After registering with the Ministry of Personnel and paying his visit to the Right Chancellor’s residence, Li Pin found himself, for the time being, staying on in the capital.
In theory, a place like the capital, thick with high officials, powerful nobles, and every manner of privileged second-generation heir, would hardly spare a second glance for a lowly seventh-rank county magistrate, promotion or not. And yet, thanks to the hospitality shown him by Ning Yi and the Right Chancellor’s residence, he found himself, in the days that followed, far from neglected—caught up instead in an endless stream of social engagements, his days full to the brim. Among these, the one who sought him out most often turned out to be Qin Siyuan’s nephew, the sixteenth young master of the Qin family, Qin Shaoyu.
As for this Qin Shaoyu, his acquaintance with Ning Yi had come about entirely through Qin Siyuan’s own casual arrangement. After Qin Siyuan’s return to power, relatives from every branch of the family had come flocking to seek his patronage; unable to turn them all away, he’d fended off some with a mix of soft and hard measures, while keeping a few of the more promising, clever young ones close by his side—Qin Shaoyu among them. But in a place like the capital, hoping to make a name for oneself, or even simply to keep pace with Qin Siyuan’s tutelage, required rather more than a modest degree of cleverness. Thanks to the Chancellor’s residence’s influence, Qin Shaoyu had, before long, lost his way somewhat, even falling in with the likes of Gao Muen and other prominent young figures around the capital.
Once Qin Siyuan learned of this, he’d given him a talking-to. Fortunately, though Qin Shaoyu held his uncle in a certain degree of awe, he also possessed some capacity for self-reflection. Afterward, Qin Siyuan arranged for him to host Ning Yi, and Qin Shaoyu, understanding that his uncle held some favor toward this man, observed him with genuine humility—and before long found himself won over by what Ning Yi had accomplished. Once Ning Yi settled permanently in the capital, Qin Shaoyu had taken to dropping by the Ning residence regularly.
In truth, the Chancellor’s residence was full of advisors and guest scholars, and clever men were far from rare there—Yao Zunian, Ji Kun, Cheng Zhouhai, and no shortage of Qin Siyuan’s own students besides. But these men were either advanced in age, or possessed a temperament too moderate and even-keeled, or, conversely, carried too sharp an edge. Only Ning Yi was close to him in age, and the two often found themselves talking together with real pleasure. He admired Qin Siyuan, and he admired Ning Yi too, and out of that admiration, he’d begun, deliberately, to model himself after Ning Yi.
A man will always find himself drawn to follow in the footsteps of another man he admires, and Qin Shaoyu found himself in exactly this stage of life. Of course, Ning Yi’s commanding presence and strategic acumen were things he had no hope of ever truly mastering—the beginnings of imitation usually amount to little more than copying mannerisms, ways of speaking. But before long, through several deliberate conversations with Ning Yi, he gradually began to find a place of his own.
In terms of raw intelligence, he had no hope of ever catching up to these formidable men, no matter how he tried—but as a relative of the Right Chancellor, actually befriending them was, relatively speaking, not so difficult a task. In the course of his dealings with Ning Yi and the others, he continued moving through Bianliang’s social circles, but this time no longer sought out the company of Gao Muen and his ilk; instead, he made a deliberate effort to reach out to circles of literary figures and men of letters, treating them with genuine humility, cultivating relationships, ingratiating himself a little with promising and talented scholars, offering the occasional compliment. Most important of all, he made a point of deliberately drawing close to the young people Ning Yi and Qin Siyuan themselves regarded as capable—especially Qin Siyuan’s own former students and old associates.
He was, after all, from the Right Chancellor’s own household; even if his talent fell short, when he made an effort to appear warm and approachable, there was hardly anyone who would actually turn him away. Through this repeated back-and-forth, cultivating relationships with these men, his own manner of dealing with people gradually took on something of the refined, well-regarded air of a young man of letters.
Among Qin Siyuan’s own nephews, a few had also stayed in the capital, diligently studying. But over this recent half-year, Qin Siyuan had, in fact, grown increasingly pleased with Qin Shaoyu in particular, praising his newfound drive and ambition. In these past two months, even the well-connected Monk Juemingm, part of the Chancellor’s own circle, had occasionally exchanged a few words with him, offering the odd word of guidance. And through this ongoing contact with such men, his own grasp of the classics and of poetry and prose had, if anything, improved even faster than before.
For all these reasons, Qin Shaoyu now found himself ever more convinced by Ning Yi. When Li Pin arrived in the capital, Ning Yi had mentioned to him: “This man has real talent, and he’s quite capable in his work besides.” Qin Shaoyu had taken it upon himself to see to Li Pin’s hospitality, arranging outings for spring excursions, poetry gatherings, and banquets at the pleasure houses—all with considerable warmth and enthusiasm.
Li Pin, for his part, was actually rather more skilled at this sort of thing, and had no particular aversion to such social engagements either. Having a young master of the Chancellor’s residence as his guide served, for him, as a useful stepping stone; before long, several rounds of poetry at literary gatherings had once again lifted the reputation of this onetime talented young man of Jiangning within Bianliang’s own circles—though by now, his years in office had made him considerably more mature and composed. Where the younger version of himself might have carried a certain youthful vanity, a hunger for fame, in seeking recognition through such gatherings, the Li Pin of now simply savored the splendor and joy of the occasion itself, without dwelling too much on the pursuit of reputation for its own sake.
And indeed, in truth, Bianliang in this recent stretch of time, buoyed by the news of Guo Yaoshi’s crushing victory over Xiao Gan, had erupted into something like a citywide fever of jubilation. From high officials and ministers quietly celebrating in private, to scholars and men of letters gathering for poetry and revelry at the pleasure houses, all the way down to merchants of every kind—the Bamboo House included—running sales and promotions in a spirit of “patriotic appreciation,” the whole city had taken on an atmosphere as festive as the New Year.
If Tong Guan’s recovery of Yanjing, and the string of victories that followed, had left a fair number of people still somewhat aware of the messier realities behind them, this latest victory swept away, for practically everyone, any lingering doubt about the supposed “golden age.”
Xiao Gan, the Liao’s Prince of Xi, had been one of the truly central military commanders of the Liao state—a man whose brilliance had remained hard to overshadow even as the Jurchen swept through the north like a scythe through grass. As Liao chancellor, Grand King of the Six Xi Tribes, he had, in the end, held command of what remained of Liao’s forces, and had managed to hold the Jurchen advance at bay. Though most people, when discussing it aloud, dismissed the Liao as no longer capable of putting up any real resistance, when word came that Guo Yaoshi had actually killed this man in battle, the wave of genuine, unrestrained joy that followed was real all the same.
Li Pin, too, found himself swept up in this jubilant atmosphere, joining Qin Shaoyu in meeting several women of considerable renown around the capital, and befriending a number of talented young men of note besides. Among them was the well-known Imperial Academy student Chen Dong—though Qin Shaoyu had little fondness for the man, since he’d once come by to accuse Ning Yi of having no ambition, of being unworthy of the name scholar.
The capital, as the very heart of the realm, was where all the tangled affairs of the world converged. Taking in this atmosphere, Li Pin found himself, at the same time, turning his mind toward the practical matters of governance—including his concerns about the disasters currently unfolding across the various regions, how disaster relief should be distributed going forward, how to stabilize the soaring price of grain, and, having spent over two years dealing directly with matters at the grassroots level, various thoughts on how to enrich the state and strengthen the military, even a few suggestions he hoped the court might exercise greater vigilance regarding the matter of Guo Yaoshi.
Of course, once actually serving in office, what one experienced day to day was an endless stream of tasks, and mulling over such matters didn’t necessarily strike him as being of the utmost urgency. Much like the idealistic young critics of later ages, worrying over the affairs of the nation—though sometimes they’d say the country stood on the very brink of ruin, in truth, looking around, the world continued turning quietly all the same, and if everyone were to grow this anxious over it, ordinary life would become impossible.
Privately, he drafted several memorials and petitions, meaning to submit them whenever the opportunity arose, or perhaps to raise the matters directly before Qin Siyuan. At the same time, he found himself pondering exactly who had summoned him to the capital in the first place—clearly someone within the Right Chancellor’s own faction—and what post he might be assigned to, and to what end.
These particular matters, Qin Shaoyu didn’t know, and Ning Yi hadn’t said either—Li Pin wasn’t certain whether Ning Yi himself knew or not, though he suspected, on the whole, that he probably didn’t. After all, even if Ning Yi could speak freely with Qin Siyuan, as the sitting Chancellor of the realm, there was simply no way he would reveal the details of an official’s placement to a mere merchant working on his behalf, however useful that merchant might be.
As for Ning Yi himself, Li Pin’s view of him wasn’t quite as extreme as Chen Dong’s, but it carried, nonetheless, a certain note of regret, of something like a wasted opportunity.
Over this recent period, he’d had several encounters with Ning Yi, who had remained warm and attentive toward him throughout. Sometimes they’d talk about his experiences as a magistrate, about conditions among the common folk at the grassroots level—Ning Yi was not, in fact, a man out of touch with such realities. But to Li Pin’s eye, his interest in these matters was, quite plainly, in service of his business dealings—he didn’t fully grasp Ning Yi’s own thinking on the matter. Back when they’d first met, Ning Yi’s clever operation involving preserved eggs had left him genuinely impressed, and he’d even taken part himself, lending a hand—but such things, after all, were minor matters. How could a true man of ambition devote himself wholly to pursuits such as these!
And on the other hand, amid all of Qin Shaoyu’s admiring words, this impression had only deepened further in his mind.
A formidable hand at commerce, now even helping manage the income of the entire Chancellor’s residence. Every manner of clever tactic, striking fear into his enemies throughout the martial world. An endless stream of business innovations, with all manner of extravagant new products sweeping the market in short order. He knew of the Bamboo House’s expansion, of course, but now, lodging in the fine guest quarters at the back of the Bamboo House itself, he could witness it all firsthand:
Exquisitely packaged perfumes and soaps, priced at what must have been dozens of times their actual production cost. A small jar of quail eggs, packaged in a fine porcelain bottle, selling for over ten taels of silver, with claims of precious medicinal ingredients said to promote longevity. Astonishingly priced paper fans, bookmarks, and the like. The Bamboo House’s outbound carts, peddling all manner of expensive, curious goods to wealthy merchants across the surrounding prefectures and counties—even his own wife’s Su family clothing and cloth business had, it seemed, been carefully redesigned, and did indeed look somewhat more beautiful and refined for it. But with the addition of a stylish emblem symbolizing “Su-Ning” branding, the asking prices had climbed to eye-watering heights—and yet, apparently, a small number of wealthy merchants had even begun taking pride in wearing such garments.
All of this, combined with the sight of Ning Yi going out surrounded by an entourage of attendants time and again, combined further still with the Bamboo House’s rigid demands and discipline over its employees, the daily recitation of some employee handbook of regulations—this was, quite plainly, the beginning of a great and powerful house growing arrogant and greedy, keeping private servants, shutting out outsiders. Formidable methods, perhaps—but ultimately not the way of a true gentleman.
Before leaving the capital, he really ought to find a good opportunity to offer Liheng some counsel—only then would he not fail in the duty owed to a friend.
The autumn sunlight streamed brightly through the window, yellow leaves drifting down across the courtyard. At the gathering at the Small Candle House, as someone approached to raise a toast with him, this was still what occupied his thoughts—though he smiled and lifted his own cup all the same, playing along with the social ritual.
At that same hour that afternoon, Ning Yi, leading seven or eight guards, arrived by carriage at the rear courtyard of the Right Chancellor’s residence. Once inside, the rest of the guards dispersed, leaving only Zhu Biao to follow him into the inner courtyard. Nearing the courtyard where the Chancellor’s staff usually held their meetings, he ran into Yao Zunian coming from the side, greeting him: “Elder Yao, how goes it today? Any progress on things?”
Yao Zunian stroked his beard and laughed. “News came this morning—the battle at Fengshan has concluded. Guo Yaoshi has soundly defeated Kuilibu, and is still pressing his advantage even now, but as for Xiao Gan’s remaining forces—they’ve been swept clean.”
“Wonderful.” Ning Yi laughed too. “That we could win this battle proves the earlier victory wasn’t simply a fluke. We’ll have an extra course tonight—my treat.”
Ever since the fighting had resumed in mid-to-late seventh month, word had come, just a few days earlier, that Guo Yaoshi and Kuilibu—the remnant of Xiao Gan’s forces under his subordinate—were now locked in a standoff. This represented the last remaining unit of the Great Xi state’s forces following Xiao Gan’s death; Guo Yaoshi already held a clear advantage, though the enemy still wasn’t to be underestimated. Now, with the dust finally settled, Ning Yi and the others all felt genuine joy. Though, in truth, this recent period had left them with far more than just this to keep them busy and worried.
As Ning Yi stood there still smiling, Monk Juemingm came up as well. “An extra course is a fine thing—though I fear once it’s eaten, there’ll be no rest at all for what comes after.”
“Already expected as much. Better to have work to do than to have everything to do and be left simply waiting on results.” Ning Yi pressed his palms together with a smile, greeting Monk Juemingm in return.
Before long, the group made their way into the study—Yao Zunian, Ji Kun, Monk Juemingm, Ning Yi, along with the remaining three advisors stationed at the Chancellor’s residence. These seven, together with Qin Siyuan, essentially oversaw the entire operation of the Right Chancellor’s residence. Ning Yi had only been brought into meetings of this kind after demonstrating substantial strategic capability and enough command over multiple simultaneous operations—in the past, Cheng Zhouhai had counted as one such figure too. There were, of course, other talented people within the Chancellor’s residence, some perhaps even more capable in certain respects, but as specialists focused on particular assigned duties, they weren’t suited to taking part in meetings such as this one.
A nation held tens of thousands upon tens of thousands of people, countless matters requiring attention, and those genuinely handling the countless affairs of state were, of course, hardly confined to the Right Chancellor’s residence alone. Right now, similar scenes were likely playing out at Li Gang’s residence, at Cai Jing’s residence, at Tong Guan’s residence, and elsewhere besides, each managing and worrying over their own share of affairs. And on Ning Yi’s side, at the Right Chancellor’s residence, however much Guo Yaoshi’s victory might have shaken the realm, what occupied everyone these days went far beyond simply watching this one front or celebrating it. To respond to the full complexity of the realm’s affairs, internal troubles and external threats alike, there were matters here vastly larger—hundreds, even thousands of times larger—than the business Ning Yi himself was currently running, all being pushed forward without a moment’s pause.
For this reason, Qin Siyuan, having just returned from the imperial palace, offered only a brief expression of delight before turning to matters of substance.
“…This great victory at Fengshan has given a clearer shape to a great many things going forward, including some matters we’d already been working on… His Majesty’s own mood, too, should help settle a good many things soon. At court today, Tan Zhen moved quickly—he pointed out that Guo Yaoshi, originally one of the starving refugees of Liaodong, has now achieved this kind of victory, proof enough that men of loyalty and valor can indeed be found even among common folk. To guard against the Jin turning against us in the future, he proposes recruiting Han people from the Hedong and Hebei regions to form righteous militias as a precautionary measure—and suggests that if bandits like Tian Hu prove genuinely loyal, they too might be recruited and pardoned. Military Councilor Tong supports this as well; it should pass fairly soon.”
Once Qin Siyuan had finished, Ning Yi frowned slightly. Yao Zunian spoke up. “The matter of Military Councilor Tong’s intended retirement is clearly bound up in all this.”
Monk Juemingm, sitting to one side, smiled faintly. “Tong Guan wants to retire with his reputation fully intact, and Tan Zhen wants to rise in his place—hardly unexpected, that… But Liheng, you’ve been convinced all along that the Jin might march south. Now we’ve got one more layer of security against that. Why do you still look so grave?”
At the question, Ning Yi smiled and shook his head. “North of Yanmen Pass used to be Liao territory. Guo Yaoshi surrendered to us, so providing him with grain and pay to recruit starving refugees to fight makes sense enough. But south of Yanmen Pass is our own territory to begin with—copying the same playbook there just feels off, somehow… though I don’t know much about military matters. Maybe it’s a good thing regardless.”
Qin Siyuan nodded, though. “Actually, Liheng makes a fair point—especially regarding the pardon and recruitment of men like Tian Hu. Giving them legitimate status could well turn out to be nurturing a tiger that later turns to devour us. Dong Pang’er is a cautionary tale in exactly that vein. Hmph…”
Qin Siyuan’s cold snort wasn’t without reason. Dong Pang’er had been the leader of an anti-Liao uprising some years back, defeated by the Liao and subsequently surrendered to the Wu dynasty. Tong Guan had accepted his surrender and counted it among his own achievements against the Liao; now serving as an Overseeing Commissioner in Hedong Circuit, the man had become something of a local scourge. Yet he couldn’t easily be removed for the time being—doing so would cost Tong Guan face. Over these past several years—especially in this recent stretch, with Tong Guan riding high on the great achievement of recovering Yanyun, and now Guo Yaoshi’s victory besides, proclaiming that “each generation brings forth its own talents,” clearly hoping to retire while leaving a good name behind—Qin Siyuan had long harbored displeasure toward a man like Dong Pang’er, but by the time he himself had risen to power, the man had already been absorbed into the fold, and there was nothing to be done about him now.
Of course, with his composure, all he allowed himself was that single cold snort. “In any case, Chancellor Li handles matters abroad; the greater part of what falls to us remains domestic affairs. As Liheng says—regarding the north—better to be prepared than not. His Majesty has already ordered the reinforcement of border defenses; over in the Shanxi region, we’re also recruiting men who’ve surrendered from places like Ying and Wei prefectures. As for what falls to us specifically, there are, at present, mainly two matters everyone here is already aware of—one of which we can already move forward on, while the other still awaits the stance of Grand Preceptor Cai and Military Councilor Tong…”
Qin Siyuan tapped the table. “To the north—as mentioned before, contact with Zhang Jue, the Prefect of Pingzhou, can now proceed openly. The Jin have consistently refused to honor their agreement to return Yanyun territory, and His Majesty, too, has grown somewhat displeased—having said more than once that we ought to show them a firmer hand. Now, with Marshal Guo’s crushing defeat of Xiao Gan, that should carry enough weight to give the Jin some pause as well. Zhang Jue has long wished to bring Pingzhou over to our dynasty’s side, and now the time seems right. That’s the matter to the north…”
“As for the other matter, it’s the thornier one.” Qin Siyuan paused. “North and south alike, the disasters have been contained for now, but the real problems are only just beginning. With grain prices rising this fast, the powerful gentry clans in various regions are involved in it. Relief grain, once it reaches the heart of a disaster zone, barely survives intact by the time it’s distributed—nine parts in ten simply vanish along the way. With losses like that, no amount of grain does much good, especially with the northern campaign still needing to be sustained. This year… nearly sixty million strings of cash have been sent north. These powerful families have contributed a good deal of that funding, and now they want some of it back. I honestly don’t know what will come of negotiating with Grand Preceptor Cai, Military Councilor Tong, and the others—whether we can win their agreement…”
“…But if we can’t,” Qin Siyuan said, his gaze sweeping across everyone present, “then we’ll have to consider taking a harder line.”