Duan Ling is kneeling in front of the low table as usual, setting it with dishes of food; lots of gifts have arrived from the estate today. Wu Du is staring at it all looking bored as usual.
“How did you do on today’s monthly exam?” Wu Du asks.
“Judging by the amount of gifts, I think I probably did alright. What about you?”
“Maybe I’ll become a doctor at some point too and just make up prescriptions for a living, have a change of career.”
Duan Ling picks up a pair of chopsticks with both hands, sets them down politely in front of Wu Du, and the two of them get ready to eat. Duan Ling tells him smilingly, “Treating illnesses, saving people — there’s nothing I like more.”
Wu Du looks at Duan Ling meditatively; strangely enough, ever since Duan Ling admitted that he wanted to get ahead, Wu Du can’t really find fault with it. After all, that’s simply human nature. Fear not the true villain but the hypocrite, as they say. At times, Wu Du really finds Duan Ling both annoying and fascinating; he’s at that awkward age, halfway between a child and an adult, his head filled with inexplicable ideas, and outrageous words are constantly coming out of his mouth.
“When is your birthday?” Wu Du asks.
“I’ve forgotten.” Duan Ling thinks about this; if Lang Junxia has taken his birth certificate, then the crown prince must have that same day as his birthday, so he mustn’t let anything slip. “It may have been … the seventh of seventh.”
“Then it’s almost here. Are you off tomorrow?”
“I’m off tomorrow,” Duan Ling replies.
When it comes to dishes that Wu Du likes, Duan Ling only takes a little, and when they’re dishes Wu Du won’t touch, he takes more; Wu Du has the same idea in mind though, since both the food and the gifts were things Duan Ling earned and he wants to leave Duan Ling what he likes to eat. But now they’re both avoiding dishes at the table and not sure what they should be eating anymore.
“You have the next few days off, so I’ll take you out somewhere fun.”
Duan Ling does want to go somewhere fun, and he’s just thinking about finding an opportunity to go out actually. He’s worried that Wu Du won’t go with him if he asks, and if he goes out on his own he’s scared of running into Lang Junxia. Even though there’s no way Lang Junxia would have the free time to go out on a leisurely stroll, he’d still rather not be alone, just in case.
“Where’re we going?” Duan Ling’s eyes are all at once smiling.
“Eat your food. Quit your yakking. We’ll talk about it after I find the last catalyst in that formula.”
Duan Ling knows that Wu Du has been busy working on Mu Kuangda’s poison all this time; it’s been quite a while since he’s started trying to put it together, but that’s not to say that Wu Du has been dragging his feet — it’s because there were problems with the formula Mu Kuangda gave him to begin with. It’s a poison formula, but it’s too strong to use as a poison that won’t be discovered as one.
When it comes to poisoning, Wu Du has standards. First off he won’t go near the underhanded kinds — for instance, stuff like knock-out drugs, aphrodisiacs, and arsenic are entirely out of the question. Secondly it mustn’t be possible for anyone to deduce what the formula was in the first place, otherwise, there goes his reputation. Thirdly, they mustn’t be simple and crude poisons that kill you outright; they must be the kind that gracefully poisons you until you’re dead.
Who ever knows where Mu Kuangda got that formula from, but even Duan Ling can tell it’s too obvious and easily found out. From Wu Du’s perspective, it wreaks havoc on aesthetics. Basically, it’s no different than taking one of those great big hammers that are usually used to break walls down and hitting the back of someone’s head with it. How can a master of poisons ever tolerate such a thing?
“Did you find it?” Duan Ling asks.
“No. I’ll need to look through a few books. There are several herbs in the Materia Medica2 that may work, but I can’t remember what they are at the moment.”
“I have a key to the estate’s library. Whatever book you need, we can go look for it together.”
Wu Du seems to be thinking about it.
Duan Ling changes his mind and says, “Want me to go check first?”
Wu Du thinks silently to himself for a while before he gives Duan Ling a slight nod.
And so after dinner, Duan Ling goes into the estate through the backdoor in the alleyway; all he has to say is that he’s heading inside to talk to the young master, and the gatekeeper no longer tries to stop him. With ease, he detours familiarly around the garden and into the library. Setting his lamp on the windowsill, Duan Ling goes looking for the book. It’s the end of summer at the cusp of spring; a breeze blows in from outside the library and the lamp goes out with nary a sound.
Duan Ling is about to go light it again when he suddenly hears footsteps coming from the floor below. Someone is coming up the stairs.
Mu Kuangda is saying quietly, “If we’d asked Chang Liujun to look for it, he won’t be able to find it. He can’t read. Keep that to yourself now, don’t laugh at him. I need to come look for it myself.”
With a touch of alarm, Duan Ling freezes in his tracks. He wonders what Mu Kuangda has come to the library in the middle of the night for. It looks like there’s someone behind him as well, and it’s not Chang Liujun.
Lantern light gradually moves their shadows up the stairs. Standing in the dark, Duan Ling sees Mu Kuangda coming into the library ahead of a literati. To ensure Mu Kuangda’s safety, Chang Liujun is never far from him, but he’s not coming up the stairs with them; which means Duan Ling won’t be discovered as long as he’s hidden behind the bookshelf.
Should he hide and eavesdrop, or should he rather …
Duan Ling makes a split second’s decision and comes out from behind the bookshelf. He says to Mu Kuangda, “Greetings, master.”
Both Mu Kuangda and the literati seem taken aback; neither have expected there to be anyone in the library, and cannot but silently exclaim “that was close” to themselves. Be that as it may, both sides are smart people, and Duan Ling’s action is nothing less than averting suspicion from himself and vowing his loyalty. Mu Kuangda is especially impressed; this young man is indeed extraordinary.
“This is Qing’er’s study partner,” Mu Kuangda says to the literati. The literati nods. There is visible approval in Mu Kuangda’s eyes.
Duan Ling has a book in his hands. “I came over to look up something, didn’t mean to intrude, master …”
Mu Kuangda waves a hand at him. Duan Ling catches on that perhaps the literati and Mu Kuangda may want to have a private discussion, and he’s about to ask to be excused when Mu Kuangda says to him, “Come over here.”
“A chancellor is so generous that ships can be kept in the harbour of his stomach, as they say.” The literati smiles at him. “Naturally, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Both Mu Kuangda and Duan Ling laugh. Mu Kuangda turns to Duan Ling then, “This here is Master3 Chang Pin, an assistant in residence here.”
Duan Ling bows to the literati, puts his lamp on the table, and lights it again. Mu Kuangda hands Duan Ling a key. “From the cabinet at the innermost part of the library, bring me a memorial dated twenty-seventh of the sixth month last year.”
Duan Ling leaves them to do as he was asked. The cabinet is densely packed, packed to the brim with memorials. Chang Pin says to Mu Kuangda, “As soon we start moving the capital, Xichuan will inevitably lose a great deal of its power.”
“Ever since the passing of Zhao Kui, moving the capital has been a foregone conclusion.” Mu Kuangda says, “If we don’t take care of it soon, I’m afraid we won’t have the resources to put it into motion later.”
Duan Ling finds the memorial and blows off the dust. Since he knows Mu Kuangda approves of him, and has no intention of making him stay away, he puts the memorial on the table and draws another pot of water. Turning up the flame of his lamp, he starts to heat up the water over it.
“The gentry in Jiangzhou are a tangled and complicated root system of associations.” Chang Pin says, “The Su, Wu, and Lin clans occupy Jiangnan, making it difficult to put new laws into practice. And Xie You’s Black Armours costs an astronomical amount in military spending. Even though they say nurture an army for a thousand days, fit for a day’s emergency, these military expenditure numbers are rather too high.”
While Duan Ling is lost in thought, Mu Kuangda unfolds the memorial, and so Duan Ling glances at it.
“This is a memorial commented on by the late emperor,” Mu Kuangda says to Duan Ling.
There’s a single character that says “read” at the bottom of the memorial, and three more that says “just move it”. Duan Ling cannot be more familiar with the characters — it’s Li Jianhong’s handwriting.
A multitude of emotions at once rush forth into his heart, all tangled up with each other in a complicated mess, leaving Duan Ling reeling; all he wants to do is take the memorial and brush his fingers over it, but he clearly knows that he mustn’t do that in front of Mu Kuangda’s face.
“The late emperor reigned for ten days. On the day of his ascension he approved three memorials before hurrying off,” Mu Kuangda takes a sip of tea, saying wistfully, “The first was for moving the capital, the second for the farmland assignment system4, and as for the third, it was a tax cut.”
“Right. Three Golden Tallies,” Duan Ling says.5
Both Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin start laughing.
“I’ve been holding onto this memorial for quite a while already.” Mu Kuangda says, “This is a good opportunity for us to discuss the details of the move. Make a copy of it here for me.”
Duan Ling nods and takes the memorial aside for copying. First, he takes a rough read of it, and as he does so he cannot help himself from exclaiming in admiration at the memorial written by Mu Kuangda. It is clear and concise, the arguments persuasive to the extreme, and from introduction to supporting statements to conclusion, not a word is wasted on superfluous statements or fancy, extravagant rhetoric. It first states the facts as they were, starting from the finer details, and from there it backs away to give you a view of the full picture. Every line is efficient and goes right to the point, and there are often multiple meanings hidden in a single sentence.
Such rhetorical prowess makes Duan Ling feel truly unworthy. Previously he had thought his own essays quite up to standard, and yet compared to a memorial written by Mu Kuangda, he may as well be illiterate.
“What are you smiling about?” Mu Kuangda has noticed the look on Duan Ling’s face.
“This is such a good essay that I simply can’t contain myself,” Duan Ling replies.
Chang Pin laughs. “You haven’t read the Grand Chancellor’s memorials of impeachment, those he wrote to accuse someone of misconduct. Now that’s something that can make you split your sides laughing.”
Mu Kuangda laughs at this as well, and with a shake of his head he begins to work out the details of the capital’s move. Jiangzhou may be a thousand miles away, but Mu Kuangda knows it like the back of his hand. With a sheet of paper before them, the two of them begin to assess the particulars of what must be done after the capital is moved, such as how tax liabilities will be spread, and how they’ll absorb Jiangzhou’s literati clans into the imperial court through next year’s civil examinations.
Multitasking, Duan Ling copies the memorial while he listens to their conversation at the same time. It’s really true what they say — one conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of school; that Mu Kuangda can take on his current post is nothing less than a heavenly mandate. Economics, agriculture, how best to allocate political power, the military that Xie You represents as well as Jiangzuo6 region’s autonomy … He lists these things one by one, a place for everything and everything in its place, not a hair in the wrong spot. This move mustn’t affect the major local gentry clans’ inherent advantage, and it must ensure the political bloc that the new emperor and the crown prince represent will have a role to play in Jiangzhou.
“We’ll need to set up a round of special7 civil examinations as well.” Chang Pin says, “So that the three major gentry families can enter the imperial court.”
“Yes. We’ll need to make sure that the Censorate and the Ministry of Revenue will lean towards us.”
Duan Ling finishes copying the memorial; by then he’s entirely won over by Mu Kuangda’s farsighted planning and mature deliberation. Soon, Chang Pin goes to get an abacus, half of one is five of ten, and using one thousand taels as the single unit, he starts tallying up Jiangzhou’s taxes on the spot.
“Mark it all down for now,” Mu Kuangda says to Duan Ling.
Duan Ling puts the memorial aside to dry, and on a new sheet of paper he notes down Chang Pin and Mu Kuangda’s accounting of farmland, tax liabilities, and military expenditure cuts. The numbers are debated and tossed back and forth until even Duan Ling is a bit confused, but Mu Kuangda is perfectly confident and sorts all the numbers out neatly. Gradually, the subject of their discussion takes a turn, and they begin to speak of how best to settle the three major clans of Jiangzhou.
“We’ll need to set up a marriage alliance,” Chang Pin says.
Mu Kuangda hums affirmatively and says, “The crown prince is at that age already, but these three families …” Mu Kuangda shakes his head slowly, meaning that none of them are quite good enough.
Chang Pin adds, “From what I have gathered, His Majesty seems to want the crown prince to marry Su Fa’s daughter.”
“Let’s consider this at length …” Mu Kuangda says, sounding exasperated. They’ve been talking all night, so he’s actually getting a bit tired. He stretches, and says, “Grand Chancellor is a difficult job, you know — aside from this messy accounting I have to do, I even have to play matchmaker.”
Both Chang Pin and Duan Ling laugh. Mu Kuangda takes one look at the key points Duan Ling has noted down, nods, and says, “Very good.”
Chang Pin says to Mu Kuangda, “I shall leave tomorrow for Jiangzhou to help you make arrangements in advance.”
Mu Kuangda says, “Don’t try to save wherever you ought to spend … and gift.”
Chang Pin answers with a certainly, and Mu Kuangda adds, “I’ll go get the memorial written now. At tomorrow’s morning assembly, I’ll take both of them with me.”
Without waiting for instructions, Duan Ling picks up the lantern and walks in front of them, shining the way ahead as Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin come out of the library. As Chang Liujun had been waiting outside, when he suddenly sees an additional person, his eyes alight with alarm. Mu Kuangda waves his hand to let him know it’s alright, but as he slowly steps out of the room, he finds Wu Du waiting out in the courtyard.
The moment he sees Wu Du, Mu Kuangda knows that he’s come looking for Duan Ling, and says to him, “Fate brought your little friend to me this evening, so it was unavoidable that I kept him a while longer than his expected return.”
Wu Du gives him a nod. “Of course you’re free to task him with whatever you wish, Chancellor.”
“Well, since you say so,” Mu Kuangda adds, “Then I’d like to trouble you to wait another hour. If you’re not in a hurry to go to bed, come along with me.”
From the day he became a part of the chancellor’s estate, Wu Du has never received this sort of treatment in the middle of the night, and because at first he just thinks Mu Kuangda wanted to ask him about the poison, he decides to follow them. And so they proceed along to the study through the galleries with Duan Ling leading the way, Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin chatting about nothing in particular behind him, and Wu Du and Chang Liujun bringing up the rear.
Halfway to the study, Chang Pin puts one hand in his fist and bows. “I shall take my leave here then.”
Mu Kuangda gives Chang Pin a nod and cups a hand. “Pleasant journey to you, sir.”
“Thank you, lord chancellor.” Smiling, Chang Pin meanders away.
It leaves Duan Ling to light the way ahead with the lantern, while Mu Kuangda seems to be deep in his thoughts. Duan Ling has gradually realised that, in some ways, Mu Kuangda and Mu Qing really do resemble each other. Mu Qing and his dad both treasure talented people and treat scholars with respect, and they’re both easygoing, approachable people. It’s no wonder that those like Chang Pin would want to pledge themselves to him, willing to become a retainer in the chancellor’s estate rather than to take on an official position with the government.
Duan Ling enters the study with Mu Kuangda coming in after him, and Chang Liujun conscientiously stands at one side of the door. Wu Du is about to head inside when Chang Liujun blocks his way — letting him know that he’s not needed inside.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
The Compendium of Materia Medica is a real book. ↩︎
The chinese 先生 Xiansheng is translated to “Mister” in contemporary Chinese, but that’s because instead of the old Xiansheng, we now use 老師 Laoshi for the same purpose. It’s actually closest to the Japanese “Sensei”. I prefer “Master” for Xiansheng used in the premodern period. ↩︎
You can read about the Tuntian / farmland assignment system here. In short, it’s a way of coercing people without land to farm for the government. Refugees would get land to farm, but more than half the harvest would go to the government. The military often worked on the same system, since soldiers have a lot of free time when there’s no war. ↩︎
The text 金牌 would be translated to “gold medallions” but in meaning it’s referring to the fictional golden tally often referred to in old plays/literature. The Golden Tally represented the emperor the same way that a Tiger Tally represented the military. If someone holds the Golden Tally, those around them have to treat it as though the emperor is present, and its holder speaks for the emperor. In function it’s like the sword of state. But let me stress it again — there is no proof that this thing existed outside of operas. ↩︎
The Jiangzuo region was an archaic designation for land east of the Yangtze River, in this case, east of Jiangzhou. ↩︎
The civil exams usually happened by schedule, every three years. An exam that wasn’t on the set schedule was “special” and usually involved money. Let’s say one of the city gates needs repairs and the treasury is short on money, the emperor could declare a special examination open to anyone who donates X+ amount of money to fix it. Usually these are easier exams to pass since there is less competition. ↩︎
Duan Ling is kneeling in front of the low table as usual, setting it with dishes of food; lots of gifts have arrived from the estate today. Wu Du is staring at it all looking bored as usual.
“How did you do on today’s monthly exam?” Wu Du asks.
“Judging by the amount of gifts, I think I probably did alright. What about you?”
“Maybe I’ll become a doctor at some point too and just make up prescriptions for a living, have a change of career.”
Duan Ling picks up a pair of chopsticks with both hands, sets them down politely in front of Wu Du, and the two of them get ready to eat. Duan Ling tells him smilingly, “Treating illnesses, saving people — there’s nothing I like more.”
Wu Du looks at Duan Ling meditatively; strangely enough, ever since Duan Ling admitted that he wanted to get ahead, Wu Du can’t really find fault with it. After all, that’s simply human nature. Fear not the true villain but the hypocrite, as they say. At times, Wu Du really finds Duan Ling both annoying and fascinating; he’s at that awkward age, halfway between a child and an adult, his head filled with inexplicable ideas, and outrageous words are constantly coming out of his mouth.
“When is your birthday?” Wu Du asks.
“I’ve forgotten.” Duan Ling thinks about this; if Lang Junxia has taken his birth certificate, then the crown prince must have that same day as his birthday, so he mustn’t let anything slip. “It may have been … the seventh of seventh.”
“Then it’s almost here. Are you off tomorrow?”
“I’m off tomorrow,” Duan Ling replies.
When it comes to dishes that Wu Du likes, Duan Ling only takes a little, and when they’re dishes Wu Du won’t touch, he takes more; Wu Du has the same idea in mind though, since both the food and the gifts were things Duan Ling earned and he wants to leave Duan Ling what he likes to eat. But now they’re both avoiding dishes at the table and not sure what they should be eating anymore.
“You have the next few days off, so I’ll take you out somewhere fun.”
Duan Ling does want to go somewhere fun, and he’s just thinking about finding an opportunity to go out actually. He’s worried that Wu Du won’t go with him if he asks, and if he goes out on his own he’s scared of running into Lang Junxia. Even though there’s no way Lang Junxia would have the free time to go out on a leisurely stroll, he’d still rather not be alone, just in case.
“Where’re we going?” Duan Ling’s eyes are all at once smiling.
“Eat your food. Quit your yakking. We’ll talk about it after I find the last catalyst in that formula.”
Duan Ling knows that Wu Du has been busy working on Mu Kuangda’s poison all this time; it’s been quite a while since he’s started trying to put it together, but that’s not to say that Wu Du has been dragging his feet — it’s because there were problems with the formula Mu Kuangda gave him to begin with. It’s a poison formula, but it’s too strong to use as a poison that won’t be discovered as one.
When it comes to poisoning, Wu Du has standards. First off he won’t go near the underhanded kinds — for instance, stuff like knock-out drugs, aphrodisiacs, and arsenic are entirely out of the question. Secondly it mustn’t be possible for anyone to deduce what the formula was in the first place, otherwise, there goes his reputation. Thirdly, they mustn’t be simple and crude poisons that kill you outright; they must be the kind that gracefully poisons you until you’re dead.
Who ever knows where Mu Kuangda got that formula from, but even Duan Ling can tell it’s too obvious and easily found out. From Wu Du’s perspective, it wreaks havoc on aesthetics. Basically, it’s no different than taking one of those great big hammers that are usually used to break walls down and hitting the back of someone’s head with it. How can a master of poisons ever tolerate such a thing?
“Did you find it?” Duan Ling asks.
“No. I’ll need to look through a few books. There are several herbs in the Materia Medica2 that may work, but I can’t remember what they are at the moment.”
“I have a key to the estate’s library. Whatever book you need, we can go look for it together.”
Wu Du seems to be thinking about it.
Duan Ling changes his mind and says, “Want me to go check first?”
Wu Du thinks silently to himself for a while before he gives Duan Ling a slight nod.
And so after dinner, Duan Ling goes into the estate through the backdoor in the alleyway; all he has to say is that he’s heading inside to talk to the young master, and the gatekeeper no longer tries to stop him. With ease, he detours familiarly around the garden and into the library. Setting his lamp on the windowsill, Duan Ling goes looking for the book. It’s the end of summer at the cusp of spring; a breeze blows in from outside the library and the lamp goes out with nary a sound.
Duan Ling is about to go light it again when he suddenly hears footsteps coming from the floor below. Someone is coming up the stairs.
Mu Kuangda is saying quietly, “If we’d asked Chang Liujun to look for it, he won’t be able to find it. He can’t read. Keep that to yourself now, don’t laugh at him. I need to come look for it myself.”
With a touch of alarm, Duan Ling freezes in his tracks. He wonders what Mu Kuangda has come to the library in the middle of the night for. It looks like there’s someone behind him as well, and it’s not Chang Liujun.
Lantern light gradually moves their shadows up the stairs. Standing in the dark, Duan Ling sees Mu Kuangda coming into the library ahead of a literati. To ensure Mu Kuangda’s safety, Chang Liujun is never far from him, but he’s not coming up the stairs with them; which means Duan Ling won’t be discovered as long as he’s hidden behind the bookshelf.
Should he hide and eavesdrop, or should he rather …
Duan Ling makes a split second’s decision and comes out from behind the bookshelf. He says to Mu Kuangda, “Greetings, master.”
Both Mu Kuangda and the literati seem taken aback; neither have expected there to be anyone in the library, and cannot but silently exclaim “that was close” to themselves. Be that as it may, both sides are smart people, and Duan Ling’s action is nothing less than averting suspicion from himself and vowing his loyalty. Mu Kuangda is especially impressed; this young man is indeed extraordinary.
“This is Qing’er’s study partner,” Mu Kuangda says to the literati. The literati nods. There is visible approval in Mu Kuangda’s eyes.
Duan Ling has a book in his hands. “I came over to look up something, didn’t mean to intrude, master …”
Mu Kuangda waves a hand at him. Duan Ling catches on that perhaps the literati and Mu Kuangda may want to have a private discussion, and he’s about to ask to be excused when Mu Kuangda says to him, “Come over here.”
“A chancellor is so generous that ships can be kept in the harbour of his stomach, as they say.” The literati smiles at him. “Naturally, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Both Mu Kuangda and Duan Ling laugh. Mu Kuangda turns to Duan Ling then, “This here is Master3 Chang Pin, an assistant in residence here.”
Duan Ling bows to the literati, puts his lamp on the table, and lights it again. Mu Kuangda hands Duan Ling a key. “From the cabinet at the innermost part of the library, bring me a memorial dated twenty-seventh of the sixth month last year.”
Duan Ling leaves them to do as he was asked. The cabinet is densely packed, packed to the brim with memorials. Chang Pin says to Mu Kuangda, “As soon we start moving the capital, Xichuan will inevitably lose a great deal of its power.”
“Ever since the passing of Zhao Kui, moving the capital has been a foregone conclusion.” Mu Kuangda says, “If we don’t take care of it soon, I’m afraid we won’t have the resources to put it into motion later.”
Duan Ling finds the memorial and blows off the dust. Since he knows Mu Kuangda approves of him, and has no intention of making him stay away, he puts the memorial on the table and draws another pot of water. Turning up the flame of his lamp, he starts to heat up the water over it.
“The gentry in Jiangzhou are a tangled and complicated root system of associations.” Chang Pin says, “The Su, Wu, and Lin clans occupy Jiangnan, making it difficult to put new laws into practice. And Xie You’s Black Armours costs an astronomical amount in military spending. Even though they say nurture an army for a thousand days, fit for a day’s emergency, these military expenditure numbers are rather too high.”
While Duan Ling is lost in thought, Mu Kuangda unfolds the memorial, and so Duan Ling glances at it.
“This is a memorial commented on by the late emperor,” Mu Kuangda says to Duan Ling.
There’s a single character that says “read” at the bottom of the memorial, and three more that says “just move it”. Duan Ling cannot be more familiar with the characters — it’s Li Jianhong’s handwriting.
A multitude of emotions at once rush forth into his heart, all tangled up with each other in a complicated mess, leaving Duan Ling reeling; all he wants to do is take the memorial and brush his fingers over it, but he clearly knows that he mustn’t do that in front of Mu Kuangda’s face.
“The late emperor reigned for ten days. On the day of his ascension he approved three memorials before hurrying off,” Mu Kuangda takes a sip of tea, saying wistfully, “The first was for moving the capital, the second for the farmland assignment system4, and as for the third, it was a tax cut.”
“Right. Three Golden Tallies,” Duan Ling says.5
Both Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin start laughing.
“I’ve been holding onto this memorial for quite a while already.” Mu Kuangda says, “This is a good opportunity for us to discuss the details of the move. Make a copy of it here for me.”
Duan Ling nods and takes the memorial aside for copying. First, he takes a rough read of it, and as he does so he cannot help himself from exclaiming in admiration at the memorial written by Mu Kuangda. It is clear and concise, the arguments persuasive to the extreme, and from introduction to supporting statements to conclusion, not a word is wasted on superfluous statements or fancy, extravagant rhetoric. It first states the facts as they were, starting from the finer details, and from there it backs away to give you a view of the full picture. Every line is efficient and goes right to the point, and there are often multiple meanings hidden in a single sentence.
Such rhetorical prowess makes Duan Ling feel truly unworthy. Previously he had thought his own essays quite up to standard, and yet compared to a memorial written by Mu Kuangda, he may as well be illiterate.
“What are you smiling about?” Mu Kuangda has noticed the look on Duan Ling’s face.
“This is such a good essay that I simply can’t contain myself,” Duan Ling replies.
Chang Pin laughs. “You haven’t read the Grand Chancellor’s memorials of impeachment, those he wrote to accuse someone of misconduct. Now that’s something that can make you split your sides laughing.”
Mu Kuangda laughs at this as well, and with a shake of his head he begins to work out the details of the capital’s move. Jiangzhou may be a thousand miles away, but Mu Kuangda knows it like the back of his hand. With a sheet of paper before them, the two of them begin to assess the particulars of what must be done after the capital is moved, such as how tax liabilities will be spread, and how they’ll absorb Jiangzhou’s literati clans into the imperial court through next year’s civil examinations.
Multitasking, Duan Ling copies the memorial while he listens to their conversation at the same time. It’s really true what they say — one conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of school; that Mu Kuangda can take on his current post is nothing less than a heavenly mandate. Economics, agriculture, how best to allocate political power, the military that Xie You represents as well as Jiangzuo6 region’s autonomy … He lists these things one by one, a place for everything and everything in its place, not a hair in the wrong spot. This move mustn’t affect the major local gentry clans’ inherent advantage, and it must ensure the political bloc that the new emperor and the crown prince represent will have a role to play in Jiangzhou.
“We’ll need to set up a round of special7 civil examinations as well.” Chang Pin says, “So that the three major gentry families can enter the imperial court.”
“Yes. We’ll need to make sure that the Censorate and the Ministry of Revenue will lean towards us.”
Duan Ling finishes copying the memorial; by then he’s entirely won over by Mu Kuangda’s farsighted planning and mature deliberation. Soon, Chang Pin goes to get an abacus, half of one is five of ten, and using one thousand taels as the single unit, he starts tallying up Jiangzhou’s taxes on the spot.
“Mark it all down for now,” Mu Kuangda says to Duan Ling.
Duan Ling puts the memorial aside to dry, and on a new sheet of paper he notes down Chang Pin and Mu Kuangda’s accounting of farmland, tax liabilities, and military expenditure cuts. The numbers are debated and tossed back and forth until even Duan Ling is a bit confused, but Mu Kuangda is perfectly confident and sorts all the numbers out neatly. Gradually, the subject of their discussion takes a turn, and they begin to speak of how best to settle the three major clans of Jiangzhou.
“We’ll need to set up a marriage alliance,” Chang Pin says.
Mu Kuangda hums affirmatively and says, “The crown prince is at that age already, but these three families …” Mu Kuangda shakes his head slowly, meaning that none of them are quite good enough.
Chang Pin adds, “From what I have gathered, His Majesty seems to want the crown prince to marry Su Fa’s daughter.”
“Let’s consider this at length …” Mu Kuangda says, sounding exasperated. They’ve been talking all night, so he’s actually getting a bit tired. He stretches, and says, “Grand Chancellor is a difficult job, you know — aside from this messy accounting I have to do, I even have to play matchmaker.”
Both Chang Pin and Duan Ling laugh. Mu Kuangda takes one look at the key points Duan Ling has noted down, nods, and says, “Very good.”
Chang Pin says to Mu Kuangda, “I shall leave tomorrow for Jiangzhou to help you make arrangements in advance.”
Mu Kuangda says, “Don’t try to save wherever you ought to spend … and gift.”
Chang Pin answers with a certainly, and Mu Kuangda adds, “I’ll go get the memorial written now. At tomorrow’s morning assembly, I’ll take both of them with me.”
Without waiting for instructions, Duan Ling picks up the lantern and walks in front of them, shining the way ahead as Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin come out of the library. As Chang Liujun had been waiting outside, when he suddenly sees an additional person, his eyes alight with alarm. Mu Kuangda waves his hand to let him know it’s alright, but as he slowly steps out of the room, he finds Wu Du waiting out in the courtyard.
The moment he sees Wu Du, Mu Kuangda knows that he’s come looking for Duan Ling, and says to him, “Fate brought your little friend to me this evening, so it was unavoidable that I kept him a while longer than his expected return.”
Wu Du gives him a nod. “Of course you’re free to task him with whatever you wish, Chancellor.”
“Well, since you say so,” Mu Kuangda adds, “Then I’d like to trouble you to wait another hour. If you’re not in a hurry to go to bed, come along with me.”
From the day he became a part of the chancellor’s estate, Wu Du has never received this sort of treatment in the middle of the night, and because at first he just thinks Mu Kuangda wanted to ask him about the poison, he decides to follow them. And so they proceed along to the study through the galleries with Duan Ling leading the way, Mu Kuangda and Chang Pin chatting about nothing in particular behind him, and Wu Du and Chang Liujun bringing up the rear.
Halfway to the study, Chang Pin puts one hand in his fist and bows. “I shall take my leave here then.”
Mu Kuangda gives Chang Pin a nod and cups a hand. “Pleasant journey to you, sir.”
“Thank you, lord chancellor.” Smiling, Chang Pin meanders away.
It leaves Duan Ling to light the way ahead with the lantern, while Mu Kuangda seems to be deep in his thoughts. Duan Ling has gradually realised that, in some ways, Mu Kuangda and Mu Qing really do resemble each other. Mu Qing and his dad both treasure talented people and treat scholars with respect, and they’re both easygoing, approachable people. It’s no wonder that those like Chang Pin would want to pledge themselves to him, willing to become a retainer in the chancellor’s estate rather than to take on an official position with the government.
Duan Ling enters the study with Mu Kuangda coming in after him, and Chang Liujun conscientiously stands at one side of the door. Wu Du is about to head inside when Chang Liujun blocks his way — letting him know that he’s not needed inside.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
The Compendium of Materia Medica is a real book. ↩︎
The chinese 先生 Xiansheng is translated to “Mister” in contemporary Chinese, but that’s because instead of the old Xiansheng, we now use 老師 Laoshi for the same purpose. It’s actually closest to the Japanese “Sensei”. I prefer “Master” for Xiansheng used in the premodern period. ↩︎
You can read about the Tuntian / farmland assignment system here. In short, it’s a way of coercing people without land to farm for the government. Refugees would get land to farm, but more than half the harvest would go to the government. The military often worked on the same system, since soldiers have a lot of free time when there’s no war. ↩︎
The text 金牌 would be translated to “gold medallions” but in meaning it’s referring to the fictional golden tally often referred to in old plays/literature. The Golden Tally represented the emperor the same way that a Tiger Tally represented the military. If someone holds the Golden Tally, those around them have to treat it as though the emperor is present, and its holder speaks for the emperor. In function it’s like the sword of state. But let me stress it again — there is no proof that this thing existed outside of operas. ↩︎
The Jiangzuo region was an archaic designation for land east of the Yangtze River, in this case, east of Jiangzhou. ↩︎
The civil exams usually happened by schedule, every three years. An exam that wasn’t on the set schedule was “special” and usually involved money. Let’s say one of the city gates needs repairs and the treasury is short on money, the emperor could declare a special examination open to anyone who donates X+ amount of money to fix it. Usually these are easier exams to pass since there is less competition. ↩︎
