Cold droplets fell from the eaves; turning to look, one saw the fine rain now falling steadily across the courtyard. Throughout the Chancellor’s residence, the various officials who had gathered were still deep in conversation. Servants carrying tea moved carefully past them.

Ever since news of the southwestern campaign had arrived, the members of the Jun Society had been meeting privately, day after day, within the Right Chancellor’s mansion in Lin’an.

For the court officials of Lin’an — Li Shan among them — the war in the southwest felt, in essence, like an unforeseen calamity that had struck out of nowhere. Everyone had already reconciled themselves to the reality of “dynastic succession,” to “the Jin state’s conquest of the realm” — though of course, in speech, there existed far more roundabout and persuasive ways of framing this acceptance. The turn of events in the southwest was an unexpected complication thrown up in the middle of this great upheaval.

People now found themselves forced to consider things they had no wish to reconsider.

Regarding the reasons behind the founding of the Lin’an court, regarding the reasons for surrendering to the Jin, there had always been a great many narratives available. The staunchest advocates of surrender subscribed to the theory that every three hundred years a new true ruler must rise — the great tide of history could not be resisted, and people could only accept it; in accepting it, they might also save more lives and avoid pointless sacrifice.

From this it followed that although the Jurchens now held the realm, governing all under heaven, from ancient times to the present, still depended on Confucian learning alone; even amid the realm’s collapse, its people still needed the salvation Confucianism offered. Confucian teaching could civilize the myriad people, and could civilize the Jurchens too. And so “we scholars” had no choice but to endure humiliation and carry the burden, in order to keep the tradition alive.

Of course, such lofty talk, if not spoken among like-minded comrades, risked drawing mockery from those unversed in the times, and so there was often a more pragmatic line of argument as well — one whose chief justification lay in the incompetence of Zhou Zhe and Zhou Yong’s rule, in how far the Zhou dynasty had fallen and how overwhelming Jurchen power had grown, so that men like themselves had no choice but to play along in order to preserve what remained of the dynasty’s legitimate line.

As for why they had not chosen to honor Zhou Junwu as emperor instead — that too had its reasons, given the object lessons of Zhou Zhe and Zhou Yong before him. Zhou Yong’s son was hot-blooded yet foolish, blind to the larger picture, unable to understand the burden others bore in silence; crowning him emperor would, they argued, only make the situation harder to salvage in the future. In truth, had he not defied the court’s orders and proclaimed himself emperor in Jiangning despite the hopelessness of the cause, and had he not then stubbornly reorganized the army against all advice, far more strength might have rallied to the legitimate banner — and had he not acted so extremely, far more of the people of Jiangning might have survived as well.

Thinking it over carefully, was it not precisely Zhou Junwu’s reorganization of the armies in Jiangning and Zhenjiang that had driven so many to defect to the Lin’an court in the first place? He had stripped military authority entirely into his own hands, shattered the core forces long controlled by the great clans, and driven out the mid- and upper-ranking officers who had represented the interests of the various families of Jiangnan. When some sons of the great clans dared to remonstrate, he had them expelled without a second thought — a sovereign so utterly lacking in the art of balance, so stubbornly self-assured, might look different from Zhou Zhe or Zhou Yong on the surface, yet in the degree of his folly, how alike they truly were!

He had proclaimed himself emperor in Jiangning, only to abandon its people in the end and break out of the siege, leaving hundreds of thousands of Jiangning’s residents to be slaughtered by the Jurchens. He had escaped only with everyone’s help, and afterward showed favor only to a handful of military men like Yue Fei and Han Shizhong, casting aside the interests of the great clans entirely… Zhou Junwu had already alienated both his followers and his own kin; the legitimate line of the Zhou dynasty was now no more than a guttering candle-flame — and how many people could truly understand the painstaking effort of men like themselves in keeping that flame alive?

Whatever the case, the people of Lin’an had walked their own path for reasons that were many, and sufficient. Had nothing unexpected arisen, everyone could have gone on believing in the Jurchens’ invincibility, recognizing their own helplessness, and the rightness of “we had no other choice” would have needed no proof. But now that the reports from the southwest had reached them, the worst part of it all was that everyone felt a creeping sense of guilt and embarrassment.

If the Jurchens were not, after all, so unbeatable — then what exactly had they been doing on this side?

Now that the southwest had dealt the Jurchens a blow, what were they supposed to do? Uphold the Han tradition and seek reconciliation with the southwest? They had already sold out so many people — would the other side even show them any face? And how, then, should they define the “tradition” they had claimed to be upholding all along?

If they did not reconcile, and threw in wholeheartedly with the Jurchens instead, would the excuses of “playing along” and “enduring humiliation to shoulder the burden” still hold water? Could they even still be spoken aloud? And most importantly — if the southwest one day came pouring out of those mountains, could their side withstand it?

When facing a powerful enemy, a choice is easy to make. But now that the southwest had shown muscle to rival the Jurchens’ own, the people of Lin’an could not help but feel the unease and awkwardness of being caught between two forces.

The members of the Jun Society had spent several days discussing their views on the southwest. On certain points, the discussants held back, careful not to let anything too sharp touch on each other’s pride; at the same time, they were also waiting for someone higher up to offer a more authoritative line. On this day, as the fine rain fell steadily over the Right Chancellor’s mansion, Gan Fenglin — who had questioned Li Shan a few days earlier — arrived quietly once more, gathering several fellow disciples together in a small study.

“There is something I’d like to show you all first, before anyone else — a new work by our teacher.”

As Gan Fenglin spoke, he produced an essay, and the others perked up at once. “Oh? Does it concern the matter of the southwest?”

These past few days, Wu Qimei had set several trusted disciples to gathering news of the southwest, continually verifying its many particulars; though he had said little himself, everyone knew he must be turning the matter over in his mind. Now that he had produced an essay, it surely offered some way of dealing with the situation. Someone reached for it first, laughing. “Our teacher’s brilliant prose — let this student have the first look.”

That fellow disciple held the essay while the others crowded around. At first their faces lit with delight, but soon their brows furrowed; some tilted their heads in confusion, others muttered under their breath. Someone lacking patience turned to the person beside him to ask what on earth the essay meant.

Curious, Li Shan leaned over as well, and saw that the paper was covered in flowing script, its title reading: “On How the Qin Fell in Two Generations.”

The situation of the Qin dynasty — was it meant to resemble the present? He could not understand it. The fellow disciple who had finished reading first passed the essay along, equally baffled. “Such a masterful brush, enough to startle the deaf awake — but what could our teacher mean by writing this now?”

The others finished reading it one by one, each stirred in some fashion, and murmured among themselves. Someone caught the scent of it. “Qin’s governance — surely this is speaking of the southwest…”

“Actually, it resembles the former Crown Prince Junwu as well — stubborn and self-assured, capable of a moment’s strength, but never lasting. What do the rest of you think…”

The group discussed it a while longer, and before long Wu Qimei himself arrived, gathering the Jun Society’s members in the main hall at the back. The old man seemed in good spirits, greeting everyone cheerfully at first; after tea was served, he had copies of his new essay distributed to all present.

Many, reading it, showed the same puzzled expressions. Once most had finished, Wu Qimei finally spoke.

“These past few days, all of you have been troubled by the war in the southwest. When I first heard of how the campaign had gone, I too was somewhat taken aback, and so I sent Fenglin, Jiaji, and others to confirm the reports, and afterward inquired in detail into the situation there. By now, some things can be established. At the end of last month, deep in the mountains of the southwest, Ning Yi’s Black Banner bandit army made use of the terrain to set an ambush, and succeeded in crushing the elite Jurchen force under Prince of Baoshan, Wanyan Xiebao, of the Western Route Army. Wanyan Xiebao was cut down by Ning Yi’s own hand upon the battlefield. This engagement reversed the entire course of the war in the southwest.”

The old man laid out these facts plainly, and amid the solemn silence of the room, he finally allowed himself a faint smile. “This news came as a surprise to all of us. As things stand now, the course of the entire southwestern campaign has become far harder to predict. These past few days, I asked Fenglin, Jiaji and the others just how the southwest managed to win — how, over these years, it has developed itself within that mountain gully in the first place. I confess, with some shame, that most of us knew almost nothing of it.”

“…And so I gathered a number of people — merchants who have had dealings with the southwest over the years, and those with foresight who have kept their eyes fixed on the southwest all this while without ever letting their guard down. Li Shan here is one such man; back in the day he was on close terms with Li Dexin, and never neglected to learn what he could of conditions there… I have consulted with all of them, and so have learned a great many things. My friends — when it comes to the southwest, it is time we sharpened our minds.”

The old man nodded, his tone weighty and earnest. “We must sharpen our minds.”

The others nodded along, and some glanced toward Li Shan, envious of the praise their teacher had given him.

Wu Qimei went on. “As matters stand now, in the years ahead the southwest may well become the greatest threat under heaven. Who is Ning Yi, really? What is this Black Banner? Whatever notions we held before were, in the end, mere idle talk. These past few days I have inquired in detail, verified what I could, and studied a great deal of intelligence, and only now have I reached certain conclusions.”

As he spoke, Gan Fenglin brought out a great stack of papers, some new, some old — evidently all the gathered intelligence, piled on the table nearly half a man’s height. Wu Qimei rested his hand upon the pile.

“Why has the southwest achieved such results in this war, and who is Ning Yi, truly? First — Ning Yi is a savage man. Much of what concerns him here, all of you already know, having heard bits and pieces of it before. Though born a matrilocal son-in-law and naturally prone to feelings of inferiority, the more inferior such a man feels within, the more savage he becomes — a man not to be provoked! I do not know when he learned the martial arts, but ever since he did, blood has never ceased to stain his hands!”

“Back when he had Qin Siyuan’s backing and was placed in charge of the Secret Investigation Bureau, overseeing affairs of the underworld, the debts of blood on his hands were beyond counting. Wandering heroes of the martial world would often attempt to assassinate him, only to die at his hands instead… this was the reputation he already carried in his early years. Truly, if he were a man of honor, how could he have made so many enemies while overseeing the underworld? The bandits of Liangshan bore a deep grudge against him, and once struck as far as Jiangning, all the way to his own home. In answer, Ning Yi struck back at Liangshan — using the strength of the Right Chancellor’s mansion, he wiped out nearly half the bandits of Liangshan, and blood flowed like a river. Though it is true that when one dog bites another neither is truly innocent, this reputation of his — savage — is no exaggeration.”

“Second,” Wu Qimei went on, tapping his finger against the table, “Ning Yi is a cunning and treacherous man. My friends, he is clever — do not underestimate him. He was born to a family of scholars, but after his household fell into poverty he married into a merchant family as a live-in son-in-law, and it was perhaps from this that he developed his appetite for wealth; he has a remarkable gift for commerce.”

“Let us set aside the smaller matters and speak only of the eleventh year of Jinghan, when disaster struck the realm — flooding in the south, drought in the north, harvests failing across many regions, and the common people reduced to utter misery. At that time Qin Siyuan held the post of Right Chancellor, and bore responsibility for organizing famine relief across the realm. Ning Yi took advantage of this position, mobilizing grain merchants from across the realm to sell grain in the stricken regions. A man of great commercial talent, he used the authority of the Chancellor’s office to bring the grain merchants under unified control, fixing grain prices uniformly, and cracking down — even having the authorities intervene directly — on anyone who refused to fall in line. That year, grain prices did not come down even after the snow began to fall. Countless people starved to death across the Central Plains — while he, in the name of aiding the Right Chancellor’s relief efforts, filled his coffers to overflowing!”

Wu Qimei brought his finger down hard on the table, and someone in the room stood up. “I remember this! They called it famine relief, but in truth it was all sold at inflated prices!”

Another spoke up. “That’s right, I remember the great disaster of the eleventh year of Jinghan too…”

“Had it not been for that disaster, which drained the realm’s strength so badly, who’s to say whether the Jurchens would even have marched south…”

The room broke into murmured discussion. Wu Qimei pressed his palm downward to quiet them.

“And that was only what happened back then. Even in more recent years, while the Black Banner has held to the mountains of the southwest, its commercial dealings with regions across the realm have continued unabated. I have said Ning Yi is a genius of commerce — surely all of you already have some sense of what goods have come out of the southwest? Take books, for instance. The southwest prints its classics and canons with exquisite craftsmanship — the type set with perfect uniformity, the binding beyond compare. And yet? For the very same texts, the southwest charges ten, a hundred, even a thousand times the ordinary price!”

“The classics of the southwest are produced in small numbers and sold at exorbitant prices. Years ago I already wrote essays warning against this — after all, they are only books; however finely bound, does that change the words of the sages contained within? And it is not only that — the southwest has also taken all manner of lurid, licentious writings, and all manner of vulgar, worthless trash, dressed them up with exquisite care, and shipped them into the Central Plains and Jiangnan to be sold. Those affecting refined taste flock to buy them! And the silver earned from all this, flowing back to the southwest, becomes the guns and cannons of the Black Banner Army.”

“My friends, Ning Yi has an epithet abroad — they call him the Heart Demon. This man understands the unworthy corners of human nature all too well. Years ago, even while confined to the southwest, he used all manner of licentious material to corrupt the hearts of the people of Jiangnan, and even sold cannon and firearms to our own Zhou army! Our soldiers, having bought his weapons, felt they had gotten the better end of the bargain — so that when others spoke of attacking the southwest, every army found its hands too soft to lift a blade! Bit by bit, he corroded the very fabric of our army. This is why I say the man is cunning and treacherous — one must never let his guard down.”

“Third!” Wu Qimei’s voice rose. “This man is mad — he cannot be judged by ordinary reasoning. This madness is evident, first, in his savage act of regicide, which brought ruin upon our Zhou dynasty, upon the Central Plains, upon all of China — an act beyond all reason! And after murdering his sovereign, he still dared to claim it was done for the sake of China itself! He even named his army the Huaxia Army — laughable beyond words! And the second mark of his madness lies in this: he has openly declared his wish to destroy the very tradition of our Confucian learning!”

He paused here, looking around at the gathered men. Laughter rippled through the room. “Now that truly is madness.”

“I heard that not long after he said such a thing, that Xiaocang River stronghold of his was besieged by the whole realm — so it seems the scolding back then wasn’t enough…”

“Destroy our Confucian tradition — when I first heard that, I didn’t even bother cursing him for it…”

Back then, word of Ning Yi’s declared war on Confucianism had spread through Li Pin, and yet the debate and condemnation it stirred across the realm had not lasted long — partly because the Xiaocang River side had never taken any substantial action on the matter (killing every Confucian scholar they encountered, for instance), and later, once Xiaocang River had been besieged by the whole realm and fled ignominiously to the southwest, no extreme measures had followed either. And partly, too, because people’s confidence in the Confucian tradition ran so deep — if killing an emperor was already within the realm of possibility, then a madman shouting about destroying Confucianism could be met by the scholars with an easy, almost indulgent shrug: let him try.

To take the matter too seriously would, in fact, risk making oneself feel foolish, and defeated besides. Better to bring it up now and then, curse him a little, and leave it at that.

At this point Wu Qimei gave a scornful chuckle, then turned solemn once more. “Even so, we must not grow careless, my friends. This man’s madness leads to a fourth trait — cruelty. And what do I mean by cruelty? The Black Banner of the southwest, they say, faces the Jurchens fearlessly, throwing themselves forward wave after wave without hesitation. Why? Because of cruelty! And this, in fact, is precisely why I have spent these past few days writing this essay!”

By this point some in the room had already begun to catch on, their eyes lighting up. “So that’s it…” Several nodded slowly in realization, Li Shan among them. Wu Qimei’s gaze swept over them, visibly satisfied.

“How has the Black Banner Army managed to face the Jin army head-on? I have asked a great many people, and studied earlier reports as well — and the whole matter, it seems, must be traced back to Fang La. Back when Fang La rose in rebellion, his slogan was: ‘All under the Dharma are equal, none higher or lower than another.’ This notion of equality is one of the roots of the matter. When Fang La’s rebellion seized Hangzhou — which is to say, present-day Lin’an — Ning Yi happened to be caught up in it. We now know that much of the support behind his later regicide came from the remnants of Fang La’s uprising.”

The old man rose to his feet. “And the commander of the recent victory at Changsha, Chen Fan, was in fact a disciple of the rebel leader Fang Qifo. Many in the tribal armies he leads once served in the so-called Overlord Blade Camp — and the leader of that Overlord Blade Camp is now one of Ning Yi’s own concubines. When Fang La first rose up, Ning Yi was caught up in the uprising; later, when it failed and the city fell, it was said that Ning Yi had rendered service to our dynasty — but in truth, even then, he had already inherited the mantle of Fang La’s rebellion.”

“Inspired by this idea of ‘all equal under the Dharma,’ after murdering his sovereign he preached equality endlessly throughout the Huaxia Army as well. And what does his so-called equality really mean? Simply this: that all people under heaven are equal, that the common man in the marketplace is the equal of the Son of Heaven himself — and so, by this logic, his act of regicide becomes no great wrong at all! Flying the banner of equality, he argues that since all men are equal, then for some to live in great mansions with fields and lands of their own while others starve is itself an inequality. Armed with this justification, he has killed no small number of local gentry and great clans in the southwest, confiscating their household wealth afterward — and calling this, equality.”

“Of course, this man understands human nature all too well, and he does not go about proclaiming this loudly. Instead, he quietly and thoroughly investigates whatever disgraceful conduct the great households and clans may be guilty of — and within the Huaxia Army, the smallest misstep is enough, for there, the Son of Heaven himself is held to the same law as the common people, and a household’s wealth is confiscated in full. The Huaxia Army governs itself by this same logic, enforcing strict equality within its own ranks as well — everyone endures the same hardship, no one keeps any surplus wealth. And where does all that wealth go? Every last bit of it is poured into expanding their military resources.”

“At court, we would call this by another name — reckless militarism, waging war without end—”

“Using the language of equality to confiscate every last bit of people’s wealth, using the threat the Jurchens pose to the realm to instill fear and dread throughout the ranks, forcing everyone to accept such conditions, so that on the battlefield no one dares to flee. My friends — fear has taken root deep in the hearts of every man in the Black Banner Army. To govern a nation as one governs an army, stripping the people of their surplus wealth, enforcing harsh and merciless policies, taking away the people’s joy and multiplying their fear — this, precisely, is what we call — tyranny!!!”

Wu Qimei’s voice rang out like a thunderclap, and by now everyone in the room had grasped his meaning.

“Qin Shi Huang waged endless war and, in the end, unified the six kingdoms — why? Because he ruled through harsh policy and severe law; the rise of Qin came from its very tyranny. Yet the Qin dynasty fell after only two generations — why? Also because it ruled through harsh policy and severe law; everyone feared its tyranny and rose up against it, and so Qin fell — likewise because of its tyranny. In the end, what is too rigid cannot endure.”

“Ever since the Black Banner Army first rose, it has stood surrounded by enemies on every side, and its people have lived in constant fear — and so they fight without holding back whenever they take the field. From Xiaocang River to the southwest, their unbroken string of victories has been born of fear. Whether or not we care for Ning Yi, the man is undeniably a hero of his age — over ten years of campaigning, has the path he has walked not closely resembled that of the Jurchens themselves? Today he has repelled an entire Jurchen army. But can such a thing last?”

Wu Qimei shook his head. “It cannot. Push people too hard in times of hardship, and once times turn easy, that same pressure cannot be sustained. Ning Yi is savage, cunning, mad, tyrannical… such a fiend may well indulge his ferocity for a time — but looking back across a thousand years of recorded history, has any fiend of this kind ever truly succeeded in the end?”

He gave a slight smile. “The southwest lies thousands of li from Jiangnan, and the outcome of the war is not even settled yet. Even if the Black Banner of the southwest truly does withstand the assault of Zonghan’s entire army, its own strength will still be badly depleted by the end of it. And once the fear that has bound the Black Banner Army’s hearts together dissolves after their victory over the Jurchens, the years that follow will bring nothing but the doling out of rewards for merit — and a man who has ruled through tyranny will, in turn, be devoured by that very tyranny. We may witness his strength for a time, but what follows will be his fall — a thousand years of history record no other outcome.”

“As for the matters of the southwest, of Ning Yi, of the Black Banner Army — I have had people compiling material on this for days now, and from here on I intend to spread word of the Black Banner’s tyrannical conduct throughout the realm. With this material in hand, our fellow officials of the Zhou dynasty will surely see clearly where the true direction of this world lies — and as for Ning Yi’s talk of ‘all equal under the Dharma,’ I am confident no one will dare go anywhere near it now. I intend to write further letters as well, to discuss this matter in detail with several of our dynasty’s pillars of state. The Black Banner’s ferocity is a fleeting thing, incapable of lasting — none of you need worry overmuch. Though we ought also to learn what we can from their strengths, and apply it to ourselves…”

Outside, the fine rain went on falling as Wu Qimei spoke, and in the hearts of Li Shan and the others, something had already caught fire. With their teacher’s account laid before them, they felt they had finally seen clearly the true shape of the world’s affairs. Yes — had it not been for Ning Yi’s savagery and tyranny, how could the Black Banner Army possibly have achieved such ferocious fighting power? But what good was fighting power alone? If the path once taken by the former Crown Prince Junwu could truly have led anywhere, then all the officials of the Zhou court need only have become tyrants themselves.

But such a thing could never possibly last. Even the Jurchens themselves, were they not now on the decline, turning at last to consider governing through Confucian principles?

In that moment, Wu Qimei’s words scattered the fog that had clouded everyone’s minds, like a bright lamp pointing the way forward. That evening, once home, Li Shan and the others began drafting their own essays, discussing the tyranny within the Black Banner Army — its enforcement of equality, its cultivation of fear, its seizure of private wealth…

Over the half month that followed, this portrayal of the Huaxia Army as a savage and merciless force spread throughout the Zhou dynasty’s territories, riding on the coattails of the news from the southwest.