Rivers wound around the city walls. Night had grown deep, the ramparts towering and majestic, scattered points of firelight along their heights, the city’s silhouette stretching away behind them. Faintly, the sound of an old temple bell rang out.
In the courtyard, only a dim, deep-yellow lamplight burned. Beside the stone table and stone benches stood towering old trees; the night wind brushed past gently, and the trees swayed softly, the air seeming to hold a faint white mist. As the trees moved, he looked up — the shifting shadows of the branches obscured half the pale starlight. In the water-cool chill of the early morning hours, the bluebird of memory came flying back.
He simply sat there, hands resting on his legs, thinking of all sorts of things.
“Husband…”
“Time to eat…”
“…mended your clothes…”
“I want to be a magician performer…”
“…who does business like that!”
“…family, after all.”
The air seemed to carry the scent of a small wooden building burnt to char. When it snowed, she’d walked through the snow, her belly heavy and round, pacing back and forth… “Xi’er… the boy with the strong constitution…”
Between him and Su Tan’er, they’d been through so much — the scheming and rivalry of the marketplace, the joy of settling great matters, the desperate struggles between life and death — and yet when he raised his head, what came to mind were the smallest, most trivial things. Eating meals, mending clothes, her proud face, her angry face, her furious face, her joyful face, her holding a child, her standing up from the bathtub with nothing on, the two of them alone together… Fragment after fragment, and from these countless other things branched off, though most had nothing to do with Tan’er anymore. Those were things close to him now, or matters from the capital in recent days.
I need to focus on the north — I’m counting on you to handle matters in the south…
There’s no one I trust more than you…
“Young Master… Young Master…”
A soft voice came from behind him. He turned his head; Juan’er stood timidly beneath the eaves.
Ning Yi looked at her for a moment, his expression softening. “…Go to sleep, why haven’t you?”
“Young Master, you… you mustn’t worry about Miss. Miss can swim… she might well be fine… she’s sure to be fine.”
The night air still drifted on, but for a moment it seemed as though the man had simply vanished — the illusion faded a moment later. “Mm,” Ning Yi acknowledged.
“I’m not worried,” he said. “Not that worried… I’m just waiting for news.”
Ning Yi’s calm expression betrayed nothing at all, so much so that Juan’er didn’t know what to say for a moment. After a pause, she said, “That matter, about Young Master Zhu Biao and the others…”
She told him a few things; Ning Yi listened quietly, nodded to show he understood. Before long, Juan’er withdrew from beneath the eaves, and the courtyard was left with only Ning Yi again. He sat before the stone table, and at some point, without warning, both his fists swung down and crashed onto the stone table — it cracked into several pieces and rolled away in different directions. Ning Yi sat there, unmoving again.
In this misted, drifting night, inside and outside the Ning residence held very different scenes. Ning Yi, master of the household, sat alone in that courtyard, and no one dared disturb him. In the two adjoining courtyards, candlelight flickered as many people spoke in hushed but intense tones about various matters. Beyond the layered high walls, viewed from the street outside the Ning residence, the estate seemed as quiet as if it had entered another world entirely — in the shadows and corners here and there, constables crouched in twos and threes, keeping watch.
“How’s it going?”
A figure hurried over, entering a small house nearby. Lamplight burned inside; Tie Tianying, arms wrapped around his great blade Juque, sat with eyes closed, resting his spirit — but as the other man approached, his eyes had already opened. The one who’d come was one of the Ministry of Justice’s seven chief constables, the one in charge of the capital region specifically: Liu Qinghe.
“Still no movement. How many men did you bring?” Tie Tianying asked.
“I have over twenty men under me. Also, I’ve already sent word to the Kaifeng prefectural office and the City Patrol Bureau — if needed, we can mobilize more than five hundred men within two hours…”
“What good would that do.”
“If it really comes to nothing, then you and I might as well just turn and run. If the City Patrol and the prefectural office aren’t enough, we’d have to alert the Grand Marshal’s office and the Ministry of War… but is it really that serious? Is he planning some kind of rebellion? It couldn’t come to that.”
“Of course it won’t come to that, but I can’t get a read on the man’s thinking. I’m just afraid he won’t care about the consequences and will want revenge.”
Liu Qinghe pushed open the window and looked out. “A wife is like a change of clothes. When this man’s inner demons truly flare up, his methods are vicious and sharp — I’ve seen it myself. But he’s built up too much now, too many stakes — he won’t be so reckless. This is a man meant for great things.”
“What worries me isn’t that he’ll provoke those above us, but that he’ll come after you and me, and after Zong Feixiao, for revenge. The Right Chancellor’s household may have collapsed, but this man has cultivated ties on every side — the Grand Tutor’s estate, the Prince of Guangyang’s manor, even Lord Wang have all had thoughts of drawing him in, and I’ve even heard the Emperor himself knows his name. Now that something’s happened to his wife, he’ll want to vent it somehow. If he keeps it contained, you and I might just weather it. But you said it yourself — this man is ruthless and cunning. Even if he doesn’t move openly, there’d be no guarding against him.”
“His wife may not be dead — the search is still going on,” Liu Qinghe said. “If she really is dead, I’ll give him three steps of leeway.”
“What worries me is that even if she isn’t dead, he’ll still want revenge.” Tie Tianying closed his eyes again, continuing to rest. “You haven’t seen him when he truly loses his mind.”
“I have, actually, here in the capital.”
Liu Qinghe, still looking outward, answered offhandedly. Back when Fang Qifo had been escorted to the capital, three Ministry of Justice chief constables had taken part — Tie Tianying, Zong Feixiao, and Fan Zhong, who’d arrived later — but Liu Qinghe had also witnessed, here in the capital, how Ning Yi dealt with those martial world figures, which was why he said this.
Then, quiet settled over the room.
Beyond the many high walls, within the night-quiet Ning residence, a group’s discussion had paused for a moment. Servants brought up something to eat, and some took pastries and food to stave off hunger — a benefit they could always count on at Bamboo Notes. One figure made his way toward the small courtyard where Ning Yi sat — it was Zhu Biao.
He stopped beneath the eaves, looking at the figure seated on the stone bench in the courtyard, and spoke a few words. There was no response. He raised his voice and spoke again. Only then did the figure on the stone bench turn, his gaze cold and sharp, and say a few words back to him — something that sounded like a rebuke.
The cold night wind carried the words away into the darkness. Within the capital, nearly a million people gathered, lived, came and went, traded, socialized, loved — all manner of desires and thoughts intertwined, some in the open, some hidden. This night, there was tension in small pockets throughout the capital, though nothing that threatened the city’s overall safety. When a towering tree like the Right Chancellor fell, small-scale friction and small-scale vigilance could crop up at any moment. Below the emperor were his ministers and eunuchs; below the ministers, advisors and stewards; and below them still, all manner of people running errands — men from the Ministry of Justice, constables from various offices, figures from both the light and dark paths. A single word from those above could set thousands below on edge, though it still amounted to nothing of great consequence.
A faint white mist rose along the horizon; as the fish-belly gray of dawn appeared in the east, the city seemed to grow ever more peaceful and still. Tie Tianying opened his eyes and studied the utterly quiet Ning residence, where hardly anyone had come or gone all night, his gaze stern. Many of the others quietly let out a breath of relief.
“We still need to keep watch today,” Liu Qinghe said beside him.
Tie Tianying nodded.
Nothing happened. That morning, Tie Tianying, through various connections, got word of the Ning residence — only that its master had gone the whole night without sleep, simply sitting in the courtyard or pacing back and forth, seemingly lost in thoughts of his wife. Beyond that, nothing much.
This was the twenty-sixth of the fourth month.
Toward evening, Ning Yi’s carriage came out through the back gate. Liu Qinghe and Tie Tianying hurried over and stopped the carriage. Ning Yi lifted the curtain and cupped his hands toward them in greeting.
“Chief Constable Liu, Chief Constable Tie — something the matter?” His face showed little smile, looking somewhat tired, but seemed to carry good will nonetheless. Tie Tianying studied him with a stern gaze, as if trying to read his thoughts from his expression. Liu Qinghe cupped his hands. “Nothing much — it’s just that with the Jurchens gone, the capital isn’t entirely peaceful these days, and since we happened to run into you, we wondered where Master Ning might be headed.”
“The Ministry of Justice’s prison, to see the Right Chancellor. Is that all right?”
“Oh, of course. Please, go right ahead, Master Ning.”
Liu Qinghe smiled amiably and raised a hand in farewell.
…
Rousing from heavy, drowsy sleep, Qin Siyuan caught the scent of medicine.
The sound of medicine being brewed rose in the cell. The old man opened his eyes; not far away sat Ning Yi. Compared to other prisons, this section of the Ministry of Justice’s holding cells — where mostly officials awaiting sentencing were kept, whether convicted or not — had far better conditions than an ordinary prison. But that Ning Yi had managed to get all manner of things brought in here had clearly taken no small effort.
He held a small fan, fanning the stove beside him, and through the tiny window, the last rays of evening glow were just falling.
“Liheng, you’ve come.”
“I heard you were ill. Came to check on you.”
“Getting even the stove brought in here — that must have taken some doing.”
“With the right connections, you could drive a carriage right in here. Without them, you might not even get a place to stay here at all. Look at the state you’re in — if you have power and don’t use it, it just goes to waste.”
“Heh.” The old man laughed. The cell fell silent for a moment. “I heard about what happened on your end.”
Ning Yi, seated there, nodded. “Yes. Tan’er fell into the river.”
“Since there’s no confirmed news yet, you needn’t worry too much. As long as she hasn’t been found, there’s still a chance things could turn around.”
“She’s a formidable woman — no need to worry. Otherwise, back when I insisted on heading north on my own, they’d have worried themselves to death too.” Ning Yi smiled faintly.
The old man smiled as well. “Liheng, you feel for her deeply — starting to feel guilty in your heart, aren’t you?”
“A little.” Ning Yi nodded. “But that’s how the world works — when one side goes off, the other side always has to worry…” He paused, then continued, “I thought back on a lot of things last night. Mostly about Tan’er, but also about those early days in Jiangning, running every day, playing chess. Old man, if you’d never risen to power, and I’d never risen either — would there be nothing left to worry about?”
The old man, now sitting up on the edge of the bed, smiled, his gaze complicated yet kind. Ning Yi’s question needed no answer — both of them were men of iron will, so this could only be counted as a sigh, not truly a question.
“What does Liheng plan to do next?”
“Some things need adjusting. It’s not easy for me to leave now.”
“Kang Xian still has some tricks up his sleeve.”
“Grand Tutor Cai, Prince Tong… and various other figures — I’d hoped to play both sides a little, find a way out in the end, latch onto the Princess Chengguo’s household for support. But things have grown more and more complicated…”
“Liheng, you saw this coming long ago, didn’t you?”
“I had some sense of it. There’s always some way to break a deadlock, but it truly is getting harder.” Ning Yi tilted his head slightly. “Even that person in the palace — he knows my name… Of course, I should thank him. A while back, someone reported Bamboo Notes and my name up the chain, and the one in the palace told the others: the Right Chancellor has problems, but don’t cast too wide a net — this Ning Yi, Ning Liheng, rendered great service at Xia Village. When you investigate the case, don’t sweep everyone up indiscriminately… So, yes, he knows me.”
“To be remembered in the Emperor’s heart…” Qin Siyuan’s gaze grew complicated as he looked at Ning Yi, though there was no joy in it.
Ning Yi smiled. “What do you think… is really going through his mind?”
Qin Siyuan shook his head. “…One cannot presume to guess the Emperor’s intentions.”
The young man by the stove laughed again, and this laugh carried far more meaning than before.
Amid the bubbling sound, the medicinal scent filled the room — a smell that had a way of settling the mind. After a moment, Qin Siyuan said, “So you don’t plan to leave, then?”
“About ten more days or so. Your case should be settled by then.”
“Yes.” The old man sighed. “No point dragging it out any longer.”
“Staying in the capital, there are still some things I can do.” Ning Yi thought for a moment. “After you’re gone, I’ll help pass on your books, as promised before — that’s about the only thing left, it seems.”
“Yes. With that alone accomplished, this old man can close his eyes in peace…”
“Just exile of three thousand li. Heading south — the south is a bit hotter, but the fruit is good. Eating three hundred lychees a day. As long as you’re careful, there’s no reason you couldn’t live to a hundred. I’ll have people escort you both there.”
The cell fell quiet again.
After a while, Ning Yi spoke. “Old Qin, looking back on it, you’ve exhausted yourself every step of this journey, but it’s never come to much. You took the blame for the Black Water Pact, hoping the ones left behind would rise to the occasion — they didn’t. After your reinstatement, you worried yourself sick over the Northern Campaign, went against the grain, offended so many people, sent troops north — and they couldn’t even fight. The Battle of Bianliang, the Battle of Taiyuan — you kept struggling desperately to find a way through, and when a path finally appeared, no one took it. Everything you did, in the end, came to nothing — leaving you pelted with stones, doused with filth. In your heart, how does that feel?”
The white-haired old man sat there, thinking for a while.
“This old man… feels great pain,” he said, his voice low but his gaze calm, speaking slowly, word by word. “For what may yet befall them in the days to come… it cuts like a knife.”
His answer was sincere, without a trace of irony. Ning Yi nodded. Before long, the medicine was ready; Ning Yi poured it into a bowl. The old man suddenly asked, “And what about you, Liheng?”
“Hm?”
“Liheng… what do you feel?”
Their eyes met — there was a question in it, but also a kind of open honesty.
“A man has to fight for his own life.” Ning Yi paused. “I’ll make sure your books are passed down.”
He let the bowl of medicine cool a little, then handed it to Qin Siyuan, the food box set beside them. The two chatted a while longer about small, ordinary things, and before long, Ning Yi took his leave.
The evening sun had long since faded; the city glittered with light, crowds moving like woven thread.
…
Unseen threads rose from different places, stretching out in different directions.
Within Bamboo Notes, certain orders were issued, dealt with entirely internally. Near Bozhou, both the Constabulary and Bamboo Notes forces were searching downriver for the missing woman; the rain was still falling, making the search harder, so no results had come yet.
On the twenty-seventh of the fourth month, about five hundred li from Bianliang, on the post road near Queshan County by Runing, a cargo convoy heading north moved slowly along. The convoy consisted of six large carts, with the entire escort numbering around thirty people, dressed in various styles — several armed men among them had a rough, fierce look, clearly used to life on the road.
After the capital had suffered the ravages of the Jurchen war, goods and manpower were both in short supply. In these recent months, large numbers of merchant convoys had been rushing goods toward the capital, and to fill the gap in supply, the trade roads had grown unusually prosperous. This convoy had seized the opportunity, aiming to make a good profit once they reached the capital.
The driver of the second cart cracked his whip — a one-armed man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, his expression unreadable. On the cart bed behind him, crates were stacked together, and lying to one side was the figure of a woman. She wore a pale blue floral-print skirt in the Miao style, blue embroidered shoes peeking from beneath the hem. Her legs drawn together, curled up, she rested her head against several of the crates, a veiled wide-brimmed hat covering her face entirely. The long crate beneath her head jolted with the cart’s motion — it was hard to imagine how someone who looked so delicate could sleep through it.
Before long, a horse came galloping from up ahead, its rider travel-worn. He stopped as he reached the group.
The rider dismounted and spoke a few words with someone in the convoy, exchanging some kind of signal, then was led over to the second cart, where he handed over a slip of paper and said something to the one-armed man — the words seeming to include “need the goods.” Without anyone quite noticing, the young woman in the back had already sat up. The one-armed man passed her the note; she looked it over.
Several key members of the convoy gathered close, and after hearing the news, people began murmuring among themselves. Some looked disbelieving, but most seemed to grow pleased.
Unexpectedly pleased.
The young woman in the floral skirt sat there thinking for a while, then finally called over a man with a blade on his back, handed him the note, and gave him a few instructions. The man immediately turned to prepare his things, and before long, mounted his horse and galloped off the way they’d come. He would travel nearly a thousand li south over the next two days, his destination a village called Lanhuandong deep in the mountains of the Miao territory.
The convoy continued on, stopping for the night at a roadside inn come evening. The veiled young woman climbed a nearby hill, followed by a man carrying a long rectangular box on his back.
As the sun set in the west, the young woman stood on the hilltop and removed her hat. Her gaze looked north; the brilliant evening glow lit the side of her face, upon which played a complicated yet clear smile. The wind blew past, sending dust and grass swirling through the air like dandelions carried on a spring breeze. In that brilliant glow, everything grew beautiful and still…
That same evening of the twenty-seventh, in a small town near Bozhou, a man and two women entered the town.
The rain had stopped, and the streets of the town were thick with mud in its wake. All three were plainly dressed; one man and woman among them were clearly farmers from the mountains — humble, honest, deferential. Somewhat unpolished. The other woman, though also dressed in plain, patched clothing, carried herself with an easy, composed bearing. As she spoke with the other two, she led them forward, and eventually, they found a shop that bought cloth.
The woman leading them exchanged a few words with the shopkeeper, then turned and gestured to the man and woman outside the door; the shopkeeper warmly welcomed them in at once.
The woman had already gone to the back of the shop, wrote down some information, and before long, that information was sent out, traveling north.
In Bianliang, the twenty-seventh passed. Within the Ministry of Justice, Liu Qinghe and the others looked over the reports coming in — Bamboo Notes, the Wurui Camp, the Ning residence — all quiet, and to varying degrees, everyone breathed a little easier.
On the twenty-eighth, word that Su Tan’er was safe reached the Ning residence first, and afterward, the various parties watching this matter received the news one after another.
Toward evening, Zhu Biao walked into the courtyard where Ning Yi was staying. Inside, Ning Yi sat as he had these past several days, behind his desk, head bowed over something, slowly sipping tea. Zhu Biao knocked, then waited a moment.
“Brother Ning, the boss lady’s fine — should we get back to preparing to leave, then?”
Ning Yi glanced at him. “…Have I grown old?”
“Hm?”
“This morning I felt like I’d aged a great deal. Take a look — do I seem fifty now, sixty, or seventy?”
“Brother Ning, you… of course you haven’t aged.”
“…Then why does everyone keep wanting to run the household for me lately?”
Ning Yi asked this, and Zhu Biao, at a loss for words, then saw him look up. “What did you just say?”
…
At the Ministry of Justice, Liu Qinghe let out a long breath, then said something to Fan Zhong, the chief constable who’d just hurried back, smiling as he spoke; Fan Zhong smiled and nodded in turn. Elsewhere, Tie Tianying, lost in thought, still wore a dark expression, and soon left without a word.
At the Prince of Guangyang’s manor, Tong Guan summoned his trusted general Li Bingwen, who now commanded the Wurui Camp, and questioned him at length about various matters.
In the palace, Zhou Zhe looked at the eunuch Wang Chongguang kneeling before him, thought for a moment, then nodded.
He gave a faint, somewhat rueful and mocking smile, then bent his head to attend to other state affairs.
He had great matters to attend to; his attention couldn’t linger on some minor amusement.
After a brief hitch, part of the city resumed its usual rhythm, drawing the attention of the great men back to the true business of governing the realm and its people.
Afterward came three heavy rains, the sky shifting between overcast and clear, thunder and lightning occasionally splitting the sky during the storms. Beyond the city, the Yellow River roared and surged; across mountains and fields, carriage after carriage rolled past, footstep after footstep passed by, and those who had left this place gradually began to return. Once May arrived, the trial of the great traitor Qin Siyuan in the capital was finally drawing to a close, the weather turning fully hot, high summer approaching — and it seemed as though all the suffering that had come before might also draw to its close in this season.
Bamboo Notes, on the list of things people paid attention to, began to fade from view…