The river wind was mild, colorful banners fluttered, and the summer sunlight carried a clear, crisp feeling. On the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month, along the south bank of the Han River, bustling crowds crossed mountains and ridges, converging toward the small county town by the riverside.

Ragged young men and women, tottering old people, children following their parents, scholars, soldiers, beggars… all moving in the same direction at this moment. Along the way, hills rose and fell, and the green land was full of life; on both sides of the official road, some people even beat gongs and drums, and a few thin scholars gathered together, pointing out the lively scene around them.

Ahead lay Xicheng County, the seat of the Dai clan and Dai Mengwei.

This small county town, which originally held only two or three ten-thousands of people, now had a gathered population reaching one hundred fifty thousand, naturally including soldiers converging from all directions. Xicheng County had only just put down a “rebellion,” and the fighting had not fully ended — indeed, the slaughter and disposal of the “rebels” at the eastern end of the town had only just begun — yet on the southern side of the county town, a great number of civilians were now gathering, giving this once tranquil, scenic little county town the appearance of a bustling major city.

Most of the common people gathering here had come to thank Dai Mengwei for the debt of life he had given them. People brought embroidered banners, carried tablets of honor, held up canopies signed by ten thousand names — all to express gratitude for what Dai Mengwei had done for the Han people of the realm.

Xicheng County was not large, and Dai Mengwei was already advanced in years, so he could not receive many visitors in person. People instead selected respected elders to represent them, sending in the tokens of gratitude that carried their sentiments. Outside the southern gate, those who could not get into the town gathered on the grassy slopes and hillsides, dragging their children along, bowing from afar in the direction of the Dai residence within the walls.

Over the past year or two, the Jurchen Western Route Army, in its campaign of plunder and slaughter, had claimed many towns as its own territory. Large numbers of laborers, craftsmen, and women of some beauty had been imprisoned within these towns, naturally with the intent of carrying them all north when the army withdrew. But with the defeat of the great battle in the southwest, Dai Mengwei had struck a deal that reclaimed “ownership” of these people. Over the past several days, news that they would be released — and even given some compensation — had spread through the towns south of the Yangtze, and under deliberate guidance, public opinion had already begun to ferment.

If everything had gone as the Jurchen intended in their southern campaign, the population they could have carried back north would have numbered only a few hundred thousand at most — but far more people than that had been affected by the ravages of war. Many towns, after being ravaged by the fighting, had come under the control of Han armies, and those Han armies had in turn submitted to the Jurchen — so it was not wrong to say they were under Jurchen rule. Now that the Jurchen campaign had failed and they were fleeing north in a panic, they could not take these people with them — but it was entirely possible they might set fire to what they could not take, or carry out one last massacre.

It was at this moment that the elderly scholar Dai Mengwei stepped forward, laying out the stakes face-to-face with the Jurchen commander Gushen, and in the end not only secured the safety of everyone, but even ensured that the grain, supplies, and materials the Jurchen could not carry away were not destroyed, but handed over in their entirety to Dai Mengwei. As a result, once released, the people were even able to keep some of their belongings and begin rebuilding their lives. Such an act of grace — to call it a boon to ten thousand households, a living Buddha among men — would not be an exaggeration south of the Yangtze; some might even call it the deed of a sage.

To be sure, some aspects of these actions were debatable — for instance, tens of thousands of so-called Black Banner bandits, who had likewise resisted the Jurchen, were at this time calculated by Dai Mengwei and turned into bargaining chips in the deal. But to people who had already spent over a year living in fear and desperation, such a flaw seemed utterly trivial.

Amid their terror and dread, people had certainly thought that whoever defeated the Jurchen, regardless of who it was, would be a hero. But now that they had been saved by Dai Mengwei, they suddenly felt that his continued opposition to the Black Banner at this very moment only proved him to be a great Confucian scholar and sage of principle and integrity — indeed, had it not been for the Black Banner killing the emperor, would the Wu Dynasty ever have fallen to such a state? If, simply because the Black Banner had held off the Jurchen, people forgot their past crimes, what would become of the moral integrity of scholars like themselves?

It had already been several days since Xiyin handed over control of the population, resources, and command of the Han armies south of the Yangtze to Dai Mengwei. Although the commanders of the various armies each had their own ideas, for the moment they could not help but be won over by Dai Mengwei’s grand gesture. In theory, this ruthless old man — who could turn things upside down without so much as a change in expression — was bound to become one of the most important power centers south of the Yangtze. And so, in these first few days, everyone had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into the propaganda and arrangements, using a wave of carefully crafted messaging to build up the image of this sage.

The common people everywhere had long feared being massacred or carried north by the Jurchen. Upon hearing that the war in the southwest had gone badly for the Jin, they had not felt relieved — if anything, their fear had grown even greater. Now, finally freed from this terrifying shadow, and hearing that in the future their goods would even be returned and the government would help restore their livelihoods, the feelings in their hearts were beyond words. Places farther from Xicheng County might respond more slowly, but the residents of the two large cities nearby poured toward Xicheng County, choking the small county town to a standstill.

Great numbers of down-and-out Confucian scholars were also converging here — partly to express gratitude for Dai Mengwei’s kindness, and partly hoping to use the occasion to offer their views on the affairs of the realm and sell what learning they carried in their breasts.

Dai Mengwei’s reputation had never been especially prominent before, but with this single act, his name was now known throughout the realm; naturally, people would flock to him from every direction from now on. Those who arrived early might catch his favor and even earn the credit of having followed the rising dragon from the start.

These developments had only just begun, and Dai Mengwei made no attempt to stop the gathering of the people. He merely ordered the young men under him to open the granaries wide, and set up porridge stalls outside the town, trying to ensure that everyone who came could have at least one meal before leaving. Openly, the old man did not receive many outside visitors each day; he simply continued his old habit of teaching for half a day at the Dai family’s private school, letting the Confucian spirit and bearing radiate outward, winning people’s admiration.

By the twenty-fifth, though the slaughter of the original “rebels” had already begun on the east side of the county town, the town itself remained lively and calm. In the morning, a funeral was held on the hill behind the Dai residence — a burial for members of the Dai clan who had died in this recent operation. After the burial, the old man began lecturing before the graves, with the Dai clan’s children and relatives kneeling respectfully nearby, listening with reverence.

The mountain wind was crisp and clean; only in the distant sky to the east of the county town did black smoke drift, rising from the burning of the rebels’ corpses. These two scenes of death, oddly enough, blended together in the same atmosphere, and the old man used this very scene as the backdrop for his discourse on the great trends of the realm, occasionally quoting passages from the Analects, then extending into the Tao Te Ching, beginning to expound on the principle that “weapons are instruments of ill omen; the sage uses them only when he has no other choice.”

Everyone bowed their heads and listened intently.

As the lecture was nearing its end, a steward came over and quietly relayed some news to Dai Mengwei. Dai Mengwei nodded, dismissed the gathering, and made his way toward the manor. Before long, in the courtyard of the Dai family study, he met with a distinguished visitor who had come in plain, unassuming attire — Liu Guangshi.

Liu Guangshi bowed in greeting to Dai Mengwei, and Dai Mengwei returned the courtesy: “I hardly expected Lord Liu to come in person.”

“A matter of such gravity could hardly be handled by a mere messenger. Besides, had I not come myself, how could I have witnessed with my own eyes the sight of Lord Dai having saved a million lives, and the depth of the people’s devotion to him?” Liu Guangshi’s tone was measured, natural, and sincere. “The Jin Kingdom’s Western Route Army has been checked and is retreating north; the fate of these millions of lives and their supplies and provisions — without Lord Dai, there would have been no other way to handle it. Lord Dai’s high sense of righteousness deserves another bow from this nephew.”

“Lord Liu is too generous,” Dai Mengwei said, helping him up. “This withered old body of mine has no strength to resist the enemy; I merely seized an opportunity and did what little I could. Clever schemes cannot be relied upon forever — in the turbulent times ahead, it is men of arms like Lord Liu who must bear up the affairs of the realm. As things stand now, the world has truly reached a point where all things are consumed by fire and life can barely continue. Without some method of reform, dragging things out for three or five more years, as this old man has done, would be nothing more than quenching thirst with poison.”

“Lord Dai speaks the truth,” Liu Guangshi nodded. “This is precisely what has weighed on my mind in recent years. In these chaotic times, martial power has flourished while civil governance has withered. To resist the Jurchen, we have had no choice but to rely on military law and mountain bandits, but these men, untutored in learning, are crude beyond words, occupying territories and devouring the common people, never giving a thought to the people’s welfare — chaos compounding chaos, Lord Dai… Men like yourself, born of a scholarly family yet willing to stand up for the realm, are far too rare.”

“Lord Liu flatters me too much.”

“Lord Dai deserves every word of it.” Liu Guangshi offered more praise, then, looking at Dai Mengwei’s unmoved old face, sighed. “But to the matter at hand, Lord Dai — Ning Liheng has broken out from Sword Pavilion and may yet take several days to reach Hanzhong… How stands the situation at Hanzhong? Can anything be discerned from it?”

“The Hanzhong battlefield was already in chaos under Nianhan’s command. Xiyin arrived outside Hanzhong the evening before last, and battle was joined yesterday. Judging from the earlier state of the fighting, it will likely not be easy to determine a victor. Qin Shaoqian’s twenty thousand elite troops are strong, but both Nianhan and Xiyin are heroes of their age — the outcome of this battle is hard to predict… Of course, this old man knows nothing of military matters, and such a judgment would scarcely be worthy of an expert’s ear. As for the details, Lord Liu surely sees them more clearly than I do.”

The decisive battle between the Jin Kingdom and the Black Banner Seventh Army at Hanzhong was watched by the entire realm, and Liu Guangshi had surely arranged for scouts to send back intelligence at all times — but since he had traveled to Xicheng County in secret, his own information could not possibly arrive as quickly as that reaching Dai Mengwei and those nearby. After exchanging a few more words, Dai Mengwei had someone fetch the latest intelligence and handed it to Liu Guangshi, who examined it carefully in the room.

It was now noon, sunlight filling the courtyard outside, while a light draft passed through the room within. A well-dressed servant came in to refresh the tea, unable to help but eye this dignified, composed guest with curiosity.

The Dai family, though a scholarly clan of long standing with strict household discipline, had, in terms of influence, never affected more than a few neighboring counties and prefectures — until, in these past few days, the head of the household had taken actions that shook the realm: not only reaching an agreement of equal standing with the Jurchen commander Gushen, but openly declaring opposition to the Black Banner, and in turn winning the support of all sides, with visitors flocking from every direction. Though the household servants had been given strict orders and had accordingly taken on a more dignified bearing, they still could not help but be astonished at the identity of this guest who had arrived in secret these past few days.

This man, General Liu Guangshi, had long been one of the foremost great generals and men of consequence in the realm, and was now said to command a vast expanse of territory — nominally guarding the land for the Wu Dynasty, but in truth carving out his own domain as good as a king’s. Yet here he was, before their own master, having come in person to pay his respects and discuss affairs. Those in the household who understood the significance of this were astonished, and felt honored by association.

Liu Guangshi finished reading through Dai Mengwei’s intelligence in detail and took a sip of tea. Over the past few days, the fighting at Hanzhong had been so fierce and chaotic that even Nianhan and Xiyin themselves could hardly grasp the full picture, and the reports gathered by scouts probing the area were even more confused. On his way here, Liu Guangshi had already received some intelligence of his own, and comparing it with the Liu clan’s own sources, he knew that the finer details were entirely unreliable — only the general direction could be inferred with any confidence.

“Nianhan and Xiyin command over a hundred thousand Jin troops, including the Tushan Guard among them, while Qin Shaoqian has no more than twenty thousand men. In the old days, I would scarcely have believed they could even stand and face each other — yet in the end… it’s come down to this kind of grinding stalemate. Qin Shaoqian… sigh…”

Liu Guangshi sighed, his mind drifting back more than a decade to Qin Siyuan, Qin Shaohe, and Qin Shaoqian. Back then, Qin Siyuan had been a formidable man of great political skill, able to hold his own against Cai Jing and Tong Guan. Qin Shaohe had inherited his father’s mantle and risen swiftly through the ranks, later defending Taiyuan against Nianhan for a full year — admirable and worthy of respect. But Qin Shaoqian, the Qin family’s second son, apart from a fierce and forthright temperament, had shown nothing particularly remarkable — and yet, who could have imagined that more than a decade after Qin Siyuan and Qin Shaohe had died, this son of the Qin family who had taken the path of a military officer would be the one to press Nianhan back on the front lines.

More than a year earlier, when the Jin Kingdom’s Western Route Army had attacked the Jingxiang defense line, Liu Guangshi had personally overseen the front and knew intimately just how formidable the Tushan Guard was. Corruption ran rampant within the Wu Dynasty’s military, its relationships tangled and interwoven — no one understood this better than a man of noble birth like Liu Guangshi. Zhou Junwu had defied the disapproval of the entire realm, offending countless people to train his own untouchable Beiwei Army, and even they had lost more battles than they had won against the Tushan Guard. Liu Guangshi could not help but sigh — Yue Fei was young and hot-blooded, lacking in tact and finesse. He often thought that, had the same resources and trust been placed in his own hands… perhaps Jingxiang might have been held after all.

Of course, such thoughts could only remain thoughts, never spoken aloud. But it was precisely because of this that he understood the might of the Beiwei Army, and the might of the Tushan Guard. And it was precisely for this reason that, even now, poring over the detailed intelligence, he still could not quite work out just how formidable Qin Shaoqian’s Huaxia Seventh Army truly was.

“…The fundamental reason for the Huaxia Army’s strength still lies with Mr. Ning in the southwest. At Wangyuan Bridge, seven thousand routed thirty thousand, cutting down Wanyan Xiebao in the field and shattering Nianhan’s nerve — that was what drove the Western Route Army to turn back. And now he has killed Balishu and broken out of Sword Pavilion. Whether it’s Nianhan or Xiyin, neither would wish to face him at this moment. Nianhan fighting this messy, drawn-out battle is the tactic of a weary army lacking the confidence for a head-on decisive engagement — but even delay is only meant to buy time for the decisive battle. Now that Xiyin has arrived, he will surely seek to bring the fighting to a swift conclusion. Qin Shaoqian’s use of troops is fierce, almost stubbornly so — he too will likely meet them head-on…”

Liu Guangshi analyzed further: “Lord Dai is right. In my view, this great battle will also reach some conclusion within a matter of days… With Nianhan’s hundred thousand against Qin’s twenty thousand, if neither side loses its nerve, it can only end with both sides badly wounded. The only question is how brutal the fighting will be, or when exactly it will be called off.”

“Does Lord Liu believe it will be called off?”

“Nianhan and Xiyin command a hundred-thousand-strong army and would certainly wish to annihilate Qin Shaoqian in one stroke — but from the earlier reports, the strength of the army under Qin Shaoqian’s command is truly astonishing. Qin Shaoqian himself likely hopes to cut down Nianhan and Xiyin at Hanzhong — but wishing is one thing; who Nianhan and Xiyin are is another. Even if Qin Shaoqian were a living hero like Wanyan Aguda himself, Nianhan is no Emperor Tianzuo before the defeat at Huburda… This battle has already turned extraordinarily brutal. In my view, with both sides locked in a struggle over Hanzhong for several days, if neither Nianhan nor Qin Shaoqian dies, the most likely outcome is that both sides gradually disengage, each having suffered grievous losses… In truth, that has already happened — it’s just that the fact the Huaxia Seventh Army could press Nianhan to this extent means that, in this world, there is now essentially no one left who can stand against them.”

Both men had seen enough of the world’s great affairs. Though Liu Guangshi spoke of the Huaxia Seventh Army as unmatched in the realm, his tone remained calm — after all, the great trends of the world could not be swayed by one or two invincible armies alone, and the shifting balance of strength across the realm was rarely something that could be summed up in a few words. Dai Mengwei’s expression carried a touch of bitterness as he nodded: “Just as the gentlemen in the capital say — this Huaxia Army has the look of something strong yet brittle, unable to endure for long. That would spare us a great deal of trouble.”

His tone was flat, tinged faintly with mockery. Liu Guangshi smiled slightly. “And what does Lord Dai think?”

“This old man is not so optimistic. The Huaxia Army rises like the morning sun, sharp and relentlessly forward-driving — it is truly admirable. Ning Renqu is, like Wanyan Aguda, a towering figure of his generation… but his path is far too radical. The stronger the Huaxia Army grows, the longer this turmoil in the realm will drag on. The world has already suffered over a decade of chaos; how many tens of millions of Han people in the Central Plains and Jiangnan have died or been wounded? With the Huaxia Army pressing forward so radically, seeking to destroy Confucianism itself, this chaos can hardly be settled without the deaths of untold multitudes… Knowing this, this old man cannot help but step forward, to try to prevent this great calamity.”

Liu Guangshi looked slightly puzzled. “I would ask Lord Dai to elaborate.”

Dai Mengwei then roughly repeated what he had said to Xiyin that day. Liu Guangshi rose and bowed again: “Only today do I realize that a great sage dwells here. Compared to Lord Dai’s breadth of vision, the crowd of officials in the capital are nothing but clowns…”

Faced with the Huaxia Army’s real rise to power, the method of resistance chosen by Wu Qimei and others in the capital had been to cobble together arguments demonstrating the harm the Huaxia Army posed to the great clans, noble families, and regional powers across the land. Such rhetoric could certainly sway some, but before great powers like Liu Guangshi, Wu Qimei’s patchwork of arguments and attempts to stir others up came across as more than a little glib and hollow. It was only because a great enemy loomed and everyone shared a common hatred that no one bothered to refute it.

By comparison, Dai Mengwei’s words at this moment, grounded in the broader currents of the age, were genuinely commanding and full of persuasive force. Talk of the Huaxia Army wiping out Confucianism could once have been dismissed as idle jest — but if such things as regicide and the destruction of Confucian learning were truly carried out, then chaos across the realm was a foreseeable outcome even to those with only modest insight. And now, with the Huaxia Army having defeated the Jurchen, this outcome loomed close at hand. Dai Mengwei’s words, in effect, established at the highest level the banner and rallying point for opposing the Black Banner army.

With his own insight, Liu Guangshi naturally understood: the rhetoric coming out of the capital was something the great clans merely went along with, pretending to believe out of convenience. But once Dai Mengwei’s arguments spread abroad, men of genuine insight across every region would truly come to believe them — and would feel a real sense of mission because of them.

Having showered Dai Mengwei with praise, Liu Guangshi had already turned over many possible courses of action in his mind, and now spoke frankly: “I will not hide it from Lord Dai — over this past month or so, watching the Jin Kingdom’s Western Route Army retreat north and the Huaxia Army’s power grow ever greater, this nephew and the various leaders under my command have discussed many possible plans. I have come today precisely to lay them all before you and seek your counsel… In truth, with the realm in such turmoil, how much of the Wu Dynasty can be preserved now depends on what we do at this very moment…”

He then laid out in full the plan he had been coordinating among various factions — to push through Jingxiang and reclaim Bianliang — confiding it all to Dai Mengwei. Some of those involved in this plan were, at this very moment, among the warlords “pledging loyalty” to Dai Mengwei. With the realm in such chaos, and the Black Banner clearly poised to grow dominant, both Liu and Dai found themselves, so to speak, sleeping right beside the tiger’s lair — the reasons for joining forces were more than sufficient.

Moreover, while Liu Guangshi was well versed in military affairs, he lacked the most professional structure and vision when it came to civil governance. Even if he could recover Bianliang in the future, he would only be able to build a one-man rule, not a reasonably healthy fledgling court. Dai Mengwei, on the other hand, possessed both meticulous attention to civil affairs and a broad strategic vision, but lacked sufficient control over the many military commanders who had pledged allegiance to him — and needed precisely the balance a partner could provide.

After Liu Guangshi’s candid disclosure, Dai Mengwei’s expression remained unchanged, but he too soon opened up about what was on his mind. In the past, the decay of the Wu Dynasty and its tangled web of relationships had left both its civil officials and military commanders sliding toward corruption. But now, with a great enemy at the gates, any alliance among the various factions would naturally have to be built on shared interests — yet this was also the moment to break down the old order and build anew. Having just endured the shadow cast by both the Jurchen and the Black Banner, the various warlords and commanders would not demand too much; this was precisely the time to clean up military discipline, reform the military system, and strengthen management.

As for the civil bureaucracy, with the old framework now in disarray, this was also the moment to seize the opportunity to greatly expand the imperial examinations and promote men of humble origin. Such opportunities, throughout history, had only ever arisen at the founding of a new dynasty. Even now, while it was still necessary to court the great clans and noble families of each region, there were many vacant positions to be filled, and with a powerful enemy looming, consensus would be easier to reach. If Bianliang could truly be reclaimed and order rebuilt, a vibrant new Wu Dynasty was something worth hoping for.

Dai Mengwei now had the hearts of the people behind him, and he had given deep thought to this kind of transformation as well. After this exchange, Liu Guangshi was overjoyed beyond measure. By now it was midday, and Dai Mengwei had his servants prepare a meal and wine; the two men continued their conversation over dinner. During the meal, Liu Guangshi also raised the matter of the Black Banner: “Right now the Qin family’s Seventh Army is at Hanzhong, and there’s also a force of some three thousand still under siege nearby. Whatever the outcome at Hanzhong, once the Jurchen withdraw, given the Black Banner’s habit of never forgetting a grudge, I fear they will not let this matter with Lord Dai rest easily. Does Lord Dai have any plan to deal with this?”

Dai Mengwei only smiled calmly. “If that is how it must be, this old man will simply bare his neck and wait. Let him come and kill me — it will let the whole world see, once and for all, just what kind of thing this Huaxia Army truly is.”

Having saved “millions of lives” from the hands of the Jurchen, and with his reputation now on the rise, he spoke of the possibility of the Huaxia Army’s vengeance with nothing but noble composure, as though ready to face death without fear. Liu Guangshi quickly shook his head. “No, no, this will not do. Lord Dai carries the hopes of the entire realm upon his shoulders; the future of this world cannot do without you. Lord Dai must not act so rashly on impulse — this matter requires careful, long-term planning.”

Dai Mengwei said, “Just let him come. It matters not.”

The two men then went on to discuss the various details of their alliance one by one. Noon passed into the afternoon, and at the fifteen-minute mark past two in the afternoon, intelligence from Hanzhong arrived.

The instant that report arrived, even a man as composed as Dai Mengwei could not help but change countenance. He checked the report twice over, his hand trembling slightly, glancing first at the scout who had delivered it, then at Liu Guangshi beside him. It was a long while before he finally drew a deep breath: “Never did I imagine that a day would come when this old man would find himself hoping the Jurchen…”

His lips trembled as his voice trailed off, and he handed the report to Liu Guangshi. Liu Guangshi glanced at it once, then looked up at the scout. “…Is this true?”

Given the timing, the scout had arrived remarkably fast — this kind of first-hand report, not yet confirmed by the passage of time, could very well still be reversed. The news itself was hardly a disaster, strictly speaking — after all, both sides in the conflict were enemies to Liu and Dai alike — but the weight this news carried for the realm as a whole was simply too heavy, and its meaning for the two of them was likewise heavy and complicated.

On the twenty-fourth of the fourth month, the Jurchen Western Route Army and the Huaxia Seventh Army had fought their decisive battle outside Hanzhong. That afternoon, Qin Shaoqian, leading the main force of over ten thousand men of the Seventh Army, had crushed Nianhan’s main force head-on near Tuanshan, fifteen li west of Hanzhong city. Nianhan had fled toward Hanzhong, with Qin Shaoqian pursuing on his heels, cutting down Nianhan’s son Wanyan Sheyema along the way. By the time this report was sent, the fighting had spread into Hanzhong itself, and the Jurchen Western Route Army — a hundred thousand strong — was on the verge of total collapse…

Too fast.

Liu Guangshi’s mind rang with a dull buzzing. He could not yet take in all the details — that this marked the first time in decades Nianhan had been routed and forced to flee in such disgrace; that both of Nianhan’s sons had now been cut down in battle by the Huaxia Army; that the Jurchen Western Route Army, which had come south in such overwhelming force, was now collapsing like a landslide in retreat — what would become of the realm? For the moment, his mind held only one thought: too fast. The impassioned eloquence and half a day of discussion just moments before now suddenly felt utterly hollow.

Dai Mengwei’s mind, too, had gone somewhat blank.

Outside the courtyard, sunlight fell and birds sang; everything seemed unchanged, and yet it felt as though everything had transformed in an instant. Past, present, and future had all become something new.

The two men sat in silence in the hall, while outside, servants moved about and the crowds of Xicheng County remained as bustling as ever, scholars pointing and debating among themselves, and the crowds kneeling outside the town still filled the hills and valleys. The news that would transform the realm was, at this very moment, erupting on some hidden side of this world, while countless people still had no idea what had happened…

…

“Lord Dai…”

At some point, Liu Guangshi had risen to his feet and was about to speak…