The Ming Pretender had fled without a fight — perhaps feeling he'd lost face — and then, in a move no one anticipated, marched south, crossed the Yellow River, and drew near the Liujing where the Emperor resided.
Perhaps he felt he held a psychological edge, having defeated the Emperor once before, and so chose to press his advantage and have another go at his rival.
The Emperor, for his part, proved just as spineless as expected. When the two armies met, the imperial forces crumbled at first contact, and the Emperor fled Liujing, crossed the Yangtze, and ran all the way to the Jiangnan region.
And so the realm came to look like this.
Imagine a sheet of rough paper. Draw a line across the middle — that is the Yellow River.
Now, two spineless wretches both find themselves on the lower half of the sheet. Draw another line across the middle of that lower half — that is the great river, the Yangtze.
The Ming Pretender is above it; the Emperor is below.
Zhao Baihui is on the Emperor's side of things as well, though a little toward the left, a little toward the top, hugging the banks of the great river.
On the upper half of the sheet, draw yet another line across its middle — that is the Great Wall. Above it is beyond the passes, the barbarians' own territory. Below it is the capital, the Emperor's former domain, first seized by the Ming Pretender, then occupied by the northern barbarians.
Like three pieces on a game board: one moved, which made the next one move, which made the last one move, and after all that shuffling about, every damn one of them sat perfectly still.
Zhao Baihui watched the situation with complete indifference. You lot can move or not move as you please — I, for one, am always moving.
He himself stayed put, but the world around him was turning upside down, changing by the day.
"Master, Lord Lin Xuejin has come, and he has brought two elders with him — it looks like Governor-General Wen and Governor Lin."
The one speaking was the youngest of the twenty-three boys he had taken in years ago, only eight years old even now.
Coming up with names for all of them had given him a splitting headache, and for the very last one he simply took the lazy way out: Zhao Mingming. No need to rack his brains any further.
Zhao Baihui lay in his reclining chair, considered for a moment, and said, "Mingming, we may as well let them in. If I keep refusing to see them, they'll just keep finding ways to pester me."
"Yes, Master. I'll go bring them in."
Before long, Mingming led the three visitors inside.
Lin Xuejin took one look at Zhao Baihui lying there in silence, not moving, not speaking, and knew at once that the man was not entirely pleased with him — after all, it was he who had come to disturb his peace. Still, he didn't particularly mind. After so much time together and so much mutual understanding, he knew that Zhao Baihui was not one to hold grudges, or at least not small ones. Today would pass, and that would be that; he was not the type to settle scores later.
And so Lin Xuejin bowed with a smile and said, "Xuejin pays his respects to the Master."
The two men behind him both furrowed their brows slightly, wondering whether this fellow — who looked rather young — wasn't being a touch too presumptuous.
Old Lin was now Governor of Jiangxi; one could say this was all his territory, and his confidence seemed to have returned somewhat. But the lesson of their last encounter was still vivid in his mind, and he held his tongue, leaving his son to handle things.
As for Zhao Baihui looking so young — nothing like a man of thirty-six — that was because he was different from the people here: he didn't care for beards.
Around these parts, everyone loved to grow a beard. Some men had great bushy ones by the time they were eighteen or nineteen. Scholars and gentlemen of refinement preferred to cultivate a trim beard and groom it with care — Lin Xuejin himself sported a fine, handsome set of whiskers.
But Zhao Baihui had always found the whole business rather slovenly, and thoroughly inconvenient when eating — a mouthful of food, a mouthful of beard. Not that he couldn't understand the appeal for others. Life moved slowly here, with nothing much to do from one day to the next, and grooming one's beard and hair was as good a way as any to pass the time.
Now, in places like Taoyuan Town and Longcheng, plenty of people had decided that tending to hair and beard wasted time better spent on work, and that both became a sweaty nuisance in any case — and so close-cropped hair and shaved heads had begun to catch on. It wasn't a fashion Zhao Baihui had started; it was simply natural selection at work.
So his face was always clean-shaven, and with his comfortable life, his fondness for keeping himself in good health, and a certain unassuming quality about him, if you didn't look too closely, you might well believe someone who told you he wasn't yet twenty.
"What is it? Say your piece."
"I am sorry to trouble the Master, but I had no choice. I was pestered into it myself, and I hope the Master will forgive me."
*I couldn't help it — after all, this is my father. You can't hit him and you can't shout at him. All I could do was bring him here. Yes, I know I'm the one at fault, I'll admit it freely, but I'm hoping you'll let it go.*
There was something rather shameless about the whole thing, and he knew it.
"Speak." Zhao Baihui almost couldn't keep a straight face.
*My dear first-rank juren of the seventh year of Wan'an, your transformation over these past two years has been something to behold.*
*You really ought to spend less time playing around with Jinyuan.*
"Master, my father wishes to know how the situation will develop — does His Majesty the Emperor in the south still have any hope? Though, if you ask me, I think there isn't much hope at all."
Lin's father shot his unfilial son a furious glare, but knowing this was not the place to dress him down, he bit his tongue.
"Without our intervention, the northern barbarians have the greatest likelihood of taking the realm. The Ming Pretender has no foundation and has lost the hearts of the people — he'll be off the board soon enough. The Emperor, being the legitimate heir, will manage to muddle along for some years, but in all probability will perish in the end."
"I'll give you only the conclusion, not the reasoning, because I'm too lazy to break it down and spell it out for you piece by piece — and you wouldn't understand it even if I did. Off you go."
"Very well, Master. Then I shall take my leave."
"You impudent little—"
The words *yellow-beaked fledgling* never quite made it out.
*Shing...*
The old man flinched the moment he heard that sound. He spun around, and sure enough, the not-very-large boy had his hand on his blade.
"Yel— yel— His Majesty the Emperor will surely reclaim the capital! You wait and see!"
"All right, I'll wait and see. Safe travels. No need to see you out."
"So sorry to have troubled you, so sorry to have troubled you..." Lin Xuejin, who had very nearly broken into a cold sweat, seized his father by the arm and half-dragged him out the door.
*Father, how do you keep eating without ever learning your lesson!*
Once they were through the gate with no one nearby, Lin Xuejin finally let out a long breath, and turned on his father in exasperation. "Father, how can you still be so reckless with your words? Do you actually want Xuan'er, Yi'er, and me dead?"
"I..."
"Father! Grandfather! Grandpa Wen! What brings you all here?"
"Well, Xuan'er, what are you doing here?"
"I've come to consult the Master about something."
All three men were at a loss for words. Governor Lin asked, "Why is it that you can come and consult him at any time?"
Lin Yunxuan looked genuinely puzzled. "Er... why wouldn't I be able to?"
"...Because we just came to consult him ourselves, and he dispatched us in a few sentences."
"Ah, I see. That's because you came about a private matter, I expect? I'm here on official business. The Master planned Longcheng himself, personally, and a few small problems have come up in certain areas — so I've come to ask about them."
All three men relaxed. Good — so we weren't being singled out for contempt.
Lin Yunxuan asked curiously, "Father, what did you all come to ask the Master about?"
"Your grandfather wanted to ask about the current situation — the Emperor, the Ming Pretender, the northern barbarians — who will take the realm."
"Does that even need asking? With us here, none of them will take the realm."
"Xuan'er, you — you—" Governor Lin stared at his grandson, completely taken aback. He had never imagined the boy would say something so utterly treasonous.
Lin Xuejin's face went stern as he snapped, "Xuan'er, watch what you say. We are not yet ready, and things like that — while there's nothing to show for them yet — are not to be spoken aloud."
*What on earth does this boy mean? Is he saying we should build our strength in secret and then overthrow the court in one fell swoop?*
*Does he think I, his father, a former Vice Minister of Personnel and current Governor of Jiangxi, simply don't exist?*
*And standing right next to us is the court-appointed Governor-General of Liangjiang!*
*Treasonous son! Treasonous grandson! This will be the death of me!*
*Old Wen, how can you stand there without a single expression on your face? Old Wen, say something!*
Lin Xuejin noticed his father looking very much as if he might not survive the next few moments, and quickly steered the conversation away. "Xuan'er, let me test you — if we were not in the picture, which of them would win?"
*What do you mean, if we were not in the picture!*
Governor Lin clutched his chest. *You wretched son, that's still the same thing!*
"Oh, the Master talked to us about this the last time. The Ming Pretender has lost his momentum; his origins are low, and he has no understanding of governance. His forces may be passable, but he lacks experienced men who know how to administer territory — he'll likely grow weaker and weaker. He should be the first one knocked off the board."
Governor Lin nodded slowly and thoughtfully. *There's something to that.*
"The Emperor has legitimate succession behind him, more talented men at his disposal than the Ming Pretender, and no shortage of people who lack the sense to abandon their wishful hopes and continue supporting him — so he should be able to hold on for a while. Most likely he'll even have one last blaze of glory before his supporters finally lose all faith."
*Lacking sense — is that meant to be me?* Governor Lin's hand tightened fiercely around his chest.
"The northern barbarians are fierce and ferocious. They may not have won over the scholar-officials, but scholars have soft spines — one flash of a blade and they wet themselves. So — ah, Grandfather, what's wrong? Grandfather!"
"Father! Father! What's the matter? Xuan'er, you wretched child — how can you just say whatever comes into your head — Father, wake up! Xuan'er didn't mean you!"
Governor Lin, who had managed to remain barely conscious even after he collapsed, went out completely.