experience — the very Manager Liao who had come to Bianliang and kicked them while they were down during the imperial merchant affair. This man’s name was Liao Sanhua; among the Su household’s managers, he was considered quite trustworthy, and had experience doing business and making connections in the capital, which was why he had been sent ahead this time to scout things out in advance.
While the group was in the hall at the docks reserved for receiving distinguished guests, discussing where to stay, Zhou Pei came over with a few attendants to greet them — these were people from the Chong Prince’s residence in the capital. In the days ahead she would apparently be staying at the Chong Prince’s residence until after the Empress Dowager’s birthday celebration, and had come now to ask where Ning Yi would be staying.
After everything that had happened along the journey, she had come to hold Ning Yi in considerable esteem. Over these past few days she had spent much more time pestering him with questions than usual, and the old habit of stubbornly talking back had greatly diminished. Even when Ning Yi had jokingly compiled his so-called Top Hundred Masters Under Heaven list, she had insisted on copying out a version for herself, mulling over its finer points. If it were up to her, she would probably have much preferred to stay by the side of such a “teacher” to learn from him, but of course, most of the time she still knew her place, and understood that such a thing was simply not possible.
At this point, Ning Yi and the others were planning to follow Manager Liao’s recommendation and stay at the Fuxiang Inn, said to be the largest and finest in Bianliang. When the name was mentioned, one of the household stewards accompanying Zhou Pei, evidently a eunuch, said, “The Fuxiang Tower — yes, that’s a fine large place, though I worry there may be no rooms left. If you can’t find lodging there, my lord, you might instead try the Wenhui Tower over on Temple Street — the Prince’s residence has some connections with that inn.” This steward, mild-mannered and courteous in manner, offered up a calling card as he spoke. It seemed the Chong Prince’s residence and the Kang Prince’s residence were on good terms, and this gesture on their part gave the young princess a certain sense of pride as well.
“I’ll ask Grandfather Qin again tomorrow about where you’re staying, teacher. If anything comes up, teacher, you can come find me at the Chong Prince’s residence.” With that, Zhou Pei pressed her hands together in front of her chest and gave a slight curtsy before taking her leave — a fifteen-year-old girl carrying herself with both dignity and grace.
After Zhou Pei left, Chen Jingui also came over to exchange a few words with Ning Yi, thanking him for his help along the way, and mentioning that he knew a few people in the capital as well, and that Ning Yi should feel free to ask if he ever needed anything. After Chen Jingui, the next to come find Ning Yi was Li Shishi.
With everyone now going their separate ways and exchanging their “reluctant” farewells, Li Shishi, who was headed back to the Fan Tower, also came over to ask where Ning Yi would be staying. In truth, Ning Yi would likely only stay at an inn for the first day or two before eventually buying a residence or two of his own in the capital.
“If you have the time, Elder Brother Ning, do come by the Fan Tower sometime. There are no shortage of talented men here in the capital — you remember Zhou Bangyan, Zhou Meicheng? He’s never stopped thinking of your poetry. But most of all, what I’d really like is simply to have a gathering with Elder Brother Ning, Elder Brother Yu, and Elder Brother Chen, all together.”
Her manner was so earnest and sincere that Ning Yi found it hard to refuse — not that there was any real reason to refuse in the first place — and he nodded his agreement. Li Shishi gave a slight bow in return and left with a smile. Her presence lacked the same exalted air as Zhou Pei’s, but carried instead a graceful, elegant charm, blending a girl’s innocence with a woman’s allure, without ever losing a certain sense of purity. If Yun Zhu was like an elegant, unadorned lily, then Li Shishi was perhaps more like a narcissus — pure, yet touched with a natural flair all its own. Perhaps this was also why Yun Zhu never quite fit into an environment like the pleasure houses, while Li Shishi moved through it with effortless ease.
“That Miss Li really is something…” Yun Zhu, dressed plainly in cloth and simple hairpins at this moment, watched Li Shishi’s retreating figure after she had bid everyone farewell, and could not help but tilt her head and sigh in what seemed like pure admiration — she carried her own captivating air even in that small gesture, and Ning Yi looked at her and smiled. Yuan Jin’er, dressed in men’s clothing at the time, sat on the luggage eating something, giving an indifferent snort.
The rain was still falling as the group rented carriages and set off. After passing two streets, the grime and clutter particular to the docks gradually gave way, though lifting the curtain to look outside, the streetscape still appeared crowded — buildings of every height packed close together, narrow winding lanes twisting this way and that. Beneath the curtain of rain, the scene shifted between old and new: new taverns beside old teahouses, eaves of every height overlapping one another. At times they passed old courtyards with walls overgrown with moss, at times newly built towers whose fresh red lacquer gleamed bright, washed clean by the rain. Grand mansions stood with great stone lions before their gates; armed escort agencies had tall flagpoles rising in their courtyards, martial men sheltering from the rain beneath the eaves with weapons on their backs. Fine lanterns hung outside the pleasure houses, some of the upper floors draped with clothing and colorful silks, women with longing in their eyes gazing distractedly at the passersby below from upstairs windows. From some windows came the sound of singing, laughter, and playful scolding, all of it swallowed up in the rain. Ancient trees grew here and there, in a corner of some courtyard, at the head of a bridge, at a street corner, spreading their lush leaves throughout this ancient city, and in the distance, the towering walls of the palace could be seen looming.
By the time they made their way from the docks to the Fuxiang Inn, they found, as expected, that the Fuxiang Inn was indeed full. Ning Yi’s group then turned instead toward the Wenhui Tower the Chong Prince’s steward had mentioned, and sure enough, that too proved to be a grand and opulent inn. Presenting their calling card, Ning Yi’s group rented two courtyards and settled in, by which time it was already close to evening. The rain had not yet let up; the inn had lit its lamps and hung out its lanterns, the whole place bright and lively, with many people in the main hall talking loudly, discussing a piece of news that had only just come out the day before: that the Liao commander of the Ever-Victorious Army, Guo Yaoshi, after considerable effort on this side to win him over, had surrendered to the Wu Dynasty along with the prefectures of Zhuozhou and Yizhou.
As in later ages, everyone in the capital loved discussing politics, and this news had only reached Ning Yi’s ears a couple of days earlier himself — but it was good news regardless, and there had been no attempt to hide it from the public. At this point, the Jin forces attacking the Liao had already won a string of victories, but the Wu Dynasty’s own campaign had so far been all thunder and no rain — the earlier failure of a hundred thousand men to defeat a mere ten thousand had already badly shaken people’s confidence, and even with Tong Guan now leading troops north, without an actual victory to show for it, it remained difficult for the army to inspire much confidence. The Ever-Victorious Army, on the other hand, had originally been made up of men from the Liao’s eastern territories, formed to resist the Jurchens and once called the Resentment Army — though it might not necessarily win against the Jurchens, its combat strength was still said to be considerable, and the court had clearly been promoting it as such.
Regarding Guo Yaoshi’s Ever-Victorious Army, the Wu Dynasty had been working to win them over from the very start, especially Qin Siyuan, who understood well that the Wu Dynasty’s regular forces lacked the strength for open battle, and had had the Secret Investigation Bureau expend enormous effort behind the scenes, using every method available to shift the balance in their favor. For the Secret Investigation Bureau, this too surely counted as a major victory…