The long caravan rounded the fork ahead, heading toward the Hedeng marketplace, while the accompanying Huaxia Army cavalry column turned off toward the other direction. Zhuo Yongqing rode in the middle of the column, travel-worn, a strip of gauze patched across his forehead — clearly just back from the battlefield beyond the mountains. Behind his saddle hung a cloth sack, filled with items that Mao Yishan, Hou Wu, and others had asked him to bring back from outside the mountains.

Beyond Liangshan, the Huaxia Army’s advance had been swift, easily seizing six or seven towns along the road to Chengdu. Thanks to strict discipline, the livelihoods of the people in these areas had not been greatly disrupted; goods had begun circulating again in the markets, and those with families had bought up items rarely seen inside the mountains, asking others to carry them back — rouge and powder, along with unusual pastries.

Over these years, though the Hedeng regime had worked hard to develop commerce, in practice what they sold outward were weapons and luxury goods, while what they brought back in were grain and various scarce, practical necessities; goods purely for enjoyment, aside from what was consumed internally, were actually rather rare among what came in from outside the mountains.

Zhuo Yongqing originally hailed from Yanzhou in the northwest, and had joined the Huaxia Army simply to have food to eat. Through a strange twist of fate, he had gone on to kill Wanyan Loushi and become one of the Huaxia Army’s most celebrated war heroes.

Having achieved this great feat, he’d been promoted and even received a personal audience and words of encouragement from Master Ning; afterward he’d brought his family to Little Cang River, only for the puppet Qi’s great army to invade not long after, followed by the Jurchen assault. His parents had first returned to Yanzhou, then fled south with other refugees; along the way, they encountered scattered puppet Qi soldiers, and his father — a man fond of boasting — had led others in resistance to cover the group’s escape, and died beneath the puppet soldiers’ arrows. Through the three-year battle at Little Cang River, Zhuo Yongqing had fought fiercely against the enemy and survived by sheer good fortune, but less than a year after arriving at Hedeng, his mother, too, passed away from prolonged melancholy, leaving Zhuo Yongqing entirely alone in the world.

Looking back on his own path, if the battle in which he’d killed Wanyan Loushi had taught him what raw courage truly meant, it was only after his father’s death that he’d truly thrown himself fully into the war, going on to earn several more merits in battle afterward. The second time Ning Yi met him, he’d suggested Zhuo Yongqing transition from a military role to civil administration, gradually moving him toward the core of the army’s operations. By now, Zhuo Yongqing served as a staff officer at the Fifth Army headquarters — his rank still not especially high, but he had already become thoroughly familiar with the army’s core workings.

Several years earlier, at the battle where Wanyan Loushi had been killed at Xuanjia Gully, the handful of survivors, Zhuo Yongqing among them, had maintained a fairly close relationship ever since. Among them, Luo Ye had risen into the army’s upper ranks and this time had gone with General Liu Chengzong to Xuzhou; Hou Wu had lost the use of one arm in the battle at Xuanjia Gully and had since transferred out of the military into civil security work — this time, with the army’s advance, he too had gone out beyond the mountains to take part in the extensive work of pacification and resettlement following the fighting; Mao Yishan now served as battalion commander of the Second Battalion, First Regiment, Fifth Huaxia Army — a highly regarded reinforced battalion — and had played a key assault role during the campaign against Lu Qiaoshan, naturally accompanying the forces on this expedition as well.

Qu Qing had already been an officer back in the Wu Dynasty, and now worked at the general staff headquarters, having moved from the front lines to behind-the-scenes work — he currently remained at Hedeng. With both his parents gone, these men had effectively become Zhuo Yongqing’s family, gathering together from time to time, and whenever something came up, they would all appear to lend a hand.

Returning to Hedeng, he went first, as protocol required, to report on his duties. By the time this was finished, it was already fairly late, and Zhuo Yongqing led his horse toward the family residential area up on the hillside. Everyone lived fairly close together, though few of them were actually home at present — Luo Ye had weighty matters on his mind and remained unmarried; Qu Qing, by all accounts, had lived a rather dissolute life back in his Wu Dynasty days — he’d been something of a rough-edged old army hand who treated the military as his home, and though he’d once married, he had since divorced and never remarried. As for Zhuo Yongqing himself, plenty of matchmakers had come calling over the years — especially after he’d killed Wanyan Loushi — but somehow it had never come together; after his parents’ deaths, he’d grown even more reluctant to deal with the matter, and had simply let it drag on until now.

Hou Wu, on the other hand, had long since started a family of his own; his wife was gentle and warm-hearted, and often busied herself trying to arrange matchmaking meetings for Zhuo Yongqing. Mao Yishan had also married at Little Cang River, taking as his wife a straightforward, decisive woman from the northwest. No sooner had Zhuo Yongqing appeared on the street than the two women, already watching from the intersection, spotted him — his return was hardly a secret, and word had likely already spread this way while he was reporting his duties.

“Sisters-in-law, my brothers asked me to bring you some things.”

“They’re always causing you trouble,” Sister Hou said with a smile, then tilted her head to ask, “Come, tell your sister — how long are you staying this time? When’s a proper time free? I’ve got a girl in mind, let me tell you…”

After being warmly fussed over by the two women for a while, a young man in military uniform, in his early twenties and tall in build, came in from outside — this was Hou Wu’s son, Hou Yuanyong, who had joined the general intelligence department two years earlier. Seeing Zhuo Yongqing, he broke into a smile. “Uncle Zhuo, you’re back.”

“Yes, yes, just came to drop off some things.”

Zhuo Yongqing chatted a while with Hou Yuanyong, who clearly understood the purpose of this particular trip back; once the others had stepped away, he lowered his voice. “Uncle Zhuo, coming back like this — you can’t afford to butt heads with the higher-ups, I’m afraid you’ll catch some real flak.” Zhuo Yongqing merely smiled. “I came back to accept my punishment, that’s all.” They talked a while longer as the sun began to set, and Qu Qing arrived back from outside as well.

Among the five survivors of Xuanjia Gully, Qu Qing and Hou Wu were the eldest; of the two, Qu Qing carried the greater seniority, having served as an officer and also fought in the ranks himself — half a lifetime spent in uniform had given him a natural air of authority and sharpness, though now, serving at general staff headquarters, he appeared even more restrained and steady. The five of them ate together, and once the two women had cleared away the household chores, Qu Qing went out for a walk with Zhuo Yongqing, Hou Yuanyong trailing along behind.

Zhuo Yongqing’s purpose in returning wasn’t exactly a secret, so there was no great need for discretion — among the most serious criminal and disciplinary incidents from the recent campaign, several involved past war heroes. The most troublesome case concerned a company commander who’d once had a minor dispute with a small merchant back at Hedeng before the campaign; during the recent advance, he’d happened to come across the man’s home after taking the city and, in a moment of loss of control, killed him, leaving behind a widow and two daughters. This case had been uncovered, the commander had confessed his guilt, and as for how to handle it, the military side hoped for leniency — in short, they wanted clemency granted wherever possible. Zhuo Yongqing was one of the representatives sent back this time to make that case — as a decorated war hero himself, having killed Wanyan Loushi, the military occasionally called on him for this kind of symbolic, face-saving role.

“The Huaxia uprising has been going nearly ten years now, and this is the first time we’ve actually struck outward. But what the higher-ups are focused on most isn’t really what’s happening out there. Before we even marched out, Yongqing, you saw it yourself — discipline was enforced more strictly than ever, meeting after meeting after meeting…” Qu Qing said as they walked, smiling as he spoke. “But honestly, none of this really concerns you directly. You’re just the messenger here. When something like this happens, your side still has to make some kind of gesture… Just know you’re the messenger, and for the rest, watch and think more, speak less.”

Zhuo Yongqing nodded. “I’m not the one leading the delegation, so I won’t be speaking. But from what you’re saying, Brother Qu, the punishment’s going to be strict?”

“My own guess is it’ll be strict, but there are two kinds of strict — punishing more harshly is strict, and widening the scope of who gets punished is also strict. Which one can you live with?… If it’s the harsher kind, would you accept a life for a life?” Qu Qing said, then patted his shoulder with a laugh. “Alright, enough small talk — let’s get to the real business…”

Zhuo Yongqing quickly waved his hands. “Brother Qu, no need for that kind of real business.”

“There absolutely is a need. The moment you walked through the door, your two sisters-in-law dragged you off and issued their strict orders — you’re getting on in years, it’s time you found yourself a woman. Don’t go copying Luo Ye — he was a spoiled young master back in the capital, practically raised among rouge and powder. You grew up poor and hard in the northwest — you haven’t seen half as many women as he’s touched. Your parents are gone now, so it falls to us to see this properly settled for you. Come now, no dodging around it — lay out your conditions, and let’s see if this old brother can meet them.”

Zhuo Yongqing could only make a pained face and shake his head; he didn’t dare try any tricks here — he’d actually once considered using the matter of an arranged marriage as leverage against Qu Qing, but Qu Qing didn’t put much stock in women; he’d simply grown tired of that life and had no wish to carry on with it, which didn’t mean he was averse to matchmaking in general. If Zhuo Yongqing were to set a condition tying the two matters together, Qu Qing would surely go along with it readily enough — but as for the matter itself, Zhuo Yongqing genuinely took it seriously.

The joint meeting between the military department and the other relevant departments on this matter was scheduled for the following afternoon. Just as Qu Qing had said, the higher-ups took this matter very seriously; once the various parties had gathered, Master Ning himself came, along with Liu Daxiao, head of the military police and leader of the Overlord Blades — this woman, while also being Master Ning’s wife in another capacity, was known for her forthright temperament and formidable martial skill, having personally taken part in several military sparring competitions and earned considerable affection from the soldiers.

The actual handling of this whole matter still fell to the several departments involved; Master Ning and Liu Daxiao were present only as observers. Zhuo Yongqing kept Qu Qing’s advice in mind, listening carefully and stating his position fairly at the meeting. Once every side had finished presenting their views, Zhuo Yongqing watched Master Ning sit in silence for a long while before finally beginning to speak.

“I’ve asked you this several times now — more than a few times, in fact. Who do you think you actually are? What, exactly, does ‘Huaxia’ even mean? What’s actually different between you and everyone else out there?”

“…The Wu Dynasty lost to the Jurchens — millions of people were cut down like grass. We killed the Wu Dynasty’s own emperor, and we’ve also defeated the Jurchens. We call ourselves the Huaxia Army — after all these years, after enough victories won, do you think you’re actually any different from the people of the Wu Dynasty? From the very start, you were never the same kind of people as them! Weren’t you? So how exactly did we manage to defeat so many enemies?”

“…Because we realized there was no way back. Because we realized that every single life is earned through one’s own effort. We staked everything, we worked to make ourselves excellent people, and a group of excellent people banded together to form an excellent collective! What does ‘Huaxia’ mean? China is called ‘Xia’ for its grand rites and propriety; it is called ‘Hua’ for the beauty of its dress and adornment. It is what is excellent, what surpasses the ordinary, that deserves the name Huaxia! If you accomplish great things and call yourselves people of Huaxia, then Huaxia is great. But if you do wicked things and still call yourselves people of Huaxia — do you have the face for that? Shameful.”

“The Wu Dynasty has stood for over two hundred years — civil officials scrambling for power, forming factions, tearing each other down; military officers scrambling for money, forming cliques, extracting bribes at every level, padding their rosters with phantom soldiers — until civil officials could no longer offer honest counsel and military officers could no longer fight! When the enemy finally struck, every soldier’s first thought was to check whether the man beside him was about to run. The Huaxia Army has been at this for nearly ten years now, and we’ve finally struck outward — the good days have arrived, is that it? What a fine start you’ve made! You, too, were once people of the Wu Dynasty! Only when pushed to the very edge did you wake up, only then did you become excellent enough to start winning battles — your excellence wasn’t something you were simply born with! Those people out there could just as easily become exactly what you are now! Even a rabbit bites when cornered — you drove out the Jurchens, and now you want to become the next Jurchens!? Should we all just become your slaves, then?!”

“We’ve held meeting after meeting, done ideological work again and again, telling everyone to earn their own place, to do what’s right and proper — and now that it comes down to it, you think you’re somehow above it all! Plenty of people say we hold too many meetings — I say we haven’t held nearly enough! Zhou Tong used to say a good world needs scholars with rulers and warriors with blades — well, today your blades are sharpened plenty, but it seems the rulers aren’t sharp enough, the rules aren’t strict enough! The last meeting was about establishing the courts — whoever breaks the law, how it gets tried and judged, all of it needs to be made perfectly clear, so that everyone has a clear, unambiguous ruler to measure themselves against—”

“…And still you come begging for leniency, for lighter sentences, for merit to offset guilt… Give it a couple hundred years and you’ll be sitting on a throne yourselves, and your own descendants will end up murdered right there in the golden hall, and future generations will curse your very bones… but I don’t think we’ll even get that far. The Jurchens are attacking Daming Prefecture right now! Wang Shanyue and Zhu Biao are out there fighting for their lives on the front line! Wanyan Zonghan and Wanyan Xiyin have come down too, they’ve already crossed Yanmen Pass! We still have one great decisive battle ahead of us against the Jurchens, and you want to enjoy the good life? Turn into the very thing the Wu Dynasty has become today? Form cliques and attack rivals? Punish yourselves with three cups of wine when you do something wrong? I say you’re all going to end up dead at the hands of the Jurchens!”

“We are not here to rebuild another Wu Dynasty. We are here to do better than that, everyone… This time, the entire leadership of the Fifth Army will write self-criticisms, and anyone who had any part in this business is getting stripped down to the bottom rank first thing… Who told you to come here begging for leniency on their behalf…”

As he listened to all this, Zhuo Yongqing’s hand moved rapidly across the page, recording every word. The language was harsh, but the underlying attitude wasn’t purely negative — if anything, its underlying intent came through clearly. Brother Qu had been right — compared to the situation unfolding outside, Master Ning cared more about the rules holding firm within their own ranks. Having been through a fair amount himself by now, and having taken part in a good number of important training sessions, Zhuo Yongqing could finally recognize the steady, deliberate substance beneath it all.

He himself was here only as a representative sent to take the scolding, a mere messenger, so he didn’t find himself particularly alarmed by any of it. Once the meeting concluded, that evening, Master Ning made time to see him privately as well, saying with a smile that he’d “been pushed forward again,” and asking after conditions at the front.

The next day, Zhuo Yongqing left Hedeng with his unit, preparing to return to the front lines south of Chengdu. Upon reaching Jiading, he briefly broke away from the group to see through a matter Ning Yi had personally asked him to look into: the merchant killed at Jiading had gone by the surname He, and had left behind a widow and two orphaned daughters. Since the Huaxia Army was handling this matter with full seriousness, proper compensation and provision for the family also had to be seen through — and to make sure this happened, Ning Yi had casually mentioned it to Zhuo Yongqing and asked him to keep an eye on things.

Zhuo Yongqing took some supplies and went there in person — though, in truth, he carried some private motive of his own for doing so.

On his previous visit to Jiading, he had actually met this family and learned something of their situation. The merchant surnamed He hadn’t come from a particularly well-off household; the man himself had a hot temper and a fondness for drink, which was likely why he’d clashed with the visiting Huaxia Army soldiers in the first place, resulting in his death. His widow was timid by nature, and with her husband gone, she genuinely hadn’t dared to speak up on the matter at all — the elder daughter, He Ying, was fairly good-looking and had a stubborn streak; had it not been for her insistence, this whole affair likely never would have escalated the way it did — the military’s original intent had probably been to quietly smooth it over and let it drop.

The merchant’s second daughter, He Xiu, was a visibly malnourished, painfully thin girl with a limp, introverted and almost too frightened to speak.

She reminded Zhuo Yongqing of Xuanjia Gully, seven or eight years earlier.

Back then, gravely wounded, he’d been left behind at Xuanjia Gully by his comrades; the villagers had tended to his wounds, and the family had had their own daughter care for him — a mute girl, lame in one leg, thin and dry as a stick of firewood. The northwest was so poor that a girl like her could never even hope to marry, and the old village elder had entertained some faint hope that Zhuo Yongqing might take the girl away with him, though in the end, he’d never managed to say it aloud.

Then the Jurchens had come, and the mute girl’s clothes were torn from her before she was killed right in front of him. From beginning to end, the two of them had never exchanged a single word, yet over the years, that girl’s gaze had kept flashing before his eyes — every time family or friends tried to arrange a match for him (and truthfully, he had wanted to marry, at that), he would see that look again. He remembered the mute girl’s name: Xuan Manniang.

The limping girl named He Xiu reminded Zhuo Yongqing of her.

He made his way to the He family’s home and knocked on the door. The moment they saw his military uniform, a jar came flying down at him from inside. Zhuo Yongqing raised a hand to block it; the jar shattered into pieces with a crash, one shard grazing his forehead — which already bore a wound, now joined by another, blood seeping from the fresh cut.

It was the elder daughter, He Ying, who had thrown the jar from inside; the limping He Xiu cowered behind her, her eyes, framed by a curtain of long hair, filled with fear. Zhuo Yongqing reached up, touched the blood seeping from his forehead, then raised his hands. “It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m sorry…” He paused. “My name is Zhuo Yongqing. We’ve met before. I’m here on behalf of the Huaxia Army to let the two of you know that we will give you a fair and just accounting regarding your father’s death. This won’t take long — everyone involved is already under investigation… These are some supplies and grain for immediate need. Please accept them, don’t refuse them. I’ll be on my way now. My wound is nothing to worry about — please don’t be afraid.”

He lifted the two sacks from the cart and set them down inside the doorway. He Ying kicked out at them. “We don’t want your filthy things.” But she had no real strength behind the kick. Zhuo Yongqing set the supplies down, pulled the door shut behind him, then leapt onto his cart and hurried away.

Better not to frighten them any further — he’d come see them again another time.

Thinking this, he pressed a hand to his wound and hurried back to rejoin his unit. The next day, he set off once more toward Chengdu.

This had been their second meeting. He had no way of knowing what the future might hold, nor did he need to dwell on it too much — because he was headed back to the battlefield. In an age consumed by the flames of war, who could really afford to dwell on such things…