Ever since putting down roots in Bianliang and expanding Zhu Ji, Ning Yi’s life had changed in many ways compared to his time in Jiangning.

Though after everything he’d experienced in his past life, his temperament still leaned toward quiet stillness over restless activity, once Zhu Ji had been established, his circle of life and social connections had, in fact, gradually continued to expand. He made friends in the business world, and would occasionally attend the odd poetry gathering during the first half of the eleventh year of Jinghan, just to see what was happening. And so, once the relief effort got underway, besides the unfamiliar gentry clans and business associates, there were occasionally self-proclaimed “friends” — men of letters and scholars — who came to offer him a word or two of advice. Some of these people Ning Yi couldn’t be bothered to meet at all; those he did meet, he simply deflected with practiced evasiveness.

A successful man could possess many qualities, but having a pliable, easily swayed ear was never one of them. Some people who were praised as open-minded, receptive to advice, in fact had their own careful method of sorting and analyzing what they heard. More often than not, what they really did was fully absorb the other person’s line of reasoning — if it made sense, they took it in; if they judged the other person a fool, they simply didn’t let it show on their face, ready at any moment to smile and offer thanks regardless. That was what true open-mindedness looked like. As for those who believed that anything anyone said carried goodwill and reason behind it — that wasn’t open-mindedness at all, merely a sign of an unsteady, poorly grounded worldview. Of course, goodwill was usually, in itself, a good thing — but goodwill, shallowness, and foolishness were, more often than not, perfectly compatible with one another.

For Ning Yi, the moment most people opened their mouths, he could already see straight through to their underlying intentions — advice dressed up as goodwill meant nothing to him at all. Most of the time he simply humored them, and when necessary, he might even guide them, with an equally gracious manner, toward an entirely different direction altogether. Of course, few people actually required this kind of treatment from him — though the person Wenren Bu’er had settled matters with yesterday was, as it turned out, one who did.

Back when the relief effort had first begun, Ning Yi had originally considered enlisting Miss Shishi’s help to persuade certain people, but she had always been busy, and he himself had too much on his plate to spare the mental energy needed, so the matter with Shishi had simply been left to lapse.

Yesterday, after Wenren Bu’er had settled the matter with Zuo Jilan and brought back word, Ning Yi suspected someone might have approached her to act as an intermediary. Still, Li Shishi wasn’t a difficult woman to handle — she craved sincerity, and was perceptive and considerate besides, the kind of person who, if you made a request of her and she sensed even the slightest reluctance on your part, would withdraw the request of her own accord. This quality of hers stemmed, on one hand, from a genuine capacity to empathize with others, and on the other, from a clear-headed instinct to keep a certain distance.

“Still, I think if Miss Shishi is coming to see you, it’s probably not about Zuo Jilan — and it certainly wasn’t Zuo Jilan who asked her to come.” Over lunch, Wenren Bu’er remarked, chopsticks in hand. “After all, yesterday Miss Shishi didn’t mention him even once.”

“She’s been busy lately, and now suddenly she says she has something to discuss with me — this sort of thing was probably bound to come up sooner or later… Still, Li Shishi is a very perceptive, considerate person. It’s possible she’s making this trip because Li Yun asked her to.”

At this, Wenren Bu’er nodded, waving a finger in the air thoughtfully. “So someone approached Li Yun, and Li Yun didn’t want to come speak with you herself, so she entrusted Miss Shishi to come in her place… In that case, this Madam Li seems to understand your character quite well too.”

“That just means she doesn’t want to burn bridges with me — she’s simply doing someone a favor by passing along a warning.” Ning Yi smiled and shook his head. “That’s fine, actually. Other people can break ties with me if they like, but my working relationship with Fan Tower is one I need to keep going.”

“So you’re planning to… just deflect her, then?”

“I’ll deal with it as it comes. Actually, I’m curious whether I might be able to win Li Shishi over to our side entirely.”

“I’ve noticed, Liheng, that whenever you talk about Miss Shishi, you always use her full name — makes it sound like the two of you aren’t especially close…”

“We knew each other as children, sure, but in this world, interests and power are what’s tangible, what you can actually grasp. Shishi treats her friends with… reasonable sincerity, I’d say, but keeping a proper distance is a good thing. She’s the reigning courtesan right now — before long, she’ll marry someone else. How could she still be a friend after that? Or, to put it another way — could I possibly marry her myself?”

Wenren Bu’er considered this. “Tsk, still, Miss Shishi really does seem quite remarkable.”

“Sounds like you’re rather fond of her yourself, Wenren.”

“She’s beautiful, and has real presence besides — there’s a reason she’s the top courtesan in Bianliang.”

“Ha, then why not marry her yourself?”

“Ha ha, I’ve got a fierce wife and an old mother waiting for me at home — I’d like to live a few more years yet, thank you. You’re the one who can manage it, Liheng.”

“I’ve already got… four of them. I’d like to live a few more years too.”

Both men burst out laughing. Ning Yi thought to himself — four now, plus Hongti and Xigua, that made six already… He’d never meant to become such a womanizer, so how had it come to this? Men really couldn’t seem to help themselves… Thinking this, he couldn’t help pursing his lips and letting out a sigh.

Qin Siyuan’s students and aides were, for the most part, remarkably perceptive people, reading situations and people with real accuracy. In their idle chatter, speculating about the state of affairs, they were rarely far off the mark. Ning Yi and Wenren Bu’er talked for a while longer and had roughly worked out what Shishi might say once she arrived. But when Shishi actually came that afternoon and the two of them talked for a while, Ning Yi realized he’d misjudged the situation entirely.

Not long after lunch, Shishi arrived. They received her in one of the guest courtyards at the Chancellor’s residence — a small courtyard with a modest rockery, flowers, and trees, most of which had already withered now that winter had set in. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Shishi first brought up the young men she’d entertained a couple of days earlier, recounting what she’d heard from them about conditions in the disaster zones. Ning Yi considered this for a moment.

“Ah, the Yu family — I do remember them. Once the deal was settled, they should have already set off this morning. They stopped by my home once, hoping to see me, but I was at the Chancellor’s residence, so Tan’er received them instead.”

“So then… how are things in the disaster zone right now?”

“Hard to say, exactly…” Ning Yi hesitated for a moment before continuing with a smile. “We’ve done everything we can on every front. Right now, we can only hold the grain prices from collapsing further. With the cold weather, people are already beginning to die. But what we’re really waiting for is the first snowfall — both sides are preparing for it.”

“Those hoarding merchants…” Shishi said through gritted teeth, then after a moment added, “So… is there anything I can help with?”

“Of course there is.” Ning Yi smiled. “I’d actually been meaning to seek you out. You know a great many people in the capital, Shishi — some of them have grain at home, some could help transport goods, and some have useful connections. I’d like to ask you to go persuade a few of them. I’d actually drawn up a list before, hoping you could look it over and tell me which of them you might have some connection with, some ability to speak to…”

Shishi lowered her head, thinking, her eyes bright with animation. “I have some idea of where to start…”

“Ha, though you were rather busy back then, and I had a lot on my plate too…”

“Er, at that time…” Shishi thought for a moment, a faintly embarrassed smile appearing on her face. “I was preoccupied with the Tong Shu’er matter.”

“I know, I heard — the man was exiled three thousand li.”

“That’s right.” Shishi smiled with real pleasure, then after a moment, looked at Ning Yi and asked, “Is it too late now?”

“It’s not too late.”

“That’s good to hear.” Shishi thought for a moment. “I have some sisters too — the ones who helped with the Tong Shu’er matter — they could help as well… I know some households where the Chancellor’s residence’s connections wouldn’t be enough to move them, but I think we could persuade them. And, Liheng — how much can we make those wicked merchants and hoarding households lose? How much grain do we have right now?”

“Lose…” The two of them were standing by the window of the guest hall at this point. Ning Yi’s expression grew somewhat complicated. “How could they possibly lose money…”

“Er…” Shishi blinked, taken aback.

Ning Yi looked out the window, his expression turning serious, and after a moment let out a breath. “None of them will lose money. There’s only a difference between making more and making less. Shishi, tell me — what do you think these people are hoarding grain for, ultimately?”

“Uh, they’re…” Shishi had an answer ready in her mind, but hearing Ning Yi put it this way, she suspected it wasn’t so simple after all, and hesitated.

Ning Yi turned his gaze toward the window. “Grain that normally sells for two and a half taels a picul — selling it now, even as is, already yields tenfold profit. Money’s a powerful thing, everyone wants more of it, sure — but once the government pushes the price down, are there really that many people so insatiable they’d still call tenfold profit not enough? They’re not after money at all — they’re after land…”

Shishi looked at him.

Ning Yi shook his head. “Only the small households hoard grain purely for money — they believe prices will keep soaring, so they buy in. But the great households already have their own grain reserves. When they keep buying up more on top of that, keeping prices artificially high, it’s not so they can sell at the peak — it’s so that by shrinking the amount of grain available on the market, they force people to trade their household possessions and land for grain instead. Land is the only thing they truly consider valuable — that’s the main reason they’re locked in this standoff with the government. As for profit — at thirty taels, they’re making tenfold; even if we push it down to ten taels, they’re still making fourfold. Shishi, what we’re hoping for right now is to get it down to ten taels, that’s all…”

“But… then… those people…”

“The government isn’t entirely without relief grain. But when it comes to land consolidation, they’ll fight for it with everything they have. The greater the temptation, the greater their investment — and once that kind of enormous profit is at stake, even government officials get drawn into it, reaching directly into the relief grain itself. Trying to provide relief under these conditions is an uphill battle — the more people are forced to sell off their land and possessions, the more people end up needing relief in turn, and it becomes a vicious, unbreakable cycle. When we transport grain in, what we’re really striking at is their greed. For every bit of greed we manage to knock out of these people at the top, hundreds, even thousands of people below benefit — that’s how many more lives we can save.”

Shishi listened quietly. Ning Yi smiled. “But making them actually lose money — that’s simply not possible. Only a small handful, those who can’t restrain their own greed, buying up as much grain as they can get their hands on until they overextend themselves and burst — those are the ones who’ll actually take a loss, and that’s simply because they were foolish enough to ruin themselves. Otherwise, no matter what happens, they’re all still making money…”

He paused. “Right now, we’re waiting for the snow. The government tells everyone we have plenty of grain, that no one will ever go without — but they won’t believe it. The government says relief is coming, and most of the hoarding merchants below won’t believe that either. Only once the snow falls, and the government can still keep the grain flowing without interruption, will that first group of merchants watching from the sidelines finally be convinced of just how serious this relief effort truly is. Once they start dumping their grain and cutting their losses while prices are still high, that’s when prices will truly collapse. We’ve already set aside a substantial portion of the grain we’ve brought in, holding it in reserve, waiting precisely for the snow to fall — but in terms of total volume, I’m afraid it still won’t be enough. When it comes to this grain, the more, the better — there’s no such thing as too much.”

The room fell silent for a long while. Finally, Shishi spoke. “I understand.” She pressed her lips together, a look of firm resolve appearing in her eyes. “I’ll — I’ll get started on this right away. I’ll try to have good results before the snow falls. And… I hope the snow holds off a little longer.”

Ning Yi smiled as well. “I hope so too.”

Neither of them said much more on the matter after that, only chatting idly about other things for a while before Ning Yi saw her out to the gate of the Chancellor’s residence. As her carriage pulled away and the side gate of the residence closed, Ning Yi stood there for a moment, tapping his fingers against his thigh, quietly revising certain impressions he’d held of Shishi.

Over the following days, Shishi moved back and forth throughout the capital, calling upon several of her sisters as well, working together to spread word of the grain price crisis in the north and south. Their efforts proved remarkably effective — among the capital’s great households already vetted once by the Chancellor’s residence and Ning Yi, several more families’ young men were stirred into action, beginning large-scale grain shipments of their own. A few days later, she met with Ning Yi once more to report on her progress, asking whether there was anything else she could help with, and then told him she had already arranged with several of her sisters and a group of young gentlemen from the capital to personally transport grain north themselves.

Though she informed Ning Yi of this, in her heart she had already made up her mind regardless. Ning Yi simply nodded, telling her only that if she ran into any trouble, she should contact the local authorities right away.

In the eleventh month, the grain transport fleet organized by the Min family, a prominent household of the capital, departed the city, heading north toward Hedong. A few days later, the fleet entered deep into Hedong Circuit…

At the same time, after lingering in the capital for several days, Wang Zhizhen returned to the Zuo household.

…

His journey south to the capital had originally been meant to mobilize every available connection, to pressure the Chancellor’s residence and issue a warning to that Ning Liheng orchestrating things from behind the scenes. Instead, the response that greeted him had landed like a thunderbolt to the head, leaving Wang Zhizhen utterly at a loss.

Though Wenren Bu’er had told him “the capital’s waters run deep,” he had first lingered in the capital regardless, seeking Zuo Houwen’s help and visiting the various households he’d already called upon, trying to secure Zuo Jilan’s release. But though these people all agreed to apply pressure on the matter, once they heard the full story, they made it clear that Qin Siyuan wasn’t someone to be trifled with. After paying a visit to the Chancellor’s residence himself, Zuo Houwen returned in a towering rage, clearly having been shown no favor. Others who had gone to the Chancellor’s residence to plead on their behalf, upon learning that Qin Siyuan had written a letter directly to Zuo Duanyou, came back saying only: “Given that’s the case, Master Wang really should head back soon, and not delay matters of real importance.” To them, however irregular this whole affair might be, if Qin Siyuan and Zuo Duanyou could simply talk it out directly between themselves, what business was it of anyone else’s?

At the level of men like Qin Siyuan and Zuo Duanyou, a direct exchange of letters between them genuinely counted as a matter of the utmost significance. Wang Zhizhen finally understood that there was truly nothing more to be accomplished by remaining here, and so, carrying a heavy burden of unease, he returned to Hedong.

The very afternoon he arrived back at the Zuo household, he sought an audience with Zuo Duanyou. Though, to be fair, having encouraged the young master to hoard grain, encouraged him to travel to the capital, and then having returned from the capital having somehow lost the young master entirely along the way — none of this could possibly leave Zuo Duanyou with a favorable impression of him. But since the blade would fall whether he ducked his head or not, he could only hope that the rift between Zuo Duanyou and Qin Siyuan ran far deeper than most people imagined — that the moment Zuo Duanyou saw Qin Siyuan’s letter, his fury would eclipse everything else, including any thought of Wang Zhizhen’s own failings.

Zuo Duanyou lived in a secluded courtyard deep within the Zuo estate, near a small, sparsely planted stand of bamboo. The flowers and plants in the courtyard were tended almost entirely by Zuo Duanyou himself, along with a few elderly servants. This venerable old man, now nearly seventy, had hair and beard entirely white, yet his gaze remained sharp and clear. He dressed simply and neatly, meticulous in every detail. He didn’t reproach Wang Zhizhen for anything. Since Wang Zhizhen served as the household’s tutor rather than as a mere servant, Zuo Duanyou addressed him respectfully as “Master Wang,” having him sit nearby. Only after Wang Zhizhen had recounted everything he’d witnessed in the capital did Zuo Duanyou ask to see Qin Siyuan’s letter.

The old man narrowed his eyes slightly behind his desk as he read through the letter Qin Siyuan had written.

He rested his fingers on the letter, not looking up, and after a moment asked, “I know that people out there are already starving to death because of this grain crisis. How many of my own Zuo family have had a hand in this business?”

“This…” Wang Zhizhen found the words difficult to get out. Zuo Duanyou had never approved of this business to begin with, and Zuo Jilan’s leadership of this hoarding scheme had been carried out directly under his own management. If he admitted that the greater part of the Zuo family had been dragged into it, how would the old man react?

But Zuo Duanyou simply waved a hand. “No need to say more. I understand. With an opportunity like this, how could they possibly have let it pass by?” He said this, then added, “…Not even afraid of shortening their own lives over it.”

The old man sighed, then took out a sheet of fine paper and a writing brush. He thought for a moment, glanced at Wang Zhizhen. “Master Wang, would you grind the ink for me?”

Wang Zhizhen hurried over. He watched the old man pick up his teacup and pour a little tea into the inkstone, then began grinding the ink himself. The old man said, “I know the government is applying pressure. I can’t control what everyone else does, but as for my own branch of the family’s grain — release all of it. Master Wang, since you’ve been handling this matter, go see to it yourself.”

Wang Zhizhen nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

The ink in the inkstone grew steadily darker. The old man picked up his brush. “I’ll write a letter… hmm, no — have his second brother, Jiyun, go to the capital and bring him back instead.” Wang Zhizhen’s hand nearly trembled. In that instant, he understood at once: Zuo Jilan had just lost his right of succession. They had gone to the capital intending to cause trouble for Qin Siyuan — and with nothing more than a single letter, Zuo Duanyou had stripped Zuo Jilan of his standing as heir outright. From here on, the family head would be Zuo Jiyun instead, and Zuo Jilan had lost even the chance to seek any kind of revenge.

His mind reeled in confusion, his whole body sinking inwardly. Amid the haze, he vaguely heard Zuo Duanyou say, “I’ll trouble you, Master Wang, to see to the release of the grain.” He answered in a daze, hardly aware of when he’d left the room — but as he stepped outside, he thought he heard, faintly, Zuo Duanyou sigh: “…It doesn’t matter, in the end. This vast, flourishing world of splendor and glory — once the northerners come south, none of it will remain, in the end…”

Wang Zhizhen couldn’t grasp the meaning behind those words. That night, he tossed and turned in his room, unable to sleep, and finally rose before dawn, threw on a robe, and walked out into the courtyard. The bitter cold of the winter night lent him a measure of clarity. He realized that much of what he had once suppressed within himself was now gone entirely. Zuo Duanyou’s final words echoed again in his mind, and as he pondered their hidden meaning, they felt like some deep, dark prophecy. He shook his head, trying to drive the words from his mind, when suddenly his eyes widened, and he reached out a hand toward what lay ahead…

…

With a crash, a brazier flew off its stand, flames bursting open in the darkness, followed by screams and chaos.

In the bitter winter wind, this was a mountain stronghold at Shuanglian Mountain in Hedong Circuit — home to some hundred-odd bandits, along with their families, numbering roughly three hundred people in all. Not long after the disturbance broke out, the entire stronghold had already lit up with activity.

Here in Hedong Circuit, many places suffered from unsettled hearts and an unjust social order; when one couldn’t survive as an ordinary commoner, becoming a bandit was one path forward. The stronghold at Shuanglian Mountain was called Dahu Stronghold, simply because its chief was named Peng Dahu. Though his name wasn’t particularly refined, he was, by all accounts, among the finest martial talents in the jianghu. Once, when the Tiger King of Hebei, Tian Hu, had come to recruit him into an alliance, he had refused outright, declaring: you, Tian Hu, are merely a tiger of the fields — I am not just a tiger, I am the Great Tiger, why should I answer to your command? He had even defeated, on the spot, the highly skilled envoy Tian Hu had sent. Since the two territories lay some distance apart, Tian Hu had, in the end, never managed to do anything about him.

As master of his own domain, keeping his own territory secure, Peng Dahu treated the men under him at the stronghold reasonably well as a bandit chief went, and these past two years, they’d lived without want for food or clothing. But at this moment, the neck of this formidably skilled stronghold chief was currently held fast in a hand as unyielding as an iron clamp. He knelt half-collapsed on the ground, his face flushed deep red, waving frantically at the men behind him, forcing out the words with great difficulty: “Don’t… don’t do anything… don’t move…”

Only three people had infiltrated the stronghold in the dead of night. Leading them was a tall old man in a blue robe, while the other two — a man and a woman, both appearing to be in their forties or fifties — stood facing down the crowd of bandits who had gathered around them, amid a constant clamor of noise.

Peng Dahu’s difficult gesturing brought the crowd’s shouting to a halt. He was named “Great Tiger,” and his signature technique was indeed the Tiger Claw — yet in their clash in the darkness moments earlier, he had been defeated in a mere three exchanges, then dragged bodily out of the room. At this moment, the other man’s palm was clamped around his throat, and Peng Dahu had not the slightest doubt that with the smallest exertion of force, his throat would be torn instantly into bloody pulp.

“Old sir, old sir… I concede, I concede, I know… you are…”

“This old man is Zhou Tong.”

The moment these words left his mouth, nearly half the stronghold drew in a sharp breath, and some even instinctively stepped back. Peng Dahu raised his hands, forcing the words out with great difficulty. “I know, I know… I know the old hero’s purpose here… I agree, I agree.”

“Oh?” Zhou Tong glanced at him. “Truly?”

Peng Dahu said, “Keep back enough grain for the winter, release the rest… the granary in the stronghold is over there… the account books, the account books are in the room…”

Zhou Tong loosened his grip slightly. At this, a woman named Zuo Wenying leapt into the room, and Peng Dahu pointed her toward where she could find the account books. Zhou Tong said, “I already looked into this before coming — setting aside your winter provisions, you should be able to spare a little over two hundred piculs of grain…”

“Two hundred and sixteen piculs, two hundred and sixteen — I calculated it myself, after setting aside our own share.”

Zuo Wenying flipped through the account books, and after a moment, nodded toward Zhou Tong. Since they had already investigated beforehand, there was no need to go check the granary itself now. Zhou Tong said, “The day after tomorrow, morning, have the grain brought to the crossroads by Fang Village on the official road — someone will be there to collect it. Stronghold Master Peng, I’ll trouble you now to see us out.”

Though he had already settled the matter, he still hadn’t released his grip on the man’s throat. Peng Dahu simply said, “No problem, no problem — everyone, clear the way, clear the way!” With his throat still held fast, he was walked backward the entire way, but his eyes, fixed on Zhou Tong, held surprisingly little resentment — he even kept talking to Zhou Tong all the way out.

“Old Hero Zhou, Grandmaster Zhou, once I learned of your doings, I knew you’d come find me eventually, so I’d already made peace with it — I, Peng Dahu, have nothing to say against this. Hero Zhou, what do you think of my martial arts? I practice the Tiger Claw, why is it… why is it that just now, the moment I moved, you didn’t even need to block it — no, that move just now — Hero Zhou, could you give me a pointer or two, just a pointer…”

Zhou Tong frowned. “The day you give up being a bandit, I’ll teach you.”

“I have no other choice, Hero Zhou, I truly have no other choice, look at me…”

“…The day you find another way, I’ll teach you.”

The group made their way out through the stronghold gate. Once outside, Zhou Tong released Peng Dahu and spoke these final words. As the three figures faded into the darkness in the distance, Peng Dahu bowed respectfully behind them. His brothers from the stronghold rushed up behind him. “Brother, should we chase after them? We’ve got the numbers now—” Peng Dahu shoved them back at once.

“Chase them? What do you think you’re doing! Do you even know who that was? That was Zhou Tong, Hero Zhou Tong, the foremost man under heaven! The man goes about righting wrongs, saving people — should we resent being robbed by someone like him? He didn’t leave you hungry, did he! Get out of here, this is a good deed being done! Don’t you remember what Hero Zhou just said? Go get the grain ready to transport out, and I’m telling you now — two hundred and sixteen piculs, agreed — if there’s any shortfall, I’ll dock it from your own rations to make up the difference…”

The mountain wind howled. In the darkness, Zhou Tong, Fulu, and Zuo Wenying picked their way through the scattered rocks. After walking a while, Zuo Wenying finally spoke. “Another two hundred-odd piculs.”

Fulu said, “That’s a few more lives saved.” Both of their voices carried a note of lightness.

Zhou Tong sighed. “Pity… this is the only way I know how to save people…” Though he said this, even his sigh didn’t carry much real weight to it. Two hundred more piculs meant two hundred piculs’ worth of good.

Since the famine had begun, this wasn’t the first stronghold they’d visited. However formidable Zhou Tong’s martial skill, he had no real means of contributing to disaster relief in any conventional sense — he could hardly go about slaughtering corrupt officials or hoarding magnates himself. In the end, this was the only method he could think of. Over these past two months, the three of them had made their way from Hebei West Circuit into Hedong Circuit, specifically targeting strongholds of two or three hundred people. All three were exceptionally skilled fighters — wiping out an entire stronghold outright was, of course, out of the question, but slipping in under cover of night to seize the stronghold chief directly was a virtual guarantee, after which they would threaten to release the rest of the grain once winter provisions had been set aside.

Who among the people in these strongholds would dare refuse? And if they failed to comply, who was to say the old man wouldn’t slip back in again some night soon after — and this time, it would be someone’s head that was lost.

Though Zhou Tong wasn’t personally acquainted with officials of Qin Siyuan’s rank, he still had no shortage of connections within the jianghu. He would break in, have the other side release their grain, and then have some trusted friends from the jianghu help distribute it as relief. Recently, Zhou Tong had also witnessed Zhu Ji mobilizing merchants to transport grain into the disaster zones. At first he hadn’t understood what they were doing, but seeing how enthusiastically these people threw themselves into the effort — not only selling grain but tirelessly distributing free porridge as well — he had Fulu and Zuo Wenying go inquire further. The two of them brought back the reasoning Zhu Ji’s people had been spreading, which he mulled over for a long while before finally admitting: “This Ning Liheng fellow really isn’t bad at all.”

Passing through one city, when he witnessed grain merchants clashing with local powerful households, he had personally stepped in to help, driving off the servants of those wealthy families entirely.

Still, the grain he himself distributed remained entirely free of charge.

As the three of them, master and companions, made their way onward, they spoke of the relief work happening nearby. Suddenly, Zhou Tong raised his palm and came to a halt. Fulu and Zuo Wenying stopped as well, looking up at the sky.

In his open palm, a single point of cold vanished almost as soon as it touched him…

…

In the early days of the eleventh month, at dawn, the fleet of boats made its way along the river channel. Shishi woke from sleep, opened the window, and looked out at the lead-gray scenery along the riverbank.

Aboard the lead vessel of the fleet resided not only Shishi herself, but also several young gentlemen and scholars from the capital, along with three other sisters from the pleasure quarters. Since all of them were women of talent and refinement, courtesans of the highest standing, they weren’t the sort to be looked down upon — quite the opposite, this journey had, in its own way, come to be regarded as something of an elegant undertaking.

These scholars and young gentlemen who had set out from the capital were mostly from well-off families, possessed of genuine talent besides. On this journey north for disaster relief, men and women mingled together, and their daily activities, in truth, largely consisted of eating, drinking, and amusement. Sometimes they’d watch someone perform on a whim, sometimes they’d gather to chat, play cards or backgammon — the overall atmosphere could genuinely be called cheerful and harmonious. No one could fault any of them for this — indeed, even Ning Yi would likely only have praised them for it. Only within Shishi’s own heart did she carry, to some degree, a certain weight of oppression and urgency. It was this that had her rising early every single day.

Naturally, there were always those who rose even earlier than she did. The sky had already brightened, and down on the deck below, the servants had already finished tidying and cleaning. During the night, Shishi had faintly heard the sound of what seemed like rain falling outside; looking now, sure enough, the deck was wet.

She dressed and went outside. The deck at the bow of the ship was bitterly cold, her breath turning to white mist as she exhaled. Shishi pulled her clothes tighter around herself and stood there — and then, suddenly, she saw something. Trembling faintly, she reached out a hand.

In that instant, she understood: what had fallen the night before hadn’t been rain at all.

On the night before the snow arrived, two brief showers of sleet had fallen.

The fleet pressed onward, the great river stretching out before them, the lead-blue forests and mountains on either bank unfolding into the distance. White snowflakes landed on her delicate palm, melting into a damp, cool sensation. Ahead, across the sky, over the great river, among the mountain forests, feathery snow descended from the heavens, falling on every corner of her vision.

Tears began to fall, and with her other hand, she covered her lips…

Over the following three days, Huainan, Jinghu, and other regions were struck one after another by heavy snowfall. In the capital, Ning Yi received word of it. It was exactly what they had long anticipated.

By the time the world lay wrapped in silver and white, the moment for bloodshed had arrived as well…