After a night of endless social obligations, it was nearly midnight by the time he neared the small courtyard where he was temporarily staying.

Having been plied with a fair amount of wine, and having thrown up once along the way, Wen Shoubin found the jostling of the carriage unbearable and got out on foot in a street not far from the courtyard. He thought he’d walk a while and mentally review the two social gatherings of the night: which people were easy to deal with, which weren’t, who had weaknesses, who might be worth cultivating.

In any other place, walking about outside at this hour would carry some measure of risk. But for one thing, he was in an excited, exhilarated mood he could hardly put into words tonight; for another, he knew that lately, outside Chengdu things were tense while inside the city itself appeared calm—the Huaxia Army, riding the momentum of having crushed the Jurchens, had made harsh examples of a few troublemakers, and public order in the streets had grown notably clean. So he wasn’t particularly worried about anyone wanting his life while out walking like this—if it was money someone wanted, he’d simply hand over his purse; tonight, of all nights, he didn’t care about that sort of thing.

The night wind was warm and gentle, and by the time he made his way back to the gate of the courtyard, his mood had brightened considerably. Humming a little tune, he stepped inside, where a maidservant came to tell him about Qu Longjun’s mishap that day—having slipped and fallen into the water. Wen Shoubin’s expression shifted, clouding and clearing in turns. “Is the young lady all right?”

“She’s fine, but she may have been given a fright…”

The maidservant recounted the whole affair to him in detail, and Wen Shoubin, after listening, nodded silently. In the parlor, he first had someone bring him a pot of strong tea, drank a few mouthfuls to clear the wine’s fumes from his head, and only then made his way toward the small building at the back.

He climbed the stairs, knocked on the door, and after waiting a moment, pushed it open and went in. Qu Longjun was deep asleep on the bed, the gauze curtain stirring in the breeze. Wen Shoubin walked to the wooden table in the middle of the room, took out a fire-striker and lit the oil lamp, then pulled over a chair, set it by the bedside, and sat down.

“Father…”

Sensing Wen Shoubin’s arrival, Qu Longjun spoke, moving to sit up. Wen Shoubin reached out and pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Sleep, sleep. They told me you fell into the water today and I couldn’t rest easy, so I came to look in on you. Seeing you’re fine is all I could ask.”

Though he’d had tea, the smell of wine still clung to him, and as he sat there he seemed to carry the weight of exhaustion about his whole body, gazing at the starlight filtering in through the window.

Father and daughter said nothing for a while. After the silence had drawn on quite some time, Wen Shoubin finally sighed and spoke. “I sent A’Chang off to Lord Shan earlier—Lord Shan seemed to like her well enough, perhaps she’ll have a few good days ahead of her. Tonight, Yanting was sent off as well—I only hope… they find themselves a decent place to land. Longjun, however much I go on about righteousness and the good of the nation, in the end, I brought you all here to the southwest without a word of warning, to a place where you know no one and nothing, to do dangerous work. You must be… very afraid too, aren’t you?”

“Father…” Qu Longjun’s voice carried a faint catch of tears.

Wen Shoubin fell silent a moment, then lifted a hand to rub his forehead. “As for the business in the southwest—say what you like, in the end it can only be done if all of you are willing to do it. Longjun, it’s easy to speak of harboring great righteousness, but truly doing it is a hard thing indeed. If your late father had had any choice in the matter back then, he’d never have gone to throw in his lot with that wretch Liu Yu. As for me… I truly don’t want to be dealing with the kind of people I dealt with tonight either. The nation is in peril, and there they sit, dead drunk, mouths full of nothing but idle talk of romance and pleasure. Sometimes I wonder myself whether people like that can accomplish anything at all—”

He leaned back against the chair and said nothing more for a good while.

“But the more I look at this world, the more I feel that this is simply what people are—always seven parts right, three parts wrong. Take those parts away, and a person wouldn’t even be a person anymore. If it weren’t for those flaws, and everyone simply acted according to the words of the sages, wouldn’t we have had a Great Unity society thousands of years ago already? Thousands of years of the sages’ words, of Confucian learning—all of it exists to find some middle way to get by in this world. The sage says: hold to the mean. Rigidity cannot last long; softness cannot hold firm for long. Hence, the mean…”

He said, “Take anything at all in this world—say it in absolute terms, and there’s nothing left worth saying. I’ve raised you girls, all these daughters of mine—put plainly to others, they’d call it running a brothel…” He gave a seemingly careless laugh. “How did those great scholars, those men of letters, ever look at me? To them I’ve simply raised a bunch of… whores. Teaching you music, chess, calligraphy, painting, teaching you how to attend to others—nothing more than… heh. So it’s only natural they look down on me…”

“Father…”

“I can’t argue against them on this point, truth be told. That is what I do—same as some old madam running a brothel, teaching you girls a few things, pushing you into the fire pit, all to make money—money made by exploiting your very flesh and blood, money that stains the conscience!”

He paused. “But our line of work has some differences from a brothel madam’s, at least. I never let you touch this man or that. When I took you in as daughters, I raised you as my own daughters, truly. I did my best to find each of you a good household to marry into, and even once you’d married out, I always kept treating you as my own daughters… Huigu, over there, even after she married out, she always had me come visit her. I never went, though—I’m not truly her father, after all, and if that Master Liu of hers ever saw me coming round, it would only cause her trouble, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let Huigu’s future turn out badly because of me. But she… two years ago she was, was violated by the Jurchens, and I never even got to see her one last time…”

Wen Shoubin’s words broke off here; he raised a hand to cover his eyes, his voice choking. “And Ping’gu, and A’Cui, and those elder sisters of yours… at the very least, they had one man from beginning to end. Isn’t that simply the lot of a woman’s life? Yes, you couldn’t be anyone’s principal wife, but at least it’s not a lifetime spent drifting from place to place, is it… Of course, if I said any of this to those great talents out there, they’d surely sneer at me. What am I, after all, holding myself up like this…”

“Longjun, do you know…” he said, “why I read the sages’ books?” “At first, well, I just read a little, picked up a few phrases here and there. You know my business puts me in contact with high and mighty households often enough—they’re well-read, full of rules, and deep down, they look down on someone like me, a man who sells his own daughters. So I’d talk with them about books, about the things in books, to make them think I had lofty aspirations, that it was only circumstance that forced me to sell daughters for a living… When I talk to them about selling daughters, they think me base; but if I talk with them about the sages’ words, they feel sorry for me instead… enough, enough—give them a little more money, send them off.”

“I started reading that way, but slowly I came to feel that the words of the Supreme Sage really do make sense—every word aimed at something real. With so many people in this world, how could there be any order at all without such principles to guide them? Am I, a man who sells his own daughters, to only care about money? Are soldiers to exist only to kill? Are merchants bound to have no conscience? Are only the well-read fit to be sages?”

“That’s simply how the world is—you’re seven parts right, and there’s no escaping being three parts wrong. I’m three parts wrong, but if there are also seven parts right in the end, well, that’s not so bad either, is it. I raised my daughters, gave them a good life—yes, I also traded them for money, but at least it’s better than some old madam running a brothel, isn’t it? A merchant, too, can serve his country and his people; a soldier, too, can be a man of reason. With the world in the state it’s in now, I too wish I could do something… only then might this world truly get better.”

He rubbed at his forehead. “The Huaxia Army… they present themselves so well to the outside world, but from what I’ve seen over the years, the better something looks, the less you can tell where it might go wrong. It’s the things with a few small flaws that tend to endure. Of course, I haven’t the learning to speak the way men like Lord Mei or Lord Dai do. I brought you girls here hoping you might accomplish something someday—at the very least, I hoped you might be able to get word of the situation here in the Huaxia Army’s territory out to others… Of course, you’re frightened, naturally you are…”

“Heh, if given the choice, who wouldn’t want to live cleanly and simply? If I’d had a choice back then, I would have wanted to be a scholar, spend my whole life reading the sages’ books, sit for the examinations, scrape together some small title. I remember Ping’gu, on the day she married, saying all she wanted was a simple, small family, a husband who loved her, a child of her own—who doesn’t want that?… But in this world, you either have no choice at all, or you’re forced to pick the lesser of two evils. Everyone wants a peaceful, quiet life, but once the Jurchens came, this whole world fell into chaos… Longjun, there’s no way around it now, there’s no escaping it…”

Wen Shoubin, his own thoughts in turmoil, lowered his head for a long while before finally raising it again. “Of course, if in your heart you truly don’t want to stay somewhere like the southwest—today, meeting with those men, Tang Shizhong hinted to me more than once that he’s quite taken with you… you remember him, don’t you, one of the men who came with Lord Shan that day, with two moles on his face, not much of a talker. He comes from a well-read family, quite wealthy from what I hear, and ever since that day he saw you, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you. Looking at the rest of them, I suspect several others feel the same…”

“Marry one of them, and you’d truly secure a good life—though if the Jurchens come again, or the Black Banner army breaks out, there’d be no avoiding another flight to somewhere safe…”

Qu Longjun’s weak voice drifted out from behind the mosquito netting. “If your daughter went with one of them, wouldn’t that mean you couldn’t carry out your business here in the southwest anymore? Would Lord Shan and the others still trust you with anything important?”

Wen Shoubin was taken aback for a moment. “…Never mind all that.” After a pause, he added, “There are still your three other sisters, after all.”

Qu Longjun thought it over for a moment, then said, “…Your daughter really did just slip and fall into the water. Truly.”

“Mm.” Wen Shoubin nodded. “…I know.”

The stars hung thick and dense across the sky.

Having listened all evening to the murky, roundabout conversation between the two shameless dogs, young and old, Ning Ji finally rose from the rooftop where he’d been waiting the whole time. His fists had long since been clenched—had it not been for the strict “sheathe the blade” discipline drilled into him at home ever since he’d first taken up martial arts as a child, he might well have already gone down and cut both of those creatures dead where they stood.

Wen Shoubin’s words had sounded reasonable enough at first hearing, but when it came to their actual content, some of it went right over the head of a boy who was, after all, only fourteen; what he did understand twisted itself into something utterly grotesque in his ears. Oh, so the Jurchens threw everything into chaos, you couldn’t escape it, and you wanted to do something about it—good, then go throw your life away fighting the Jurchens! Instead the conversation swerves right into coming to the southwest to stir up trouble—what kind of logic was that?

This old dog wouldn’t shut up, and yet Ning Ji had no way to go down and argue against him. Cutting them both down was even less of an option—for now, these people were merely at the stage of “wanting to do something evil,” and wanting to do something evil wasn’t itself a crime; if he actually raised his blade, he’d have no way to account for himself to either his father or Auntie Gua.

The boy’s temper flared the more he thought about it, and he threw a few punches into the air atop the rooftop before quietly climbing down and charging home in a fury. Once back, he began practicing his still-unfamiliar Eagle Claw technique, tearing apart a few blocks of wood, then found some blue stones by the riverbank to smash against, practicing the Thirteen Bodyguards’ hard qigong for the better part of an hour, before finally taking a cold bath, which settled his mind somewhat.

While training, his thoughts churned with irritation, and for a while he considered simply telling his father about Wen Shoubin’s shameless words outright—his father would surely know how best to slap that old dog’s face. But once he’d calmed down, he abandoned the idea. With so many shameless creatures having flooded into the city now, there was no telling how many of them his father had already encountered—he must already have arrangements in place to deal with the whole lot of them. For Ning Ji to go asking him to pay special attention to this one Wen fellow would be giving the old dog far too much credit.

What exactly had his father arranged, though? With so many villains around, spewing so much filth every single day, there were surely hundreds, even thousands more disgusting than Wen Shoubin… If it were up to him, he’d probably just round them all up and be done with it in one go. His father must have a better way, surely?

That little shameless dog wasn’t much better either—seeing her attempt suicide, he’d assumed there was some real story behind it, but hearing that old dog rambling on, it seemed she meant to go right on doing evil. He should have just let her drown in the river to begin with. As things stood now, all he could hope for was that they really did intend to carry out some great act of villainy—if all that happened was they got caught and shipped off somewhere, he wouldn’t be able to swallow that.

Having concluded he’d saved the wrong person, the young man’s thoughts churned restlessly, and that night he finally fell asleep still tangled in this knot of frustration.

The city gradually settled into stillness under the night, entering its lowest hum of activity—aside from the night watchmen making their rounds, the constables, and the guards standing duty atop the walls, nearly everyone else had gone to sleep. As the night deepened, all that could be heard was a faint rustling here and there, which slowly began to grow, followed by the crowing of roosters, the barking of dogs, and then light rippled up across the city, and white began to show along the horizon.

The vast city of Chengdu stirred awake amid this atmosphere. Ning Ji woke along with the thousands upon thousands of others in the city, and that day, he went to the army’s medical office and got hold of a large packet of wound medicine, then mixed in some barely-detectable fragrant powder, and went to borrow a dog from the army…

At that very same moment, thousands upon thousands of people across the city were each going about their own business.

In the early morning, Qu Longjun sat in a pavilion by the river, watching the rising sun, recalling, as she had countless times before, the now hazy memories of her life back in the Central Plains, back when her father was still alive.

The courage for suicide had run out entirely the night before, and even sitting here now, she didn’t dare take even one more step forward. Before long, Wen Shoubin came and greeted her; “father” and “daughter” exchanged a few words, and once he’d confirmed his “daughter’s” mood had steadied, Wen Shoubin left the house to begin his social rounds for the new day.

In another residence elsewhere in the city, Guan Shanhai, having finished reading that day’s newspapers, began receiving some of the more outstanding scholars gathered in Chengdu this time, discussing with them one by one the flaws and weaknesses in the Huaxia Army’s so-called theories of “the Four Classes of People” and “the Contract.” This kind of one-on-one private socializing was a way of showing the other party particular regard, quickly building up personal standing in their eyes.

By afternoon, he would also attend a public discussion among literati gathered at a certain inn. Many of those who’d come to Chengdu this time had long known Guan Shanhai only by reputation and rarely met him in person; his appearance would satisfy many scholars’ and men of note’s desire to “sit and discuss the Way” with him, and his own reputation would only grow more solid through such performances.

The evening was reserved for handling matters of a more clandestine nature—meeting with figures who couldn’t stand the light of day, like Wen Shoubin, discussing the Huaxia Army’s weaknesses with trusted confidants and followers, plotting how to deal with this side. Given the Huaxia Army’s pervasive use of spies, such matters could no longer be handled through mere hot-blooded camaraderie—they now had to proceed with far greater caution, watching for the right opportunity.

Plots and schemes of this kind were far from uncommon in the undercurrents running through Chengdu; more than a few of them would surface into the open now and then.

That day was the twenty-second of the sixth month. Yan Daolun and the two lead envoys of Liu Guangshi’s delegation met privately once more with Lin Qiu, beginning to name their price based on terms and payment methods they’d worked out among themselves, attempting to open deeper discussions on purchasing part of the firearms technology. Such negotiations could never be settled within a matter of days, but showing sincerity, feeling each other out, and reaching some preliminary understanding at this stage would let them gain a considerable advantage in their eventual final offer down the line.

In a lull during the price haggling, Yan Daolun gave Lin Qiu a word of warning and advice:

“…Quite a number of people have come to Chengdu this time, all sorts mixed together. From what I’ve quietly learned, some of them have already prepared themselves to take a reckless gamble… Now that the Huaxia Army has shown such sincerity, my own General Liu naturally hopes that your side, and Master Ning’s stability and safety, can be properly assured. I need hardly mention the various small troublemakers among them, but there’s one man whose movements I hope Brother Lin might report upward—this man is dangerous, and may already be preparing to make an attempt on someone’s life…”

He spoke in a low voice, sharing this information as a show of good faith. Lin Qiu listened carefully, then, with a look of sudden understanding, quickly had someone relay the information back, and expressed his thanks.

“Brother Yan’s sense of honor does you great credit. I’ll pass this along to Master Ning as well.”

“I’m merely a messenger running errands—please do convey to Brother Ning that this comes chiefly from General Liu’s own intention.”

“Of course, of course—though the overall goodwill comes from General Liu, it’s you, Brother Yan, who’s been the one handling matters on the ground here. This kindness won’t be forgotten.”

“Heheh.” Yan Daolun stroked his beard and laughed. “Truly, General Liu has wide-ranging connections across the realm these days, and quite a few of those who’ve come to Chengdu this time trust me personally. Still, some of this information hasn’t been fully confirmed, and I wouldn’t want to speak ill of anyone—but rest assured, Brother Lin, so long as this deal can go through, General Liu will absolutely not allow anyone to ruin this great undertaking in the southwest. This matter concerns the rise and fall of the whole realm—it’s certainly not something a few outdated old scholars who can’t keep up with the times get to oppose just because they feel like it. The Jurchens are the greatest enemy of us Chinese, and with such a great enemy at the gates, when Master Ning is willing to open all of this up to the Han people of the realm, for them to go stirring up internal strife—that absolutely cannot be allowed to stand!”

“Exactly the point!” Lin Qiu slapped a hand on Yan Daolun’s leg. “Well said!”

The two of them went on to continue their negotiations.

That same morning, Xigua went to her place of work and summoned several particular individuals over one by one; before long, seven people had arrived from different places and gathered with Xigua in a small meeting room.

These people varied in status, standing, and age—the eldest among them was Yong Jinnian from the cultural front, and there was also Lin Jingmei, the adopted daughter Ning Yi had taken in, along with a disabled veteran who’d lost one hand, and a young soldier of refined, scholarly appearance. Once everyone had taken their seats, Xigua rubbed at her forehead and began to speak.

“…Master Ning had a discussion with me about the idea of the Great Unity society, and I feel it’s worth putting down and having you all think it over. He… laid out a very long process for me, to explain what he sees as the difficulties in achieving this. Let me go through it as best I can, and you all think about what needs to be done…”

Recalling everything Ning Yi had said, she gave the group a trimmed-down account of the previous night’s conversation, placing particular emphasis on the ideas of “social consensus” and “the collective subconscious.” These people served, in effect, as the think tank behind her push for democratic progress—discussions of this kind had happened many times over the years, and she’d never kept them hidden from Ning Yi; as for these analyses and records, Ning Yi had, in fact, taken a tacit stance of approval.

Once she’d finished laying out the whole concept, someone laughed. “Master Ning really does sound as though he’s glimpsed a whole other world himself—could it be he actually came from there, and that’s why he’s so formidable?”

Yong Jinnian said, “Lodging one’s meaning in things, expressing one’s intent through parables—just as Zhuangzi used talk of gods and marvels to instruct the world, what matters is what meaning is lodged within those marvels. These stories of Master Ning’s are, I’d guess, likewise meant to lay out the several stages he envisions in the transformation of the human heart, and no doubt also express what he considers the true difficulties of reform. We might do well to interpret them along these lines…”

Outside the window, the sunlight was bright and clear, and the eight people in the room went on to open their discussion—just one of countless ordinary discussions like it, one that few people realized carried any particular significance at all.

Elsewhere in the city, Lu Xiaolun and the others, having failed to find employment with Xigua, set out with Old Lu Liutong’s calling cards in hand to pay visits to various men of influence across the region.

They, too, were about to stir up a fresh wave of trouble.

As they set out, not far from where Xigua sat, at the guest house reserved for visiting dignitaries, An Xifu and Fang Shuchang walked along the riverbank catching up on old times—he spoke of what he’d seen up north, and Fang Shuchang spoke of the southwest’s development. In years past, the two of them had counted as fellow rebels under the Sage Duke’s banner, though An Xifu had been a rising officer responsible for enforcing military law under Fang Baihua, while Fang Shuchang had been a disciple of the Overlord’s Blade—their friendship hadn’t run especially deep. But with so many years gone by now, even an ordinary acquaintance could carry a real weight of feeling.

What’s more, the southwest had already privately settled on giving Jin territory considerable benefits this time, so An Xifu no longer needed to conduct himself with quite so much wariness at every turn. In today’s world of contending warlords, the only power that could truly keep pace with the Black Banner’s stride, and that could often manage a round of cooperation with them, was—aside from Liangshan’s Guangwu Army—really only Lou Shuwan’s Jin territory.

That was simply how this world worked—only once you had enough strength, and a firm enough stance, could you afford to worry a little less about schemes and intrigue.

The two of them spoke of Fang La’s rebellion of over a decade past, and then of that later crushing defeat, that total collapse, of Fang Baihua’s death. An Xifu spoke of the “Peacock King’s Sword” Wang Shangshu now up north, and Fang Shuchang spoke of some of the things Ning Yi had done. By rights there ought to have been a good deal of old grievance running between them over all this, but after more than a decade of the great tides of the age sweeping through, none of it amounted to much anymore—Fang La’s downfall had long been a foregone conclusion, and the deaths of certain people, in the end, could never have been held back.

After talking a while, the conversation turned to Ning Yi, and An Xifu said, “Chengdu looks peaceful enough on the surface, but underneath, there are undercurrents everywhere, and no one’s really at ease. I won’t hide it from you—our side has already been getting all sorts of reports, saying someone means to cause trouble, that someone might attempt an assassination before your big gathering even gets underway. If things go even slightly wrong, plenty of others will pile on. Seeing how passively your side is responding to all this, if I write back home about it, I expect Her Excellency the Chancellor will curse Master Ning up and down for his incompetence.”

He’d spent years enforcing military law and rarely showed much expression on his face, but when it came to talk of Lou Shuwan and Ning Yi, a faint smile did cross it. The two of them shared a father’s blood debt between them, yet these days plenty of people said there was something going on between Lou Shuwan and Ning Yi—and even An Xifu, thinking now and then of how Lou Shuwan used to curse Ning Yi out, couldn’t help finding it rather amusing.

Fang Shuchang laughed. “You’re a stranger in these parts—whose intelligence are you even getting this from?”

“Whose intelligence it comes from isn’t the important part. These days everyone’s reaching out to everyone else, trying to win friends—plenty of people want to be on good terms with Jin territory. The ones spreading this talk might not necessarily dare act on it themselves, but if word like this is circulating everywhere, then someone out there surely does dare. Are you really planning to just let this simmer on as it is? Today’s idle talk might just be a probe—if they see no response from your side, it might slowly start to seem worth actually trying for real. If it really comes to bloodshed, will you still even be able to hold your gathering?”

“With how Master Ning conducted himself back in the days of Hangzhou, do you really think he’d be unprepared?” Fang Shuchang said with a smile. “I can’t speak to the specifics, but mainly, the fighting on all fronts has only just quieted down and not everyone’s arrived yet. Our Seventh Army is still out there and won’t be able to come in for a while yet, and Tanzhou needs more time too. Chen Fan probably won’t arrive for another ten days or half a month.”

“Oh, right—you two were close back in the day, weren’t you, you and Chen Fan? Haven’t seen each other in years. You two should really catch up properly when he gets here. Won’t be long now.” He patted An Xifu on the shoulder as he said this.

“Chen Fan…” An Xifu laughed at the mention of the name. “Back when I carried the account ledgers north, I thought I’d see him again someday—didn’t expect it would take this many years… He must still be with Sister Qian’er, I suppose…”

Fang Shuchang laughed heartily at that too.

The sun hung golden overhead as someone walked into a courtyard that looked ordinary enough but was, in truth, tense with activity, compiling the day’s new surveillance list together with whatever suspicious information had been gathered.

In a city thronging with thousands upon thousands of people, all manner of human drama was quietly playing itself out, countless people holding their emotions in check, waiting for the moment when everything would finally erupt into conflict.

The next day was the twenty-third of the sixth month. Ning Ji, carrying wound medicine mixed with his special fragrant powder, headed to the martial tournament grounds to make his exchange—his world wasn’t a large one, but for a boy not yet even fourteen, it held a mixture of joys and sorrows no less intense than the great tides sweeping the realm at large.