As fireworks rose into the night sky, the sounds of zither and pipa, of strings and flutes, also drifted softly through the darkness.

At the Fan Tower, this Lantern Festival night knew no sleep. Flowing light and music mingled with the drifts of snow along the eaves and courtyard walls, painting the night’s liveliness, poetry recitations woven through it all, the elegance of ink and letters blending with the splendor of fragrant silk skirts.

Someone was singing a Lantern Festival poem from years past.

“The east wind at night blooms a thousand trees of flowers, and blows down, like a rain of stars… Fine horses and carved carriages fill the road with fragrance…”

It was Ning Liheng’s “Green Jade Cup.”

The singing drifted over gently from the neighboring courtyard. Shishi was kneeling at the table, holding the teapot, pouring out hot tea with graceful care.

“You’ve come at just the right time today, young master. The pre-Qingming tea personally made by Master Song Xibian—I only have this last little bit left…”

Across from her sat a man of refined bearing and steady temperament, dressed in fine robes.

“Master Song’s tea is precious indeed, but with Shishi brewing it herself, that’s the true priceless treasure… mm.” He lifted the teacup and took a small sip, brow furrowing slightly as he looked at Li Shishi. “…Whatever bitterness Shishi has felt lately down by the city walls, it’s all in this tea.”

“Is the tea too bitter?” Shishi arched her brow with a smile and took a sip herself.

“The flavor is clear, and it’s precisely because of that clarity that the complicated feelings within it come through so clearly too.” The man in fine robes smiled. “Since I first met Shishi five years ago, the flavor within this tea has changed a little each year. Elder Chanyun says Shishi possesses a deep Buddha-nature—as I see it, that’s because Shishi can observe the world through herself, taking what she sees and hears in daily life and folding it back into herself, then pouring it into her music, her tea ceremony, and everything else. This tea isn’t bitter—it simply carries within it something rich and complex, a heart of compassion for all under heaven.”

Shishi looked at him, her eyes shifting, glinting with brightness. Then she smiled wryly. “You’re just flattering me, aren’t you?”

“Straight from the heart, not a word of falsehood.”

“People often say Brother Jianyun can read a person’s heart through the art of tea, but today you only sing my praises—though Shishi is pleased in her heart, deep down I can’t help but discount your judgment a little.” As she spoke, she smiled again, her delicate nose wrinkling slightly, rather endearing.

Chen Jianyun burst out laughing across from her. “People are just talking nonsense. I’m nothing more than a man fond of tea—it would be more accurate for you to discount me even further. But what I sensed in this tea today is absolutely genuine—I’d wager five silver coins on it.”

The two had known each other a long time, and after exchanging a few jokes, the atmosphere between them was quite easy. This Chen Jianyun was a well-known scion of a prominent capital family—several of his relatives held high court positions, and his second uncle, Chen Fangzhong, had once served as Minister of War and Assistant Administrator. Though he himself had never entered officialdom, he was one of the most famous idle young gentlemen in the capital, distinguished for his mastery of tea ceremony, poetry, and calligraphy and painting.

It was precisely because of this that he was able to secure a place in Li Shishi’s chambers on a festival night like this one. After all, the capital was full of powerful and wealthy men, and on festival days invitations for banquets were beyond counting—the handful of top courtesans in the city were never idle. Chen Jianyun and Shishi were not far apart in age; the powerful middle-aged and elderly officials, mindful of their standing, would not compete with him for her company, while the other dissolute young gentlemen were usually no match for him either.

As the night deepened, this meeting with Chen Jianyun was drawing toward its final stretch for the evening. The two chatted a while longer, and Chen Jianyun, savoring his tea, said, “As the old saying goes—Shishi, you’re no longer young, and if you keep brewing tea like this without marrying, before long you may really have to go beg Master Chanyun to let you become a nun.”

Shishi hesitated a moment. “If it truly comes to pass naturally, then that too is heaven’s will.”

“In this life, the love between man and woman may not be everything, but it does carry its own deep meaning. Shishi, in your position, there’s no need to deliberately seek it out—but why avoid it either? If you were to give yourself to love, who’s to say your tea next year, the day after, wouldn’t take on another kind of brilliance?”

“Brother Jianyun…”

“Shishi, hear me out.” Chen Jianyun looked straight at her, his tone calm. “In this capital, there are few men of sufficient standing who could marry you, and fewer still who would truly treat you well afterward. I myself have no place in officialdom, and keep my distance from worldly entanglements, but given my family’s standing, once you married me, no one else would dare come pestering you. My family does keep a concubine, but she’s merely a woman from a minor household—once you married in, you would never suffer any mistreatment. Most importantly, our temperaments suit each other. From then on, we could play the qin, savor tea together, live in harmony, and pass this life in carefree ease.”

Shishi lowered her eyes. After a moment, Chen Jianyun added, “I’ve told you of my affection before—there’s no need to repeat it now. I know Shishi has a proud, independent spirit and thoughts of her own, but what I’ve said comes straight from my heart. Most important of all, in my heart, I love Shishi deeply. Whether you agree or wish to think it over, this feeling of mine will not change.”

“I know Brother Jianyun is a sincere gentleman,” Shishi said softly. “It’s only that, sincere as you’ve been with me, Shishi has never hidden anything from you either. Over these years, every time Shishi has gone out and observed the world around her, my thoughts have only grown more tangled, harder to settle. Two years ago, when you first raised this matter, I called myself proud and aloof—but by now, this feeling has become even harder to shake off. These past two years, so many things have left me unable to find peace. Whenever I think of marrying, of building a household with a man, of shutting myself away in that narrow world and never again having to look upon this complicated state of affairs, I feel no sense of relief at turning a blind eye to it. The Buddha says all sentient beings suffer, but… though I’ve studied the sutras well, I find myself unable to find release.”

“That, in itself, is Buddha-nature,” Chen Jianyun sighed, picking up the teapot to pour her another cup. “But in the end, even if you see the affairs of this world, it’s ultimately not within your power to change them, Shishi. I know I cannot change them either, and so I’ve poured my heart into painting, poetry, and the art of tea—however unbearable the world may be, there is always a path of keeping oneself unstained.”

“I know Brother Jianyun isn’t truly a man who only looks after himself,” Shishi said with a smile. “When the Jurchen came this time, you led your household guards up onto the walls yourself. When I learned you were still safe, I was truly glad.”

“When the moment arrives, there are times one simply cannot avoid it. That I was fortunate enough to survive is really thanks to my household guards—I myself had little to do with it.”

“Actually, Shishi has thought over what you’ve said many times before.” She smiled and fell silent a moment. “Someone of my standing—daughter of a disgraced official from early on, a woman burdened with guilt by birth. After entering the Fan Tower, everything went smoothly, but in the end it was only because others lifted me up. Sometimes I feel as though I could accomplish a great many things, but it’s really only borrowed glory. By the time I grow old and my looks fade, even if I wanted to say something, few would listen anymore. As a woman, whatever I might wish to do is never truly within my own power. And that is exactly the problem—that Shishi is a woman…”

She tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and finally sighed. “Being a woman, I rarely have the opportunities a man has, and it’s precisely because of this that Shishi often wonders—if I had been born a man, could I really have accomplished something? These past few years, I’ve run about for the sake of wrongly accused cases, for famine relief, for the defense of the city. In others’ eyes, perhaps I’m nothing more than a woman raised in a brothel, spoiled and unaware of her own place. But I… in the end, I want to find something in all this—something that marrying and being shut away in some courtyard could never erase. Brother Jianyun, you’ve had opportunities, and so you can look at things with more ease. Shishi has never had the chance, and so… I’ve been trapped.”

Her words were gentle, but spoken with true sincerity. Among the young gentlemen of the capital, there were the dissolute, the hot-blooded, the reckless, the naive. Chen Jianyun, born into a great household, had once been a hot-blooded youth full of ambition himself, the cherished favorite of his family’s elders. Overprotected in his youth, he later witnessed enough of his family’s inner workings to grow disillusioned with the world of officialdom, growing rebellious in turn. When his family tried to expose him to the murkier side of court affairs, he quarreled fiercely with them several times, until eventually the elders decided to let him be—there was no need for him to inherit the family fortune anyway, with his brothers there to carry that burden, and he could live out his life in comfort regardless.

From then on, Chen Jianyun poured his heart into poetry and tea, and even in marriage, he had chosen not to pursue a politically advantageous match. After coming to know Shishi, she had gradually learned all this about him. As she had said, Chen Jianyun had had his opportunities—while she, in the end, remained a woman.

“I know this way of thinking is a bit unbecoming,” Shishi added with a smile.

“It sounds, then, as though Shishi is waiting for a man engaged in some great undertaking before you’d be willing to set aside your finery and settle down to keep house for him.” Chen Jianyun held his teacup and managed a strained smile.

Shishi shook her head. “I don’t know either.”

“It’s only that I’ve seen plenty of men like that,” Chen Jianyun said. “Those who enter officialdom, in their climb toward higher rank, will stop at nothing. And those who reach the top—by then they’re either aged, or they’ve long since become just another one of them. In this muddy world, whoever wades in gets covered in mud too. Or perhaps, after all that’s happened, Shishi wishes to find some army-commanding general to entrust herself to…”

He gave a faint, bitter smile. “And yet the army is hardly any better—in many respects, it’s even more chaotic. Cliques forming up and down the ranks, skimming pay, taking bribes—they’re even more brazen about it than the civil officials. If not for that, how could this great battle have turned out the way it did… The rough men in the army treat their wives at home like playthings, quick to strike and scold—hardly a good match.”

On a Lantern Festival night, a night meant for confessions of love, to have the conversation turn out this way inevitably left both of them feeling somewhat conflicted. The room fell silent for a moment, and then the two of them softly laughed again. Chen Jianyun looked across at Shishi and said with a smile, “If we’re truly going by Shishi’s own standard, then among the great officials of the court, perhaps Chancellor Li or Chancellor Qin would be a good match.”

He had said it with a smile, but by the time he finished, he was nearly doubled over with laughter, and Shishi laughed along for a while too. “Chancellor Li and Chancellor Qin devote themselves to the nation and its people—if either of them happened to be short a woman to do the washing and cooking, Shishi would jump at the chance.”

“A pity neither of them is short one.”

“Indeed…” Shishi sighed, looking rather regretful.

“Among the officials at court, my father has said the one he admires most is Chancellor Qin.” After a moment, Chen Jianyun changed the subject. “Chancellor Li, though upright and unbending, could hardly accomplish great things without Chancellor Qin’s assistance—on this point, His Majesty is truly wise. In defending Bianliang this time, much credit is owed to Chancellor Qin’s coordination behind the scenes. It’s just a pity that, with the matter half accomplished, complete success still eludes us.”

Hearing him bring this up, Shishi’s brow furrowed slightly. “Oh?”

“Surely Shishi already knows this—over this past half month, all manner of things have been stirring at court. Chancellor Qin has exerted himself the most, quietly visiting various officials at court, even meeting with my second uncle. Being at the Fan Tower, you must have heard something of it.”

“I have indeed heard something of the Right Chancellor’s affairs,” Shishi said, her gaze drifting as she thought it over. “There’s also talk that the Right Chancellor means to use this great achievement to rise to even greater heights in one leap.”

“Whoever says that must be a wicked, small-minded person. Of course, Chancellor Qin acts both for the public good and for his own family’s sake—but mainly, it’s for Taiyuan’s sake,” Chen Jianyun said. “Not long ago, the Right Chancellor sought to resign his post. Given his great achievements, this move was meant to declare his intentions clearly—advancing by retreating, hoping to persuade the court’s officials to throw their full weight behind saving Taiyuan. His Majesty’s trust in him has only drawn suspicion from others instead. Grand Preceptor Cai and the Guangyang Commandery Prince have worked to obstruct things from the sidelines, seeking to maintain balance, unwilling to fully commit to the effort of saving Taiyuan. In the end, His Majesty merely ordered Chen Yanshu to redeem himself through this campaign.”

“Then… does Brother Jianyun think Taiyuan can be saved?”

Chen Jianyun smiled. “Anyone who went up on the walls in the early days knows the cruelty of the Jurchen. That Qin Shaohe has held out this long under Nian Han’s siege is already the result of his utmost effort. Once Zongwang and Nian Han’s forces join together, if they truly move to attack Taiyuan, what good would one Chen Yanshu be? Of course, the thinking of some officials at court has its own logic too—Chen Yanshu may well be useless, but if the entire army were sent out, could it truly withstand the Jurchen’s full assault? If not, not only would Taiyuan remain unsaved, the whole army might be wiped out, leaving no chance of turning things around in the future. Besides, if the whole army marches out, who would command it—that too is a major question.”

He paused. “If command fell to the Guangyang Commandery Prince and his faction, they’ve already suffered defeat before the Jurchen and cannot be trusted. If it fell to the Second Chancellor’s faction, Chancellor Qin’s power would come to exceed that of Grand Preceptor Cai and Prince Tong combined. And if it fell to the elder Lord of the Zhong family to command, frankly speaking, the Western Army has always been unruly, and the old lord hasn’t exactly been treated generously in the capital—who’s to say he holds no resentment in his heart… For all these reasons, on a matter of such magnitude, the court cannot reach a unified will. Though the Right Chancellor has exerted every effort, on this matter, he simply cannot push it through. My second uncle supports sending troops to Taiyuan, but even he often sighs at home over how complicated and intractable the matter has become.”

Shishi said, “Then… there’s nothing to do but watch and wait…”

Chen Jianyun laughed coldly. “The siege of Bianliang has been lifted—Taiyuan is far away, at the edge of the world. Who still feels, as if in their own bones, the weight of an enemy at the gates? All we can do now is hope for the Jurchen’s mercy—after all, the peace talks are settled, though the annual tribute has not yet been paid. Perhaps the Jurchen too are eager to go home and rest, and might just let Taiyuan be…”

He no longer brought up the matter of courtship, instead talking of the trivial affairs of the capital and the court, knowing that Shishi, worried as she was about current affairs, enjoyed hearing such things. Many dignitaries and powerful men passed through the Fan Tower, each with their own views and accounts, complicated and varied. They talked on like this for a while longer, until deep into the night, when Shishi saw him to the door. As they parted, Chen Jianyun turned back and reached out to take her hand; Shishi withdrew it, giving a faintly apologetic smile.

Chen Jianyun smiled as well. “I’ll come see you again in a few days—hopefully by then, everything will have settled, Taiyuan will be safe, and you’ll be able to breathe easier too. By then spring will have arrived. The Chen family is holding a poetry gathering—I’ll invite you along.”

Shishi nodded. “Do be careful. Safe travels.”

“Mm. You too… think things over soon.”

With that, he finally climbed into his carriage and departed. As the carriage turned the corner, Chen Jianyun lifted the curtain to look back and saw Shishi still standing at the doorway, waving gently. He let the curtain fall and rode home, feeling both a touch of regret and a lingering fondness.

Shishi turned and went back inside the Fan Tower.

Over the course of that day, she had seen no small number of people—Chen Jianyun was hardly the only one. Besides various officials, wealthy gentry, and men of letters, there had also been childhood friends like Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng. They had all eaten a few rice dumplings together and chatted about small everyday matters. With each person, she carried herself differently—it wasn’t exactly insincerity, but the true feeling behind it wasn’t always so deep either.

Each of them, upon leaving, likely felt they held some special place in her regard, that Miss Shishi had shown them particular favor—and that wasn’t entirely an illusion. Spending even an hour or two with each person, Shishi could naturally find topics that interested them and interested her too—it wasn’t simple flattery or going through the motions. But in her position, seeing so many people in a single day, if she ever truly had to devote her heart to just one person, to make him her whole world, with everything revolving around him—it wasn’t that she didn’t long for such a thing. It was only that… she found it hard even to trust herself on that point.

Having seen so much, heard so much, her heart had grown a little too worldly, and her feelings, too, had grown somewhat false…

If she ever did marry one day, she hoped that, deep down, she could love that person wholeheartedly. And if she had no confidence in that even now, then… she would simply wait a little longer.

The Fan Tower remained lively, strings and flutes pleasant to the ear. She returned to her own courtyard, had her maid light the stove, boiled a few rice dumplings herself, packed them into a food box, wrapped it in cloth, and then had the maid go inform the carriage driver that she was going out.

The carriage, lanterns lit, pulled out from the rear courtyard of the Fan Tower and drove through the late-night streets of Bianliang, arriving at last before a building belonging to Bamboo Records. There she got down and asked the gatekeeper outside whether Ning Yi had returned.

A moment later, it was Su Wenfang who came out from inside. Seeing her, he gave a rather knowing smile. “Miss Li, here again to see my brother-in-law.”

Shishi smiled easily. “It’s a special day—why not see him once? Is he in?”

“He just got back from outside the city not long ago. You’ve timed it well, Miss Shishi. Though, visiting so late at night—surely Miss Shishi isn’t planning to head home tonight? What, are you thinking of becoming my sister-in-law?”

“I have only so many old friends left in the capital, and the Lantern Festival is precisely a time for reunion. I boiled a few rice dumplings and brought them over. Don’t talk nonsense, young master Su, or you’ll ruin your brother-in-law’s spotless reputation.”

“Hmph, spotless reputation… he was nearly assassinated just the other day. I’m afraid there was never much of a spotless reputation to begin with.” Su Wenfang muttered this, then turned with a smile and led her inside.

At present, the members of the Su family had not yet returned to the capital, and considering matters of safety and the various affairs that needed managing within the city, Ning Yi was still residing on this Bamboo Records property. By now it was deep into the night, the revelry had largely died down, and though lights were still lit in most of the courtyard buildings, at a glance everything seemed quiet. Ning Yi lived in a room on the second floor. When Shishi entered, she saw a desk piled with all manner of documents and letters, and Ning Yi, seated behind it, setting down the brush in his hand.

More than half a month had passed since the two of them had last met.

In the period right after returning from outside the city, Ning Yi had been busy with propaganda for the war effort, and had also visited the Fan Tower several times. Regarding this round of coordination, though Madame Li Yun had not agreed to follow Bamboo Records’ plans in every particular, a good number of matters had still been worked out between them—which people, which aspects of things, would help with the propaganda, and which would stay out of it. Ning Yi had not forced the issue; once terms were settled, he still had a great deal of other work to attend to, and had since disappeared into a whirlwind of engagements.

After the extensive propaganda campaign came the matter of Qin Siyuan advancing by retreating, pushing for troops to be sent to Taiyuan. Put in complicated terms, this involved a great deal of political maneuvering; put simply, it was nothing more than visiting one another, quietly settling matters of mutual benefit, then having various people raise the issue in the throne hall to apply pressure—all the way up to Grand Academician Li Li’s furious outburst against the palace steps. Shishi, at the Fan Tower, had a fairly clear sense of the complicated situation behind all this. Ning Yi, though he did not pursue the path of officialdom himself, still maintained a great many ties of mutual benefit with lower-level merchants, landowners, and local gentry, and had been running himself ragged pushing things forward.

“Why come by at this hour?”

“If I didn’t come now, it would already be the sixteenth. I was chatting with Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng about you during the day—it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I brought a few rice dumplings.” Shishi smiled. “I know you’ve probably already eaten, so I didn’t bring many—just a couple bites will do.”

“I’ll go get some bowls.” Ning Yi laughed and didn’t refuse.

He went out and returned with two sets of bowls and chopsticks. By then Shishi had already opened the food box on the table. “Wenfang said you just got back from outside the city?”

“All sorts of things going on, busy just like you. The army needs to celebrate the festival too, so I went to send them some food… oh, you cheapskate.”

There were only six rice dumplings in the box. Ning Yi joked as he divided them, three for each, and invited her to sit. In truth, he had of course already eaten, but he still shamelessly popped the dumplings into his mouth all the same.

Shishi smiled, glancing at the clutter across the room, then after a moment said, “I keep hearing your name mentioned lately.”

“Me?”

“You and the Right Chancellor’s household.”

“Oh? More good things said, or more bad?”

“About even.” Shishi paused. “Lately there’s also been talk of Taiyuan. I know you’re all working behind the scenes on it—how are things going? Any sign of a turnaround?”

Ning Yi frowned slightly. “It hasn’t gotten so bad yet. In theory, there’s still room for things to turn around…”

There was something evasive in his tone. Shishi watched him, waiting for him to go on. Under her gaze, Ning Yi gave a small laugh. “How to put it—the capital doesn’t want to send troops. If we act prematurely, it would just be making a fuss over nothing, wasting resources and exhausting the people. Taiyuan isn’t Bianliang, after all—Zongwang already struggled so much attacking Bianliang, and having given that up, turning to attack Taiyuan instead is something of a thankless, unrewarding effort for them too. Besides, Taiyuan has held out this long already—it’s not impossible it could hold out a bit longer. If the Jurchen really do mount a full assault, as long as Taiyuan can hang on just a while more, they’ll be forced to withdraw anyway. And while the Jurchen and Taiyuan are locked in a standoff, if our side sends troops to harass them from behind, that might achieve something too… blah blah blah—not entirely without logic, either.”

“And then there’s… the question of who would lead the troops…” Shishi added.

“It’s all more or less the same story,” Ning Yi said with a smile. He finished his dumplings, took a sip of the sweet soup, set down his bowl and chopsticks. “You don’t need to worry too much. The Jurchen have withdrawn after all, so Bianliang should have some peace for a while. As for Taiyuan, the men at the top are anxious about it too—it’s not that they don’t care, though, of course, there may still be a certain amount of wishful thinking involved…”

Shishi sat there, glancing at him, her eyes carrying a faint trace of resentment. “Liheng, you see me as a woman and look down on me, and so you want to brush me off.” She fell silent for a moment, gazing at the lamplight not far off, and said quietly, “Actually, many people, seeing the Jurchen retreat, assume peace has arrived, that it’s all over now. But anyone who’s been to the city walls, if they’re willing to think it through, understands deep down that this war is far from finished. Bianliang may not have fallen, but if Taiyuan is taken, what is there left to celebrate, what peace of mind is there to be had…”

Ning Yi watched her from across the table, a growing look of admiration in his eyes, and he rose with a smile. “Actually, it’s not that I see you as a woman, but that you’re a little person…”

“Hm?” Shishi’s brow furrowed, her eyes going round.

“A small, insignificant person! For a small, insignificant person to fret over these things only gives themselves a stomachache. I’m a small, insignificant person too—these past days, I’ve had people from Bamboo Records sending gifts everywhere, building connections, getting people to put in a good word. We managed to sway one minister over, but… it did no good whatsoever. To be honest with you, this push to send troops to Taiyuan is probably a lost cause. The resistance is too great—Chancellor Qin has staked his very position as collateral, and even that isn’t accepted, which tells you just how deeply tangled the interests involved really are.”

When it came to current affairs, everyone who visited the Fan Tower had their own opinions to offer, and Shishi was usually only half convinced by any of them. But hearing Ning Yi speak this way, her expression truly sank. “Is there… really nothing to be done?”

“I said, you don’t need to worry about it.” Ning Yi smiled at her. “There are still plenty of variables in play—Chen Yanshu’s army, Taiyuan, the Jurchen, the Western Army, the local militias nearby—none of it is settled yet. If the Jurchen really do launch a full assault on Taiyuan, what if it turns into another quagmire like Bianliang, dragging them down until their whole force is wiped out? That’s not an impossible outcome either. The Wuchi Battalion hasn’t been given permission to move out, but preparations to send troops are still ongoing. Our estimate is that there’s a fairly good chance the Jurchen might withdraw from Taiyuan altogether. Rather than storming a fortified city and losing troops for it, better to take the tribute first and rest and recover. Even I’m not worried—why should you be?”

“Hm…” Shishi raised her head, gazing at Ning Yi with a slightly furrowed brow, watching his smile, and only then did her expression begin to relax. “I’ve only just realized, Liheng, that you ramble on about all sorts of things when you talk… are you really not worried?”

“Of course I am, a little. But there are still ways to handle it—trust me on that.”

Shishi thought it over for a while, and finally nodded.

…

It was well past midnight before Shishi finally left Bamboo Records.

Meeting with Li Shishi always felt somewhat peculiar—her manner toward him was that of treating him as a childhood friend she was proud to know. Though they had talked a while about current affairs, and she had asked after the assassination attempt against him and matters of his safety, what mattered more was her interest in the small, everyday details of his life, her warm concern. On a day like the Lantern Festival, she had gone out of her way to bring a few rice dumplings, simply to keep that bond alive—every bit the peculiar kind of friend and family she was.

Thinking it over, in her particular circumstances, she worked hard to maintain relationships with a handful of “childhood friends” she wasn’t even especially close to, treating it almost as a sacred, private corner of her heart—there was something rather moving in that sentiment.

In this complicated world, even surrounded by all manner of tangled affairs, the light given off by one person’s sincere feeling was, in truth, no less remarkable than the great tides of history unfolding around them.

During this period, Ning Yi had a great many matters on his hands, and of course far more than what he’d told Shishi. After the Jurchen withdrew, the Wuchi Battalion and a large number of other troops remained stationed outside Bianliang. The covert efforts against the Wuchi Battalion that had begun earlier were now escalating into all sorts of underhanded tactics. At the same time, efforts continued at court to push for troops to be sent to Taiyuan, alongside the ongoing process of awarding merit and commendations after the war, layer upon layer of deliberation, determining credit and rewards. The Wuchi Battalion had to withstand outside pressure to be broken up while simultaneously continuing preparations to redeploy to Taiyuan. Meanwhile, Hongti and the others from Lüliang Mountain had to work to preserve the independence of the troops under their command, which had already led to two clashes with other units…

All these tangled affairs mixed together—inside, a great deal of agitation, meetings, and indoctrination; outside, countering moves as they came, back-and-forth scheming and political maneuvering. Ning Yi was accustomed to all this, and with an intelligence network of his own at his disposal, he was hardly at a disadvantage. His skill at forming alliances and sowing division among opponents was considerable—but that didn’t mean he enjoyed any of it, especially now that the plan to send troops to Taiyuan had been blocked. Every time he saw his so-called allies scrambling about for their own gain, he felt anger pressing down inside him.

Today he had gone outside the city to reward the Wuchi Battalion and preside over the celebrations, and his meeting with Hongti, the warmth between them, had let his mood ease somewhat. But close on its heels came an even greater sense of urgency. After returning, he had gone back to writing letters at his desk. Shishi’s visit had, if anything, given his mind a moment’s clarity—likely because Shishi herself stood outside the whole affair, and her concern over current events, rather than adding to his burden, brought him a measure of comfort instead.

That was why, in speaking with her, he had chosen only words meant to set her mind at ease.

After seeing Shishi off, Ning Yi returned to the Bamboo Records building and climbed the stairs, lost in thought for a moment. Before he reached his room, Juan’er came hurrying over from the other direction, trotting lightly.

“What is it?”

Juan’er said nothing, only handed him an envelope with a feather attached. One glance told Ning Yi exactly what it meant.

He tore open the letter, went downstairs, glanced at it, and before long arrived at a certain room. This was the meeting hall, and inside, figures still moved beneath lamplight—several advisors still bent over their desks at work. At the front of the hall hung a large map. Ning Yi walked in, gave the envelope in his hand a slight wave, and the others paused whatever they were writing or sorting, watching as he stopped before the map, picked up a small flag, chose a spot, and planted it down.

Several flags already dotted the map, tracing a winding path northward from Bianliang. Given the pace at which that line of flags had been advancing, most of those present had a fairly good idea where the next one would go—but seeing Ning Yi plant it down all the same stirred a strange, complicated feeling in their hearts.

“Halfway there,” Ning Yi said quietly.

On the road from Bianliang to Taiyuan, Zongwang’s army had covered half the distance.

Someone swallowed involuntarily.

Ning Yi looked up at the map for a long moment, and finally sighed. “This is… boiling a frog in slowly warming water…”

One of the advisors standing nearby, having heard clearly, ventured to ask, “Sir, what do you mean by boiling a frog in warm water?”

Ning Yi smiled and shook his head, not answering. He looked around at the others. “Has anyone thought of anything?”

Spread across the desks in front of them was all manner of material. The advisor closest to him had before him years of gathered intelligence on the internal workings of the Jurchen; on the other desks lay information gathered by the intelligence bureau on the compromising secrets and hidden affairs of various court officials. Ever since Qin Siyuan’s resignation had been rejected, Ning Yi, sensing something was amiss, had already begun searching for additional solutions…