All manner of news traveled north, crossing mountain after mountain, pass after pass.
Yunzhong Prefecture — now also called Datong — was, in these days of May, at its finest under the clearest of skies; even the wind passing through the city carried a crisp, pleasant air. As the core seat of Wanyan Zonghan’s “Western Court” governing the Jin state, the area around Yunzhong had become a gathering place for meritorious officials and nobility. Though internal discipline over the lower classes within the Jin state had grown ever stricter as the southern expedition forces set out, among the upper classes, this was precisely the season for socializing and banqueting.
In the countless mansions and villas scattered around the city, banquets large and small ran every single day, one act ending only for another to begin. This year, most of the ambitious among the Jin nobility had already set out with the army, and those left behind — the various nouveau riche and dissolute young scions — found themselves with the finest season of all for hosting feasts and guests, throwing away fortunes as a way of flaunting their standing.
South of Yunzhong Prefecture, a grand yet unpretentious old estate had recently become the new toast of high society. This was a household that had only just arrived in Yunzhong Prefecture, yet possessed reserves and depth as vast as the sea — though newcomers, they had in short order drawn the attention of much of Yunzhong.
This household hailed from the Central Plains.
The Qi clan, led by the great Confucian scholar Qi Yan, had once truly been a prominent family holding sway over the Hedong region of the Wu Dynasty; the previous year they had relocated from Zhending to Yunzhong. As the common saying goes about great clans — the first generation is judged by what they eat, the fourth by what they wear, the fifth by their writings — most families cannot sustain their wealth past three generations, yet the Qi family had already stood magnificent for six or seven generations running.
Though among the Jin nobility who had risen through military merit, some instinctively looked down on the great clans of the Wu Dynasty, the upper echelons of the Jin state nonetheless extended the Qi family more than adequate courtesy, all with one accord. To the former leadership of the Jin state, it was easy enough to seize the realm from horseback, but governing it from horseback had by now become a real problem — the rot and worthlessness of the Jin state’s second generation was a difficulty already staring the founding generation in the face. Though most of those who had conquered on horseback tended toward recklessness by temperament, those among them with true foresight had already begun to see these troubles clearly.
Qi Yan was thus granted tremendous favor; some of the elder statesmen presiding over Yunzhong often summoned him to seek his counsel, chatting and laughing freely with him. As for the hot-tempered, competitive young second generation of the Jin state, though many of them privately resented the Qi family being held in such high regard, the younger generation of the Qi clan had, in the study of pleasure and refinement, far outpaced the foolish sons of these upstart families.
And so, though everyone claimed with their mouths not to care, the high-quality banquets hosted by the Qi family’s scholars had, over these recent days, swiftly conquered and come to lead the fashion of pleasure-seeking throughout the city, becoming for a time the focus of everyone’s attention. By May, many young scions of the Jin nobility had already begun addressing the young men of the Qi family as brothers.
Since the start of the month, as news of victories from the south arrived one after another, the visits and banquets between the Qi family and the upper echelons of the Jin state grew ever more grand, even including several large-scale memorial and celebratory gatherings. The reason traced back to the assassination the previous year in Zhending Prefecture that had forced the Qi family to flee north.
In that assassination, orchestrated by the Huaxia Army, two of Qi Yan’s sons, one grandson, and a number of other relatives had lost their lives. With the anti-Jin sentiment running fierce at the time, the aging Qi Yan had had no choice but to move the entire clan north. But just as the man called Ning who had massacred the Su family at Liangshan had once wiped out the whole of Liangshan itself, how could Qi Yan, a man who had accumulated authority and standing for so many years, ever let this rest, now that the Black Banner Army had struck down the Qi family in turn?
On one hand he moved north; on the other, he used his influence to cooperate with the Jin state against the Huaxia Army. By the end of March and beginning of April, Daming Prefecture finally fell, the Huaxia Army caught up within it and ultimately wiped out entirely, with Wanyan Chang taking more than four thousand bandit prisoners, executing them in batch after batch. When Qi Yan heard this news, he was overjoyed to the point of tears — his two natural sons and one grandson had been killed by assassins of the Black Banner Army, and the old man wished nothing more than to annihilate the entire Huaxia Army, even to kill Ning Yi himself and cast every woman of his household into a brothel.
Now that this great vendetta had been partly avenged, it was certainly cause for celebration. Even as he held grand celebrations, Qi Yan also sent a hundred thousand taels of silver to Wanyan Chang’s household far away in Liaoyang as a gesture of thanks, along with a letter requesting that some of the captured Huaxia Army prisoners be sent to Yunzhong so he might personally execute them to comfort the spirits of his departed sons and grandson. In May, a letter arrived from Wanyan Chang graciously granting the request, and the Qi family had already devised many ideas for how best to torture these enemies to death.
Amid all this atmosphere, the old man had no idea that a shadow far more venomous than either Yan Qing, who had masterminded the assassination at Zhending, or even Ning Yi, the demon in the heart who had destroyed Liangshan, was now closing in over the Qi family.
A convoy of several carts loaded with vegetables and fruit entered the rear courtyard of the Qi estate; the peddler escorting the carts came down to settle accounts with the estate steward. Before long, the convoy left again through the rear courtyard, the peddler sitting in the cart with a smiling face that, once out of sight, took on a faint chill.
The convoy made its way to the marketplace, where the peddler climbed down and threaded through the streets and alleys until he reached a quiet courtyard. Only then did he remove the hat from his head and tear off the fake beard at the corners of his mouth — and at that point, his expression, too, turned grim. This was Tang Minjie, and this grim look had been his usual expression these past several days, ever since hearing the reports of the battle at Daming Prefecture.
Walking into the room, the gloom on his face eased somewhat; Lu Mingfang was already waiting inside. “How’s it going? You’ve looked unwell lately.”
“What happened at Daming Prefecture was too tragic,” Tang Minjie said frankly.
Lu Mingfang was silent for a moment. “Some things simply aren’t within your or my power to turn around. I’ll say it again — you’re letting yourself get too anxious. Take care of your health. And be careful about staying hidden — I know your actions before this have been rather aggressive, and some people have already taken notice of you.”
Ever since the Jurchens had begun preparing for their southern campaign, Tang Minjie had, through aggressive methods, carried out one major action after another — first inciting an uprising among the enslaved Han, having Shi Jin travel south to deliver a list of traitors, then later secretly pulling strings and threatening Jin officials to sabotage military grain supplies meant to go south, and after that networking with dissolute Jin scions who abused their power to traffic in military supplies…
The many things he had done alone, large and small, could not possibly shift the entire southern front on their own, but because of how aggressive his methods were, on several occasions he had come close to exposing the codename “Clown.” If, when Shi Jin had first gone north, “Clown” had still been just an unremarkable codename within Yunzhong Prefecture, by now that name had genuinely climbed near the top of the wanted list among the upper echelons. Fortunately, over these past few months Tang Minjie had reined himself in somewhat, letting the rumors outside die down a little.
“Mm, I know to stay hidden well,” Tang Minjie said, and the advice — coming doubly from both a friend and a comrade-in-arms — drew a faint smile from him. “Is there something going on today?”
“Wonderful news.”
“Oh?” It was rare for Lu Mingfang to phrase it quite like that; Tang Minjie’s brow twitched slightly. He saw a complicated look cross Lu Mingfang’s eyes, followed by a genuine, heartfelt smile as he said two words: “Zhanmei.”
“You found her!?” Tang Minjie’s head shot up. Lu Mingfang nodded, smiling.
“Found her, found her… she’s not dead. She still has a child, not dead either. She’s in Liaoyang now — I’m planning to go there…”
Lu Mingfang’s tone was restrained, but the excitement showed through his smile all the same. Tang Minjie laughed, slamming his fist on the table. “This is wonderful news — is it really true?”
“Most likely true. Once confirmed, I’ll arrange for them to head south immediately…”
The two of them talked it over, both laughing like children in the room. Zhanmei — full name Wang Zhanmei — was the name of the concubine who had stayed by Qin Shaohe’s side to the very last when Taiyuan fell all those years ago. For years, she had remained at the top of the Huaxia Army’s search list.
Speaking of this, the two of them shared a spell of joy; as for how this mother and son had managed to survive these past ten-odd years, Lu Mingfang did not bring it up, and Tang Minjie did not ask either.
After a while, Lu Mingfang said, “This matter cannot be allowed to fail — it’s too important. Once I go to Liaoyang, everything here will be entirely in your hands. By the way, about what you mentioned before — the Qi family bringing several Huaxia Army brothers here…”
“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Tang Minjie answered, then added, “The Qi family and I are going to have quite the celebration together.”
“…” Catching the ominous note in Tang Minjie’s words, and looking again at his smiling face, Lu Mingfang paused briefly, but in the end said nothing more. Tang Minjie’s methods were aggressive, many of them learned directly from Ning Yi, and when it came to manipulating people’s hearts and ruthless scheming, Lu Mingfang was no match for him either. With subordinates of this kind, all he could do was keep an eye on the bigger picture and not micromanage the rest.
“I won’t say more on it.” After a brief pause, Lu Mingfang patted him on the shoulder. “You already know what needs to be done. I’ll say it again — be careful, take care of yourself. The great affairs of the realm can only be accomplished by everyone together. You… don’t let yourself get too worked up either.”
“I understand.” Tang Minjie smiled. “What you’re doing is the important thing — being able to save the bloodline of the Qin family’s eldest son, these women must have had it hard all these years. Give that lady a bow on my behalf.”
“I will.”
With that said, Tang Minjie saw Lu Mingfang off, and once outside in the courtyard, he tilted his head back with a smile and took a deep breath. The sun was warm, and with such good news arriving, today was truly a fine day.
He thought of the Qi family again.
Truly happy.
…
It was time to kill.
While Lu Mingfang received word of Wang Zhanmei in the north, the floodwaters in the southwest still roared on.
At Dujiangyan, the rain fell, then stopped, then fell again.
Toward evening, in a thatched shelter by the banks of the Min River, Ning Yi and Cheng Zhouhai — traveling companions these past few days — waited out the rain. To pass the time, Ning Yi handed him a handful of roasted fava beans.
Cheng Zhouhai had not come to breach the dam — though he might well have done that too, given the chance — his main purpose was to speak on Zhou Pei’s behalf and discuss practical matters with Ning Yi.
This was, after all these years, the first contact between the Princess Imperial’s estate and the Huaxia Army. The men Cheng Zhouhai had brought and the staff from the Huaxia Army’s General Staff Headquarters were handling the concrete details of negotiation, while between Ning Yi and Cheng Zhouhai themselves, the conversation flowed far more easily — though, admittedly, most of what the two had discussed these past few days had been little more than idle matters.
On Ning Yi’s side, they touched on the state of his household in the southwest, his worries for his children’s future, the defeat up north at Daming Prefecture, and the situation with Wang Shanyue and Zhu Biao. From Cheng Zhouhai’s mouth came, mostly, accounts of how the circle around the former Chancellor’s residence had fared in the more-than-ten years since Ning Yi had left, the state of the Princess’s estate, and the relationship between the Princess and her consort…
“…Ah well, that’s just how the world is — children grow up, adults grow old, the old die, nothing stays the same…”
“Lin’an City is even more prosperous now than old Bian Liang used to be — pity you haven’t gone to see it…”
“Lin’an, Lin’an — ‘temporarily at peace’ — even the name’s inauspicious, there’s trouble ahead for you lot… We’ve been dealing with flood control these past few days, otherwise I’d take you to Jishan to show you what industrial prosperity really looks like… the water outside the paper mill isn’t even drinkable anymore.”
“I always thought you had the strangest mouthful of newfangled words, none of which make any sense — hard to get along with someone like that, you know.”
“If my temperament’s a bit extreme, well, I’m sorry to have wronged you, my lord.”
“After you killed Emperor Jinghan, I stopped finding it strange. Like you said — if you weren’t out of your mind, you couldn’t have done such an unconscionable thing.”
The rain fell like a curtain along the edge of the thatched shelter, and the two of them cracked fava beans between their teeth, click, click. Talking about it, Ning Yi couldn’t help but laugh, laughing so hard his whole body shook. “That bastard — old Cheng, do you have any idea what he was saying while I was standing in court that day… I’ve never told anyone this, let me act it out for you…”
He recreated, word for word, what Zhou Zhe had said that day in the golden hall. Cheng Zhouhai stopped cracking his fava bean and tilted his head back with a sigh. Words so lacking in any respect for ruler or father were hard to respond to; after a moment of silence, he said, “Do you remember — a few days before you made your move, I came to see you.”
“Mm… Zong Feixiao had discovered something, my people killed him, and you suspected then that I was about to act.” Ning Yi nodded. “I was, indeed, about to act.”
“I thought you were going after Cai Jing, or Tong Guan, maybe Li Gang thrown in along with a few others… I could have stomached all that, wanted to join in with you.” Cheng Zhouhai smiled faintly. “Never expected you’d end up doing what you did.”
“If I’d told you back then, I probably wouldn’t be alive today.”
“Mm.” Cheng Zhouhai nodded, popping a fava bean into his mouth. “Back then, if I’d known, I definitely would have found a way to kill you.”
“And now?”
“Now… what would be the point of killing you?” Cheng Zhouhai said. “Like you said, something’s gone wrong with this Confucian order under heaven. Li Pin wanted you dead, and he had his reasons too, but I don’t want that. You’ve already started this, and built up something this vast — I’d rather see how it ends. If you win, and things really do turn out the way you say — everyone awakened, everyone equal — that’d be a good thing too. If you lose, well, at least we’ll have learned something from it.”
“Brother Cheng, ever the open-minded one.”
“Just a bit weary at heart, that’s all.” Cheng Zhouhai paused. “If my teacher were still alive, I’d be the first one to want you dead. But he’s gone now, and the doctrines he taught have run into trouble of their own — even if we tried to prop them back up now, I doubt they’d win people over anymore. Since I gave up teaching, what I’ve spent these years doing has all been practical matters, and I can see clearly enough — the gentlemen at court… at a complete loss, all of them. The ones who’ve actually stepped forward have instead learned from your man Jun Wu.”
He popped another fava bean into his mouth. “Except Jun Wu’s approach is too unyielding — once the outside threat fades, it won’t hold up for long either. As for your side… I don’t quite understand it, and I suppose I don’t need to…”
As Cheng Zhouhai said this, a deep weariness showed beneath his lowered brow. Though in his early years he had been judged by Qin Siyuan as ruthless and utterly unscrupulous in his methods, the single greatest anchor holding Cheng Zhouhai steady had always been his teacher, Qin Siyuan. Qin Siyuan had been framed and imprisoned, ultimately exiled and dead along the way — to say Cheng Zhouhai harbored no resentment over this would be impossible.
And yet propping up the Wu Dynasty had always been the very core of Qin Siyuan’s thinking — just as he had said, if Ning Yi had confided in him before his rebellion, Cheng Zhouhai, resentment or not, would have moved against Ning Yi immediately. That was Qin Siyuan’s creed. But because he himself had gone too far without restraint, Cheng Zhouhai had, in the end, been left with no creed of his own.
After Qin Siyuan’s death, which path to walk was no longer clear to him. After Yao Zunian died, and Jueming, Kang Xian, and the others passed as well, Wenren Buer had followed Jun Wu down the more radical path, while Cheng Zhouhai had stayed to assist Zhou Pei — his methods, to be sure, remained shrewd, but the goal in his heart had gradually shifted from protecting the Wu Dynasty to protecting this brother and sister — though in some sense these were one and the same thing, they were, in the end, not quite identical.
Earlier in the year, Zhou Yong’s reckless behavior had thrown Zhou Pei into turmoil; but once her heart had settled, Zhou Pei had had to admit the Wu Dynasty’s weakness in the face of the Jurchen southern campaign, and had finally sent Cheng Zhouhai here, deciding to engage in a certain degree of covert exchange of interests with the Huaxia Army’s forces — this, in the face of the enemy bearing down from outside, was the greatest effort Zhou Pei’s side could bring themselves to make, having set aside their old grievances.
Cheng Zhouhai knew a little about the background behind Zhou Yong’s recklessness earlier in the year, but naturally did not bring it up in front of Ning Yi. He only briefly mentioned the years of grievances between Zhou Pei and her consort Qu Zonghui, and when it came to Qu Zonghui’s killing of someone and how Zhou Pei had handled it, Ning Yi nodded. “So the little girl’s grown up too, huh.”
Cheng Zhouhai looked at Ning Yi. “Her Highness the Princess stopped being a little girl a long time ago… Speaking of which, I know about the last time you and Her Highness met.”
“Oh?”
“That was before you went to Liangshan. In Bian Liang, Her Highness was nearly taken advantage of by that fellow — what was his name — Gao Muen. That was actually a setup I arranged. Later that night, she said goodbye to you and went back to get married…”
The fava beans clicked and cracked between their teeth. Ning Yi nodded. “Mm… come to think of it, that really has been many years now.”
“Her Highness, she…” Cheng Zhouhai seemed to want to say something more, but in the end shook his head. “Never mind, let’s not talk about this…”
“Of course I know about her situation.” Not noticing what Cheng Zhouhai had wanted to say, Ning Yi spoke casually. “Let’s not bring up anything that’ll sour the mood. It’s been so many years — she’s been living like a widow all alone, couldn’t she find a suitable man for herself? You elders haven’t handled this right.”
Cheng Zhouhai laughed aloud. “With Her Highness’s status, how could she go looking? Who would dare come forward? And who would Her Highness dare go looking for? Besides, you just said yourself you know all about her situation — if the two sides end up at war and you let that information out, what then?”
Ning Yi laughed wryly. “You don’t think much of me, do you? I promise you, that’s one thing I’d never do.”
“What about the Jurchens, then?”
“…Well, that’s a fair point.”
At the mention of the Jurchens, both men fell silent for a moment before steering the conversation elsewhere.
The sky hung heavy and dark, and beyond the pouring rain, the river ahead roared on. Beneath the seemingly idle chatter under the thatched shelter, both men understood perfectly well that this step Cheng Zhouhai had taken in coming to the southwest had been an exceedingly difficult one. Though all the dealings were still being carried out in secret, this already represented the greatest sacrifice and effort Zhou Pei could bring herself to make, having set aside her old grievances — and the reason behind that sacrifice and effort was that this upheaval of heaven and earth was now close at hand.
Even as the two of them chatted idly, Lou Shuwan, in the region of Jin, was at that very moment burning the entire city of Weisheng to the ground; she and Yu Yulin led their troops into the mountains, and looking back, the whole city lay wreathed in smoke and flame. In Xuzhou, several thousand troops of the Huaxia Army together with tens of thousands of garrison soldiers, having held off the assault of Wuzhu and the others for months, had begun a deliberate withdrawal to the surrounding areas. Against this backdrop, the imminent battle for Liangshan in the north was no more than a small footnote.
Next, with Jun Wu commanding and Yue Fei, Han Shizhong, and others leading troops, the Wu Dynasty’s defense lines at Xiangyang and Zhenjiang were about to clash head-on with the three hundred thousand-strong Jurchen eastern army.
Close to two million troops packed this defense line stretching a thousand li, all of them there to hold back the two Jurchen armies advancing from east and west — yet as the moment of trial drew near, everyone’s heart, when it came to the fighting strength of the Wu Dynasty’s forces, held a knot of anxiety.
In May, the waters of the Min River roared down in flood, and even amid this idle chat over fava beans in the mountain rain, what the two of them breathed in each day was, in truth, the scent of gunpowder smoke carried on that very wind and rain.
As though the whole of heaven and earth—
—were burning.