Ever since parting ways in Hangzhou, the two of them had stood on different sides. Though Chen Fan was straightforward by nature, straightforwardness didn’t mean low emotional intelligence — coming to the capital to find Ning Yi, he’d very likely come prepared for the possibility of being betrayed, or even ambushed and killed.
After all, having spent so many years in this world of rivers and lakes, he knew that people could sometimes treat one another with great openness and loyalty — but there were also times, when it came to matters involving family, kin, or even charges of treason, when it wouldn’t be at all surprising for people to do whatever necessary to avoid harm to themselves.
As a disciple of Fang Qifo, he was now an irredeemable fugitive of the court; heading north to the capital had been a matter of desperate necessity. Had he had any other option worth considering, he wouldn’t have come looking for Ning Yi at all. And having come, if Ning Yi truly had set a trap to betray him, that too, by all reasonable logic, wouldn’t have been hard to imagine.
But none of this had happened, which at least meant he hadn’t misplaced his trust in this friendship after all. Chen Fan understood well enough just how difficult rescuing Fang Qifo would be; when Ning Yi laid out all the reasons behind it and candidly admitted his own inability to help, Chen Fan had no choice but to accept it. But beyond that, the fact that Ning Yi had also taken him into his own home, risking considerable danger to let him see his only child — that kind of trust was another matter entirely. Chen Fan understood the weight of it, and felt genuinely moved.
Still, between men, such things generally went unspoken, understood without needing to be worn on one’s face. In the early afternoon, the two returned to the residence; little Ning Xi had just woken from his nap not long before, crying loudly for a while until Juan’er soothed him into calm. Seeing an unfamiliar face in the household, the child stared at Chen Fan with wide, curious eyes, then, without any shyness at all, reached out his arms to be held. Chen Fan looked somewhat awkward at first, but reached out and took him anyway, played with him for a bit, then handed him back to Juan’er standing nearby. It was during this time of entertaining the baby that Su Wending returned from outside and sought out Ning Yi, saying there was an urgent matter.
“I heard that this morning, Gao Mu’en gathered a bunch of martial artists specifically to deal with you, brother-in-law. Some are even saying that you’ve got the nickname ‘Heart Demon’ in the martial world, and that you’ve made plenty of enemies — so even if they do something to you, no one would ever know…” Su Wending pulled Ning Yi out into the corridor and spoke in a low voice. “Among them are Chen Yuanwang from the Imperial Bow Hall, Peng Xianyu, Pan Jiyao, Ma Jinfu…”
Once he’d finished relaying the matter and left, Chen Fan came out of the room and looked at Ning Yi with a half-amused expression. “How did you manage to offend someone like this…”
Ning Yi spread his hands. “Having an enemy like this isn’t easy to come by, you know.”
“So what are you planning to do? Or, as I said, I could go sort him out for you this afternoon…”
Chen Fan was clearly joking, and Ning Yi pursed his lips. “Please, I’ll handle this myself.” He paused, then shook his head, muttering to himself, “If he really pushes me too far, I’ll just smash my own head against his face and scare the bastard to death…”
The fact that Su Yanping and Su Wending had each come to inform him one after the other was proof enough that they’d gotten the news from separate sources. The Su family had only just arrived in the capital and didn’t have all that many acquaintances yet — for the news to have spread this widely in such a short time was proof enough that Gao Mu’en and his crowd of noble sons were simply terrible at keeping anything secret. This was exactly why Chen Fan and Ning Yi found the whole thing both aggravating and amusing at once.
The afternoon sun shone bright, and before long, on the official road outside the walls of Bianliang, the two men waved farewell to each other. Ning Yi watched Chen Fan ride south on his horse, disappearing into the distance, and let out a soft sigh. Human strength has its limits — when it came to how to rescue Fang Qifo, he truly had no way forward, and from whatever angle one looked at it, rescuing Fang Qifo was hardly an urgent necessity to begin with.
But reason was one thing; after his own refusal, Chen Fan hadn’t shown much surprise, nor made any further attempt to press him on it — a sign that he’d already braced himself for this outcome beforehand. When hope no longer remains in a person’s heart, what takes its place is something closer to grim resolve.
Indeed, it likely wasn’t only Chen Fan who felt this way — Fang Baihua and the others preparing to rescue Fang Qifo were probably in much the same position. The Yongle uprising had once shaken the entire southern realm, and now that magnificent, tumultuous campaign had reached its end, scattering away like spent fireworks. The forces of retribution were closing in, and across the vast expanse of the realm, there was scarcely any place left for them to take refuge, nor much left for them to do — aside from Liu Xigua, who at least still held onto some hope, the bewilderment weighing on the hearts of the others could well be imagined. And even for Liu Xigua, though she had one path forward now, the days ahead wouldn’t be easy either.
But regardless, this was a hurdle each person would have to cross on their own. If they couldn’t get past it, that would simply be the end of the road.
He returned into the city, heading straight for the Chancellor’s residence. Since he now managed most of the Chancellor’s household investments and finances, he needed to inform Qin Sizhi of his plan to head south ahead of schedule.
“Oh? Heading back to Jiangning too? Why’s that?” Qin Sizhi asked, upon hearing Ning Yi describe his travel plans.
“Last year, because of the Liangshan affair, the Su family in Jiangning lost nearly half its members. When I went north afterward, that was the first matter I dealt with. Now that Liangshan has been destroyed and its ringleaders all executed, and with things in Bianliang more or less arranged, I’m planning to go back and take a look… and offer sacrifices at the family shrine while I’m there.”
“Quite right, that’s only proper.” Qin Sizhi nodded, then said with a smile, “Actually, this works out well. Xiaopei’s engagement has been settled, and the wedding date’s likely not far off — I’ve been meaning to send back a piece of calligraphy and painting. I’d originally planned to have Bu’er take it along on his way south, but since you’re heading south too, Liheng, you might as well pass it along on my behalf.”
As he spoke, he took out a scroll he’d already had prepared from a cabinet in his study. “Actually, now that I know you’re heading over, Liheng, it might be even better if you composed the accompanying verse yourself, and I’ll simply do the calligraphy for it. You, I, and that girl Xiaopei all share a bond as teacher and student — nothing could be more fitting.”
“I doubt I could come up with anything particularly good for this,” Ning Yi said with a smile, shaking his head casually. “Is Bu’er being sent south, then?”
“The threat from Fang La in the south has already been resolved, and he’s had a fair amount of seasoning by now — originally the plan was to send him north instead. But things down south have grown rather troublesome lately. After Fang La’s death, plenty of people have started stirring, redrawing boundaries and dividing up the spoils. In places where fighting took place, a fair number of people have already been killed. The focus right now is on pacification and relief, but with homes destroyed and shortages of food and medicine, many merchants shipping goods down there are charging wildly inflated prices, and the local prefectures and counties can’t stabilize things. Some officials have even been reselling court relief supplies straight to profiteers… a whole mess of trouble, with no shortage of people looking to profit from it…”
The old man sighed, and Ning Yi looked puzzled. “Surely the Secret Investigation Bureau isn’t well positioned to get involved in something like this?”
“There are some account ledgers circulating over there right now.” Qin Sizhi took a sheet of paper he’d had pressed beneath something on his desk and handed it to Ning Yi. “The news arrived last night. When Fang La first rose in rebellion, several ledgers ended up lost amid the chaos of war — records that certain powerful clans had kept to protect their own necks, containing no small number of secrets. Everyone assumed that after so long amid the chaos of rebellion and looting, such ledgers couldn’t possibly have survived. But after the fighting in Hangzhou subsided, some people have apparently been quietly investigating the matter ever since — the Ji family of salt merchants in the Su-Hang region, for instance. The Bureau didn’t pay it much mind at first, but recently, the whole thing has started to look like it might actually be true. And the timing of it all is rather delicate.”
“On the surface, at least, these ledgers should be of no real use anymore,” Ning Yi said, frowning as he looked over the intelligence, though something suddenly stirred in his mind.
Qin Sizhi nodded. “However chaotic the ledgers might be, broadly speaking, even if they proved these families conspired with the enemy, smuggled salt, or sold weapons, the entire south has been thoroughly turned over like a plowed field by now — evidence and witnesses alike are incomplete, so bringing the ledgers out into the open would serve little purpose. But used quietly, behind the scenes — say, to warn these families to behave themselves for a while, and to let the southern populace have a bit of an easier time of it — that might still prove useful.”
“But… the timing is delicate, you say?”
Ning Yi looked at Qin Sizhi, and the old man smiled, watching him with a measured, appraising gaze. “Since Fang Qifo’s capture, this news has gradually surfaced, along with rumors that the Yongle regime had secretly stockpiled gold and silver worth a fortune. Given the timing, it’s not out of the question that someone might be looking to pull the rug out from under certain parties, in exchange for sparing Fang Qifo’s life… What do you think, Liheng?”
Ning Yi weighed his words carefully. “Even if it’s false, the fact that the news has managed to spread this far proves that whoever’s behind it has genuinely struck a nerve with certain people. Whether it’s true or false probably doesn’t matter much at this point. As for the treasure itself… heh.” He shook his head with a somewhat odd expression.
From the way Qin Sizhi had been watching his expression just now, Ning Yi understood that word of Chen Fan’s entry into the city had already been reported up through Wenren Bu’er. The old man’s choice not to bring it up directly was itself a considerable courtesy on his part. And from a purely positional standpoint, whether Fang Qifo lived or died carried little real significance for Qin Sizhi — Fang La’s rebellion had occurred before Qin Sizhi’s return to the chancellorship, so he stood only to gain credit for suppressing it, with none of the earlier blame attached to him. But if the goal was to help stabilize the southern situation further, then the ledgers mentioned in this intelligence were the real point of interest.
Whether these ledgers were genuine or not, and whether whoever had spread the news had done so deliberately, the very fact that it had managed to provoke such a reaction from others proved that some of the information had struck precisely where it needed to. If the Secret Investigation Bureau could get a grip on these particular pressure points, it could gain a real degree of leverage amid the chaotic redistribution of interests and the fresh wave of land consolidation that would follow the southern war’s aftermath — and if used well, it might at least help make life somewhat more bearable for a portion of the common people. This was exactly why Ning Yi had said that whether the ledgers were true or false ultimately didn’t matter much.
That said, thinking it over further, the fact that Chen Fan hadn’t mentioned anything about such ledgers before leaving inclined Ning Yi toward believing the ledgers were, in fact, genuine. But if they turned out to be fabricated, that would suggest someone extraordinarily well-informed about the situation, and remarkably meticulous in their scheming, was orchestrating things behind the scenes — someone capable of striking precisely at certain people’s weak points, and thereby ensuring this piece of intelligence found its way onto Qin Sizhi’s desk in the first place.
Could this possibly be some final contingency Fang Qifo had laid down just before his capture? Something not even shared with Fang Baihua or Chen Fan, meant to leave those powerful clans and wealthy gentry with one last bitter blow they couldn’t even protest?
Ning Yi cast his mind back, trying to recall anyone within Fang La’s ranks capable of pulling off something like this — but aside from Fang Qifo himself, he couldn’t think of anyone else who fit the bill.
Taking the gift meant for Zhou Pei, Ning Yi soon took his leave of Qin Sizhi. As he was preparing to leave the Chancellor’s residence, he ran into Ji Kun and exchanged greetings; Ji Kun said, “I paid a visit to Chen Yuanwang this afternoon. As for the matter with Young Master Gao, there’s no need to give it any thought for the time being.”
Ning Yi cupped his hands. “My thanks, Master Ji.”
Among the residence’s several permanent advisors, Ji Kun — in his early forties — was likely one of Qin Sizhi’s most trusted confidants. His temperament tended toward the quiet side, though not aloof or withdrawn. Many of the residence’s practical affairs were handled through him, including a great deal of the “dirty work.” In this regard, the old Cheng Zhouhai had also been a ruthless figure unafraid of getting his hands dirty, but in terms of sheer expertise, Ji Kun was undoubtedly the more accomplished of the two. This was precisely why, among the residence’s advisors, Yao Zunian was the most capable of representing the household upward, in dealings with superiors, while Ji Kun held the greatest influence downward, among subordinates.
With him personally making an appearance at the Imperial Bow Hall, Chen Yuanwang and the others would surely understand the weight behind it. Still, that Gao Mu’en’s attempt to stir up trouble had already become common knowledge among Su Yanping, Su Wending, and Ji Kun within less than half a day only underscored just how poorly this crowd of dissolute young noblemen handled matters of secrecy.
The affair still wasn’t quite over. Returning home afterward, a steady stream of people continued coming by to offer their warnings — among them Qin Shaoyu, Wang Shanyue, and even, come evening, Li Shishi herself made a special trip over, though upon learning that Ning Yi planned to leave Bianliang the next day, she took this as a wise move to escape the trouble by leaving the city.
“…Being able to just leave the city and go have fun somewhere — I’m quite envious, honestly.”
As the sun set in the west, in the sitting room, the beautiful young woman soon due to perform rested her chin on her hand, her expression indeed one of genuine envy, though a faint touch of wistfulness lingered in her eyes as well.
The next morning, Ning Yi set out from the city with Juan’er, Ning Xi, Zhu Biao, and others in tow, accompanied also by Wenren Bu’er, Yan Qing, and a sizeable contingent of Secret Investigation Bureau agents. The group traveled together for roughly twenty li outside the city before parting ways — Ning Yi leading his party toward Muyuan County, while Wenren Bu’er and Yan Qing led the other group south toward Hangzhou, to see to the final wrap-up of the Yongle uprising affair.