It was already deep autumn, yet in the four circuits of Sichuan in the southwest, the lush green of the forests and wilds showed no sign of fading. The ancient walls of Chengdu, gray and towering, stood before the vast expanse of the Chengdu Plain stretching out behind them, and now the smoke of war had begun to drift this way.
The main force garrisoning the four Sichuan circuits had originally been Lu Qiaoshan’s Wuxiang Army, but after the crushing defeat at Lesser Liangshan, the Huaxia Army’s declaration of war had shaken the entire realm. Across Southern Wu, countless voices cursed Ning Yi as a man of “wolfish ambition,” yet with the central court’s resolve wavering, and with Chen Fan’s faction in the Miao territories beginning to stir and press toward Changsha, the meager troops that could be spared were nowhere near enough to hold back the Huaxia Army’s advance. Liu Shaojing, prefect of Chengdu, sought aid from every direction, and before the Huaxia Army’s arrival, finally managed to gather roughly eighty thousand troops from various localities, standing them in a tense standoff against the invading Huaxia forces.
During this period of the Huaxia Army’s push toward Chengdu, the three counties of Hedeng were — in Ning Yi’s own words — “in an absolute uproar, chickens and dogs flying everywhere.” Several years had passed, and the Huaxia Army’s first great expansion had finally begun, bringing with it enormous challenges. Over the course of more than a month, meetings at Hedeng were held every single day — expansion sessions, rectification sessions, even public tribunals waiting in line one after another. Ning Yi found himself working nonstop around the clock. The Huaxia Army had already struck out and seized new territory; deciding whom to send out to administer it, and how, was a matter that would shape the very template and foundation for everything to come.
In a sense, this was also the Huaxia Army’s first great division of the spoils since its founding. Over the years, though the Huaxia Army had scored no small number of victories, every step forward had, in truth, been taken along the edge of a precipice; everyone understood the reality of the whole realm they stood against, and it was only because Ning Yi managed the entire army using modern methods, combined with a string of genuine successes, that everything had held together without collapse up to this point.
After the Huaxia Army crushed Lu Qiaoshan’s forces, the declaration of war they issued shocked not only the Wu Dynasty but their own ranks as well. Once the initial shock wore off, everyone within the organization grew visibly elated. After years of lying low, the master was finally making his move — and if the master was finally moving, then surely nothing was impossible now.
The Sichuan circuits had long been known as the “land of abundance.” Since the Qin Dynasty built the Dujiangyan irrigation system, the Chengdu Plain had remained a rich and fertile grain-producing region, one where “flood and drought yield to human will, and famine is never known.” Compared to the barren northwest, or to Lüliang where people had once starved to death, this land was practically a paradise on earth. Even before the Wu Dynasty lost the Central Plains, this region had held tremendous importance for the entire realm; now that the Central Plains had fallen, the grain production of the Chengdu Plain mattered to the Wu Dynasty more than ever. Ever since retreating south in defeat from the northwest, the Huaxia Army had kept itself tucked away in a corner of Liangshan, licking its wounds — and now, suddenly, it was reaching for a bite far too ambitious for its size.
But then again, after Lu Qiaoshan’s Wuxiang Army had suffered such a crushing defeat, if Ning Yi was determined to take this bite, who within the Wu Dynasty could possibly stand in his way?
This sudden stretching of limbs, so long held in check, brought with it, within the Huaxia Army, a genuine sense that bitterness had finally given way to sweetness. The internal restlessness, the surfacing of long-suppressed demands and desires — all of it felt only natural, human nature at work. Among relatives and neighbors, a fresh wave of gift-giving and lobbying had already begun stirring, and rectification meetings were being held every single day, from top to bottom. Among the Huaxia Army troops campaigning beyond Liangshan, as territory was steadily seized city by city, several ugly incidents had already emerged — abuse of civilians, even random killings — and the internal disciplinary corps and military police had already made arrests, ready to carry out executions at any moment.
While keeping a close eye on these matters, Ning Yi was, at the same time, focused on the team of cadres soon to be dispatched to administer the new territories — even though extensive training programs had already been run beforehand, there was still no avoiding the need for reinforced instruction and repeated admonitions. He was so busy he could barely eat properly. That day at noon, Yun Zhu brought little Ning Ke over to bring him some sweet soup, reminding him again to take care of his health. Ning Yi wolfed down a few mouthfuls, then showed his empty bowl to little Ning Ke, who was still eating slowly, before finally answering Yun Zhu. “Once I get through this busiest stretch, I’ll take you all to Chengdu for a visit.”
“I haven’t thought about going to see a big city in years myself — as long as your health holds up, I’ll be thankful for that alone.” Yun Zhu smiled gently. “As for little Ke and the others, they’ve never seen a big place since they were born — this time, they’ll finally get the chance to go out… Slow down, Ke, don’t drink so fast.”
Six-year-old Ning Ke was gulping down the sweet soup with gusto; hearing them talk about a big city, she opened her mouth before swallowing, sending soup dribbling down her chin. “Whahh Sichoo?” Ning Yi laughed and wiped her chin. “Soon, soon.”
“When, though?”
“Uh… two more months.”
“Oh…” The little girl nodded, only half understanding, still not quite grasping what “two months” really meant. Yun Zhu wiped a bit of spilled soup from her clothes, then said to Ning Yi, “Did you and Xigua fight last night?”
“No, no fighting at all.” Ning Yi frowned, then after a moment added, “…We had a friendly discussion. She’s a little confused about the concept of equality for all — she’s been moving a bit fast these past few years.”
“Auntie Melon beat Daddy up yesterday,” little Ning Ke chimed in from the side.
“What is this, where does this little one come up with these rumors,” Ning Yi said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Liu Daxiao is no match for me!”
“Girls shouldn’t talk about fighting and killing,” Yun Zhu said with a smile, scooping the child up and giving Ning Yi a once-over. “Big Melon is the household bully — no wonder you got beaten up, nothing strange about that.”
“What household bully, what Liu Daxiao — that’s just rumors spread among you ignorant women, and besides, Hongti’s here too, and she’s no pushover either.”
“Little Melon is the household bully, and I can’t beat him either,” Hongti’s voice called in from outside before Ning Yi had even finished speaking. Yun Zhu couldn’t help but burst out laughing, covering her mouth.
Perhaps because they’d been apart for so long, over the year or so since returning to Liangshan, Ning Yi had settled into an easygoing temperament with his wife and children, never putting too much pressure on them. Once everyone had grown used to each other’s rhythms again, the family members would often tease him in return. Ning Yi liked to boast in front of the children about his own formidable martial prowess — how he’d once killed Lu Tuo with a single palm strike, how he’d frightened off Lin Zongwu, how Zhou Tong had all but begged to become sworn brothers with him… Everyone found it hard to keep a straight face, but naturally no one called him out on it, except for Xigua, who often joined in the fun, competing with him for the title of “greatest martial artist under heaven.” As a woman with a bold, endearing personality, she’d taken to calling herself “Liu Daxiao, household bully,” and was quite popular with Jin’er, Xiao Chan, and the others, while the children mostly regarded her as a martial arts idol and mentor.
Beyond the household, Xigua remained committed to her ideal of equality for all, tirelessly working to spread and idealize the cause. Between her and Ning Yi, debates and hypothetical discussions were a frequent occurrence — friendly ones, of course, though often it was Ning Yi drawing on knowledge from the future to teach Xigua a lesson or two. This time, with the Huaxia Army about to begin its outward expansion, Xigua naturally hoped to imprint as much of her ideals as possible onto the shape of the future regime, and her debates with Ning Yi had grown ever more frequent and pointed. In the end, Xigua’s ideals were simply too far-reaching — touching even on the ultimate form of human society itself — and the practical problems bound to arise were countless. Ning Yi needed only push back a little, and Xigua would often end up somewhat deflated.
As for the false rumors circulating from his wife and daughter’s mouths, all Ning Yi could do was rub his nose helplessly and shake his head with a wry smile.
He had two more meetings that afternoon. The first was a progress report on the Huaxia Army’s ongoing effort to establish a court system. The second concerned Xigua as well — during the Huaxia Army’s advance on the Chengdu Plain, Xigua had led a team responsible for military discipline oversight. Many of the Huaxia Army members in the three counties of Hedeng had originally been surrendered soldiers absorbed during the Little Cang River campaign; though years of training and refinement had brought internal cohesion, problems had nonetheless surfaced during this latest external campaign. A number of incidents involving disciplinary violations and abuse of civilians had been dealt with severely under Xigua’s authority, and even now, with fighting still ongoing outside, the three counties of Hedeng had already begun preparing a public tribunal to stamp out these problems decisively.
This matter had caused a certain degree of internal disagreement. Many within the military felt that dealing with the issue this harshly, at this particular moment, risked undermining discipline and morale, while Xigua insisted the matter needed to be handled even more severely than it currently was — the girl she’d once been, who had rejected the injustices of the world in her heart, who would rather watch the weak kill to protect their own steamed buns than accept cowardice and unfairness, had, over these more than ten years, gradually glimpsed a great path forward, and had grown, if anything, even less tolerant of the strong preying upon the weak.
Seeing the woman standing halfway up the mountainside, her hair tousled slightly by the wind, Ning Yi found himself, for a moment, drifting back to the young girl he’d first met more than a decade ago. Now a mother herself, Xigua, like him, had already passed thirty. Her frame was relatively petite, her long hair parted at the forehead and gathered back behind her head; her nose was straight and her lips not overly full, giving her an air of firm resolve. The mountain wind was strong, tousling the loose strands of hair at her temples, and with no one else around, her small figure seemed, just for a moment, faintly lost.
There was still some time before the next meeting. Ning Yi walked over to find her; Xigua pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, preparing to spar with him over the upcoming meeting’s arguments. But Ning Yi hadn’t come to talk business. He carried nothing with him, his long robe fitted with two oddly deliberate pockets sewn in specially, his hands tucked into them, his eyes carrying the easy contentment of someone stealing a moment of leisure amid a busy day.
“Walk with me?”
“Not going to talk about the meeting later?”
“Everything’s already prepared as far as I’m concerned — I’m on your side anyway. There’s still some time left, might as well take a stroll.”
“Fine.” Xigua, unafraid of anything, fell into step beside him.
Since Ning Yi had come specifically to see Xigua, his guards hadn’t followed along this time. The mountain wind swept past them; the path they walked wasn’t a busy one, and turning their heads, they could look down over the town of Hedeng below. Though Xigua often took the opposing view against Ning Yi, in truth, she kept no guard up at all around her own husband. As they walked, she raised her arms and gave her limbs a light stretch. Ning Yi found himself remembering that night in Hangzhou years ago, when he’d first planted the seed of killing the emperor in her mind — more than a decade later, that bold, impassioned vision had turned into the real, weighty troubles of the present.
“Big Melon, the Manichaeans worship the Eternal Mother of No Birth and Maitreya — do you believe in that?” he said as they walked.
“Sure do,” Xigua said, blinking. “Whenever I’ve got a problem I can’t solve, I talk it over with Maitreya too.” As she said this, she pressed her palms together in prayer, still walking.
Ning Yi laughed. “So what good do you think religion actually does?”
“Gives people peace of mind.”
“Why does believing give people peace of mind?”
“…What do you think, husband?” Xigua shot him a glance.
“I think… it’s because it lets people find the ‘right’ path.”
“How do you mean?”