“…As for the negotiations outside the city, it’s only a matter of a few more days at most. The Jurchen’s demand to cede all territory north of the Yellow River is nothing more than an opening gambit, aiming absurdly high—but the substance of what they actually want, they will certainly insist upon. We believe that compensation and tribute payments pose no real problem; if trade can continue afterward, the money will eventually flow back to us. To ensure Taiyuan’s safety, there are a few conditions worth negotiating. First, that the compensation in goods and money be escorted by our own troops—ideally with the second young master and Liheng leading the Wuriu Battalion themselves, passing through Yanmen Pass, or through Taiyuan, before the handover takes place. But even this presents difficulties…”
The wind and snow had not yet ceased; within the study of the Right Chancellor’s residence, the conversation continued. The one speaking now was Tong Zhiyuan, newly brought into the inner circle.
“To secure the Jurchen’s withdrawal from Bian Liang, the details on the negotiating table are these: our side will provide compensation in goods, coin, and provisions for their return journey, while the Jurchen will hand over all their siege equipment. On the day of their withdrawal, the exchange will happen hand to hand. For now, the court’s ministers are focused solely on securing the fact of the Jurchen’s withdrawal—Minister Li meets with Zongwang daily, refusing all other visitors. Yesterday’s report indicated that the Jurchen’s demand for territory north of the Yellow River has been dropped, but Zongwang still insists firmly on the line from Taiyuan to Yanmen Pass—so there remains a real gap before we reach the point of the Jurchen’s full withdrawal and our own troops escorting them out through Yanmen Pass…”
What Tong Zhiyuan described were the finer details; once he finished, Juemin spoke up beside him.
“The Jurchen have been besieging the city for nearly a month now—their siege equipment is already badly worn and hardly usable. They’re offering it up as a bargaining chip merely to give Li Zhuo a way to save face. As the saying goes, when someone names an outrageous price, you haggle them back down to earth—but Li Zhuo lacks the backbone for that. Whether it’s territory north of the Yellow River or north of Taiyuan, in truth, none of it was ever really within the Jurchen’s actual expectations! Battle-hardened as they are, by this point they too are exhausted, and no doubt eager to get home and recover—if I may put it bluntly, whatever they can’t take now, wouldn’t it be easier just to come back and take it next time! But since Li Zhuo won’t hold firm, they see no reason to hesitate about tearing off one more piece of meat on their way out.”
Qin Siyuan sighed. “Regarding the matter of Taiyuan, I originally intended to lobby Li Zhuo myself, then later asked Qinsou to approach him instead—but Li Zhuo still refuses to meet, and privately, he won’t budge an inch either. This matter carries too much weight; he only wants to complete his assignment and be done with it. There’s little more we can do about it…”
“This Li Zhuo does have certain weaknesses we could exploit, but bringing them out into the open now would serve no purpose. We’ve already quietly put the word out—Li Zhuo should be willing to meet with Chancellor Qin now. We can only hope that, once terms are settled, he’ll push a bit harder for firmness. A gift given freely leaves a lingering fragrance on one’s own hand.” Yao Zunian opened his eyes and spoke. “As for Liheng’s side—what exactly do you have in mind?”
“As for the friction between the Xia Village army and the other forces, Bamboo Registry has already prepared what needs to be done,” Ning Yi answered. “Both inside and outside the city, we’ve already begun gathering and shaping the various stories from this great battle. We don’t intend to let Xia Village alone reap all the credit—the gathering and weaving of these accounts will proceed across every unit simultaneously, including the hundred-thousand-plus men outside the city, and the palace guards within the city. Wherever there’s a genuine story of blood and sacrifice, we’ll help spread word of it.”
Ning Yi spoke calmly, and Yao Zunian and the others nodded.
“These past few days, even as those forces have been trying to recruit soldiers away from us, we’ve been sending our own people out as well. Among a hundred thousand-plus men, there’s always something worth telling—we’re going the other direction, recording the acts of valor among them in battle, with the officers as our focus. The key is this: with the deeds of Xia Village and the Wuriu Battalion as the core, we aim to build a public atmosphere in which everyone wants to be counted alongside the Xia Village army. Once their reputation rises, it will dissolve the hostility these mid-level officers feel toward the Wuriu Battalion—and then, we absorb them into the Wuriu Battalion itself. After all, this is a victorious army; while the troop structures are still somewhat in disarray, now is the time to expand the ranks of our elite core.”
“Better to cut off the source of the fire than to keep skimming the boiling water,” Qin Siyuan said, nodding.
“Whether the Wuriu Battalion can be preserved intact remains uncertain for now. But that’s a matter to be decided in the struggles among the powers above—what needs doing, we’ll still do. Better to take the initiative now than to simply sit and take the blows later.”
The lamps burned on through the night; in the room, everyone gradually laid out the matters at hand, one by one. The wind and snow moaned outside, and by the time the study door finally opened and everyone filed out, no one could quite say what hour of the early morning it had become. By this point, everyone was staying overnight at the residence; Tong Zhiyuan and Hou Wenjing left first, and the others exchanged a few final words with Qin Siyuan before retiring to their rooms to rest. As Ning Yi made to take his leave as well, Qin Siyuan said, “Liheng, stay a moment—there are still a few informal words I’d like to share with you.”
As Yao Zunian left, he and Qin Siyuan exchanged a complicated glance; Ji Kun was the last to leave. Afterward, Qin Siyuan draped on a heavy coat and had a servant bring one for Ning Yi as well; taking Ning Yi’s hand, the old man said, “Sitting all night has left my head feeling stuffy—let’s go out and walk a while.” Ning Yi offered him a supporting arm, took up a lantern, and the two of them walked outside together.
Recalling when they had first met in Jiangning, the old man had then been full of vigor, his health hardly inferior to that of a younger man; later, upon coming to the capital, despite the enormous workload, his spirit had remained excellent as well. But after this siege and its great battles, he had, at last, come to need some support.
The two of them walked along the covered corridor, snowflakes falling in the darkness beside them. The snow wasn’t heavy, and the wind wasn’t particularly strong either, but the cold still bit deep. After walking slowly for a while, they reached a sheltered spot beside a small garden within the residence, and the old man sighed. “Shaoqian’s eye injury—is he otherwise in good health?”
“He’s fine now, and there shouldn’t be any serious lasting effects.”
“The Qin family has been scholars for generations, yet from childhood he’s always favored the martial path. To be able to command a battle like this, and fight it so thoroughly, and win—his heart must feel deeply satisfied. That much, this old man can well imagine.” Qin Siyuan smiled, then shook his head, gazing at the large rockery garden ahead. “Ever since Shaoqian joined the military, whenever he’s returned home to visit, he’s always spoken with righteous indignation about the constraints placed on him within the army. But there are reasons behind all these things—to change them, to reform them, is never easy… Liheng understands this, doesn’t he?”
Ning Yi fell silent for a moment, saying nothing.
“On this matter, Elder Yao and I have talked at great length, and I’ve discussed it with Qinsou and with Juemin as well—only, some things aren’t fit to be spoken where a third ear might hear, or it could grow awkward indeed.” Qin Siyuan spoke quietly. “In years past, military affairs were led first by Prince Guangyang, then later by Wang Fu; when the Jurchen came, neither dared step forward, and both, in a sense, lost face over it. Taiyuan has held out for months under Zonghan’s pressure; Xia Village defeated Guo Yaoshi—both places involve my own sons, and yet I happen to be a civil official. Because of this, Prince Guangyang has fallen silent, Wang Fu and the others have all stepped back, and Cai Jing… he too fears this old fellow rising to prominence. With both the civil and military factions retreating in this way, when it comes to the matter of Taiyuan, I find myself caught between public duty and private interest, unable to speak freely on it at all…”
“Taiyuan cannot be lost…” Amid the wind and snow, the old man murmured, gazing at the dark silhouette of the rockery.
Between the two of them, another moment of silence passed.
“His Majesty is in the prime of his years and strength; after this ordeal, he ought to begin taking military preparedness seriously,” Ning Yi said, speaking from slightly behind and to the side. “Whether the Wuriu Battalion at Xia Village can avoid being broken apart also hinges, in the end, on His Majesty. After the peace is settled, we should request that His Majesty personally review the Xia Village army, and in public discourse, portray this great battle’s turning point as the result of His Majesty’s own brilliant command and strategic foresight—His Majesty as the sovereign of a resurgent dynasty, one who values reform and forward progress.”
Amid the wind and snow, his voice remained low, his words simple and calm: “People can shape public opinion, and public opinion, in turn, can shape people. Given His Majesty’s temperament, he may well be moved by such sentiment—and his own approach to governance does carry a pragmatic streak as well. Even harboring suspicion in his heart, he would still think to make use of your abilities, Chancellor. When His Majesty first ascended the throne, you were, in truth, his teacher. If we could move him now, as we did then, to embrace reform with the same fervor—there may yet be an opportunity here… because a man confident in his own practical judgment does not fear a powerful minister.”
Qin Siyuan frowned, then shook his head again. “How could I not have thought of this myself? Only, His Majesty’s moods these days are utterly unpredictable, he… ah…”
The old man sighed, the meaning behind it complex—and perhaps not aimed solely at Zhou Zhe alone. This matter wasn’t something to be debated outright; what he discussed with Ning Yi, and what Ning Yi discussed with him, others like Yao Zunian had likely already considered as well.
After a moment, Ning Yi said, “I’ve never dealt directly with those at the very top, nor do I know how all these tangled, chaotic affairs actually get decided from above. On these matters, I don’t have much confidence in my own grasp of things. But discussing it outside the city with Young Master Qin, Wenren, and the others, this may well be our only chance at breaking the deadlock. To govern through civil rule while elevating military men’s standing—raise their position, and they’ll face suppression, but perhaps they can also rise on the momentum of the moment. Either become a powerful minister like Grand Preceptor Cai, holding sway for five or ten years, dealing with whatever comes as it comes—or else, set down this burden and go home, head south myself, and find some pleasant place to settle. “
He paused. “But then again, in these several decades as a powerful minister, Cai Jing never once touched the fundamental roots of anyone else’s power. To push military men’s standing forward is to touch that very foundation. Even with His Majesty backing us at the front… it won’t end well, old man. You should think it over carefully—I myself will keep watching how things unfold. Whether I stay in this or not, even I can’t quite say yet…”
After a long while, Qin Siyuan raised a hand and patted him on the shoulder.
The two exchanged a few more words before long, then each went their separate ways to rest—though on a night like this, sleep, too, was bound to come only with great difficulty.
In all his time in Bian Liang, Ning Yi had never yet truly crossed swords with the powerful ministers at the very top, nor had he ever truly come into contact with the one true dragon-emperor who sat above them all. The maneuvering among the upper echelons, the foolish decisions made time and again, dragging an entire nation forward as if through a mire—none of this was beyond his understanding. And yet, each time, it left him feeling angry and burdened all the same; by comparison, he much preferred to remain below, watching those who could still be maneuvered and moved. To go any further forward, he always felt, was to walk back onto the same old road once more.
What had he once hoped for and yearned toward, all those years ago—and had the long, confused road since then truly been worth it? And now? In his heart, he still hadn’t settled on whether he genuinely wanted to do what lay ahead; he was merely following logic and reason, searching for some way through. As things now stood, all that remained was to win the Emperor’s favor, defeat everyone else, and in the end, let Qin Siyuan walk the path of the powerful minister. When foreign enemies pressed in one after another, and the nation needed a powerful minister to drive forward its military preparedness, perhaps, given the special circumstances of wartime, it might yet leave everyone a narrow crack through which to survive.
So long as those above still retained a shred of reason, this need not be a certain path to ruin.
Having spent several years now in the Wu Dynasty, this was the first time he drifted off to sleep carrying such an unsettled state of mind. The matter was simply too large; even for him, there was a part of him content to take things one step at a time, waiting to think and see more clearly once matters became clearer still.
Amid the endless drift of wind and snow, across the vast expanse of the city, the lamps of many households quietly went dark one by one; carriages came and went in solitary passage through the snow, the occasional watch-bell sounding out. By morning, people would open their doors and begin clearing the accumulated snow from their thresholds and the roads before them. The city remained the same ashen, oppressive grey, its people waiting, tense and uneasy, for word of the negotiations still underway beyond the walls. In the throne hall, the assembled ministers had already taken their places, beginning yet another day’s confrontation.
Ning Yi made his way to the Fan Tower, intending to persuade Li Yun to join in Bamboo Registry’s effort to gather heroic tales from the other armies—this had already been planned in advance.
Out on the snowy plains more than ten li north of the city, the two armies remained locked in their grim standoff, and Li Zhuo once again entered the Jurchen camp, facing those fearsome Jurchen warriors as he began yet another day of negotiation and torment.
During the talks, Saila slammed the negotiating table over, drawing his sword before Li Zhuo and hacking it clean in two; Li Zhuo’s legs trembled violently, and though he maintained an outward composure, all color drained from his face.
That day, the Right Chancellor’s residence launched a great deal more activity and coordination, and soon after, Bamboo Registry’s propaganda campaign began unfolding both within and beyond the city walls.
Ning Yi still hadn’t fully settled in his own mind what he ought to do next, when, before long, everything froze solid within a strange and awkward mire…