In September, as late autumn gave way to early winter and the mountain forests far and near gradually took on shades of gray, Jishan County welcomed the last bustling stretch of the year.
The black banner with its morning star emblem fluttered in the wind; large horse caravans gathered here, along with rice merchants who had arrived by boat, and the bustling crowds mostly carried longbows on their backs and bore swords at their sides. After years of the Black Banner’s management, and through a mix of fighting and negotiating with the Ni people, several of the trade routes around Liangshan had become relatively peaceful—but for merchants of the Wu Dynasty, traveling between Liangshan and the outside world remained a perilous undertaking requiring courage, resources, and connections.
The caravans arriving from the Wu Dynasty mostly carried grain, hemp and cotton goods, and also copper and iron; what they carried back out was, more often than not, iron cannons, along with finely crafted bows, crossbows, swords, and the like—often bringing in goods on a hundred pack-horses’ worth, and carrying back several iron and wood cannons along with some shells. To the outside world, the Black Banner army’s craftsmanship was superb; though iron cannons were costly, they had become weapons that outside armies could no longer do without. Even the earlier wooden cannons, after the Black Banner army had reinforced and “upgraded” them with steel and refined techniques, had seen their stability and durability greatly improved—even treated as expendable equipment, they could still reliably improve one’s odds in future battles.
The three-year bloody Battle of Xiaocang River had been the best possible advertisement for this new weapon, the “cannon.” Setting aside the conflict with the Jurchens, when the massed forces of the puppet Qi regime, Tian Hu, and others—numbering in the hundreds of thousands—had come pouring in, countless soldiers had been so terrified by a single cannon blast that they dropped to the ground, soiling themselves. According to recent intelligence, the Jurchens too had begun deploying cannons in their own ranks; going forward, any force without this weapon would essentially be at a disadvantage in war.
Beyond the various factions of the Wu Dynasty, the regime of Liu Yu to the north was, in fact, also one of Xiaocang River’s current trading clients. This particular line of trade was, for now, conducted rather covertly, with relatively small trade volume, mainly because of the great distances resources had to travel and the enormous costs involved, as well as the difficulty of ensuring smooth transactions—ever since the Wu Dynasty’s army had secretly begun buying cannons from Xiaocang River, the warlords of the puppet Qi had also sent several trade caravans of their own. They did not bring grain, but were willing to transport strategic materials like steel to Xiaocang River in exchange for iron cannons—this yielded them a better rate of exchange.
Xiaocang River pretended not to know the powers behind these transactions—but last year, when Guan Shihu, a general of the Qi state, sent a five-hundred-man force hauling iron ingots to trade for twenty iron cannons, this force, upon arriving with its iron ingots, defected outright and joined the Black Banner army instead. Guan Shihu flew into a rage and sent men to negotiate secretly with Xiaocang River, without success; he then privately spread rumors about it. When a number of Qi generals heard of the affair, they secretly mocked him—but trade between the two sides never managed to become regular after that, remaining stuck at a level of sporadic, small-scale dealing.
As for trade with Dali, it was not confined to weapons of war alone.
Though it had originally been the Black Banner army’s forceful stance that first pried open Dali’s gates, and the most sought-after goods at first had indeed been these steel implements—not long after, Dali’s demand for military equipment began to decline, replaced instead by rising demand for finely printed books that, in this era, could almost be called works of art, along with decorative items, perfumes, glass vessels, and the like. In particular, “collector’s editions” of Buddhist scriptures, printed on especially fine paper, were in great demand among Dali’s nobility.
Though the upper echelons of the Dali court had always wanted to close off and restrict trade with the Black Banner, once the door had been forced open, Black Banner merchants lobbied and spread influence throughout the Dali kingdom in every possible way, until this gateway to trade could no longer be shut. Through this trade, the Black Banner was also able to obtain large quantities of grain, resolving many of its internal supply needs.
By now, Jishan had grown into a city of nearly sixty thousand residents and stationed troops combined, stretching in a long strip north to south along a small river. The upper reaches housed the military camps, farmland, and residences; the middle section, near the riverside docks, formed the commercial district and the administrative offices of the Black Banner’s personnel. Further west, toward the mountains, lay a concentration of workshops—smoke-belching ironworks and gun-and-cannon factories. The lower reaches also housed sections of military-industrial, glassmaking, and papermaking and printing factories, with more than a dozen waterwheels lined up along the riverbank; smokestacks rising from each factory district poured out black smoke, an astonishing and, for this era, wholly novel sight.
From the time Ning Yi had first arrived in this era, exploring physics and chemistry through his own experimentation, to the craftsmen’s research in small workshops, weathering the trials of war along the way—over more than a decade, Jishan had, by now, become the industrial foundation of the Black Banner.
Owing to the influx of northwestern residents and northern refugees, there were still some independently run small workshops and various food stalls and shops here, but the vast majority now belonged to enterprises operated by the Black Banner itself. Over the years of war, the Black Banner had ensured the survival of its craftsmen, and the division of labor along assembly-line methods had, by now, become well-established in many places—it was no longer really accurate to call them “workshops”; they had, in every sense, become factories.
Nearly nine thousand Black Banner elite troops were stationed here, ensuring that the technology involved could not easily be pried away by outsiders, and ensuring, too, that the caravan drivers, soldiers, and Ni people who came to Jishan, whatever their background, dared not act recklessly here.
Over the years, though the specific technologies themselves were never allowed to leak out, the Black Banner had, nonetheless, kept the basic principles of the study of natural sciences open to the outside world. In the markets, cheaply priced pamphlets originally compiled by Ning Yi and others, such as “An Introduction to Natural Principles” and “The Principles of All Things,” sold for very little, laying out the basic principles of physics, chemistry, and mathematics, ultimately conveying the vision that, given sufficient computational power and thorough investigation, all things under heaven and earth could, in principle, be fully understood… The development of such ideas in Europe might have followed a far more tortuous path, but in the East, people held relatively few taboos when it came to the study of natural principles—and given that Ning Yi had already committed the ultimate transgression of regicide, the outside world could regard these matters with comparatively greater equanimity.
These pamphlets had quietly spread outward, and various factions across the Wu Dynasty, Dali, the Central Plains, and the Jurchen state had all, in private, studied them to varying degrees—but the two who took them most seriously were probably, first, Jun Wu’s Institute of Natural Principles, and second, Wanyan Xiyin’s faction among the Jurchens. Dali, being a peaceable nation, had little interest in weapons manufacture; across the Central Plains, where the people struggled simply to survive and the warlords were narrowly self-interested, even handing a few of these pamphlets to craftsmen would leave them without any real foundation to make sense of it. As for the many officials and great scholars of the Wu Dynasty, they would typically flip through such pamphlets casually before burning them to ash—partly out of the sense that such heretical nonsense was bad for the moral order, that exhaustively probing the workings of heaven and earth showed a clear lack of reverence, and partly, too, out of fear of leaving evidence that could later be used against them. And so, even though the culture of letters flourished in the Southern Wu, with scholars freely cursing the state itself at their various literary gatherings, discussion of these particular matters remained, still, an unforgivable transgression.
In Jishan, however, discussion of the study of natural principles had, within the Black Banner’s industrial community, already become an established custom—beginning first with Ning Yi’s own promotion of the subject, later carried further by the Political Department’s propaganda workers, until, by now, people had come to glimpse, faintly, the future of physics from its very origins. For instance, building a cannon that could blast straight through a mountain; for instance, the prototype steam engine that Ning Yi himself had once described and which was now a key focus of current research and development—an iron-clad war chariot that could move without horses, or, scaled up further and fitted with guns and cannons, a giant airship. Many already believed that, even if such things could not yet be built, they would, without question, one day come to exist.
Near the upstream military camp, at the Jishan Institute for the Study of Natural Principles under the Huaxia Army’s Engineering Department, a discussion meeting on the study of natural principles was underway. At this time, the Huaxia Army’s Engineering Department covered not only industry but also agriculture and wartime logistics, among other matters. The Institute’s research divisions were split into two branches: the main one, located in Hedeng, was known internally as the “Upper Institute,” while the other, based in Jishan, was generally called the “Lower Institute.”
In the several years since, this was probably the most extraordinary discussion meeting the Institute had ever held—for the first time in years, Ning Yi himself was appearing before everyone once again.
“…As for the future, I believe the most crucial milestone will be an independent power system—as I’ve roughly mentioned before, the steam engine… We need to solve the problems of steel materials, casting and cutting components, lubrication, sealing… In the years ahead, warfare will likely remain our most pressing concern, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep this in mind as well, as technical groundwork for the future… To solve the problem of barrel explosions, we need better steel, with a more properly balanced carbon content, and for greater cannonball propulsion power, the cannonball and the barrel need to fit together more tightly. Applied to firearms, this could let a rifle’s bullet reach as far as two hundred zhang—though without much accuracy yet—and the exploded gun barrels we’ve had, one or two failures at this stage, all represent accumulated technical progress in this direction… Also, in our use of waterwheels, we’ve already made great improvements in lubrication—every step of the process has seen significant gains…”
“…Beyond physics, in the field of chemistry, explosives work is already quite dangerous—everyone responsible for this area, please be careful of your safety… But there must exist a way to use these things safely, and there must, too, eventually be a method for large-scale production…”
“…As for agriculture, don’t think it’s without value just because we’ve been fighting and moving about these past years—this area needs time to settle and mature, and though we haven’t yet seen concrete results, I actually believe this will turn out to be the most important area of all going forward…”
The discussion meeting was, in essence, a progress report on the Huaxia Army’s current research efforts; once the reports concluded, Ning Yi offered his summary remarks at the front. Below him sat some two hundred and more people, most of them craftsmen by trade, many of whom had not even been able to read at the outset. In the earliest years, Ning Yi could only assign tasks—there had been no real basis for discussion at all—but in the past three to five years, as the initial groundwork of enlightenment in natural principles had gradually taken hold, and with the addition of a group of young students personally trained by Ning Yi, these gatherings had, at last, come to carry real meaning as forums for discussion. Among the audience, some had eyes bright with interest, nodding eagerly; others blinked, struggling hard to follow along.
At the back of the hall, thirteen-year-old Ning Xi sat with her head bowed, writing intently. Beside her sat Min Chuyi, a girl who, having studied martial arts under Hongti, had become inseparable from Ning Xi. She blinked, her whole expression conveying “I don’t understand a word of this, but it sounds really impressive”—and, sitting so close beside Ning Xi, she seemed to feel a bit self-conscious about it.
In her early years, Ning Xi had been a pure and innocent child, often playing together with Min Chuyi; for a time, the two of them had been practically inseparable playmates. Seeing this, Ning Yi and the others had considered it a good thing, and so Hongti had taken the promising young Chuyi on as her own disciple, partly in hopes that Ning Xi might have someone extra looking out for her.
As the two girls grew older, their personalities gradually diverged. During the three-year Great Battle of Xiaocang River, when everyone moved south, and afterward, when news of Ning Yi’s death spread, in order to keep the children from inadvertently revealing the truth and being found out, even Ning Xi’s own family had never told her what had really happened. After her father’s “death,” little Ning Xi resolved to protect her family, threw herself into her studies, and, compared to before, grew somewhat more withdrawn.
Min Chuyi’s family had originally been poor; her parents were simple, honest people, and though Ning Yi and the others never thought less of her for it, over time, she too came to see herself as something like a bodyguard by Ning Xi’s side. By the time she reached twelve or thirteen, she had already begun to develop physically, growing a full head taller than Ning Xi. Ning Xi got along well with his siblings and family, and mixed easily enough with other children in the Black Banner army, but gradually, he began to feel awkward about Min Chuyi’s constant presence at his side, and would, from time to time, try to shake her off. And so, though Tan’er was quite fond of Chuyi—she’d even entertained the idea of arranging a childhood betrothal between the two—Ning Xi and Min Chuyi’s relationship at present was going through a rather awkward phase.
Ning Yi’s “sudden” return had thrown Ning Xi, who had for so long believed his father dead, into a state of emotional turmoil. The last time he had seen Ning Yi had been four years before; the frame of mind of a nine-year-old was entirely different from that of a thirteen-year-old. He longed to grow close again, yet found himself overcome with shyness, and grew frustrated with his own awkwardness. This being the way of the age, there were a great many formal courtesies expected of the young toward their elders, and Ning Xi had already absorbed this kind of education thoroughly. Ning Yi, by contrast, had always treated his children with a modern sensibility—relaxed, informal, the sort of father who could still roughhouse and play around with them—and now, faced with this awkward thirteen-year-old, he too found himself somewhat at a loss. In the half month since his return, the two of them could only feel out the distance between them, and let things take their natural course.
Things were relatively easier with the other children. Ten-year-old Ning Ji loved martial arts, and was quite skilled already with both sword and fist; having recently lost a few baby teeth, he’d taken to keeping his mouth pressed shut and staying quiet, affecting an air of aloof coolness—but he had no resistance whatsoever to tales of the martial world, and held his father in great admiration. At home, Ning Yi liked to tell the children about the events on the road, like the killing of Lu Tuo and the others:
“…He relied on his high skill in martial arts to try to make a name for himself, but in the fight in the forest, they were already losing ground. Lu Tuo was shouting: ‘Run, they won’t be able to hold me!’—trying to get his followers to flee—and then, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, he cut down your Uncle Du, your Uncle Fang, and the others with a few strokes. He was a great bandit chief of the north, arrogant and vicious when he ran wild—but I happened to be there, and so he had no way to escape. I blocked his path, traded a couple of moves with him, then landed a Turning-Heaven Seal square on his head. His followers hadn’t even run far before they saw him fall. Oh, and this time, we even brought back a few of his men alive…”
Ning Ji and five-year-old Ning He listened with eyes shining bright, full of admiration, and afterward Ning Yi told them stories of what he’d seen in Tian Hu’s territory up north as well, like the duel between Lin Echan and Shi Jin: “That fat monk didn’t dare come over, or else I would have made an example of him”—and so on.
Eight-year-old Wenwen, true to her name, loved literature and cared little for martial arts—a quiet girl who loved hearing stories; having been carefully tutored by Yun Zhu, she had, since childhood, believed her father to be the most talented man in the world, without any need for Ning Yi to spin more tales to win her admiration. Meanwhile, five-year-old Ning Ke was warm and outgoing by nature, and the three-year-old twins Ning Shuang and Ning Ning would generally warm up to Ning Yi and grow affectionate after just a day or two together.
On the day Ning Yi came to Jishan to make an appearance, of all the children, Ning Xi was the one who was capable of understanding the study of natural principles and had shown some interest in it. The group traveled together, and once the meeting ended, they wandered through the streets and alleyways of Jishan for a while. Not far off, the marketplace was in an uproar—a group of merchants had gathered outside what had once been the Jishan county government office, emotions running high; it turned out that the price of iron cannons in Jishan had recently been raised again, and this had brought everyone out to inquire about it. Ning Yi took the children off to a nearby teahouse to watch the commotion from a distance.
A Black Banner administrative officer was explaining the situation to the crowd.
“…In early July, everyone already knows about the upheaval within Tian Hu’s forces. Since the upheaval, the ‘Hungry Ghosts’ have been waging a campaign of conquest north of the Yellow River. In the south, the second great battle at Xiangyang saw the Beiwo Army win a great victory over the combined forces of the Jin and Qi. Though there’s been internal criticism within the Jurchen ranks, there’s been no action taken yet—but judging by the reaction at the Jurchen court, something major is very likely coming…”
“…Out there, you’re welcome to say that the Wu Dynasty and the Huaxia Army are bitter enemies—but even though we killed the emperor, we still share a common enemy for now. If the Jurchens come, we don’t want to see the Wu Dynasty suffer a crushing defeat—if it does, it will mean suffering for the common people and the collapse of the whole realm! To prepare for this, we’ve decided that all our workshops will work at full capacity, sparing no cost, to prepare for war! The price of iron cannons is going up by thirty percent, and at the same time, our advance order backlog has also increased by fifty percent. If you don’t want to accept these terms, that’s fine—once the fighting’s over, prices will naturally come back down, and you’re welcome to come buy again then—”
“…Given the urgency of the times, this price increase decision will not change again for the next two years on the Black Banner’s side. Cannon prices will only go up, never down. As always, prices may still be adjusted somewhat, but everything will be based on the terms agreed upon in our original contracts. Go back and tell the people behind you—whether you buy or not, we’re not going to force anyone…”
Naturally, the crowd was not willing to accept this so readily, and a great clamor of voices rose up in front of the office—some cursed the Black Banner for exploiting the moment to raise prices, while others pointed out that, in the past, everyone had happily hauled grain up into the mountains, and now the Black Banner had turned around and shown no mercy at all; naturally, there were also those rushing to sign new contracts with the Black Banner regardless. The scene was noisy and full of activity. Ning Xi watched all this, brow furrowed, and after a moment asked, “Father, are we going to war?”
“Not yet—no need to worry.”
“Mm.” Ning Xi nodded glumly, then after a moment, added, “Father, I’m not worried.”
Ning Yi glanced at the child beside him, then suddenly smiled, understanding. For a long time now, the Black Banner’s propaganda had been both tragic and stirring in tone, and even among the children, few showed any fear of war—if anything, most seemed eager for it. He patted Ning Xi on the shoulder. “This war might well come to an end in your generation—but don’t worry, we’ll defeat those bastards.”
“Mm.” Ning Xi nodded glumly again.
The group watched from upstairs for a while longer, then Ning Yi turned to Ning Xi. “Why don’t you two go out and have a look around?” Ning Xi nodded. “All right.”
“Take Chuyi around the market with you. You’re the boy, you need to learn to look after her.”
Ning Yi said this with a smile. At these words, Ning Xi grew visibly more awkward—a boy of twelve or thirteen was always bound to feel self-conscious about the girl beside him, and with Ning Yi pointing it out like this, whatever awkwardness already existed between the two of them only grew more pronounced. Watching the two of them head out, and having dismissed the attendants nearby as well, once the door was closed the room held only Ning Yi and Hongti.
Outside, there was still some commotion in the distance. Ning Yi sat down in a chair and opened his arms toward Hongti; she pursed her lips slightly, then came over and settled into his lap. Ning Yi cared little for formal propriety, and for the two of them, an old married couple by now, this kind of intimacy had long since become second nature.
In the two years Ning Yi had been away from the three counties of Hedeng, Yun Zhu and Jin’er had, from time to time, found opportunities to sneak off and visit him; only Tan’er and Hongti had gone the full four years without seeing him. On the day he first arrived home, Ning Yi had gone with Tan’er to pay respects at Su Yu’s grave, while Hongti had led the effort to further root out internal traitors; once the work was finally done, well into the night, Ning Yi had waited for her return, and after they’d exchanged some quiet words together, he had, in his usual willful way, pulled both her and Tan’er into sharing one large quilt for the night.
Neither Hongti nor Tan’er had refused, but with the three of them lying there together, the mood, in the end, had turned out not to be one for anything untoward—they simply lay there hand in hand, talking softly until near dawn, drifting off to sleep leaning against one another. By the next day, Ning Yi decided that, after all, sleeping separately made for a more romantic arrangement.
After being apart from his family for so long, everyone needed time to adjust to one another again. Since his return, Ning Yi had hardly had a moment’s rest—these days, even as he attended to work, he found moments here and there to tease and flirt with the women around him—but for now, at least, he had managed to steal himself half a day of leisure. He normally most enjoyed watching this formidable wife of his turn shy and yielding, but today, sitting here like this, he made no move toward any such intimacy, simply listening to the sounds outside as he poured himself a cup of tea, chatting idly with Hongti while waiting for certain matters to unfold.
“Scheming against your own child—I can’t help feeling it’s not quite right,” Hongti said quietly, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“…Yeah.” Ning Yi took a sip of tea.
…
Ning Xi and Chuyi walked down the street, one in front of the other. The thirteen-year-old boy had, in fact, rather delicate features, his brow slightly knit, with something of a composed, quietly commanding air about him—though at the moment, his eyes betrayed a certain restless unease. As they passed a relatively secluded spot, the girl behind him drew closer.
“You…” Ning Xi had no wish to walk alongside her. In a certain sense, he was now something like the “crown prince” of the Black Banner army, but in practice he carried little of the airs that might imply—at least not outwardly. He was, by nature, easygoing and fond of helping others; having witnessed the hardships and deaths that came with the journey south with everyone else, he had grown to cherish those around him all the more, often pitching in to help with tasks without complaint, never willing to stop until he’d worked up a good sweat.
Only toward the girl beside him did he feel differently. He disliked it when people his own age carried the constant thought of “protecting him,” as though that somehow made him lesser—they had all grown up together, so why should she be the one protecting him? If they ran into an enemy and she died, what then?—Of course, if it had been anyone else walking with him, he wouldn’t have felt this awkwardness at all; a boy of thirteen simply wasn’t yet able to fully recognize what was really going on.
“Someone’s following us…” Chuyi said quietly, head lowered. The boy’s expression grew calm as he looked toward the alley entrance ahead, ready to shout out the moment he spotted a patrol.
But things happened faster than he expected.
A figure suddenly closed in from behind. Min Chuyi spun around at once and drew her sword. “Who’s there—” The figure’s voice was hoarse. “Ha, Ning Yi’s son?”
Shadows crossed as they moved. The girl, trained personally by Hongti, moved with a flash of swordlight—but the man’s fierce punch had already knocked over a stall, sending wooden splinters flying. Ning Xi stepped forward, shouting, “Enemy spy—help, over here—” and snatched up a wooden pole from the roadside, turning back to fight. Min Chuyi shouted, “Ning Xi, run—” but before she’d even finished speaking, the man’s palm struck her shoulder.
Min Chuyi staggered back several steps, nearly colliding with Ning Xi, and shouted, “Go!” Ning Xi shouted back, “Take him down!” and swung his pole—but in just two exchanges, the pole was snapped clean in two by the man’s fist. A tremendous force surged toward him; Ning Xi felt a jolt in his chest, both his hands aching from the impact, as the man’s second punch came flying at him.
Min Chuyi rushed in from the side, her sword driving back the incoming fist; Ning Xi stumbled back two steps, and in the brief exchange that followed, Min Chuyi traded two more moves with the masked man, whose punches roared like a great river in flood, aimed squarely at Ning Xi’s head. Since childhood, Ning Xi had studied under famous teachers—in martial arts, he had learned under masters like Hongti, Xigua, and Chen Fan—and though his talent in this area was middling and his interest not especially strong, even he could see just how terrifyingly skilled this opponent was. In that instant, all Ning Xi could do was swing his broken pole in a desperate counterstrike, when Min Chuyi lunged forward and threw her arms around him, and the two of them rolled to the ground together—blood spraying across his face.
“Run…”
The girl’s voice came out almost like a groan. Ning Xi fell to the ground, his mind going blank for an instant. He had, after all, never been to war—faced with such an overwhelming gap in strength, in a moment of life and death, how could he possibly react quickly enough? Just then, from behind, voices rang out: “Who’s there—” “Stop!”
The sounds of fighting broke out, and more people arrived one after another; the assailant leapt away and fled, vanishing from sight in an instant. Ning Xi pulled himself up from the ground, hands trembling, and gathered the girl’s soft body into his arms, watching blood pour from her mouth, staining half her face red. The girl still managed to force a smile at him, but he was, for a moment, utterly stunned, tears streaming down his face. “Hey, hey, you… someone get a doctor, quick…”
A moment later, he forced himself to gather his wits, checked on her condition, then lifted her up and ran, calling out for help as he made his way out of the alley…
…
“…Yeah.” Back in the teahouse room, Ning Yi took a sip of tea. “It’s a shame… he didn’t get to grow up in a normal environment. Let him experience some setbacks now, I suppose…”
Hongti looked at him for a moment. “You’re afraid too.”
“Mm, very afraid.” Ning Yi tightened his arm around her for a moment. “We’ll tell him when he’s thirty.”
The sounds of commotion drifted over from the distance. Hongti rose to her feet; Ning Yi nodded to her, and his wife’s figure had already leapt out through the window, skimming along the eaves and rooftiles before vanishing into the distant streets in a few bounds.
Ning Yi pushed open the door and strode out, brow tightly furrowed, the people around him already falling in to follow closely as he moved swiftly downstairs. “What happened, tell everyone to hold their positions, no need to panic…” Everyone around him was already moving into action.
The early winter sun hung lazily in the sky; Liangshan enjoyed a climate like spring year-round, with neither scorching summers nor bitter winters, and so its winters, too, were quite mild. Perhaps thanks to this favorable weather, the assassination attempt that occurred that day did not result in serious harm; Min Chuyi, who had protected Ning Xi, suffered only minor injuries, needing just a few days of proper rest to recover fully…