Thunder rumbled, rain fell across the courtyard, pattering against the broad leaves of the trees. The sky had turned somewhat gloomy, and inside the Chancellor’s residence, lamps had already been lit in some of the rooms. As Ning Yi entered, a middle-aged official with a dignified, upright bearing was being escorted out by a steward. Ning Yi stood beneath the eaves waiting for the man to pass; the official glanced his way, his expression softening slightly into a faint smile. This wasn’t their first meeting—though the two had little direct dealings with each other, the man was clearly aware of Ning Yi’s standing, at least his standing within the Chancellor’s household. Otherwise, a man of his position would hardly have offered Ning Yi such a warm expression.
This official who had just walked past was none other than Qin Hui, currently serving as Vice Censor-in-Chief.
Given the current political climate, he was a firm hardliner within the court, a steadfast advocate for war. Though the role of Vice Censor-in-Chief was, in principle, meant to oversee and impeach officials, he showed no mercy whatsoever when it came to bringing charges against them, which had won him considerable favor with the Emperor. For one thing, his political stance aligned with Qin Siyuan’s; for another, there was some faint sense of “shared clan” between Qin Hui and Qin Siyuan—the two men’s relationship, for the moment, remained fairly close.
“…Just now Huizhi came by, and once again brought up the covert dealings of Military Commissioner Tong Guan, Wang Fu, and the others. He clearly harbors some real concern about it, but this matter simply can’t be brought before the Emperor directly. On our side, we’re already riding a tiger we can’t dismount from—having committed to war, having pushed things this far, everything left is just paper-thin pretense now. If things keep going this way, the very concerns Liheng once raised may well come to pass after all.”
Once inside the study, with everyone gathered, Qin Siyuan set down some documents from the Secret Investigation Bureau—this was what he’d just been discussing with Qin Hui.
Truth be told, in his day-to-day life, running his commercial ventures, even managing the large compound outside Bianliang, everything seemed to be operating smoothly enough. But once inside the Chancellor’s residence, all such matters became insignificant trifles—it was little wonder that Qin Siyuan, Yao Zunian, and the others always dismissed commerce as a minor pursuit, hardly worth mentioning. Even though Ning Yi now conducted his business under the Chancellor’s own banner, in everyone’s minds those ventures remained purely trivial matters. Separated by a single wall, two entirely different worlds—such small concerns simply couldn’t hold much weight of thought here.
“…As things stand now, taking advantage of the New Year period, Military Commissioner Tong Guan, Wang Fu, and the others, using the occasion when officials from every quarter had gathered, have already amassed some fifty million strings of cash and goods. Having tasted success last year buying Yanjing, this year’s affair isn’t limited to just Tong Guan and Wang Fu alone—Grand Preceptor Cai Jing is also pulling strings behind the scenes, and they’ve drawn in Liang Shicheng as well…”
As Qin Siyuan spoke, Yao Zunian had already begun to laugh. “Well, with this, just about everyone in court with any real say has been brought together, it seems.”
Wenren Buer said, “Teacher, and Chancellor Li’s side—surely they’ve given some word to you as well?”
“The ones putting up the money would be the great merchants below—there’s no logic in having those above contribute money themselves.” Ning Yi said with a smile.
Qin Siyuan nodded. “Li and I are already responsible for overseeing the northern campaign affairs to begin with—whether or not they give us word about this, we’re effectively already part of it either way. They intend to spend money to buy cities from the Jin, then use the acquisition as a war record, His Majesty grants promotions, and once they hold real power, they’ll claw back that money through trade routes heading north. Honestly, if this northern campaign genuinely produces impressive results, I’d want to tear this whole scheme apart—but by now everyone knows it can’t be dismantled. All I hope for is that beyond their purchased victories, the north might at least retain some genuinely capable men to draw on—that’s why I’ve met with Guo Yaoshi a few times these past couple of days.”
Guo Yaoshi, currently being honored and rewarded in the capital, was something of a rising star in everyone’s eyes; it wasn’t unusual for the capital’s high officials to have met him at some point. But that Qin Siyuan’s tone now carried a hint of deliberate cultivation was, in fact, no small matter. Guo Yaoshi was a military man—his official post fell under the Ministry of War, and his troops, stationed in the north, technically answered to Tong Guan’s command. Though Qin Siyuan and the others were responsible for overseeing the northern campaign, their role concerned mainly the broader strategy, logistics, and personnel allocation—military affairs themselves remained largely beyond their reach.
Qin Siyuan sighed. “Right now, he’s the only truly usable asset in the north. But there’s not much political capital I can spare to extend to him—I’ve been hesitating over this myself. These past two months, since the Ever-Victorious Army was reorganized into the Wutai Camp, they’ve been forcibly conscripting men, and I hear a fair number have already died because of it. According to reports from the Secret Investigation Bureau, my original thought was to rein him in somewhat—but Military Commissioner Tong’s recent moves have forced me to reconsider… other approaches.”
Yao Zunian said, “There’s nothing wrong with extending this as a favor to him. But… I suspect, Master, you’re worried about nurturing a tiger that might one day turn on us.”
Qin Siyuan nodded. “When Huizhi came earlier, he suggested that he could submit a memorial tomorrow impeaching Guo Yaoshi for expanding his forces so aggressively while the north remains unstable, and I could then step in to intervene as a personal favor, quietly putting a stop to the matter. But after thinking it over, I still feel it’s unwise to bring this out into the open—the charge is far too severe. So I’ve asked Huizhi only to write a private memorandum for me, which I’ll show to Guo Yaoshi privately myself.”
Yao Zunian nodded as well. “Handling it privately is indeed better than bringing it into the open. As for Guo Yaoshi’s continued recruitment efforts, we could offer some appropriate support in terms of funds, provisions, and weapons—that would still count as extending him a genuine favor…”
The group discussed the matter further and reached a consensus on supporting Guo Yaoshi’s military expansion. In a sense, this was really the only choice available to Qin Siyuan’s side under the circumstances.
Ning Yi didn’t say much during the discussion, but once matters had been settled, Qin Siyuan kept him back. “As for the Guo Yaoshi matter, I’m afraid this is the only way to handle it for now—it’s hard to say whether he’ll even appreciate the favor. As for the fifty million strings of cash from Tong Guan and Wang Fu’s side, what does Liheng make of it?”
Ning Yi thought for a moment. “The matter itself is quite simple—they’re paying the Jin to buy cities, and the Jin are willing to sell. Once purchased, they’ll present it as a military achievement, and then it becomes a matter of dividing up the benefits among the various parties. For the great merchant houses wanting to trade with the north, this is essentially their entry ticket. Are you asking, Chancellor, whether there’s any benefit our side might secure from this?”
Qin Siyuan nodded. “Though Li and I haven’t been directly involved in this particular scheme, as long as the northern campaign shows some tangible achievement, we’ll always stand to gain something from it. Liheng, you might give this some thought beforehand.”
Having said this, he laughed again. “I recall, a few years back, Liheng once spoke with me about Confucianism—how a person caught within it is like one fallen into a spider’s web, where nearly every step forward leaves little real choice. That the war has come to this state is not what I wanted—the campaign hasn’t yet achieved victory, and yet everyone throughout the court, high and low, finds a way to profit from it regardless. The merchants put up the money, officials use it to purchase a few ruined cities in the north, the military men earn their war merit from taking those cities, the civil officials gain fame and power, the merchants then use their trading privileges to earn even more money, the Martial Dynasty reclaims the Yanyun territories, His Majesty establishes his legacy—on the surface it looks like a losing venture, and yet somehow it manages to leave everyone satisfied. Whether I want this or not has long since ceased to determine how things unfold, and yet, faced with such a state of affairs, I cannot help but feel troubled. The deeper this matter is buried, the more painfully, I fear, it will eventually come back to hurt us…”
Ning Yi shook his head. “Such is the way of the world… it’s not unique to Confucianism, after all—this is simply how the game is played, and you, sir, haven’t only just learned this today…”
“Heh.” The old man laughed, looking out at the heavy rain beyond the window. “Just a passing reflection, that’s all… The rain’s been good this year—let’s hope it means a good harvest ahead…”
With that, since Qin Siyuan still had other matters to attend to, Ning Yi took his leave. Over with Yao Zunian, they chatted a bit about this year’s Yellow River flood-control efforts, and by the time they turned to the matter of Fang Qifo in the south, it had already become a minor topic indeed. As far as Yao Zunian and the others were concerned, the threat of Fang La in the south had already been put down; escorting Fang Qifo to the capital for execution amounted to little more than a loose end that didn’t even really require cleanup—the Secret Investigation Bureau couldn’t be bothered to pay it much attention.
Leaving the Chancellor’s residence, Ning Yi made his way home; it was still afternoon by the time he arrived. Su Wending and Su Wenfang hadn’t yet returned from outside. In the neighboring courtyard, Song Yongping was reading through the materials Ning Yi had brought home, reviewing the classical texts. Juan’er was pushing the child’s little wooden cart back and forth around the courtyard while discussing dinner arrangements with the cook. Seeing Ning Yi return home, she wheeled the cart over. Ning Yi took the child into his arms.
“How was today? Was he any trouble?”
“Not at all. The young master was very well-behaved.”
“Oh, really?” Ning Yi looked at the child in his arms. “Come on, say ‘Daddy’ for me.”
“Pah.” The child blew a bubble from his mouth and laughed carelessly.
Ning Yi pursed his lips and repeated the syllables “Daddy” several times as he walked toward the bedroom, Juan’er following behind with a smile. The rain still fell in the courtyard, water dripping in a curtain beneath the eaves, the man carrying the child while the slender young woman followed a step behind—seen from a distance, they might well have passed for husband and wife.
“Have you got everything packed for the trip?”
Walking through the covered walkway in the rain, Ning Yi asked Juan’er. She nodded. “Mm, almost everything’s ready. Young Master, are we leaving in two days?”
“Yes, two days from now. Once the Zhu Ji business is settled, we’ll head to Muyuan. Can’t let your young mistress run off from home for too long—let her be willful for a few days, that’s more than enough.”
Having said this, his mind was already made up. Before long, evening arrived, and lamps were lit throughout the courtyard. Perhaps because of matters outside, Su Wending, Su Wenfang, and the others still hadn’t returned. When Song Yongping happened by, he saw the man in the courtyard holding the child, entertaining him with no thought for propriety, or laughing and chatting warmly with the fair, gentle-looking maidservant—forming, under the warm yellow lamplight, quite a cozy domestic scene.
At that very same moment, over at the Fan Tower, Li Yun was somewhat helplessly explaining to visitors, amid a flurry of activity, that Miss Shishi had unfortunately caught a slight chill today and could not receive guests.
In the inner courtyard, Shishi sat wrapped in her blankets on the bed, staring blankly, somewhat weak, at her own reflection in the bronze mirror, occasionally rolling a peeled egg over the swollen, palm-shaped welt still marking her cheek. Within the pleasure house, the lanterns and candles usually lent everything a festive, cheerful air, and as the distant clamor of noise drifted in, it only made the woman in the room seem all the more isolated.
No one would come to see her—though, as the reigning belle, she herself wouldn’t have wanted anyone to witness her in such a wretched state—but every so often, that feeling still welled up from within her, impossible to hold back entirely. She had spent so many years in this world of pleasure houses now, from the girl who’d once lost her parents, to the anxious, uncertain courtesan-in-training, to the reigning belle she was today. What she’d come to understand most clearly, over these years, was that a woman of the pleasure quarters had no true friend beside her, no one she could speak intimate words to—just as now, there was no one who would come to see her out of genuine, heartfelt concern. There were many people within these pleasure houses, many women who shared a fate like her own, and beyond these walls, she knew many people too. But in a moment like this, when she’d become so wretched, there was truly not a single person she could turn to.
In truth, this was entirely ordinary—such was simply the way of a woman’s life. When that sense of loneliness occasionally rose up within her, she would remind herself that her life, in truth, had gone rather well—and so she was only being needlessly self-pitying now, mocking herself a little for it. Her continued contact with childhood companions like Yu Hezhong, Chen Sifeng, and Ning Yi came from something like this same feeling, but she kept a clear head about it. If these old childhood friends were ever to become as deeply important to her as that, she would only find herself frightened by it.
After lingering in that sense of loneliness for a while, she let out a breath, her shoulders slumping, staring at her own reflection in the bronze mirror—her thoughts drifting back only to the anxious question of how she would manage tomorrow’s performance…
More than a hundred li to the south, in Muyuan County. Su Tan’er and Xiao Chan sat inside a farmhouse, watching from a distance as the construction outside gradually wound down and moved into its finishing stages, the night sky above already scattered with stars. Tan’er set down the small pouch she’d been half-embroidering, gazing out at that stretch of night sky, talking with Xiao Chan about what might be happening back in Bianliang, and about how much she missed Ning Yi. Yet despite missing him, she still felt it best to give Ning Yi a bit of space for a while—even if such a thought seemed rather strange…
Two hundred li north of the capital, in a military encampment, columns of soldiers patrolled back and forth, guarding cartload after cartload of gold, silver, and goods stored within the camp. This temporarily stationed army, numbering several thousand men, would soon march north, and before long would escort this fortune—worth as much as sixty million taels of silver in goods—to Jin territory, to purchase several cities within the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun, while also using fine goods to win the Jin’s favor and pave the way for future trade between the two nations.
At the Right Chancellor’s residence in the capital, the old man watched the fading spring rain, his brow slightly furrowed. Countless matters could, at any moment, cause his brow to furrow like this—but in his heart, at this moment, what occupied him most was still the hope for a bountiful year ahead.
At the Grand Marshal’s residence, a man named Gao Muen was gleefully shouting about how he’d go smash up his enemy’s shop tomorrow.
Chen Fan had just entered the capital.
Longing, desire, expectation… countless intentions and fates, tangled and interwoven, would soon collide with one another. Some things would be diverted from their original course; some would lose themselves in the long, meandering river of a lifetime, until only the faintest trace remained in memory, until even that trace in memory grew distorted, until nothing at all was left—but at least, in some single moment, each of them had shone with its own light, like the countless stars scattered across the sky, blinking for no more than a fraction of a second.
This was the spring of the eleventh year of the Jinghan era of the Martial Dynasty—an age of song and dance, of peace and prosperity—and hardly anyone yet knew just how vast a upheaval awaited them, not long from now…