May in Lin’an was wrapped in the blazing light of summer; in the fierce heat everything seemed to glow, sunlight pouring squarely into the courtyard, cicadas chirring in the parasol trees.

Officials and lords passed through the palace corridors, hurrying through what little shade there was. In the waiting room outside the imperial study, eunuchs led palace maids in carrying sour plum drink chilled with ice chips; the assembled officials thanked them and each took up a cup to cool off. Qin Hui sat on a stool in the corner of the room, holding a porcelain cup and small spoon, sipping steadily, sip by sip. He sat upright as always, his expression composed; few could read what was on his mind, yet there was an unmistakable air of correctness about him.

Qin Hui was the sort of man who, at a glance, made others feel he must surely be fair-minded, selfless, and devoted to saving the world.

Before long, word came from within summoning him to audience. Qin Hui rose solemnly, cupped his hands to the colleagues around him with a faint smile, then left the room and made his way toward the imperial study.

Since the news had arrived days earlier that the Black Banner had abducted Liu Yu, who had then written a letter in blood pledging allegiance to the south, the Wu court had indeed experienced a brief moment of stunned silence among its many officials. But no one who had risen to such positions was a fool; at least on the surface, passionate slogans and condemnation of the villains’ baseness soon restored the Wu Dynasty’s dignity.

The news of the Central Plains’ “return” could not be suppressed. As the first wave of word spread, both the Black Banner and radical elements within the Wu Dynasty took action, and news concerning Liu Yu had already spread among the common people. Most significant of all, Liu Yu had not only sent out his letter in blood calling on the Central Plains to return its allegiance, but along with it had come a highly respected official from the Central Plains, once an old minister of the Wu Dynasty himself, who had accepted Liu Yu’s charge and, carrying a letter of surrender, had come to Lin’an to request reincorporation.

Liu Yu’s defection south was, without question, a scheme laid bare in plain sight. Even if every thread of the affair were laid out and the Black Banner’s actions exposed to the world, those in the Central Plains whose hearts lay with the Wu Dynasty would not care. Under ten years of Jurchen and Liu Yu rule, the Central Plains had suffered untold misery; by now, everyone could see there would never be a better chance than this — including within the southern Wu Dynasty itself, where what people most wanted was for the northern campaign to succeed as soon as possible, to reclaim the Central Plains, even to push through Yanmen Pass and strike straight at the enemy’s lair.

Even if this bun held poison within it, the starving people of Wu would have to eat it anyway, and hope their own constitution could withstand the poison’s harm.

In these past few days, even among the upper ranks in Lin’an, there had been shock, delight, and fervor over the affair, along with condemnation and sighs directed at the Black Banner — but what people discussed most was simply how to respond now that things had come to this. As for the vast fear buried beneath it all, no one spoke of it for the moment; everyone understood it, but it wasn’t something that could be said aloud, wasn’t something open for discussion.

Qin Hui entered the imperial study, exchanged a few words with Zhou Yong, and had him dismiss the attendants.

“…I’ve come today to let Your Majesty know that, while the people of Lin’an are cheering with joy over the reclaiming of the Central Plains, there are no small number who are calling for troops to be raised to root out the Black Banner poison. Many men of insight, upon learning the full details of the affair, all say they wish to make war on the Jurchen, but that the Black Banner must first be eliminated, or disaster will surely follow later…”

“But with the Jurchen threat bearing down on us as it is, turning our attention instead to strike at the Black Banner — isn’t that rather putting the cart before the horse…” Zhou Yong hesitated somewhat.

“It is precisely because war with the Jurchen is imminent that the Black Banner must be dealt with first. First — reclaiming the Central Plains now is, admittedly, what all the people wish for, but in this whole affair, it is the Black Banner, lurking off in its own corner and stirring up trouble, that stands to gain the most. This man Ning Liheng is most skilled at building up strength slowly, letting things grow at a patient pace. When he first murdered the late sovereign and fled to the northwest, we did not take him seriously enough — partly, too, because in the face of the Jurchen, the Black Banner is also of Han stock, so we never threw our full strength into wiping them out, and that let him enjoy these years of peace and quiet. But this affair is enough to show the wolfish ambition in this man Ning Liheng’s heart.”

Qin Hui cupped his hands. “Your Majesty, since the court fled south, under Your Majesty’s leadership these years we have worked diligently to bring about the prosperity we enjoy today. The Crown Prince has thrown all his effort into rebuilding our military strength and has forged several strong armies — only with them do we stand even the barest chance against the Jurchen. But consider this: while our Wu Dynasty and the Jurchen clash on the battlefield, if the Black Banner Army works mischief from behind, then no matter who wins or loses between us and Jin, the one who profits in the end will certainly not be our Wu Dynasty. Before this affair, we might still have clung to some hope on this point — but after it, in your humble servant’s view, the Black Banner is bound to become a great menace.”

The Black Banner has long since become a great menace, Zhou Yong thought behind his desk, though naturally he showed nothing of it on his face.

Qin Hui paused. “Second — these past years, though the Black Banner Army has kept to the southwest, and though the terrain there, remote as it is and surrounded by barbarian tribes, has made rapid growth difficult for them, one must admit that this man Ning Liheng has genuine skill in what is called the study of natural principles. The firearms manufactured in the southwest are by no means inferior to those made in the Crown Prince’s own workshops. The Black Banner Army has sold a great many of these as goods, but within the Black Banner itself, the weapons they actually use for themselves must surely be the very best. If we had the chance to seize his research into these natural principles for ourselves, wouldn’t that be far more worthwhile than buying secretly from this rogue as we do now?”

“Indeed, though it has been on the run the whole time, the Black Banner Army has never been an opponent to be taken lightly — and it’s precisely because it holds real strength that our Wu Dynasty has been slow, these past years, to unite in resolve and move against it with a full campaign of suppression. But now the moment has come — much as with the situation in the Central Plains, the Black Banner too has reached the point where it can no longer be left unchecked. Ning Liheng, having lain low for three years, is now striking out again; if he isn’t restrained, he will surely expand on a massive scale before long, and by then, whatever the outcome of his war against Jin, our Wu Dynasty will find it hard to hold its ground. Moreover, in a three-way struggle, there are always shifting alliances to be made. Your Majesty, this scheme of the Black Banner’s is admittedly vicious, and we cannot help but pick up the pieces it’s left in the Central Plains, and the Jurchen cannot help but respond to it as well — but consider: among the Jurchen leadership, who do they truly hate the most?”

“You mean to say…”

“If we were to move against the southwest, I believe the Jurchen would not only applaud, they might even offer us help in the matter. If we struck at the Jurchen first, the Black Banner would surely stab us in the back. But if we take the southwest first, on one hand we can use it to season our troops before the great war, unifying command across every region so that by the time the real battle comes, our forces will move as one, obedient to command; on the other hand, seizing the southwest’s firearms and its study of natural principles will only strengthen our dynasty further, giving us greater confidence in facing the coming Jurchen threat.”

“That does make sense…” Zhou Yong absently gripped at the hem of his dragon robe with both hands, leaning back against the chair behind him.

“If the rear is unstable, how can the front wage war? The sages taught us: to repel the enemy without, one must first secure order within. This is an unassailable truth.”

“But… what if…” Zhou Yong thought a moment, hesitating. “What if we can’t take down the Black Banner quickly — then what? Wouldn’t Jin end up the one profiting as the fisherman?”

“Forgive my bluntness.” Qin Hui clasped his hands together and bowed. “If our Wu Dynasty truly lacks even the strength to defeat the Black Banner, then when the Jurchen come, what choice will Your Majesty and the rest of us have left, besides baring our necks to the blade?”

Zhou Yong set one hand down on the table with a thump. After a moment, the emperor waved his fingers and pointed at Qin Hui.

“You have a point,” he said. “I will… consider it.”

Naturally, no direct answer could be expected on a matter like this, but Qin Hui knew the man before him, timid and indecisive though he was, had taken his words to heart, and withdrew with a slow bow.

Walking back through the palace grounds, the sun still blazed overhead, and Qin Hui felt a certain weight lift somewhat from his heart.

Securing order within before repelling the enemy without — this was the clearest, most rational judgment he could reach. Of course, there were things one could say directly to the emperor, and things one could never speak aloud at all.

Over these years, the court’s scholar-officials had, for the most part, avoided the topic of the Black Banner. Among them were old ministers of the Wu Dynasty like Qin Hui himself, who had once witnessed that man’s contemptuous glance across the throne hall in Bianliang: “A pack of useless fools.” After that verdict, Ning Liheng had slaughtered everyone there, once-noble figures in the eyes of all, like chickens for the block, and his many subsequent actions in the northwest and southwest, weighed carefully, truly hung like a shadow over everyone’s heads — one that would not go away.

For the Wu Dynasty to be revived, that shadow would have to be lifted. Through the ages, brilliant men of extraordinary talent had been many, and yet the Hegemon-King of Western Chu had in the end only been able to cut his own throat at the Wu River; men like Dong Zhuo and Huang Chao, once so overweening in their own time, had in the end fallen by the wayside too. Ning Liheng was formidable, but he could not truly stand against the whole world — this was a conviction Qin Hui held firmly in his heart.

To achieve this, opinion within the Wu Dynasty would need to be united, and this war was a good opportunity, indeed one that could not be passed up — because compared to the Black Banner, what was truly terrifying was still the Jurchen.

The Wu Dynasty could not defeat the Jurchen — this was the sober judgment of anyone who had lived through the earlier great battles. These past years, much had been made in public of how formidable the new armies were; Yue Fei had reclaimed Xiangyang and fought several major battles, but they were still far from mature. Han Shizhong had risen on the strength of the name Yellow Heaven Basin — but what was Yellow Heaven Basin, really? Said to be several dozen days spent besieging Wushu, it had in the end been little more than a major defeat for Han Shizhong.

Treating the enemy’s small setbacks as if they were overwhelming victories, in propaganda — the Wu Dynasty’s fighting strength, once so pitiful, even now, if it came to real battle, likely stood no better than the barest chance of victory.

The Jurchen were savage, worshiping martial force; seeking peace with them was exceedingly difficult. But what if a common enemy could be manufactured, one both sides hated? Even while remaining outwardly opposed, might there not be some possibility, in private, of offering the Wu Dynasty and the Jin state some reason for a buffer between them?

Might it not be possible, under the pretext of striking at the Black Banner, to quietly pass word to the Jurchen — to let them slow their southward advance for the sake of this “common interest,” and buy the Wu Dynasty more room to breathe, even the chance for equal negotiation someday?

Such things were not beyond the realm of possibility. And moreover, if the whole strength of the nation were truly thrown into taking the southwest, the crack troops that would emerge from such a brutal war, and the arms seized in the process, would only add to the Wu Dynasty’s future strength. This much was beyond doubt.

The nation was in peril; the people’s very survival hung by a thread.

There was only this one road left.

Walking out of the palace, sunlight pouring down, Qin Hui narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. The powerful ministers and great lords who had once dominated the Wu court had all been scattered by the winds of time — Cai Jing, Tong Guan, Qin Siyuan, Li Gang… all of them gone now. The burden of the realm could only fall on the shoulders of those who remained.

In this moment, the splendor of Lin’an before him seemed, for an instant, just like Bianliang.

Just like home.