Character Index

  Minister Rui: Minister of Revenue.

  Zhang Dingyong: Minister of Justice. Kayla's ally.

  Zhou Yunqi: The Emperor.

  Zhou Kuang: The deceased Third Prince of Emperor Xuanzong.

  Secretary Song: A half-Persian official in the Ministry of Justice who was tasked with establishing an intelligence network in Guangzhou.

  Halime: Princess of the Eastern Turkish Khaganate. Ashina's half-sister.

  Wise Consort: Yunqi's mother, killed by Emperor Xuanzong when he became certain he was dying. Posthumously titled an Empress Dowager.

  Sun Ruhui: Right Secretariat of Justice. Formerly Kayla's key advisor.

  Liang Shen: Former Minister of Justice and Lord of the Liang clan. Hu Qing's half-brother.

  Geleng: A Pugu warrior who had accompanied Tuhezhen to General Yan's camp, where Tuhezhen was killed on Heli's request.

  Dulan: A Pugu warrior, a strong dissident against Heli.

  Shelun: A prominent clan leader spearheading the anti-Heli movement.

  Heli: The sixteen-year old Pugu Chieftain.

  Datan: Heli's guardian, teacher, and right-hand man.

  Investigator Mi: A young Investigator who had accompanied Kayla to the north. She then promoted him in a deliberate fast-tracking of his career.

  Anagui: A prominent clan leader in the anti-Heli movement.

  Tiezhen: A prominent clan leader in the anti-Heli movement.

  The officials left their meeting with Minister Rui in twos and threes, heads huddled together as they murmured amongst themselves. Zhang Dingyong lingered after, watching Kayla’s blank expression as they stood on the steps of the building.

  “Minister Rui has a point,” Zhang Dingyong said. “The Treasury’s emptying. That’s not what we wanted–in fact, it’s the last thing we wanted, wasn’t it?”

  It was obvious from his tone that he wanted a reaction, but Kayla was too fed up to care if she satisfied him.

  “For heaven’s sake–I will fill the damn Treasury if it’s the last thing I do!” Kayla snarled.

  “I’m glad to see such spirit,” Yunqi’s voice sounded out from behind them. Kayla whirled around, a little abashed.

  “My liege.” She bowed deeply, Zhang Dingyong following suit.

  Zhang Dingyong flicked his glance towards Yunqi and then at Kayla.

  “I will take my leave now, my liege,” Zhang Dingyong said, bowing his way down the stairs before scurrying off. Yunqi watched him go in amusement.

  “Minister Zhang’s always been an interesting man, but I never recalled him being quite so lively with my brother,” Yunqi remarked.

  “They say that for some people, personalities can change remarkably as you approach middle-age,” Kayla said a little awkwardly. What else was she supposed to say, that Zhang Dingyong couldn’t let himself fly free under Kuang?

  Yunqi chuckled. “Well, it’s always good to have energetic officials at court.” He directed his smile towards Kayla. “Join me, Wenyuan.”

  She obediently fell into pace half a step behind him as the Emperor strolled out of the building and into one of the Inner Palace’s many gardens.

  “What do you think about Minister Rui’s words?” Yunqi asked her.

  “I think that he is indeed a man who can be considered worthy of his role,” Kayla replied. “His diligence and enthusiasm is second to none when it comes to the Treasury, so I can more than understand his sentiments when faced with the costs of the reforms. But at the same time, his singular focus on the current state of the Treasury can also narrow his field of vision to the long-term benefits.”

  Yunqi nodded slowly. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  If he were, he wouldn’t have asked her in the first place.

  “The state of the Treasury would be alarming to anyone in Minister Rui’s position,” Kayla said. “But if we look back through history, Guan Zhong enriched and strengthened the Kingdom of Qi through encouraging trade. Shang Yang was able to strengthen the Kingdom of Qin by not just protecting small farmers but by actively creating small farmers through his inheritance laws. If we look towards other countries, both Rome and Persia reached their golden ages during periods of abundant trade. Even earlier on, the Greek states further west and the Phoenician civilizations along the seacoasts were also enriched by trade, and their wealth went hand in hand with their military strength. The same will surely be the case for the Wu.”

  “I know very little about the histories of those places,” Yunqi admitted. “But you’ve always been knowledgeable about foreign history.”

  Kayla bowed her head slightly. “It’s thanks to men like Secretary Song that we are now gaining access to histories recorded by the Arabs of civilizations west of Rome, so that we can use history as a mirror to understand the rise and fall of civilizations.”

  It was a good thing Yunqi hadn’t asked for a proper source–she wasn’t even sure if she could procure any such materials within the borders at this point in time.

  “So we are on the right path,” Yunqi said, not sounding quite sure in his own words.

  His gaze grew distant as they fixated on the icy pond.

  “People will die for wealth, birds will die for food,” Yunqi murmured. “I only fear that we will not sufficiently increase trade to meet our current investments. There may be some general excitement for a time, but will it really last?”

  “As the ancients say, the bustling movements under heaven rush this way and that for profit,” Kayla quoted. “If there is money to be made, they will naturally come here. Moreover, the geographic position of our ports are also very suited for most maritime routes, I strongly believe that the volume of trade will only continue to increase over time.”

  Yunqi nodded in satisfaction. “I am glad to hear those words from a man who would not offer them lightly.”

  “Thank you, my liege.” Kayla bowed her head again. “But before the reforms can begin paying for themselves, it is true that we should reduce expenditures wherever possible. I cannot reduce salaries in the Bureau for the reasons I stated, but I can cut on operating costs wherever possible.”

  She glanced at him guiltily. “It is all due to my inadequacies that the reforms did not preemptively address these issues.”

  Yunqi smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s impossible to foresee every difficulty we encounter,” he said. “I do feel bad for firing the eunuchs, especially considering how long they’ve lived inside the palace, but I can’t prioritize a small number of my subjects just because they’re here at my side. And I’ve been thinking about cutting down on palace expenditures anyhow.”

  “Following the example of Emperor Wen of Han? A praiseworthy decision, my liege,” Kayla said.

  “See, you’ve already found the perfect excuse for me,” Yunqi said lightly. He let out a deep breath, the cheer sapping out of him. “In truth, Wenyuan, I’ve been thinking…I don’t want to take too many consorts.”

  “Yes?” Kayla looked at him in surprise. It wasn’t so surprising that Yunqi was not a man of many passions, but that he wanted to discuss marital matters with her in the first place. He had signalled from the very start a gentle but firm deterrence against any such involvement from Kayla or any other courtier save for arranging Princess Halime’s marriage. Seeing that the deterrence was gentle, the court officials had shoved three consorts at him anyways.

  “It’s too pitiful,” Yunqi said quietly. “My mother suffered–all of my father’s women suffered, regardless of whether he loved them or not. I don’t have the confidence not to instill the same misery.”

  Kayla hesitated, not sure what to say in response. She couldn’t just say “oh it’s fine” when the court certainly wouldn’t think so, being eager to shove their daughters at Yunqi. It didn’t matter to them that the preceding generation of Consorts had undergone so much tribulation–especially the ones who bore children. In the face of their interests, everyone convinced themselves that they would be an exception to the consequences.

  She could hardly dispute Yunqi’s feelings on the matter either. It was Yunqi who had to deal with the whole business of consorts and in-laws. He didn’t want to make anyone unhappy, but he was bound to do so when so many hopes and ambitions were being pinned to the fates of these young women. After what he had seen, after what he’d lived through, who the hell could blame him for his aversion?

  The moment passed before she could find the right words.

  “Well,” Yunqi said in a tone of forced cheer. “It will save us money in the long run.”

  He breathed in deeply. “And as for the reforms, I trust your judgement. Seeing your confidence is of great comfort to me.”

  “Many thanks, my liege,” Kayla replied.

  It was worrying that he repeated the sentiment so much. The more he said it, the more she was certain that he didn’t actually believe it.

  Yunqi looked contemplatively off into the distance.

  “But it wonders me that you are not frightened,” Yunqi murmured.

  “Yes?”

  “If you were the type not to fear at all, I would not have listened to you in the first place,” the Emperor went on. “But you are not.”

  His gaze fixed on her now, and it was the gaze of a ruler.

  “You have thought out the reforms thoroughly.”

  “Of course.”

  “Will they survive you?”

  Kayla’s skin prickled. Her face felt uncomfortably hot, like it had been exposed to the boiling steam of a pot uncovered carelessly.

  She struggled a bit, not sure what the safe answer was, and gambled with the truth.

  “Yes.”

  The heat and discomfort faded, and the Emperor was just Yunqi again.

  “I’m glad,” he said mildly. “I do not wish to create a fleeting spectacle, but a lasting splendor. Pity it is that all things are inconstant in this floating world…at the very least, I want to leave something useful for those that come after.”

  Kayla bowed her head in place of a reply.

  “Come and join me for some tea,” Yunqi said, not having expected one.

  As if nothing had happened, they headed back inside.

  Zhang Dingyong made his way back to the Ministry of Justice, humming beneath his breath. Minister Rui’s vitriol aside, he’d gotten the chance to see some interesting things. Rather than going back to his own office, Zhang Dingyong knocked on the door of Sun Ruhui.

  The Right Secretariat greeted him blandly. Disappointing. Sun Ruhui stubbornly refused to entertain Zhang Dingyong’s baiting at every turn, which really was a pity. Zhang Dingyong knew that Sun Ruhui was capable of some rather biting attacks, given how the man had cornered Liang Shen all those months ago when the man had still been Minister of Justice. A very short-lived posting, no thanks to Sun Ruhui.

  What made Sun Ruhui all the more interesting was his break from Zhao Wenyuan while the man was on the ascendant path. It was common for people to jump ship during times of hardship. But during the good times? That was rare.

  Like Xun Yu and Cao Cao, Zhang Dingyong thought in amusement.

  But the man’s wisdom was undeniable. Who better to get an opinion from than Sun Ruhui?

  “Minister Rui is worried about the state of the Treasury,” Zhang Dingyong said. “We don’t want to make any cuts that would alarm anyone, but we could use some cuts to our operating costs. Does the Right Secretariat have any ideas?”

  “I’ll draft a budget,” Sun Ruhui said dutifully, even though it was very much not his job to do so.

  Then immediately after, “What was the Emperor’s reaction?”

  Oh, so Sun Ruhui was interested after all. Zhang Dingyong gave a catlike smile.

  “The Emperor will be sending away all eunuchs over the age of fifty within the month,” Zhang Dingyong said. “It’s a pretty public move, but unlikely to surprise anyone, given the Emperor’s tendency towards a more simple lifestyle than that of his father’s. Plus, a new Emperor getting rid of his father’s closest servants is one of the most common moves there is in history. It’s unlikely to stir up any waves.”

  “The Ministry of Personnel should be directed to track where the eunuchs go,” Sun Ruhui said. “Perhaps you can suggest it to the Duke.”

  “Or you could suggest it yourself,” Zhang Dingyong said. “He would value it more.”

  “Did the Emperor seem concerned about the reforms?” Sun Ruhui asked instead of replying.

  “Yes,” Zhang Dingyong said. “Concerned and trying to hide it.”

  “Of course,” Sun Ruhui murmured. “The Duke needs to tread carefully.”

  “Oh? You smell danger ahead?” Zhang Dingyong leaned in conspiratorially. “Do me a favor and warn me if there is, I’ll need to jump ship.”

  Sun Ruhui gave him a look of genuine disdain at that.

  “It’s not that,” Sun Ruhui said flatly. “The Emperor is a good man. Far from arrogance, he’s humble. He is not the type to plunge into changes that will affect the entire country without consideration of the consequences–it must be an enormous burden for him to support these reforms.”

  “The reforms don’t go that far,” Zhang Dingyong said in surprise.

  “They go far enough,” Sun Ruhui replied. “And knowing Duke Zhao, it’s only the start.”

  “I see,” Zhang Dingyong said knowingly, pretending not to notice the obvious irritation it sparked.

  But Sun Ruhui would not be goaded so easily, so Zhang Dingyong had to stoop to begging for an opinion.

  “What do you think about the reforms?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the reforms,” Sun Ruhi said. “They’re good sense. I strongly believe they’ll benefit the country.”

  “Then why would the Emperor be so burdened?”

  “How many lives does this affect?” Sun Ruhui asked in turn. “The impact could reverberate through generations–for better or for worse in the long run? Most people are too frightened to affect a permanent change in their own lives, and this will impact hundreds of thousands of people. Not to mention…”

  “Not to mention?” Zhang Dingyong prodded.

  “The audacity behind the reforms must be what frightens the Emperor,” Sun Ruhui said. “He takes heart in Duke Zhao’s confidence, but that itself is a cause for concern. The current system our society operates under is highly imperfect, but it’s what has worked so far. It provides stability for most of the population, most of the time. And it’s the only system that we can confidently say will continue to work.”

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  “You think the reforms will change that?” Zhang Dingyong asked, fascinated at this glimpse he was getting into Sun Ruhui’s inner world.

  “Perhaps,” Sun Ruhui said. “I suppose we will see.”

  “Then the Emperor might not play along,” Zhang Dingyong said.

  “I think he will, as long as the Duke can continue to assure him,” Sun Ruhui replied. “The current reforms will start producing results within the next year, likely far beyond what the Emperor could have imagined–the results will speak for themselves and offer the confidence for further changes. But what about the long run?”

  “How long are we talking about?”

  “Not that long,” Sun Ruhui said with a wry smile. “Say the death of the Emperor or Duke Zhao. Any change invokes backlash, much less changes on the scale that Duke Zhao is thinking of. If the Emperor or Duke Zhao dies, all the forces they’re holding back will surge forth like a tidal wave. And what happens in situations like these?”

  Zhang Dingyong gave a half-hearted shrug.

  “Slander Duke Zhao into the mud, that’s for certain,” Zhang Dingyong said. “Most likely, they’ll also stir up a moral panic that tears down everything we’ve built. But that’s only if we don’t take preemptive measures to prevent that.”

  Sun Ruhui shook his head.

  “Can you preemptively prevent the Yellow River from changing course? So long as our way of thinking remains the same, any amount of progress will eventually be undone. Yet by that time, society will already have changed so much. Going back to how things were before will come at enormous cost. I don’t think Duke Zhao understands that–no, I don’t think he’s capable of understanding that. But you, Minister Zhang, you can.”

  “Do you expect me to hold him back then?”

  Sun Ruhui suppressed a dry laugh. “No, I certainly would not. But I do hope that you will.”

  Zhang Dingyong chuckled heartily, reaching across the desk to pat Sun Ruhui’s arm. Still laughing, he left the office, with Sun Ruhui staring after him in confusion.

  Geleng pulled down his hat to cover his ears properly, making his unhappy journey on foot instead of on horseback.

  Dulan’s household came into sight, and he slowed his steps. He felt like a child again, reluctant to open the door to where he knew an angry lecture awaited him.

  The weather was miserably cold. Even with his gloves, Geleng could feel his fingers prickling painfully.

  He had been in the cold for hours. Geleng had gotten up early to feed his animals, pitying the poor creatures for being denied fresh grass in winter, just as he did every day.

  Living in town for winter wasn’t common until recent generations, and was still reserved for those with few animals and those who could afford to have others tend their herds. Even with the town being much more spaced out than those of the Han, it wasn’t a good fit for the Pugu lifestyle.

  He had intended to finish up earlier and go make amends with Dulan. The arguments between them had grown in frequency over the days, and it saddened him to see a longtime friendship slowly chipping away. Dulan had his beliefs and felt strongly about them–Geleng respected that. There hadn’t been any real need for his harshness towards Dulan last night. Geleng wasn’t even sure why he’d acted that way, save that a deep discomfort inside him had wanted out and out specifically at Dulan.

  But it wasn’t until well after the morning sun had risen that Geleng was finally at Dulan’s place. He hadn’t delayed out of an unwillingness to apologize or fear of Dulan’s anger. Instead, it was a deeper fear that had preoccupied him.

  Geleng stopped in his tracks when Dulan came into sight, striding over with urgent steps. The man’s expression told Geleng everything he needed to know.

  “Dulan.”

  Dulan didn’t even bother with a greeting.

  “My horses aren’t eating,” Dulan said tautly. “The sheep neither.” His face was bloodless.

  Geleng swallowed back the creeping horror climbing up his throat.

  “Same here.”

  “No,” Dulan said in disbelief.

  “What else?” Geleng demanded.

  “They’re lethargic–they’re usually lively when I’m around, spoiled little beasts, always wanting attention,” Dulan said, a hysterical note slipping into and retreating from his voice. “They barely reacted today. They had no energy!”

  “It’s the same for me,” Geleng said grimly.

  “Fuck!” The thin thread that kept Dulan’s composure snapped. Geleng watched Dulan’s face twist, distantly aware of the sick feeling in his own stomach.

  Ill horses weren’t rare. A whole herd becoming ill was a disaster. Multiple herds in different parts of town? That was a catastrophe.

  If it was an epidemic, half the town’s livestock could be dead in a week or two. Dulan and Geleng would lose every single animal they owned, even the beloved horses they rode on a daily basis.

  The sickness had started in their herds. Even if a stray sheep or horse didn’t show any symptoms, it would have to be slaughtered and the meat disposed of to avoid spreading the infection further. In the worst case–Geleng tried to push the horror of a barely remembered winter out of his mind. He’d been too young the year that dozens of people died in their beds while snow covered their sickening animals outside. His own mother had died then, a person shaped hole in his memory.

  “Maybe it’s just something in the feed,” Geleng said helplessly. “We could get new feed and try that.”

  It would be exorbitantly expensive–at this point in the winter, no one had much to spare. But still, it was less expensive than losing their herds. Their entire fortunes and livelihoods.

  What if it was an epidemic? If they were lucky, Dulan and Geleng could find work as hired herders and slowly save up enough to recoup. But there were already plenty of herders, Tiele men who had been met with misfortune of some type. Perhaps a wife died while he was on military duty, leaving his children without the ability to tend to herds that Han traders eagerly bought off for a pittance. Perhaps a border clash had forced him out of his traditional grazing grounds. Perhaps a herd had just sickened and died, a possibility now too close to hand for Dulan to even think about.

  For once, Geleng was ridiculously glad he was still unmarried. After the girl he was betrothed to as a teen died from a fever, the successive losses in his family had dwindled it down to just him–a curse that was now a blessing. If he was ruined, it was only him who suffered.

  Geleng’s mind spun wildly and like a spinning top, did a little hop and just kept on spinning, wobbling back into a steady swirl.

  A million things could go wrong on the plains, and a million things did go wrong. Even if they became herd hands, the current going wage would never see them as independent owners again. It wouldn’t just be their herds–if it was an epidemic, a good chunk of the Pugu in town would be ruined. Wages would only get lower, unless they left to unfamiliar parts of Anbei Protectorate where they had no friends or kin, and maybe not even then.

  So it was either going south to become hired hands or enlisting as full-time soldiers.

  Unless, of course, Shelun gave them a hand. Traditionally, it was up to the Chieftains to bail out tribe members who fell upon hard times, but that obligation had been shunted again and again over the last few generations until it had evaporated altogether. Expecting Heli to be the exception was ridiculous–the boy couldn’t even reach for a purse without asking Datan’s permission first.

  The thought of the boy’s helplessness paled his own.

  “Let’s just calm down for a bit,” Geleng said, now ridiculously calm. Dulan felt a small twinge of annoyance. How was it that Geleng quailed and quaffed at every little thing but was suddenly collected in the face of a crisis? The annoyance unraveled the coils of fear in his stomach somewhat before Dulan even realized it.

  “We should ask around first,” Geleng said. “If anyone else’s animals are sick, it could be an epidemic. Then we’ll need to quarantine our herds and call in a horse doctor and a shaman. If they both fail to cure the horses and appease the spirits, we’ll have to slaughter the herds. If only our animals are sick, then we just change out the feed, and if nothing changes, call a horse doctor.”

  “Sounds about right,” Dulan muttered.

  Geleng clapped a hand on Dulan’s shoulder. “Take it easy. It’s bad, but Tengri willing, we will survive this. At least it’s not a zud.”

  Dulan shuddered at the thought. If there was even a zud this far south, then the north was screwed. How many people–their people, who shared the same forefathers, would suffer? How many would die?

  He was shaken out of his thoughts by someone fast approaching. Dulan felt a stone drop in his stomach. It was his neighbor, with a stricken look on his face similar to the one Dulan had earlier.

  “My animals aren’t eating,” the man said, a reed-like desperation in his voice. By the looks on Dulan and Geleng’s faces, the man already had his answer. But he asked anyway, hoping for a miracle. “What about yours?”

  “Same here,” Geleng answered for them. “It may be an epidemic. We should go to Shelun.”

  The solidness in Geleng’s voice seemed to relieve the man even as the answer horrified him.

  “Yes, yes, let’s do that,” the man said. Dulan found himself nodding as well.

  “Heli must be notified as well,” Geleng said. “Qualified or not, he is the one who holds the position of Chieftain and the one who can request aid from the government.”

  Dulan didn’t even protest.

  “You go notify the Chieftain’s household,” Geleng said to the newcomer. “Dulan and I will go see Shelun. Come join us after, and bring anyone else who has the same problem.”

  The man nodded and hurried off, glad to at least have some semblance of a solution.

  “Let’s go,” Geleng said. They also headed off.

  “It won’t just be us,” Geleng said into the freezing silence of morning air. “Your neighbor’s also in trouble, that means everyone who lives between you and me are likely in trouble too.”

  Their residences were a distance apart–built in their grandparents' generation when living in a town had been all the rage. Dulan shuddered.

  “Fuck, you’re right.”

  Dulan whirled towards Geleng. “And you said that at least it wasn’t a zud! If it’s the whole town–”

  “We don’t know that yet,” Geleng replied. “I only said that it’s at least our part of town.”

  The hand was back on Dulan’s shoulder, steering him towards Shelun’s residence.

  “It’ll be fine,” Geleng said. “Somehow it’ll work out. Our ancestors survived worse, didn’t they?”

  Dulan felt some tension seep out of the bunched up muscles at the base of his neck.

  “You’re right,” he heard himself say. “It’ll be fine.”

  By the time Datan managed to meet with Investigator Mi in secret, his hands were shaking with anger. Report after report had filed in, each increasingly panicked. The town was choked with a thick miasma of fear, fed by the memories of hopeless winters in the distant past where the worst had come to pass.

  “You–the animals–!” Datan’s rage garbled his words, and with a reddened face, he only managed to choke out a few coherent ones.

  “It’s begun,” Investigator Mi confirmed.

  “You said a portion of the town, not the–”

  Investigator Mi cut in with exaggerated patience, condescendion dripping off his youthful voice.

  “It’s animals or people,” Investigator Mi said. “The easiest way would have been to conduct mass arrests, but we don’t want to do that.”

  Datan choked back his outrage.

  “The better half of the town’s affected,” Datan said. “Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?”

  “You agreed to this,” Investigator Mi reminded Datan.

  “I did, but–!” Datan cut himself off, feeling sick to his stomach.

  Investigator Mi’s expression softened. The last thing Datan wanted to see–a kid half his age pitying him after wreaking havoc on his people. Datan hated himself most, for getting them into a situation where someone like Investigator Mi wasn’t just allowed to play god, but invited in to do so with much pleading and kowtowing.

  “The animals won’t die. They won’t even get particularly sick,” Investigator Mi said.

  “People are afraid,” Datan said. “Very afraid.”

  “That’s the point,” Investigator Mi said gently. “The point is to instigate panic, like we’ve said from the very start. That’s the Chieftain’s chance to establish his influence and seize back power. I won’t deny that it comes at quite a great financial cost to the Chieftain’s household, but the Duke won’t leave him wanting for funds.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Datan said grimly.

  “Shelun, Anagui, and Tiezhen are rich enough to hire herders,” Investigator Mi said meaningfully. “So they’re not affected. That alone is enough to breed resentment. And it’ll make things clear for their supporters, that there’s a fundamental gap between their interests and that of their supporters.”

  “I know your reasoning,” Datan said. “I just can’t bring myself to support the suffering this will cause.”

  Investigator Mi sighed, his shoulders loosening. He clumsily put a hand on Datan’s shoulder.

  “Sir Datan, I know this is difficult to bear. I also understand. Farmers in the south are just as susceptible to the ravages of disease and natural disasters–all the hard work of years and generations gone in a flash, forced to turn their back on their wells and leave their hometowns, the suffering is the same anywhere,” he said. “I only became an Investigator trainee at eleven because my own family had fled our home province after a drought. We know exactly what kind of response the threat of disaster instills in people.”

  The flimsy sympathy couldn’t cover the deeper callousness beneath it. A pit of horror opened in Datan’s stomach.

  “Then how the hell can you bring yourself to do this?” Datan asked. The young man now stared at him for a moment, evaluating Datan in an uncomfortable manner.

  “I can see why Duke Zhao wanted to help you,” Investigator Mi said. “You’re a decent man.”

  Datan’s blood boiled over.

  This brat, this child, this outsider–!

  How the hell did you raise a child to play with people’s fates so lightly? How did a person get to the point where they could act like this? Datan had raised Heli painstakingly, fearing for anything that could go wrong with the boy’s health, his intellect, his character–only to have that care trampled underfoot mud-stained boots. One scumbag after another who didn’t bother to notice its worth.

  And here was one more set of dirty footprints, trod by one who didn’t even think he was in the wrong, one who frivolously declared good or bad without even an inkling of the weight of each decision–playing god with people he thought beneath himself, who he thought under his control.

  Trembling with anger, Datan forcibly unclenched his fists finger by finger until his vision was no longer clouded by a thin, fuzzy veil of fury. He saw the child before him now with the weariness of an aged man, and felt pity for the young Investigator.

  The boy before him was still too young and inexperienced. He had never seen things spiral into madness and chaos, never saw the howling base instinct shared by man and beast consume an angry crowd. Investigator Mi may have known misfortune, but he didn’t know catastrophe. He may have lived through a famine but he’d never seen it descend into cannibalism. He’d made mistakes before, but not irreparable ones.

  A child, Datan realized, weary now that he understood this. It wasn’t just an angry denigration anymore. Before him was a mere child, one who had been forgiven his faults and given second chances.

  You don’t understand, Datan thought. And when you do, it’ll be too late.

  Unbidden, he was reminded of Duke Zhao’s look of frustration and smiled, bitter and dry.

  Efficient as ever, he silently said to the capital-bound Duke. Whetting one young fool against another.

  “I said that I would go with your plans,” Datan said. “I’ll abide by those words. But I will be watching. And I won’t forget.”

  Investigator Mi nodded solemnly, as if he could understand the decades of clenched fists and grinding teeth that went into that statement.

  “From now on, anything you do, don’t involve Heli until it’s time to start paying out money,” Datan said. “Whatever you need, I’ll take responsibility for everything. I want to keep his hands clean of this. Leave him a blank slate.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” the Investigator said grimly.

  For once, Investigator Mi’s gaze held actual respect. Datan couldn’t care less.

  “Then it’s settled,” Datan said brusquely. “Our men will start spreading rumors about the likelihood of a town-wide epidemic, and we’ll send for a horse doctor and a shaman tomorrow.”

  “Wait another day,” Investigator Mi suggested. “No one will be stupid enough to kill their own horse that fast anyhow. Let it all fester a bit more.”

  “It’ll take several days just to get them over in this weather,” Datan said in disbelief. “We shouldn’t be waiting that long.”

  “All the same,” Investigator Mi said. “Wait another day. Make it clear first that Shelun and his friends won’t send for one.”

  Datan let out a huff. “Have it your way.”

  Cultural Notes

  放飞自我/Let oneself fly free: A Chinese saying that means to completely let loose and go wild.

  管仲/Guan Zhong: Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Qi under Duke Huan of Qi (it was still a Dukedom back then but for clarity we'll call it a Kingdom). He was famous for his fiscal policies promoting trade, including his innovation of state monopolies on iron and salt. Fun tidbit about him: He was originally supporting Duke Huan's half-brother and even went so far as to shoot Duke Huan of Qi with an arrow. However, his friend interceded on his behalf when Duke Huan seized power and the Duke let bygones be bygones out of respect for Guan Zhong's talent.

  商鞅/Shang Yang: Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Qin, served Duke Xiao of Qin (also still a Dukedom back then). He was originally an immigrant from the Kingdom of Wei and introduced sweeping legal and fiscal reforms to promote economic production and military strength, contributing to the expansionist policies of the Kingdom of Qin that would result in the unification of China several generations down the line.

  Rome: At the current time, this refers to the Byzantine Empire.

  以史为鉴，可以知兴替/Use history as a mirror can allow you to understand the rise and fall of civilizations: A saying attributed to Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty (second Emperor and founding member) in reference to his advisor Wei Zheng. The full saying goes, "Use a bronze mirror and you can straighten your hat and clothes. Use history as a mirror and you can understand the rise and fall of civilizations. Use a person [aka Wei Zheng] as a mirror you can understand the benefits and setbacks to a decision."

  人为财死鸟为食亡/People will die for wealth, birds will die for food: An Ancient Chinese proverb referring to the significance that wealth holds for people that can bring them to extremes.

  天下熙熙皆为利来，天下攘攘皆为利往/The bustling movements under heaven rush this way and that for profit: A pre-Qin saying popularized in the Han Dynasty, it refers to the fact the merchants will be attracted by profits, or that people will eagerly chase after wealth.

  汉文帝/Emperor Wen of Han: Often lauded as one of the best Emperors of Chinese history, he contributed greatly to increasing prosperity in his kingdom, settling a chaotic political situation, and setting up the foundation for the Han Dynasty's military might under his grandson, Emperor Wu of Han (the guy who kept fighting with the Xiongnu nomads). He was frugal in his own life and did not take many consorts. When he died he mandated that the country should only mourn three days, that he should not be buried extravagantly, and that his consorts should return to their own homes rather than go to his tomb or languish in the palace.

  浮世无常/All things are inconstant in this floating world: A Chinese proverb tied to Buddhist beliefs, which also address the inconstancy of the world, as well as the fleeting nature of life on earth.

  荀彧和曹操/Xun Yu and Cao Cao: A famous advisor-politician duo, Cao Cao was a major warlord in the Three Kingdoms era, popularized by the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Xun Yu was Cao Cao's loyal advisor and official for decades, until Cao Cao eventually established the kingdom of Wei, setting up his own court outside of the Han court that he nominally claimed to serve. As a man of strong beliefs, Xun Yu, who had genuinely wanted to contribute to the wellbeing of the country by supporting a warlord claiming to serve the Han dynasty, spoke out against this, incurring Cao Cao's dissatisfaction. By popular belief, Xun Yu was eventually forced to kill himself. Historically, his death is viewed as suspicious due to his opposition to Cao Cao's ascension, but there is no evidence that he died of anything other than illness.

  Yellow River changing course: The Yellow River, one of the two major rivers spanning west to east in China has changed course several times in history, completely reshaping the landscape of several regions, to the result of great destruction and human suffering each time.

  Anbei Protectorate: A semi-autonomous administrative district in the Tang China encompassing parts of Inner Mongolia and Mongolia.

  Zud: A periodic disaster that usually occurs in Mongolia and Central Asia. Historical Chinese records also place such events within the borders of modern-day Inner Mongolia. This is when large numbers of livestock die, often due to starvation, resulting from being unable to graze due to climate conditions. Because ancient records don't leave specific numbers, we can look at modern examples of this happening. A 1944 zud killed about seven million livestock, about a third of Mongolia's total livestock. A zud in 2009-2010 killed the entire herds of about 9000 households, and killed over two million livestock. The loss of livelihood can force nomads to move to settlements where they often are unable to transfer their existing skills, and end up trapped in low-wage, low-status labor.

  背井离乡/Turn [one's] back on your well and leave your hometown: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to leave your hometown, often under forced or undesired circumstances.