After breakfast with the family, the sky had already fully brightened; the sunlight was bright and clear, a fine morning.
Su Tan’er’s working hours were often tightly packed; after the pleasant morning, matters requiring her attention would come one after another in quick succession. It took about ten minutes to walk from home to the No. 1 Compound of the General Staff, the administrative center of Hedeng County. Along the way, Hongti accompanied her the whole distance, while Yun Zhu and Jin’er would walk with them partway before heading off to the school on the other side—they were teachers there, and sometimes also took part in the Political Department’s cultural and recreational programs.
Among Ning Yi’s several wives, Hongti was somewhat older, good-natured, and had probably had the hardest life of them all in the past. Tan’er respected her greatly and addressed her honorifically as “Sister Hongti”; Hongti, who had married in earlier, likewise addressed Tan’er as “elder sister” by custom.
The forms of address were a bit tangled, but the relationship between the two of them had always been good; when no one else was around on the way to the General Staff compound, the two would chat the whole way. But usually there were others present—deputies eager to report on the day’s work would often be waiting outside the door at breakfast time, to save the ten minutes that would follow. Most of the time this task fell to the head housekeeper, Xing’er, and there was also another woman serving as secretary, named Wen Xianying, responsible for compiling matters passed up the chain and reporting them to Su Tan’er.
Today it was Juan’er who accompanied her.
After the two of them exchanged a few words, Juan’er went off to the other side of the mountain to attend to other matters.
A few minutes later, Tan’er and Hongti arrived at the General Staff compound and began the day’s work.
Bulai, Hedeng, and Jishan had originally been small counties with a combined population of no more than thirty thousand; since the Black Banner’s arrival, with personnel from the military, administration, technical fields, and commerce, along with their families, the population had swelled to as many as one hundred sixty thousand. Though called the General Staff, it was in fact composed mainly of the heads of the various Black Banner departments, and it was here that the operation of the entire Black Banner system was decided. Tan’er was in charge of the overall running of administration, commerce, and technical affairs; though she mainly oversaw the big picture, in the earlier years she had truly been run off her feet. Later, Ning Yi had directed a reorganization remotely and had trained up a group of students, which eased things somewhat—though there was still no room for slackness.
As the morning’s routine reports and complicated paperwork began here, Juan’er arrived at the Intelligence Department on the other side of the mountain. The Black Banner’s Intelligence Department had originally been a branch of the Bamboo Records, retaining traces of its origins in the Secret Investigation Bureau; later, it had operated in coordination with Bamboo Records’ commercial and propaganda departments, and by now had become fully independent, though it still maintained close ties with the Political and Commerce Departments.
On one hand, vast amounts of information about the outside world were gathered here—conditions in the Jin state, the Great Qi regime, the Wu Dynasty—and after being processed, part of it was passed to the Political Department and then disseminated openly through the army, spreading, deducing, and discussing so that people could understand the current trends of the world, the hardships in various places, and what might happen next; another part was handed over to the Commerce Department for analysis, in search of possible opportunities and bargaining chips.
Beyond this, the concrete intelligence work naturally also included matters within the Black Banner itself—countering spies from the Wu Dynasty, the Great Qi, and the Jin state, as well as cleaning house within the Black Banner’s own ranks. The current head of the General Intelligence Department was Chen Haiying, once one of the three heads of Bamboo Records. After Juan’er met with him, the operation that had already been planned out in advance now began.
The man in charge of the operation in Hedeng County was named Chen Xing, one of Ning Yi’s disciples, originally an enthusiast of the logic, reasoning, and causal principles Ning Yi taught. He had once founded the “Mohist Society” within the army, rivaling Luo Ye’s faction, but rather than pursuing the path of an inventor, he had ended up joining the operations branch of the Intelligence Department. Just past the hour of Chen, he received his orders and assigned tasks to his men.
As this team set out from the Intelligence Department as though on a routine training exercise, messengers were already riding hard toward Jishan and Bulai. Not long after, Zhuo Xiaofeng, in charge of intelligence at Jishan, and Luo Ye, serving as military judge in the Bulai army camp, would receive their orders, and the operation would proceed simultaneously across all three locations…
At the quarter hour of Si—half past nine in the morning—Su Tan’er and her staff finished their morning meeting and were walking toward her office when she looked up and saw a hot air balloon drifting overhead.
…
The hot air balloon drifted through the sky.
Along the main road at the foot of Hedeng County’s mountain, Old Chen the second, who ran a porridge and flatbread stall, looked up and saw two hot air balloons in the sky—one to the east, one to the south, drifting with the wind.
Most of those eating at the porridge stall were nearby members of the Black Banner’s administrative departments; Old Chen’s cooking was quite good, and his stall had many regulars. Though it was past breakfast hours now, a few people still lingered there, eating and chatting with laughter. Old Chen brought out two bowls of porridge, set them on a table, then put his hands on his hips and gave his neck a vigorous stretch. “Hey, that Kongming lantern…”
One of the Black Banner members waiting for porridge glanced back at him. “Old Chen, that’s a hot air balloon—it’s not the first time you’ve seen one, why don’t you know that by now?”
“It’s just a Kongming lantern, isn’t it—I used to make them as a kid.” Old Chen grinned. “But this one’s really huge. Why’d they let it out today?”
“Probably because the weather’s good, letting it air out.”
The administrative worker chuckled, and Old Chen laughed along with him. The market around them bustled with people coming and going; a while later, another group arrived. “Old Second, you got food left? Eight bowls of porridge, sixteen flatbreads, wrap them up—we’ve got a mission.”
The group wore black military uniforms and came fully armed. Old Chen nodded. “Not many flatbreads left. Why are you coming by at this hour, and still want porridge—how are you going to carry it with you on a mission?”
“Find something to pack it in—what else do you have…” Eight men walked into the stall, and the one in the lead stepped forward to look around.
“Might as well just take the pot, then—how far are you all going…”
“The pot, huh… what else do you have?”
“You already know what I’ve got here…” Old Chen was still talking, still trying to probe what kind of mission they were on, when a blade was suddenly pressed against his neck. The men who had closed in around him had also drawn their weapons, and someone snatched away the knife he kept nearby.
“You… what, what are you doing… have you got the wrong person…” the middle-aged stall owner’s body trembled.
“The net’s closed, might as well admit it,” the leader of the group said quietly, pointing up at the sky.
Old Chen’s body was still shaking; then, just like the most ordinary honest merchant might, he let out an “Ahh—!” and lunged, trying to break free—but the moment his body sprang up, three men fell upon him at once, pinning him hard to the ground, while one of them wrenched his jaw out of joint.
The nearby Black Banner administrative staff watched the scene. “Whose side’s he on?”
“Brother, it’s classified.”
“Huh. Either the Great Qi or the Wu Dynasty, then, probably…”
“What a waste of a good bowl of porridge…”
The onlookers murmured among themselves, while some quietly exchanged whispers. “There was that business with Tian Hu just the other day, and a few days before that, they say outside Xiangyang they crushed a Jurchen force—and now the covert agents are closing the net? What do you suppose is going on?”
“…Could it really be true?”
Having stayed so long at the heart of the Black Banner, many people here had sharp instincts. Since the bloody battle of Xiaocang River, the Black Banner army’s period of dormancy had carried with it an undertone of grief and indignation—chiefly because of Master Ning’s disappearance. The outside world said he was dead; inside the Black Banner, people said he was not—yet internally, everyone had, without question, already come to regard Su Tan’er and the others as his widows.
There was no way this matter could go undiscussed internally—though no one had seen Master Ning again, most people, when it came to the outside world, remained of one mind in insisting: Master Ning was truly still alive. This had become a kind of tacit understanding the Black Banner actively maintained; for two years, the Black Banner had, tremblingly, rooted itself in this fiction, carrying out a whole series of reforms—shifting the center of command, dispersing authority, and so on—as though hoping that once the reforms were complete, everyone could go on running things without Master Ning being there at all.
Then Tian Hu’s power was overturned, and the Black Banner’s external action had lifted spirits within; word that Master Ning was about to return had begun, faintly, to circulate through the Huaxia Army as well—this time, those in the know took it as a fond hope, but at a moment like this, the covert agents’ net-closing operation clearly carried with it something worth pondering.
The hot air balloon drifted across the sky; from the basket, a soldier surveyed the county below with a telescope, holding colored flags, ready to signal at any moment.
Outside a courtyard halfway up the mountain, Chen Xing knocked on the gate. After a while, someone came to open it—a middle-aged man with a scar on his face, an air of martial bearing about him mixed with a scholarly refinement. Not far off stood a boy of seven or eight. “Father,” the child said, seeing Chen Xing.
Chen Xing smiled. “Chen Jing, how’s your training with Uncle He going?”
“I’m practicing my forms right now.” The boy named Chen Jing cupped his hands in a formal salute, looking remarkably well-mannered. Chen Xing and the man surnamed He both laughed. “Brother Chen, shouldn’t you be on duty right now? What brings you here?”
“Just passing by, thought I’d check on him. Also, there’s something I need to discuss with you, Brother He.”
The man surnamed He, whose name was He Wen, smiled, furrowed his brow slightly, and then gestured. “Please, come in.”
Chen Xing stepped through the gate and walked straight toward Chen Jing nearby. “You little rascal—” As he spoke, he reached his son’s side, grabbed him, and suddenly hurled him. The move was so abrupt that Chen Jing let out a startled cry as he was flung over the courtyard wall. The boy landed outside, clearly caught by someone. He Wen’s frame swayed slightly—for an instant it seemed he might use his exceptional lightness skill to dash away—but in the end he did not move. The courtyard gate, however, swung shut with a bang.
Chen Xing turned back around, spreading both hands, and let out a breath. “See—I’m not carrying any weapon.”
He Wen’s face still bore a smile. He extended his right hand, palm open, revealing a spiked iron caltrop. “I could have hit young Jing just now.” After a moment, he sighed. “I’ve had my doubts for the past few days—and seeing the balloon just now made me more suspicious still… You brought Jing over to my place—this was to lull my guard, wasn’t it.”
Chen Xing cupped his hands. “You and I share a bond forged in life-and-death circumstances, but our paths differ. I cannot let you go free—I ask for your understanding.”
He Wen smiled, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked toward the center of the courtyard. “Years ago, I already thought Ning Liheng’s whole approach was overly fanciful, unlikely to succeed. I still think so now. Even if the study of natural principles truly could change productive forces, allowing everyone in the world to have books to read, it would still, in the end, be difficult to accomplish anything—people all speaking, all wanting to speak, the whole world made up of scholars—who then would till the fields? Who would willingly do the menial work? You’ve all moved too fast—this will not succeed.”
“If we don’t do this, then we simply return to the Wu Dynasty as it was before—or else fall under the rule of the Jin state, the Five Barbarians ravaging China, the Han dynastic line extinguished—is that any better?”
“For a thousand years and more, only Confucian learning has been able to accomplish great things—not without reason. In my three years at Hedeng, I’ve watched Master Ning use the ‘Four Classes’ to define ‘human rights,’ use commerce, contracts, and desire to drive the study of natural principles, and use that study to lay the foundation of popular wisdom—it looks admirable, but in truth it’s only a simple skeleton, with no flesh and blood yet on it. What’s more, the study of natural principles requires intelligence, requires in people a certain inclination toward laziness to develop it—and as it develops, it will inevitably come into conflict with the so-called ‘Four Classes.’ This path, you will not be able to walk through to the end.” He shook his head. “It won’t work.”
Chen Xing was silent for a moment, then cupped his hands. “Brother He, if you had such a thorough view of this all along, why did you never say so earlier? The Political Bureau is not incapable of accepting such discussion—what we’re doing is, after all, an unprecedented undertaking. If there are problems, surely we can pool our wisdom and resolve them.”
He Wen laughed loudly. “Not incapable of accepting such discussion—what a joke! It’s nothing more than absorbing those with objections, locking them away, and only releasing them once a rebuttal has been found…” He laughed for a while, then shook his head again. “To be honest, Ning Liheng is a genius beyond compare—I, He Wen, cannot measure up to him. Just look at the study of natural principles alone—papermaking efficiency now ten times what it once was, truly an unprecedented achievement. And this notion of human rights he speaks of, this vision of everyone becoming a gentleman—it, too, is something to be admired. If he were a Confucian teacher, I would follow behind him, serve as his humblest disciple, and open an era of great peace for ten thousand generations. But… what he has done can only align with Confucian principles enough to be viable if… but from the moment he committed regicide, there has been no hope of success at all…”
“As things stand now, the only path left for men of insight is to destroy the Black Banner, absorb its ideas, and thereby revive the Wu Dynasty, opening an era of peace unseen in ten thousand generations…”
As he spoke, he shook his head, lost in thought for a moment, then looked toward Chen Xing, his gaze growing grave once more. “You’ve closed the net today—could it be that Ning Liheng… is truly not dead?”
Chen Xing cupped his hands. “I ask that Brother He surrender peacefully, to avoid needless bloodshed. If our teacher is indeed alive, with your learning, Brother He, I believe you will surely have the chance to meet him, and lay out everything in your heart before him.”
He Wen stood with hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on Chen Xing, growing colder, revealing little emotion. But Chen Xing knew this man was accomplished in both scholarship and martial arts—in terms of skill and insight, he genuinely admired him. The two of them had once saved each other’s lives on the battlefield, and though Chen Xing had been quite shaken to discover He Wen’s countless ties to the Wu Dynasty, he still hoped, even now, that this matter could be resolved relatively peacefully.
It wasn’t that he thought He Wen could escape—but a man of such accomplishment in both scholarship and combat, if he truly resolved to fight to the death, might leave Chen Xing and his men no choice but to kill him, unable to hold back.
Outside the courtyard, a group of men, armed with weapons and crossbows, silently closed in around it…
At the same time, on a small path on the other side of the mountain slope, a brief and violent clash broke out.
The mop-up in Hedeng was still underway; the operation in Jishan, led by Zhuo Xiaofeng, had already begun by the time it was nearly noon, while the sweep in Bulai began at the second quarter of the hour of Wu. Actions large and small, some silent and unnoticed, some drawing small crowds of onlookers before dispersing again into the general bustle.
As Luo Ye led soldiers in the operation at the Bulai military camp, Su Tan’er and Lu Hongti had a simple lunch together. The weather had already turned cool, yet in the courtyard, the low drone of cicadas could still be heard, monotonous and unhurried.
After lunch, representatives from two merchant caravans were brought in to meet with Tan’er to discuss the details of two business deals. News of the Black Banner’s overthrow of Tian Hu’s forces had sent ripples through various regions, and business interests of every kind had grown noticeably more active in recent times.
At the third quarter of the hour of Shen, around half past four in the afternoon, as Su Tan’er sat absorbed in reviewing account books, Juan’er walked in from outside and set a piece of intelligence down in the corner of the desk.
Tan’er glanced up at her; Juan’er gave a slight nod, then turned and went back out. Tan’er looked at the piece of intelligence sitting there in the corner, placed her hands in her lap, gazed at it for a while, then leaned forward and lowered her head, continuing to go through the accounts.
At five o’clock, the various department heads and secretaries came together for the routine evening summary of the day’s events—meaning the day’s business had gone smoothly, or else the meeting might have run late into the night. After the meeting ended, before it was yet time for dinner, Tan’er returned to her room and continued looking over the accounts, making notes and plans, writing a few more things down. She wasn’t sure why, but outside it was strangely quiet, and the sky was gradually darkening. Usually Hongti would come in to call her to dinner, but not today. As the sky darkened, with the cicadas still humming, someone came in carrying an oil lamp and set it on the table.
Tan’er kept her head down, continuing to write, the lamplight small as a bean, quietly illuminating that small patch of desk. She wrote on and on, and then, at some point, her brush suddenly paused; she set it down, then wrote a few more characters, and her hand began to tremble. Tears fell drop by drop onto the paper. She raised a hand, pressing it against her eyes.
Not far away, someone sat in a chair, watching her.
“Hey, Su… Tan’er…” the man said quietly. Somehow, it felt just like all those years ago, their first meeting in that house—that time, both of them had been extremely polite, and strangely unfamiliar with one another; this time, it was, if only slightly, different. “How’ve you been…” he said, using words rarely heard in this age.
Tan’er kept her head down, not looking that way. “Ning Liheng… husband…” she said. “How’ve you been…”
At that moment, the stars outside had already begun to rise. In the small county town’s evening, lanterns swayed, and people were still out walking, greeting one another, as though nothing extraordinary had happened at all, on this ordinary night…
Peaceful, and quiet.