The rain gradually eased.
The meeting in the study at the Chancellor’s residence had gone on for more than an hour, and by now had drifted well past formal matters into something more relaxed.
For the various aides of the Chancellor’s residence, each responsible for his own area, by this stage most of the issues were no longer conceptual ones but rather a matter of pushing forward and coordinating numerous concrete tasks. This morning’s gathering was mainly occasioned by Ning Yi’s return — everyone sharing recent developments, then seeing what might need coordinating.
Ning Yi currently managed funds within the Chancellor’s residence, oversaw the seedling stages of public opinion and propaganda work, and managed a great many relationships in the business world — though the funds counted, strictly, as the Chancellor’s private assets, the propaganda work was not something the residence officially directed, and the business relationships too were only private dealings that could never be brought into official channels. Yet many of the residence’s real business still required exactly this kind of private, off-the-books connection to move forward. Ning Yi’s coordination with the others here had, by now, become second nature.
Of course, even while he had been away, coordination between the others and Ning Yi’s side had run into no real trouble. Now that he was back in Bian Liang, all this amounted to little more than a formality, to keep him informed. In truth, over this recent stretch of time, as the results of the martial examination were about to be announced, everyone had been scrambling openly and covertly to court the right men, trying to push suitable candidates into suitable positions — courting whoever could be courted, and for those who could not, weighing whether they could be pressured or made use of instead — piece by piece, open and hidden alike, all trivial matters, but since things had already happened, all one could do was work with the situation as it stood. Doing nothing would only make things worse.
Once the necessary business was finished, everyone sat down to drink tea and chat idly, and the talk turned to the situation in the Jin state, which everyone found rather murky and hard to read.
“…Aguda has only just died, and Wuqimai, having succeeded him, has set aside the campaigning to consolidate his hold on the government — that much is plain to see for now. There’s a great deal of talk at court. Some believe that once Wuqimai has stabilized his rule, he will move against our Wu dynasty, arguing that we should take advantage of Jin’s unsettled foundations to absorb the remnants of Liao on a large scale. Others believe that Jin’s core military and political leadership is too thin to invade south, but that if we push too far, we would leave Jin no choice but to act. And so, now that the campaign against Liao is complete, the view is that the two sides should proceed in good faith and start doing business. Tang Qinsou, Geng Xidao and others hold this view, and several of the major factions with influence both within and outside the court are promoting it as well — believing that the coming year will be the crucial moment deciding the attitudes of both sides going forward. There is, in truth, some reason to it.”
Having said this, Yao Zunian took a sip of tea. Qin Siyuan, from behind the desk, went on.
“After all, it’s very hard for us to see clearly which way Jin will go from here. I’ve reflected on a great many past matters together with Chancellor Li, and now feel a certain distaste for these small, petty maneuverings. If your strength is sufficient, even those who once meant to attack you will come instead to do business; if your strength is lacking, keep flip-flopping, and even those who bore you goodwill will feel forced to attack you regardless. Yet at court these days, this sort of thinking is widespread, and His Majesty leans somewhat that way too…”
The old man paused, lifting his teacup. “After Aguda’s death, his successor was not his eldest legitimate son, but rather his brother, who inherited through fraternal succession. This is nearly an abdication, not a normal succession. We have looked into this — within Jin, the power of Taizu’s line remains very strong, including men like Zonghan and Xiyin, both among the most capable and pivotal warriors of the Jin state. There are already those who would seize this moment to memorialize the throne, urging His Majesty to use this as a pretext to strike at Jin now. These opportunists are the most detestable of all…”
Ning Yi, eating a piece of pastry, said, “Whatever happens, whether or not there’s fighting to come, a defense in depth stretching a thousand li, and the strength to fight one real battle — these we will always need.”
“However you look at it, or however you put it, we should have this by now — but looking back at past battles, no one seems to have much confidence. It’s hard to know to what degree we ought to be preparing…”
From Jin’s destruction of Liao, to Aguda’s death, everything about the current situation felt somehow unreal. Whether the other side would strike was itself a strange question. Looking at it one way, beyond Yanmen Pass lay the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun, tens of thousands of troops, plus the ever-expanding Changsheng Army under Guo Yaoshi — already enough to withstand one major war. And within the stretch from Yanmen Pass to the capital — including the regular army, including men amnestied like Dong Pang’er, and including the troop formations pressed onto a thousand li of land after Tan Zhen’s Pacification Edict — the numbers ran into the hundreds of thousands. Faced with such an enormous array, most people had an odd sense of illusion — as if they had no idea what exactly they were guarding against.
And yet, looked at another way, Liao had collapsed like a house of cards, and the many flaws within the Wu dynasty itself — whatever could be said, whatever could not — added all together, no one could muster much confidence at all on the proposition of “resisting Jin.”
Everything had happened too fast. Jin had toppled Liao within a span of a few years, and had already become the Wu dynasty’s true rival. And whichever proposition one considered — will they attack, will they not, can we win, can we not — every conclusion carried too many reasons and too many holes, because there were simply too many variables; as a result, no view could really be calculated through, and every idea seemed almost absurd.
Just as now, after the martial examination had ended, everyone had begun maneuvering and positioning, the Chancellor’s residence trying, amid this chaos, to still consolidate a line of defense in the north. And yet, on one hand — was all this truly necessary? From Yanmen Pass onward, this enormous defense line ought to be enough against whoever it needed to defend against. On the other hand — did doing this even mean anything? Because it seemed that this whole line, over a thousand li long, did not look terribly reliable either way — you could reinforce a bubble as sturdy as you liked, and in the end, it was still just a bubble.
Once one began considering the question this way, everyone felt as if they were standing on a wildly oscillating line, capable of tipping either way at any moment, and whichever way it tipped, it would sweep through with unstoppable force. Everyone was, in a sense, striving over something illusory, making illusory efforts, waiting for the moment it would congeal into something real.
And if one truly thought it through to the very end, rationally, everything came down to a single reason: the blade was about to draw blood, and whatever verdict came down, there would probably be little left to do by then that could still make a decisive difference.
“Autumn is almost over — there’s a certain feeling of having done all one can do.” Once they had stepped out of the room, under the eaves, Monk Jueming chatted with Ning Yi for a moment, smiling faintly. Ning Yi smiled too. “There should still be time.”
“How the world churns on. Years ago, when everyone spoke of the situation with Liao, no one imagined it would come to today’s state of affairs. The dice are about to be cast — who knows if it’ll be a sweep or a total loss.” The middle-aged monk watched the line of water dripping from the eaves. “Still, the stories Liheng tells in his tower are rather interesting. I do enjoy the chivalric tales.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to have such vulgar taste, Master…”
Ning Yi laughed. Yao Zunian walked over from the side and joined them under the eaves, laughing. “This monk was never all that refined to begin with.”
The group chatted a while longer.
By the time he made his way back home, the rain had just stopped, the air all around damp, water still dripping from the eaves and the leaves of the trees. Ning Yi was somewhat surprised to find Shishi waiting there for him.
“I thought Liheng might not come back at all,” Shishi said, smiling at him. “I came looking for you several times and couldn’t find you.”
“I had matters up north that took some time, but of course I’d come back — my home is here after all.”
The receiving parlor faced the small garden. Ning Yi poured her tea, and Shishi lowered her head in silence, taking a sip with her sleeve covering her mouth. She looked up at Ning Yi for a while before finally saying, softly, “The famine relief has ended.”
“Ah.” Ning Yi nodded. “As you can see — the autumn harvest has come in, and the matter’s settled.”
“I sometimes go outside the city to see those beggars, give them something to eat,” Shishi said, the scene outside the window mild and gentle, their words matching the mood. “Now that the famine relief is over, they still can’t go home, in the end.”
Ning Yi thought a moment. “That’s the way of the world.”
Shishi’s eyes were fixed on him. “Is that really all Liheng thinks about it?”
“Thinking too much doesn’t bring happiness. The meaning of life, I think, is best kept within three to five people, and within three to five years. Beyond those closest to you, it’s best not to think of thirty or fifty years ahead.” Ning Yi’s answer was calm and even. “It’s more likely to bring happiness that way. Otherwise, however you think about it, you’ll never find peace of mind.”
Shishi lowered her head, drinking her tea. After a long while, she looked out at the small garden through the window, then finally spoke. “Is what Liheng does at the Chancellor’s residence also kept within three to five people?”
Ning Yi laughed. “The three to five people I care about are mostly right here, behind this courtyard.”
“…Tan’er and the others really are fortunate.” Shishi laughed, genuinely glad for them.
She fell silent for a long while, then, some other feeling rising in her, sighed. “Things one shouldn’t think about — in the end, I still think about them.”
“I heard you turned down Zhou Meicheng’s proposal.”
“Does Liheng think I should have accepted?” Shishi’s gaze turned to him again, then she went on, “It’s not only his — I’ve turned down many others too, and I know that’s not a good thing. But starting this year, I keep feeling that something is about to change. When I reach a certain age, I have to marry — in the past, thinking of it, it seemed like nothing much at all, but now, thinking of it, I feel a kind of emptiness. I moved into the courtyard at Fan Tower at fourteen, and it felt like people were everywhere — living there, I always felt I was truly in that place. As long as I was there, the courtyard felt full. Others would come to chat with me, pour out their troubles to me, listen to me play the zither and sing, spend their money on me — when there was no one there, even alone, I was still living there, in that place. But suddenly, it feels as if everything has changed. Things I used to understand clearly…”
She clenched both hands, resting them on the edge of the table, her words coming faster, her gaze growing distant.
“Now, when I’m alone in that courtyard, it feels as if the courtyard is no longer mine. Madam Li has been very good to me, urging me to marry — out of consideration for me too. When others look at me now, there’s a sense that in a few months, half a year, they won’t see me there anymore. As if, a month, a few months from now, I won’t be in that courtyard anymore — I don’t know where I’ll be, perhaps in some house I don’t know, in some bed I don’t know, spending a lifetime with some man I don’t really know…”
Shishi closed her eyes, a few tears welling up. She bit her lip, then smiled again, as if trying to bolster her own spirits.
“That’s why I go to see those beggars, do some… good deeds. I used to do this before too — if I keep doing it now, it feels as if nothing has really changed.” The room was quiet, only her voice speaking. After a moment of silence, she drew a breath. “In truth, Liheng, you’re not all that concerned with these things, are you? But I think you must understand… others might not.”
Ning Yi poured her more tea. “There are probably still a good many people who understand. I married quite early myself. Whatever came before my marriage, I’ve forgotten it all. Even if I hadn’t forgotten, back then I was just a bookish fool with hardly any family of my own — it shouldn’t matter much either way.”
Shishi looked at him. “Liheng now… is doing a great many important things, isn’t he?”
“All sorts of messy business, hard to say exactly.”
“Still fighting those grain merchants?”
“Heh, can’t keep fighting forever.”
“But they’ll keep causing trouble, won’t they?”
Ning Yi laughed. “…Once in a while… that does happen.”
Shishi laughed too. The distance between the two of them was, in the end, neither too far nor too close. Though Shishi’s expression carried a smile, there was also a touch of quiet loneliness in it. Once she had finished her tea, she stood up.
“My thoughts have been a bit strange lately, and I didn’t know who to talk to about it — today’s visit was a bit presumptuous of me…”
Ning Yi shook his head. “I can still follow along well enough.”
“I already spoke with your wife earlier, out front. If Liheng stays in Bian Liang for a while and needs to discuss business, do drop by Fan Tower sometime. Little sister… has been turning down invitations lately, but if it’s Liheng’s business, I’ll never turn it down.”
“Heh, I know. And no matter what, come by the house too, sit a while — though, be careful, Tan’er is a sharp one, don’t let her outmaneuver you.”
He walked her to the gate. As they talked, Shishi bowed to him with a radiant smile, then, looking somewhat forlorn again, took her leave. Ning Yi smiled under the eaves — he more or less understood what troubled this “childhood friend” of his, though these were matters he himself truly had no way to resolve.
As for his own affairs, meanwhile, there was a mountain of work piled up as well.
But it didn’t much matter — everything would proceed step by step as it should, since the truly great matters did not lie here after all.
He made his way back, passing under the eaves and through the courtyard gate, and in the back courtyard reunited with the wife and children who had long awaited him there. Winter was coming, and ahead of them lay a long stretch of time together.
And he, for his part, had no intention of going anywhere for a good while.