The sun was setting in the west; in the distance, the green fields swayed gently in the wind. Climbing the small hillside ahead, one could see wildflowers blooming everywhere. Early summer on the Chengdu plain seemed peaceful and tranquil.

Ning Yi and Chen Shanjun, the county chief of Ox Head County, walked along the ridge together. As they walked, Chen Shanjun pointed to the land ahead, describing to Ning Yi the work that had been done here since his arrival.

Chen Shanjun was just past forty, with an upright and dignified bearing. He came from a family of scholars, originally from the Central Plains; after his family had died at the hands of the Jurchens, he had joined the Huaxia Army. At first he had gone through a period of despondency, but once he emerged from that shadow, he had gradually shown extraordinary administrative ability, along with his own cultivation and aspirations in thought. He was one of the cadres the Huaxia Army had deliberately cultivated, and once the army had broken out from the three counties of Hedeng, he had naturally been placed in a key position.

“…After arriving here last year, we killed Huangfu Yao, the great landlord who had been here before, and then bit by bit opened up more than four thousand mu of land—over two thousand mu on the other side of the river, and another plot on the far side of the county town. All of it together has been distributed to the common people who contributed labor… People from the surrounding villages and counties often come here too. The Wu Dynasty always treated the people on this border as enemies, always guarding against them. Last year there was a great flood that ruined the fields and brought disaster, and the Wu officials did nothing to help—they said that if they gave grain to these people, the people would turn around and defect to the Black Banner. Heh, so we went and provided relief instead…”

“…And so by this year, hearts here have come together. We led the spring planting ourselves—if there’s no war, this year’s harvest will be much larger than before… Also, over in Zhongzhi County, the Wu Dynasty magistrate has never dared take up his post; a local tyrant named Ruan Pingbang and his gang run wild there without restraint, and there’s widespread resentment. Many people have already come to us asking us to see justice done. We’ve been preparing recently, and if conditions are favorable, Mr. Ning, we could take Zhongzhi as well…”

“…Ox Head County is also called Old Ox Head. It was only after I arrived that I learned the name comes from this very hill beneath our feet. Look, Mr. Ning—the main ridge over there is the ox’s head, and the part curving down here is one of its horns… ‘The ox drinks at the water’—there’s a sense of prosperity and abundance in that, and truly, the land here is good.”

The group walked along the ridge, and ahead the river curved away; already the sunset clouds burned red like fire. From the ridge behind them, Juan’er came running, calling from a distance that the meal was ready. Chen Shanjun was about to take his leave, but Ning Yi urged him to stay: “There’s still much to discuss—stay and eat with us. Besides, you’re the host anyway.”

So they walked back together, and ate in the courtyard from which the county town below could be seen. The red glow at the horizon gradually faded, torches were lit, and Chen Shanjun spoke of the good deeds and good people of Ox Head County, with Ning Yi listening and nodding along with a smile.

Chen Shanjun’s temperament had always been warm-hearted; back in the three counties of Hedeng, he had often helped those around him, and this warmth had touched many of his comrades. Last year at Old Ox Head, the land redistribution, the reclamation of wasteland, and the building of irrigation works had mobilized many common people, and no small number of moving stories had emerged from it. Ning Yi had come this time to commend outstanding individuals, and Chen Shanjun’s name was not on the list—but in truth, much of what had happened had been set in motion by him. The Huaxia Army’s resources were no longer as scarce as before, yet Chen Shanjun’s own habits remained frugal. Outside of his official duties, he kept up the habit of reclaiming land to farm and raising chickens and ducks himself—though of course, when work grew busy, soldiers would help—and once the animals were grown, most of the meat was given away to the people around him.

The Confucian education of the Wu Dynasty did not particularly encourage such extreme frugality; these ascetic-monk-like habits of Chen Shanjun’s had gradually formed only after he joined the Huaxia Army. On the other hand, he was also quite receptive to the ideas of equality and democratic thinking that had stirred up discussion within the Huaxia Army—though because his own scholarly temperament tended toward steadiness and reserve, he had not shown much of this edge back in the three counties of Hedeng.

Now, as the sky gradually darkened, Chen Shanjun set down his bowl and chopsticks, weighed his words for a moment, and finally brought up the topic he had been meaning to raise all along.

“…These past few years, I’ve always felt that what Mr. Ning says makes a great deal of sense.”

Under the eaves of the courtyard, torches burned against the pillars. On this side of the small table, Ning Yi was still eating fish; he only glanced up slightly and said with a smile, “What do you mean?”

Chen Shanjun’s expression relaxed, and he recalled with a smile: “That was… back in the fourth year of Jianshuo, at Xiaocang River. I had just arrived there and joined the Huaxia Army; fighting outside was about to break out. At the time… it was the third lecture I heard from Mr. Ning. You spoke of the problem of fairness and the means of production.”

Ning Yi picked at a fish bone and nodded with a smile. “You come from a family of scholars yourself, Brother Chen—it wasn’t really a lecture, just an exchange of views… Hm, thinking back on it now, the fourth year of Jianshuo, when the Jurchens were about to attack—the pressure was quite heavy then, and what we talked about were all rather large questions.”

“No, no, no, my family of scholars is a bit of a fraud—I didn’t read much as a child,” Chen Shanjun said with a smile. “To be honest, when I first arrived there, my state of mind was in quite some trouble, and I didn’t pay much attention to what was said then—I couldn’t really understand it either… It wasn’t until after the defeat at Xiaocang River, when we reached Hedeng, that it suddenly came back to me, and one thing after another was confirmed. What you said, sir, truly made sense…”

As he spoke, his voice gradually grew lower; he reached out to straighten the bowl and chopsticks in front of him, his gaze tracing back through certain memories. “My family… for several generations we were a family of scholars—though in truth, we were also the landlords of the ten li and eight villages around us. After studying, one becomes a good person; my great-grandparents, grandparents, parents… all were well-read, kind people. They treated the farmhands in our household well, and if anyone in the neighborhood fell ill or was injured, they would visit and give medicine freely. Everyone around us praised them without exception…”

“Our family’s discipline was strict—since I was young, the elders and my father always said that a legacy of benevolence and goodness could last for a thousand generations. From childhood I had a strong sense of right and wrong, and I hated evil as if it were my enemy. I wasn’t a good student, but I was always proud of my family’s tradition of kindness… After my family met with great disaster, I was overcome with grief and rage. I thought of those corrupt officials and dogs of thieves, of all the evils I had seen the Wu Dynasty commit, and I felt that it was the Wu Dynasty that deserved to die. My family was so kind and good—we paid our taxes every year, and when the Jurchens came we even donated half of everything we owned—and yet it could not protect my family. With such thoughts, I made my way to Xiaocang River…”

He looked at the bowl and chopsticks on the table, and, as if unconsciously, reached out to nudge the slightly crooked chopsticks back into place. “It wasn’t until… one day I suddenly understood this principle Mr. Ning had spoken of. The means of production… I suddenly understood that I, too, was not an innocent man…”

Ning Yi nodded, slowing his eating slightly, then looked up with a smile. “Mm.” And went back to his meal.

“Words can be spoken beautifully, and a family can go on being kind and benevolent generation after generation, but those who farmed our land, generation after generation, still lived in broken houses—some with nothing but four bare walls. From the moment I was born, I was already different from them. But what difference was there, really? If those farmers’ children had had the same chance to study that I had, they would have been far more clever than I was… Some say that this is simply how the world is, that our own ancestors also clawed their way up through hardship, generation after generation, and that they must do the same. But it was precisely because of this that the Wu Dynasty was swallowed by the Central Plains falling, and my own wife and children, my parents… those who were meant to die, died anyway…”

Ning Yi set down his bowl and chopsticks.

Across from him, Chen Shanjun murmured, “There must be a better way. This world, in the future, will surely take on a better shape…”

As night fell over Ox Head County, a cool evening breeze rose, and the residents, having finished their evening meal, gradually made their way out into the streets. Some of them exchanged glances with one another, and slowly began strolling toward the river. On the other side of the county town, in the military camp, torches blazed brightly, and soldiers were assembling for their night drills.

In the courtyard on the hillside of Old Ox Head, Ning Yi sat facing Chen Shanjun, who spoke slowly, a smile at the corners of his mouth, laying out his thoughts—by any outward appearance, a friendly and calm exchange.

“Just as Mr. Ning has said, people are, in the end, the same as one another. If I have something good and I give it to another, that person will remember it in their heart; if I help someone, they will know to repay the kindness. Here at Old Ox Head, everyone constantly helps one another, and gradually, this spirit of willingness to help has taken root, and more and more people have become like this. It all comes down to education and cultivation—but truly bringing that about isn’t nearly as difficult as everyone imagines…”

Ning Yi nodded, smiling. “Actually, Brother Chen, after you got to Hedeng, you were originally in charge of commerce, and your family had accumulated a few things—but later you kept giving things away to help everyone, gave everything away to others… I heard that when a young brother in Hedeng got married, you even gave him your own bed, and afterward you slept on a broken cot for a long time. Your noble conduct moved a great many people.”

Chen Shanjun smiled faintly. “At first I hadn’t quite worked it out in my heart—it was a habit formed since childhood, indulging in comfort and ease, and my life was somewhat better than others’. But later, once I understood clearly, I stopped clinging to such things. Mr. Ning, I’ve found a vision worth devoting my whole life to—whether the bed is good or bad, whether the tea is strong or weak, what does it matter?”

He went on: “Of course, there are many subtleties in all this. Relying on a moment’s enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of one or two people, cannot sustain anything on a large scale. Even the monks in the temples help others, yet in the end they cannot benefit the whole land. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when I heard someone speak of an old episode, that I finally understood it clearly.”

“What episode?” Ning Yi asked, curious.

“That was before I had even reached Xiaocang River. I heard that, back then, you sir, along with Lord Zuo and Li Pin and others, had once sat in discussion and brought up a matter called ‘striking down the local tyrants and dividing the land’—so it turned out you had already thought this through long ago… In truth, it wasn’t until I came to Old Ox Head that I finally, gradually, thought the whole matter through completely. Why not simply do it?”

“The people of this world are inherently equal, with no distinction of high or low. But if everyone in this world had land to farm, and education and cultivation were rigorously carried on, then this world before us would become a world belonging to all its people. When foreign insult comes, they would naturally rise up bravely to meet it—just as our Huaxia Army teaches. Mr. Ning, you yourself have seen the changes here at Old Ox Head. The people are no longer living in a daze; more and more are willing to reach out and help others. Once they have land, a sense of responsibility naturally grows in their hearts, and with that responsibility, combined with education, they will gradually come to understand, to awaken, and become better people… Mr. Ning, what do you think?”

In the torchlight of the courtyard, across the dinner table, Chen Shanjun’s eyes were full of expectation as he looked at Ning Yi. Though he was several years older than Ning Yi, he could not help but address him with the respectful “you”; the tension in his heart had replaced his earlier smile, and within that anticipation was, even more, a sincerity and enthusiasm that came from the depths of his heart. Ning Yi set his hand on the table, raised his head slightly, and weighed his words for a moment.

“Though there is unclaimed land in this world that could be reclaimed, most places already have owners. Among them, most are not villains like Huangfu Yao—most are kind and benevolent people like your own parents and ancestors. Just as you say, they built up their family fortunes over many generations, with great difficulty. If you strike down the tyrants and divide up the land, will you strike only the wicked, or the good along with them?”

There was no hesitation in Chen Shanjun’s eyes. “My family was indeed kind and benevolent for generations, but when the Jurchens came, they too could not escape—all because the entire Wu Dynasty was in the wrong. They acted according to the rules, but it was within those wrong rules that they arrived at this point… Mr. Ning, the world has already come to this. If a truly new world is to emerge, there must be thoroughly new rules. Even good people, if they hold so much of the means of production, are in the wrong. Of course, toward good people, our methods can be gentler—but fairness in the means of production ought to be the very core of this world.”

“…To bring everyone back to a position of fairness.” Ning Yi nodded. “And after several generations, when the clever ones have gone further ahead and new landlords emerge, what then?”

“All conditions of unfairness stem from unfairness in the means of production.” Again without any hesitation, Chen Shanjun answered. At the moment he spoke, Ning Yi’s gaze drifted to the stars scattered across the sky outside the courtyard; in that moment, the countless stars seemed to proclaim some eternal meaning. Chen Shanjun’s voice echoed in his ears.

“And so, the new rules must be devoted to eliminating unfairness in the means of production. Land is a means of production; from now on the means of production should belong to the state, no longer to private individuals—and only in this way can it be guaranteed that those who till the land shall have land of their own, and only then can the state truly become the state of all its people—”

“…Mm.”

A soft sigh escaped from Ning Yi’s throat. At some point, Hongti’s alert voice called out: “Liheng.”

Her sword-bearing figure landed in the courtyard. Ning Yi rose slowly from the table; outside, the faint sound of voices could be heard—something was happening. Ning Yi crossed the courtyard, his gaze lingering on the sky above, as Chen Shanjun’s respectful voice sounded behind him.

“Over this past year and more, regarding these ideas, I know—Shanjun knows—that the General Staff, and many others who have come to the southwest, have already made repeated appeals. You, sir, are kind and benevolent at heart, and too insistent on strict right and wrong; you cannot bear to see the world thrown into chaos and rivers of blood, and most of all, you cannot bear to raise a hand against those kind and benevolent landlords and gentry… And yet the world is already in chaos. For the sake of ten thousand generations to come, how can we afford to hesitate over such things now? People born into this world are inherently equal to one another; however kind the landlords and gentry may be, it is simply wrong for them to hold so much of the means of production—this is the great principle of Heaven and Earth. To explain it plainly… Mr. Ning, you yourself have spoken of the transformation from primitive society to slave society, and of the transformation from slave society to feudalism. The common ownership of the means of production would be a change just as world-shaking as those… Today, Shanjun, in defiance of propriety, together with my comrades, wishes to put this question and this appeal before you, and asks that you lead us in carrying out this great undertaking, which will benefit ten thousand generations to come…”

His voice seemed, to Ning Yi, to sound from very far away. Ning Yi walked to the courtyard gate and gently pushed the door open. The guards accompanying him had already formed a human wall around the perimeter; beyond that wall, the gathered common people stood in the open ground, some humble, some uneasy, murmuring quietly among themselves, occasionally casting glances this way. Ning Yi’s gaze passed over all their heads, and for a moment, he closed his eyes.

Everything still seemed gentle on the surface, but beneath it, an uneasy restlessness was deeply brewing, capable at any moment of revealing its blade, of turning to reckless, desperate action. Behind him, Chen Shanjun bowed low, still speaking: “They mean no harm, sir, there’s no need to worry…” Ning Yi paid no attention to any of this tension.

What flashed before his eyes instead was that snowy night, many years ago, when Qin Siyuan had brought out his annotated edition of the Four Books. That had been light itself.

Heh, old Qin.

He thought.

Look at this…

The cool breeze of the summer night was intoxicating. Further away, an army was surging toward this place—at this moment, Old Ox Head was like a boiling volcanic crater. The coup had begun.