After the sedan chair left the palace gate, Qin Hui drew back the curtain and looked at the shops and pedestrians on either side of the street.
It was the eighth month, and the bright, clear look of autumn in the capital made his expression seem rather unpleasant by contrast. This was the season of the martial examinations in the capital. Though the martial exam had never been given much weight in the past, the court was currently on high alert regarding the north, and between the “Pacification Edict” directed at the north and the recent wave of public praise, the status of martial men in the city of Bian Liang had risen considerably. Men with swords at their waists walked the streets with heads held high.
Qin Hui had risen through the civil examinations, and by rights should have felt displeasure at the rising status of martial men. But for some reason, after watching these figures for a while, the gloom on his face eased somewhat. Only then did he let the curtain fall and lean back against the chair inside the sedan.
In his heart, he was in truth very tired.
Because he knew that whatever had happened this morning at the imperial audience in the Golden Hall must already have gotten out by now. If he guessed correctly, someone would be waiting for him at home.
By the time he arrived back at his residence, the steward came to report that Young Master Luo was already waiting in the hall. As Qin Hui went in, he told the steward to have the visitor shown to the study.
The “Young Master Luo” the steward spoke of was named Luo Jinyan, a disciple Qin Hui had taken in, who now also held a post at the Censorate. Even minor clerks held official rank, but because Qin Hui and Luo Jinyan were as close as father and son — Qin Hui had more than once said that if he had a daughter, he would certainly betroth her to the young man — the steward addressed him as “Young Master.”
Back in the study, only a short while passed before a young man came in from outside. Luo Jinyan was no more than twenty-some years old, handsome and tall, capable and efficient in his work. Though his official rank was not high, he had in truth done Qin Hui a great many favors. This time, after Tan Zhen’s “Pacification Edict” had gone out, the reported numbers of northern “bandits turned soldiers” had swelled rapidly. The court was no fool, and oversight of this matter was strict — not only were officials dispatched to monitor it constantly, but privately Qin Hui had also sent out a number of men to investigate.
Luo Jinyan was one of the men he had sent, and could be said to be the most important one. Over two months, Luo Jinyan had gathered a great mass of evidence of corruption and abuse of the law, evidence shocking to behold, evidence whose core pointed directly at several of the great men at court. Liao had already fallen, and Jin had entered a period of dormancy, but the pressure was already beginning to mount. Qin Hui and the others knew in their hearts that this was the last chance to shore up the frontier defenses. When the evidence came back, even though he had braced himself somewhat, Qin Hui had still read it with his eyes nearly splitting from rage, cursing corruption for ruining the nation, cursing treacherous officials for ruining the nation, cursing mediocrities for ruining the nation.
And yet the whole affair implicated far too much. He had spent days at home thinking it over, until blisters rose on his lips, and when at last he submitted his memorial impeaching the officials involved, he still had not brought out all the key evidence.
Every piece of evidence submitted had been carefully arranged — it counted as a major case for the Censorate. Yet once word got out, there were still those sharp enough to see through it. Setting aside men like Qin Siyuan, Luo Jinyan understood it most clearly of all: although this case implicated a great many people, the evidence had been skillfully severed at the outer edge of its center. The investigation could be pursued to a certain point and closed there, and it would be very difficult to push further — even if the remaining evidence were brought out, the case could hardly continue. In other words, because the chain of logic in the evidence already submitted had been deliberately scrambled and cross-linked, the core evidence had been made to evaporate, skillfully robbed of its meaning.
Only Qin Hui himself could have managed such a thing — he understood human nature far too well. This cut struck deep enough to shock people, yet stopped just short, landing precisely on the line — Tan Zhen, Tong Guan, and the others might even feel grateful to him for it.
But it was plain that Luo Jinyan was not satisfied.
“Master…”
“Don’t be in such a rush. Sit first.” Qin Hui waved a hand as Luo Jinyan entered.
“Master, I… I won’t sit.” Luo Jinyan shook his head. He had evidently deliberated for a long time, and now, gritting his teeth, said, “You… what is the meaning of this…”
“The meaning of what…” Qin Hui tapped his fingers on the desk. “Are you questioning me?”
“I… I would not dare, but…”
“But you simply cannot hold it in!” Qin Hui glanced at him. From where Luo Jinyan stood, the teacher before him, ordinarily so full of righteous bearing, now had eyes red and swollen with blood, lips cracked and dry, his gaze fierce. Luo Jinyan faltered, unsure how to go on.
Still, Qin Hui did not resort to lofty phrases like “you don’t understand my methods” to press him down. After a moment he drew a breath. “Do you think I haven’t considered this, boy? Do you know… no, you do know how many people this involves, how large the scheme is…”
“Your disciple knows full well,” said Luo Jinyan. “But Master, you yourself have said that given how fierce the barbarians north of Yanmen Pass are, once the fighting in the north stops, the chance of them breaking through the pass is very great — this is our last chance. Even if it costs us our very bones, we cannot let this last chance slip away. Master, you said these very words…”
“Of course I said them! Of course I know it!” Qin Hui struck the table twice with his fists. Though in his younger years he had been somewhat hot-blooded, by now, especially having reached his current standing, his emotions had learned restraint — yet at this moment he still blazed with a lion’s fury.
“The people of the north — of course I know them! They drink blood raw and eat flesh uncooked, fierce as wolves and tigers! They worship strength, they worship raw power! To earn their respect, you must have strength yourself! But what have we done these past years! Scheming and secret maneuvering! This is Qin Siyuan — utterly muddleheaded! And Li Gang! His own methods are inadequate, all he knows is to shout slogans while doing things. He is upright, upright indeed — but at court, whom can he actually deal with? Why was he made Left Chancellor! And Tong Guan! The tallest among short men — what battles has he actually fought! It was agreed we would join forces with the Jurchen, yet over some matter concerning Hangzhou he dragged it out a full year — two hundred thousand troops sent up there and unable to beat their ten thousand! What must the Jurchen think of you now!”
He drew a deep breath of air. “Once the job is done, you can hand things off and walk away, leaving the burden to others. All just to secure a good name after death! What of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun, the sixty million strings of cash! Sixty million strings! Dragged out and bought back! And what did the Jurchen do — they first hauled off every valuable thing and every person from those six prefectures before handing them over… and they dared to make such a deal! But what can you do about it — behind them stands the Grand Preceptor Cai, half the officials of the court, half the merchants of the realm!”
“It’s the same everywhere, everyone looked down upon. And then Zhang Jue… what Secret Investigation Bureau — you cannot simply accept a surrender at random! Turning coat once and then again, it chills people’s hearts. Facing an opponent like that, if it were you… heh.” Qin Hui laughed mockingly. “If you were the Jurchen, would you leave it be and not strike? You would absolutely have to strike it down! And yet the whole court, civil and military alike, cannot see such things — still scrambling for their own gain, harboring wishful hopes…”
“But…” Qin Hui sat down in his chair. “But… Jinyan, if after turning it over and over in my mind I truly believed the matter could be accomplished, I would certainly bring it to light. But it cannot be done. I could die right here and it still could not be done. I do not fear death — but what would dying accomplish…”
Luo Jinyan stiffened his neck. “If I died… at the least, I could be like Qian Xiwen…”
“Qian Xiwen’s death shocked the people awake! If I dashed my head against a pillar, it would only make people laugh!” Qin Hui pounded the table. “Because the common people are muddled and mediocre — whatever is said outside, that is what they hear. And the officials in the Golden Hall are all cunning as demons! Dash your head against a pillar and they will only say you went mad, went insane! Try to fight them on their own ground, and they will smear filth on you first, kill the man by killing his reputation! Sully you first, then kill you! By the end, officials and commoners alike will curse you! Do you think justice will surely be spoken by someone in the end? Absurd! How many upright men have lived their whole lives honest, only to be cursed as corrupt, treacherous officials even after death!”
“But that… still doesn’t mean one should do nothing at all…”
“It cannot be done.” Qin Hui’s anger eased somewhat, and he leaned back in his chair. “Wanyan Aguda is dead, Jinyan — do you know what the greatest consequence of that is? The greatest consequence is that His Majesty is now at ease, His Majesty can breathe a sigh of relief, with one less trouble to bear. When you report bad news to him… it’s fine when his heart is already troubled, but when he would much rather hear of peace, and you bring him a report — at first he may take it seriously. But once Tan Zhen comes forward, and then Tong Guan comes forward, and then the Grand Preceptor Cai and the rest, one after another, including all those northern clans and officials — whom do you think he will believe?”
Luo Jinyan thought for a moment. “At the very least, Chancellor Li and Chancellor Qin would speak for us…”
“That is factional strife!” Qin Hui’s eyes went wide. “I am not afraid of factional strife, but at a time like this, to begin one… Jinyan, do you understand what that means? A chaotic, ramshackle defense line is still a defense line. But once factional strife breaks out and the whole court turns on itself, when the Jurchen finally come south, we will not even have that last precaution left.”
“Jinyan, think back — in the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh years of Jinghan, how often did the chancellors at court change — a new one every half year, all the way up until the northern campaign, when Chancellor Li took power and brought Qin Siyuan back into service. These past years, how many memorials have targeted them at court — I suppressed what I could, erased what I could. Some call me one who smooths things over — who knows that I have used every ounce of strength to prevent great factional strife from breaking out.”
“I wished to preserve Chancellors Li and Qin, even if what they accomplished was less than perfect — at least there were men actually doing the work. Who understands the painstaking effort behind my intentions! And have you noticed — before word came of Wanyan Aguda’s death, how seriously the court took this martial examination, because it came paired with the Pacification Edict! But the moment his death was reported, the voices at court calling to suppress martial men rose again. The Kaifeng Prefect, Wang Shiyong, submitted a memorial saying that men who practiced martial arts had recently disturbed order in the capital region! After all these years of favoring the civil path, at a time like this, they still fear the military men getting ahead of them — a whole pile of… nonsense!”
“There are ways to get things done, especially at court…” Qin Hui sighed. “What truly decides such matters is His Majesty’s mood. When His Majesty is troubled, the realm is troubled; when His Majesty is not troubled, the realm cannot manage to be troubled either. I will think of a way, soon, to make His Majesty troubled — that is how one accomplishes things, that is how one works at court. You will go up into the Golden Hall yourself one day, and then you will understand just how hard it is to accomplish anything… I have said all I will say. Think it over carefully. Go now.”
“But…” Luo Jinyan hesitated and struggled for a long while, but Qin Hui had already dismissed him, closing his eyes to rest. In the end, the young man still left the room.
The room fell silent. After a while, someone came in from outside — it was Qin Hui’s wife, Madam Wang. She carried in a bowl of soup, and seeing her husband resting with his eyes closed, set the soup down and massaged his back and head for a while. Qin Hui opened his eyes and took her hand.
“I heard Jinyan came. Has he already left?” Madam Wang asked softly.
“He… ah, he’s gone…” Qin Hui answered, his voice dry and weary, his gaze turned toward the doorway, where the light of day was streaming in…
Luo Jinyan walked the whole way out of the courtyard and out of the Qin residence. When he arrived home, his wife came out to meet him. “You went to see Master. How is his health?”
Qin Hui treated Luo Jinyan like his own son, and because of this his wife had seen Qin Hui many times as well — sometimes at the Qin residence, and sometimes Qin Hui would come calling in person. Toward that upright, righteous teacher of her husband’s, Luo Jinyan’s wife, Yu Yan, held considerable respect as well.
Hearing his wife’s question, Luo Jinyan’s mind flickered with the image of Qin Hui’s bloodshot eyes and cracked lips, but in the end he only smiled. “Master is well. He asked after you and the child.”
“Master is always so concerned for others.”
Yu Yan smiled. Seeing that her husband’s mood seemed low, she thought some official matter must have troubled him, and wanted to say something amusing to lift his spirits, but just then she heard a baby’s cry from behind and hurried off toward it.
The two of them had been married for several years, deeply devoted to one another, but it was not until February of this year that Yu Yan had given birth to a son, their first child. Luo Jinyan walked into the courtyard behind, where his wife sat by the railing under the eaves, nursing their six-month-old child, the light falling over mother and son like scattered gold dust. Luo Jinyan went and sat on a chair on the other side of the courtyard, a good distance away, quietly watching the scene. Yu Yan shot her husband a glance, then smiled again and sat quietly there until the child had finished feeding and, no longer crying, sank contentedly into sleep. She kept gently rocking the bundled infant, staying seated without moving.
She knew her husband loved watching this scene.
Luo Jinyan sat very upright, legs slightly apart, fingers laced lightly together between them, looking like a bashful student. He watched his wife and child, his gaze sometimes distant, sometimes clear, occasionally offering his wife an unconscious smile. A long while passed like this. The autumn wind seemed to still. He looked up at the light in the sky, thought of his master’s words about dashing one’s head against a pillar, thought of the words about killing a man by killing his reputation, and at last stood up.
He went into the room, gathered a few things, wrapped them into a bundle, and walked out the door.
“I’m going out for a while. I may be back late.”
“All right. I’ll wait for you to eat.”
His wife said.
…
Xiangzhou, Tangyin County, Hebei West Circuit.
Yue Fei — Yue Pengju — sat on a bench beside his earthen house, watching the two children in the courtyard. One was a girl, her sparse hair tied into little braids, no more than three or four years old, running about the yard with a stick, laughing and shouting. Beside her was a boy of about two, wearing split-seat trousers, toddling along behind her, occasionally falling.
The two children were his adopted daughter and eldest son. His adopted daughter, named Yue Yinping, was an infant girl he had found and taken in three years ago; his eldest son, Yue Yun, was not yet two.
Inside the earthen house, at present, were also his wife and mother. For the time being, this was his entire family.
This past year, because his father Yue He had passed away, he had been forced to leave his post under Xin Xingzong to observe the mourning period at home. Although he had fought bravely while serving under Xin Xingzong, rising to become a battalion commander, once he returned home to mourn, all of that counted for nothing.
At this moment he was thinking of an order that had arrived the day before. The order had come abruptly, concerning bandit troubles near Xiangzhou. Originally, because of the Pacification Edict, most of the bandits across the north had been busy accepting amnesty, and public order had actually improved somewhat as a result. But the document that arrived yesterday stated that bandit trouble near Xiangzhou was severe — several bandit strongholds led by a man named Tao Jun refused to submit to civil rule and had seriously disturbed order in Xiangzhou. Since Xiangzhou currently lacked sufficient troops, as an expedient measure, Yue Fei was to be recalled from mourning to serve as Military Commissioner of Xiangzhou, temporarily commanding the prefecture’s garrison forces, even permitted to recruit additional men, until the bandit trouble was eliminated, at which point the matter would be reconsidered.
The whole affair was thoroughly strange.
Although titles were being handed out generously these days for pacifying bandits, this was a real post with real duties, and being recalled from mourning was always a serious matter — mainly a troublesome one. Ordinarily, if this had happened to someone else, Yue Fei would have assumed the man had pulled a great many strings, for such connections were not easy to come by — yet he was certain he had never sought out any connections at all.
On the other hand, being recalled from mourning, even if arranged by someone else on one’s behalf, could sometimes leave behind ill consequences, such as being criticized for unfilial conduct. This worried him somewhat. In a sense, if one truly wanted to deal with bandits, there were far better choices among the nearby troops and commanders who could be spared than recalling from mourning a minor officer with no backing at all — who would want him recalled?
And most importantly, there was the question of what would happen to his family if he truly went off to command troops. With his father already dead, if he too went away, the only male left in the household would be two-year-old little Yue Yun — a young daughter, a weak wife, and a widowed mother left behind — how would they manage?
He had spent no small number of days in the army on and off, taking part in the campaign against Hangzhou, in the destruction of Fang La, and in the suppression of Wang Qing. At the same time, he had encountered no small number of problems within the ranks. Young as he was, with formidable martial skill, it was the endless obstruction and power struggles within the army that he found most troublesome. Since returning home, he had also been reflecting on such matters, and so he hesitated over whether to accept this assignment.
Had the bandit trouble nearby truly reached such a degree?
…
Leaving the army camp, Qin Shaoqian went to the nearby town and met Ning Yi at an inn.
“Brother Ning, I’ve taken care of the matter you asked about. So, how will you thank me?”
“Second Brother, don’t flatter me so — I hardly dared to ‘ask’ anything, it was merely a request.” Ning Yi laughed. “But as for what thanks you want, just say the word.”
“You’re a god of wealth. Just treat me and a few of my brothers to a meal at Bamboo House, that’ll do. Put it on your tab.” Qin Shaoqian laughed heartily and clapped Ning Yi on the shoulder. He didn’t even ask Ning Yi to join them for the meal — it seemed he only wanted to satisfy an appetite, and for a man of his standing that hardly counted as a request or a favor at all. “I heard about your business in Lüliang. As for this Yue Pengju — you spent so long tracking him down, what’s the matter with him?”
“Nothing much. He has talent, and I want him to rise a bit sooner.” Ning Yi smiled.
“Recalling him from mourning does carry consequences down the road…” Qin Shaoqian considered this. Though his face was now covered in a rough beard and he looked quite the coarse sort, he was in fact a shrewd man, having inherited some of Qin Siyuan’s cleverness. “I know he rushed into your house to help you back in Jiangning, but this fondness of yours for him — I find it a bit odd. Wouldn’t it be better to let me take him under my own command, or just recruit him for yourself?”
“‘A fine sword is forged through grinding.'” Ning Yi lowered his head and smiled, blinking, a note of uncertainty in his eyes, but in the end he said, “Constant help and sheltering never produced a truly formidable figure. Second Brother, didn’t you also rise to where you are without relying entirely on Chancellor Qin’s protection? As for Yue Fei — I don’t think he’s an ordinary man. Better to give him a sky of his own and let him fly on his own wings. Perhaps one day he’ll surprise even the two of us.”
“Well, I did receive some help along the way too, I can’t claim it was all my own doing.” Qin Shaoqian pursed his lips, then went on, “Fine, I understand. I’ll try to let him fly on his own — though, I’ll keep an eye on him, and if something big comes up, I can still lend a hand. Heh, Yue Fei, Yue Pengju — what a fine name… Enough of that. When are you setting off, now that you’re passing through?”
“I’ll drink with you tonight, Second Brother, and set out tomorrow morning. Time to head back.”
“I understand! Missing your dear wife!” Qin Shaoqian snapped his fingers.
Ning Yi laughed too. “There’s also a lot waiting for me back home.”
“I said I understand, no need to explain.” Qin Shaoqian waved a hand grandly. “Tonight I’ll host you at the finest place, with the finest wine, the finest girls… we won’t stop till we’re drunk!”
…
Night fell over the city of Bian Liang. Along the brightly lit, bustling main road, Luo Jinyan turned off into the side lane leading home. As he neared his gate, he saw the front doors of his residence standing open, several carriages parked outside, and gathered there people he usually knew well but who now seemed somehow unfamiliar.
He stood there for a moment, unaware himself of what thought had crossed his mind, but in the end he still walked forward. Passing under the watchful eyes of the guards at the gate, from within the hall came the sound of voices and laughter. He walked closer to the light, then closer to the shadows. Not far off, under the eaves, that middle-aged teacher of his was holding the child, gently teasing him, his wife Yu Yan standing beside him. When he was less than ten paces away, Luo Jinyan stopped, and saw the bundle in the hands of an attendant nearby.
“Jinyan, Master has come,” Yu Yan said softly.
Luo Jinyan cupped his hands in salute. “Master… Yan, take the child inside.”
“No need, no need to take him in.” Qin Hui, teasing the infant in his arms, seemed rather pleased. He smiled and poked the child’s cheek. “Jinyan, you know — your teacher’s wife and I have never had children of our own. I have treated you as my own son, and I have always treated your child the same way… do you believe that I have always treated you with true sincerity?”
“Master, what are you saying…” Sensing the mood had shifted, Yu Yan gave a small smile.
Luo Jinyan cupped his hands and bowed. “Master has always treated me very well. With true sincerity.”
Qin Hui looked at the child. “I have always said, too, that you, Jinyan, are still too young, and too rash. What happened today — you acted on impulse. Do you… know your fault?”
Luo Jinyan stood there, quietly looking at his teacher, and after a long while said, “Your disciple has committed no fault. Your disciple… has already thought it through very clearly.”
Qin Hui stopped playing with the child and looked up at him. After a moment, he shook his head.
“‘A father who fails to teach is at fault; a teacher who is not strict is negligent.’ You and I are as teacher and father — I should tell you where your fault lies. Tell me — why did you not take this thing to Qin Siyuan?”
“Chancellor Qin’s methods are severe. Your disciple, like Master, feared it would develop into factional strife, and in truth I have never had much dealing with Chancellor Qin. As for going to Yan Daozhang — because he is ordinarily known for his integrity and uprightness — your disciple only wished to bring this matter to the Golden Hall himself, and let whatever consequences follow fall on your disciple alone. Even if it meant death and the ruin of my family, your disciple had already accepted that outcome.”
“Even the ruin of your family, you had accepted…” Qin Hui repeated, his voice not raised, but his gaze severe. “Do you know — had you given the material to Qin Siyuan, there might still have been something to be done. Yan Zheng, Yan Daozhang, looks the picture of solemn integrity, but behind him stands the Grand Preceptor Cai. Hand the material to him, and he would stall you while the material never came back. In the strife at court, it is a fight to the death. You made two great errors — first, you failed to know friend from foe; second, womanly mercy! Either one of these alone is a fault a hundred deaths could not redeem… You have ideas when you act, but you are still far too young. How could you ever take my place. Do you… know your fault?”
“Your disciple… knows my fault,” said Luo Jinyan, looking at him. “But Master, too, has a fault.”
“A son does not speak of his father’s faults; for the sake of the honored, one conceals their errors. My fault is not yours to speak of.”
“Master’s fault lies precisely in being ‘left with no choice.'”
“…” Qin Hui’s gaze bored into him, severe.
“All these years, how many things has Master done that were ‘left with no choice.’ Master understands the workings of the human heart so well — the small things, one does oneself; the great things, one is ‘left with no choice.’ A man enters officialdom, and officialdom is riddled with corruption. He refuses the silver he can refuse, but what he is ‘left with no choice’ about, he accepts — first one tael, then ten, then a hundred — ‘left with no choice’ but to take the money, ‘left with no choice’ but to bend the law, ‘left with no choice’ but to neglect his duty, ‘left with no choice’ but to turn a blind eye…”
As Luo Jinyan spoke, Qin Hui began speaking as well: “However finely you put the principle, getting things done still requires method. A clean official who won’t accept even a single tael of silver, standing utterly alone — perhaps you could call him upright, but can he accomplish anything for the people? A man who does not understand how to work within officialdom — can he do a single real thing for the common people? This world is a hard, practical place, it is not something a young man like you can simply will into being as he pleases…”
“Day after day, ‘left with no choice,’ thing after thing, ‘left with no choice’ — but in truth, is there anything ever accomplished without a price! Is there any state of the world ever changed without drawing blood! Master, wake up — of all the great villains and corrupt men in this world, which of them set out from childhood determined to become wicked, which of them does not claim he was ‘left with no choice’! Master, you are Censor-in-Chief, head of all the remonstrating officials of the realm. You exist to speak of these things! The affairs of the realm are for the people of the realm to handle — ‘though I might die nine deaths, I would not regret following what my heart holds good.’ You always say that death accomplishes nothing — your disciple is willing to stake this body and try. Perhaps something will come of it!”
“If everyone in the realm rushed forward at once, it would be strange indeed if anything got done well! I have told you — reality does not depend on principle… Jinyan, I have told you, you are still young, you do not yet understand these things, and that is fine — you only need time to come to see them. As for this matter, though the Grand Preceptor already knows of it, if you acknowledge your fault, I am willing to protect you…”
“Your disciple is willing to stake this body and try — I only ask Master to give your disciple this chance…”
Luo Jinyan knelt on the ground and began to kowtow. Qin Hui drew a breath. “You have no chance left — your matter has already come to light—”
He swept a hand out abruptly, and a sheet of paper flew from his sleeve. In the courtyard, the child began to wail. Luo Jinyan was still kowtowing, his wife kneeling beside him, kowtowing as well. “Master, your disciple is willing to stake this body and try — you yourself said this was the last chance…”
“You will get no trial! In the Golden Hall, the moment you speak, you say stop and it stops!? Go up there, and a whole crowd will die alongside you — factional strife! Half the officials of the realm dying with you! Seize him!”
From behind, men bearing shackles came forward and took hold of Luo Jinyan directly. He was hauled up from the ground, shouting as he went: “Master! Wake up! Master, even if I die, I will still speak this matter aloud…”
“You will see no one ever again…”
The faintly pained, feather-light words seemed to echo. The child was still crying. In this unremarkable courtyard somewhere within the city of Bian Liang, a stir of commotion rose, then settled once more into stillness.
In a city of a million people, it was as though nothing at all had happened.
Qin Hui returned home, took his wife’s hand, and sat quietly for a while.
…
Tangyin.
His wife and mother were packing bundles inside the room. Yue Fei stood on the path outside the courtyard, watching their silhouettes through the window.
Then he turned his gaze toward the far side of the night.
The moon was bright, lighting the rolling mountains ahead, as if silver light were pouring down from the heavens.
Eight thousand li of road, cloud and moon.
That was his future.