“The Ministry of Justice has sent word, suspecting you of killing a chief constable named Zong Feixiao.”
Rain poured down in sheets. At the Prince of Guangyang’s residence, through the open window, the trees in the courtyard outside could be seen turning a deep, saturated green in the downpour. Tong Guan, within the room, said this with an air of complete indifference.
“I’ve heard,” Ning Yi replied from across the room. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“I thought as much,” Tong Guan said. “It was said earlier that this man had some old grudge with you, that he’d nearly harmed your wife—but since your wife came through unharmed, even if you bore him some resentment, choosing this particular moment for revenge would truly disappoint this court. The Ministry of Justice itself has no real confidence in the matter—this is merely a show of force to intimidate. You needn’t worry too much over it.”
Having finished, Tong Guan tapped his fingers on the table. “This court called you here today for another important matter, one this court wishes to discuss with you.”
“Please, Your Highness, instruct me.”
“The Wurui Battalion.” Tong Guan said. “It’s time to make some moves.”
“This is a military matter…” Ning Yi began.
“This court knows it’s a military matter—you needn’t play coy with this court either. During the Summer Village battle, you were within the Wurui Battalion; this court knows the logistics and coordination behind the scenes were largely your doing. You carry some standing there.”
Ning Yi’s expression did not change. “But Your Highness, this remains, after all, a military matter.”
“You do know your place.” Tong Guan smiled, this time with a note of genuine approval. “But since this court has called you here, this court has already given it some thought beforehand. In this matter, it would serve well for you to show your face a little—you needn’t be too concerned about the appearance of overstepping.”
“Yes.” Only then did Ning Yi nod, his tone betraying neither pleasure nor displeasure. “May I ask how Your Highness intends to proceed?”
“You needn’t worry—we begin with something small.” Tong Guan said. “To speak plainly, that the Wurui Battalion can actually fight is a rare and valuable thing. These past six months, His Majesty, this court, and the other ministers alike have all been reluctant to disturb it too much. You’ll notice that while every other army stationed outside the capital has already gone to the Yellow River to stake out its own territory, only the Wurui Battalion remains here, still training and consolidating. What we want is the inner substance of this battalion—we have no wish to carelessly dismantle it, to let it become just another ordinary force like all the rest.”
The tall, imposing prince of a different surname paused beside his desk. “As you know, this court has of late concerned itself not only with the Wurui Battalion, but has also kept a close watch on Li Bingwen. Certain habits common to other armies—padding the rolls to skim funds, forming cliques and factions—this court has warned him against all of it. He has done well, walking carefully, and has not disappointed this court. But in this stretch of time, his standing within the army may still not run deep enough. These past few days, several officers within the ranks have been giving him a hard time with veiled remarks. And there are other troubles within the army as well—He Zhicheng has been taking bribes on the side, and has gotten into a brawl in the capital over a courtesan with someone else. His opponent in that brawl happens to be the son of a minor idle prince, and the matter has now been reported all the way up to this court.”
“Does Your Highness mean…”
“Matters within the army should be handled within the army. He Zhicheng is a rare talent, but he has his flaws as well. Li Bingwen intends to deal with him—flogging him publicly with the military rod. This court isn’t worried about any backlash from this, but since you’re on familiar terms with them, Lord Tan suggested that during this period of significant changes, large and small, to the Wurui Battalion, you might follow along and lend a hand. This court will also send someone to assist you—you’ve met him, Shen Zhong of this household. He’s served this court for many years and is quite capable. Whatever you find inconvenient to handle yourself, you may leave to him.”
Tong Guan’s face carried a faint smile as he spoke, watching Ning Yi’s expression all the while. But Ning Yi’s face betrayed no hint of displeasure; he cupped his hands and agreed. “Yes.”
“Shen Zhong will fill you in on the details.”
Ning Yi acknowledged again, and seeing that Tong Guan had nothing further to say, took his leave. Just as he was about to step out the door, Tong Guan called out from behind him. “Liheng.”
“Yes.” Ning Yi turned back.
Tong Guan looked at him from behind the desk. “The princely household is different from the chancellor’s residence. This court comes from a military background, and those beneath this court are mostly military men as well—pragmatic, down to earth. This court cannot grant you a high position simply because you came from the chancellor’s residence. Once you’ve proven yourself through your work, everyone will naturally grant you the standing and respect you deserve. You’re a capable man—this court believes in you, and thinks well of you. That’s the good thing about the army: as long as you do what needs doing, nothing else matters.”
As he spoke, he tossed the Ministry of Justice’s official document into the wastebasket beside him.
Ning Yi watched this and nodded. Tong Guan smiled. “Go on, then.”
Once Ning Yi had left, Tong Guan’s smile faded. He sat in his chair for a moment, shaking his head slightly.
Though he had once valued highly what the Right Chancellor’s residence had left behind, and had valued its aides and advisors greatly as well, now that they had truly entered his own household, things still had to be built up step by step, in proper order. This petty merchant had accomplished a good deal in the past—but that was because he’d had the resources of the chancellor’s residence behind him, representing Qin Siyuan’s will, much as this court’s own aides, given authority, could accomplish great things on his behalf. But whoever the person, the pecking order still had to be established—otherwise, how could one answer to everyone else?
Since he had come over of his own accord, he ought to have been prepared for this. Entering this court’s own circle, he would naturally be pressed down first, his pride worn away—and any man who could not endure this simply wasn’t fit for greater use. Tan Zhen’s constant targeting of him only showed he thought too highly of the man. Still, as things stood now, this young man seemed reasonably sensible—perhaps, given a few more years of tempering, this court might consider making use of him after all.
This, too, was a process everyone had to go through. If a man failed to conform to it, it generally meant he was challenging this court’s authority and patience instead. But having sat in this position for so many years, seeing so many people ultimately turn out this way, Tong Guan could not help but feel somewhat disappointed. Some men, viewed from a distance, seemed to have accomplished a great deal—but up close, they were all much the same after all. Even those who had come from Qin Siyuan’s household proved no different from anyone else in the end.
The rain still fell. Ning Yi passed through the dimly lit corridor; several aides of the princely household passed by, and he stepped aside to give way. They paid him little mind in return.
Within the princely household, his standing was not particularly high—in truth, he had scarcely been absorbed into it at all. Today’s task, though framed as an assignment, carried, in essence, a rather simple meaning.
Li Bingwen wanted to deal with He Zhicheng, and had asked Ning Yi to come along and show his face—in a certain sense, it was rather like a collaborator being sent by the occupying force to speak to his own townsfolk: both a self-humiliation and a deliberate act of division. This was, perhaps, because Tong Guan believed Ning Yi held some connections and standing within the Wurui Battalion, and could not possibly tolerate him wielding any real influence there. This, too, was only natural—as for that guard captain of the princely household, Shen Zhong, he had clearly been sent along to keep watch on him.
Compared to what Qin Siyuan and the others had endured before their deaths, this hardly amounted to anything at all.
Not long after, he went to meet this Shen Zhong, who carried himself with considerable arrogance and delivered a few words of admonishment. Since Li Bingwen’s move against He Zhicheng was scheduled for the following day, the two men did not need to spend the whole day together. After leaving the princely residence, Ning Yi had some gifts prepared, and that evening, calling in a favor, braved the rain to deliver them personally to Shen Zhong. Knowing the man’s household circumstances—a wife, children, and a concubine—he sent gifts tailored specifically to them: fragrant powders and perfumes, high-value goods in these times. The connection Ning Yi called upon to arrange this was itself a rather weighty military figure, and after some token refusal, Shen Zhong finally accepted.
When the two met again the next day, Shen Zhong’s expression toward Ning Yi remained cold, and he issued a few more warnings, but there was no longer any real hostility behind them. That morning they arrived at the Wurui Battalion, just as the matter of He Zhicheng was beginning to stir. The Wurui Battalion currently had five commanding officers: Liu Chengzong, Pang Liu’an, Li Yi, Sun Ye, and He Zhicheng. Though these five had originally come from different units, after the Summer Village battle the Wurui Battalion had not been immediately dispersed, and the men had grown rather close to one another. Seeing Ning Yi arrive, they all wanted to come speak with him, but seeing Shen Zhong beside him in his princely guard attire, they hesitated.
Ning Yi exchanged a few pleasantries with each of them, careful not to touch on anything sensitive. Li Bingwen’s personal guards then moved through the camp and took He Zhicheng into custody; Li Bingwen assembled the troops and, before the whole gathered army, delivered the verdict and had him flogged with the military rod. Sun Ye and the others protested, but Li Bingwen’s mind was made up. Many within the ranks kept stealing glances toward Ning Yi, but Ning Yi stood off to the side, saying nothing at all.
Under ordinary circumstances, Li Bingwen’s move against He Zhicheng might well have sparked real trouble. But with Ning Yi standing there, no one within the Wurui Battalion dared act out; many only looked on in confusion, and by the time He Zhicheng had been flogged before the assembled ranks, murmurs had begun spreading through the formation, and the looks directed at Ning Yi had shifted somewhat as well.
Li Bingwen had known beforehand that Ning Yi carried some measure of presence within the camp, though he hadn’t been sure exactly how much—had he truly known, he might have had Ning Yi killed on the spot. Now, seeing He Zhicheng take his punishment and murmurs ripple through the ranks, he glanced sideways at Ning Yi standing there, feeling a certain quiet satisfaction. He had never much liked Ning Yi, of course, but he understood now that having Ning Yi stand there beside him was, in effect, much the same as when filth had once been hurled at Right Chancellor Qin Siyuan. Though pleased inwardly, he kept a stern expression on his face outwardly, and just as the flogging was about to conclude, he shouted from the platform: “Silence, all of you! What are you murmuring about!”
The ranks quieted somewhat.
Having been publicly flogged before the assembled troops, He Zhicheng’s back and buttocks were now a bloody mess. Once the formation dispersed, Li Bingwen chatted a few pleasant words with Ning Yi again—he no longer dared do much else. Not far off, the Lüliang cavalry stood watching; the mid-level officers, or figures like Han Jing, mattered little in themselves, but the chieftain named Lu Hongti fixed him with a cold stare that sent a chill down his spine—though, in the end, she did not come over to say anything.
As they left the Wurui Battalion’s gate and looked back at the camp, some soldiers were still watching after them—no doubt more than a few among them were privately grumbling or cursing. Turning back, Shen Zhong’s expression toward him had grown considerably warmer, now carrying a faint smile. Today’s task had gone well, and he was rather pleased with how readily Ning Yi understood the way things worked. Giving and accepting gifts was one thing, but more important still was that Ning Yi had not only sent gifts but had also, throughout the whole affair at the camp, refrained from saying anything untoward to anyone else. That was the mark of a man who knew his place. Anyone still hoping to cultivate good relations within the army at this point would only be courting death.
The party turned back toward Bianliang. Once the camp had fallen out of sight behind them, Ning Yi had Zhu Biao, riding alongside, bring forward a box. “As the saying goes, a fine blade should be gifted to a hero. I made some inquiries within the princely household, and learned that Brother Shen is a formidable martial artist, among the finest in the household. I happened to acquire a fine blade some days ago, and hoped Brother Shen might appraise it.”
Military men all had a fondness for weapons, and Shen Zhong drew the long blade out to admire it, offering a few words of praise. By the time the two parted ways at the city gate, the fine blade already lay quietly in the carriage carrying Shen Zhong home.
Yesterday had brought a heavy downpour; today the sun shone bright and clear. Atop his horse, Ning Yi raised his head, narrowing his eyes slightly against the light, as the others drew closer behind him. Shen Zhong, as the princely household’s captain of the guard, looked down somewhat on Ning Yi’s own retinue, and naturally carried himself with a degree of arrogance. The men showed no reaction to this at all—only once he had ridden off did they, without any change of expression, spit quietly on the ground.
As for the matter of He Zhicheng, Ning Yi had already understood the full picture the night before—it was true the man had taken some money on the side, and the brawl with the idle prince’s household guard had indeed stemmed from a dispute over comments made about Qin Shaoqian, leading to an exchange of harsh words… but naturally, none of this could be spoken of.
Now that Tong Guan had begun making moves against the Wurui Battalion, incidents like this—being called up on stage to be publicly criticized—would only become more frequent going forward. Understanding this intellectually was one thing; when it actually happened, it was not without its share of melancholy. Ning Yi kept his expression neutral throughout, and just as they were about to enter the city, a Bamboo Emporium guard came hurrying out from within, rode up to Ning Yi and the others, and leaned in to murmur something in his ear.
There was not the slightest ripple in Ning Yi’s eyes. He gave a faint nod.
It was nothing more than ordinary word that a shipment of goods had arrived—even if someone overheard it, it would raise no eyebrows at all. He was, after all, only a merchant.
The mounted party moved with the bustling crowd entering the city, sunlight pouring down. Not far off, a figure seated near the city gate rose and approached—a thin, somewhat shabby-looking scholar in a blue robe, in his thirties. Ning Yi dismounted and walked over toward him.
“Brother Cheng, what a coincidence—what brings you here?”
The man was Cheng Zhouhai, who now cupped his hands in greeting as well.
“I heard you’d gone to the Wurui Battalion. I wanted to come find you, but grew tired walking to the gate, so I stopped to rest a while.”
“It’s nearly noon—shall we get something to eat?”
“That would be good.”
Cheng Zhouhai agreed readily, and the two entered the city together, settling into a decent tavern nearby. Cheng Zhouhai had survived Taiyuan and returned just as Qin Siyuan’s case broke; covered in wounds, he had narrowly avoided being implicated. But after Qin Siyuan was demoted and later died, he had grown somewhat disheartened and had withdrawn from his former circles. His relationship with Ning Yi had never been especially close to begin with, and after Qin Siyuan’s funeral, with Wenren Buer having left the capital in despair, Ning Yi had not seen Cheng Zhouhai again since—he had not expected the man would come looking for him deliberately today.
After ordering food, Ning Yi poured him a cup of tea. “Did Brother Cheng have some matter he wished to discuss with me?”
“There is indeed something I wanted to ask Liheng.”
“Please, go ahead, Brother Cheng.”
Ning Yi smiled and raised his hand slightly in invitation. Cheng Zhouhai, across from him, lifted his head as well.
“I want to ask—Liheng, what exactly is it you intend to do?”
Since returning from Taiyuan, his mood had swung between grief and despondency, but in this moment, his gaze carried a clarity and sharpness instead. Back in the chancellor’s residence, his schemes had run to the extreme—more a poisoner than a mere strategist—and in this moment, that old bearing had finally surfaced once more.