The carriage left the Su residence. Song Mao lifted the curtain and looked out at the wind and snow, then turned and went over the prepared gifts with Song Kai one more time.
"That ginseng we bought last time... and then that calligraphy by Lin Fu and by Master Lin... Mm, put the ginseng in the middle, where it won't stand out; what Teacher Qin likes best is brushwork and paintings, so he ought to be pleased with this piece..."
Song Kai had been at Song Mao's side for many years now, cautious and dependable, and in matters long since settled he could not possibly slip up. Song Mao checked again only because there was nothing else to do. As for that conversation with Su Wenxing just now, it truly had him sighing. That his nephew lacked ability and lacked breadth of vision was a thing to grieve over — but for the moment there was really nothing to be done.
Of course, speaking in terms of family feeling: Song Mao and the Su family were close, but to claim any true flesh-and-blood affection between himself and this cousin and nephew would still be impossible.
Back in his hometown he had not had much to do even with his younger cousin, the Su family's Second Madam; later, when he began to rise a little, the Su family spent a great deal of money investing in him, and he kept that charcoal in the snow in his heart — though that gratitude was, at bottom, owed to Old Master Su and to the Su family as a whole.
Time had passed, and now he sat in the Prefect's chair. The Su family had once been a great support at his back; now it was merely icing on the cake.
If the Su family's second branch could one day take charge of the whole Su enterprise, that would naturally do him some good — though in truth the connection hardly mattered. Su Wenxing, after all, was the nearer relative; if he could hold the Su family, the web of interest between them would be drawn closer.
Yet with this nephew's endowments, whether he could even manage the Su family properly was genuinely up in the air, and one day it might well drag Song Mao down instead.
If, on the other hand, that Su Tan'er took charge of the Su family — well, the girl had ability, and better still she could read the times and weigh the odds; his Prefect's position would surely draw her fawning. In fact, that support would not change either way.
And because he existed, even if his sister and nephew's branch never gained the managing power of the Su family, they would still keep their standing as Su family members, with a little authority, clothing and food assured.
That way they could serve as the link between himself and the Su family — and perhaps, for a Wenxing whose abilities fell short, it might not be a bad thing at all.
In his mind he wavered over whether to make such a choice. Of course, Old Master Su was still alive, so naturally he had to weigh clan ties and lean closer to his sister and nephew.
He had heard of the fame of that Shui Diao Ge Tou before, too; but the inquiries he had made recently turned up rather odd reports. If the man truly was a fame-fishing fraud, then for his nephew's sake he would be glad to expose him along the way. That, though, was something to think over tonight.
He glanced at the gifts, shook his head, and put it out of his mind.
Seeing his expression, the steward Song Kai handed over the gift list, then smiled: "Sir, Lord Qin has been out of office several years now. But lately I hear the northern situation is tangled, with the Jin and the Liao quarreling without end, and there is talk at court of bringing Lord Qin back. Do you think Lord Qin would return to service?"
Song Mao shook his head, paused a moment, and only then spoke. "I'm afraid it would be very hard. When Teacher Qin left back then, the circumstances were complicated. At the Black Water Treaty, Teacher Qin took every charge on his own shoulders — in truth he was swallowing the blame for other men. With an ordinary affair that would be one thing, but given how these last few years have gone, I'm afraid a return to service would be difficult..."
For nearly a hundred years the Wu dynasty's strength had been failing; the Liao raided the border without pause, and the Wu sued for peace twice, both treaties drawing widespread condemnation. The Chanyuan Treaty, sixty-five years ago, had forfeited sovereignty and humiliated the state, all but cutting off the Wu dynasty's will and its chances of recovering the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun. Then, six years ago, came the Black Water Treaty, which raised the tribute owed to nearly double — a hard, deep cut across the hearts of every patriotic man.
At the time the Liao army had come south, and Qin Siyuan, then Minister of Personnel, had argued fiercely for resistance, even going to the front to oversee the fighting himself. But several battles went badly there, the peace party gained the upper hand, and once the decision to negotiate was made, Qin Siyuan — said to have grown sick at heart — traveled night and day back from the front and took the mission of making peace onto himself.
They say that when he walked into the golden throne hall his battle robes were still on him, his beard and hair all in disarray, his armor torn in several places and reeking of smoke and soot, his hand wounded — a sight so woeful and so stirring that the assembled ministers thought he meant to remonstrate at the cost of his life.
The Emperor, who had come to the throne only a year before, hastily called for men to hold him back. But he was not there to object; he was there to shoulder the thankless, thankless task of the peace himself.
There were, naturally, voices raised against it at court, saying he had bungled the command at the front and had no business taking charge of negotiations — plainly he meant to make trouble from within and wreck the peace. But those with a little understanding mostly knew that those defeats were not the fault of a minister who had always been a civil official. The matter was debated for two days, and then the court above actually did hand him the responsibility for the peace.
The Black Water Treaty followed. All told, the annual tribute nearly doubled — though, considering the state of the Wu, the Liao agreed that any shortfall in money and cloth could be made up with ceramics, curios, and all manner of goods.
By then the Chanyuan Treaty was a full sixty years past; the Liao had prospered, and its appetite for such things had grown.
After the peace was concluded, though the Emperor of the day had no thought of punishing him, Qin Siyuan was sick at heart and took upon himself the several crimes of the battlefield defeats and of the negotiation.
He was held a month in the imperial prison; released at last, he still hung up his cap in gloom and went away. He did not even return to his hometown, saying only, "This will be cursed for a thousand years; I have no face to meet the elders of my home." And so he went into seclusion in Jiangning.
To this day he has not been brought back.
"...I'm afraid that even if the court above did call Teacher Qin back, given Teacher Qin's state of mind, in these few years... he will not come out of retirement again." Song Mao shook his head as he said it. The carriage was quiet for a moment; then Song Kai thought of something and lowered his voice.
"Sir, I hear Lord Qin was a man of tremendous ability in his day. In many matters he seemed to pay no heed to the small formalities, and yet no one ever dared take him to task for it.
These last few years, with the Jin and the Liao quarreling without cease, this humble one has heard certain talk — that at the Black Water Treaty they had in mind how the Jin state grew stronger by the day and had more than once asked the Liao for trading rights and been refused; so a scheme was made to bait them with great quantities of luxury goods and set the two states at each other's throats.
In the years before the Black Water Treaty there was already black-market trade running between the Wu and the Jin; and after the treaty was signed six years ago, the court not only paid tribute to the Liao but secretly shipped out great loads of porcelain and curios, and even rouge and face powder, into the Jin.
There is also a saying that the Emperor had a selection of things from the palace itself sent out. And the second year, half of it—"
Song Mao frowned. "Who told you this?"
"The fourth young master of the house once discussed the matter with someone. It seems it was the fourth young master's own conjecture..."
"Old Four." Song Mao sighed. "To use a whole nation's strength as a stake for stirring up strife — such an idea is far too fanciful. Ahui, the fourth boy, does no proper work; all day long he does nothing but dream up nonsense... But whether it is true or false, do not speak of it to anyone."
"This humble one understands."
As they spoke, the carriage reached its destination. In truth Song Mao and Qin Siyuan had never been true master and disciple; Qin Siyuan had once headed the Ministry of Personnel, and Song Mao had later got himself some connection to the man. After Qin Siyuan left office, many people cut him off on account of the Black Water Treaty, but whenever Song Mao came to Jiangning, this man who attended to every courtesy without fail would come pay a call with the rites of a disciple.
In his personal creed, icing on the cake was worth less than charcoal in the snow. Qin Siyuan's two sons were in officialdom now as well; they were still below the fourth rank, but Qin Siyuan had once swallowed the blame for a great many men, and with that background behind them, some day they might well be put to great use by the Emperor. Especially judging by how things had gone of late, it was not impossible that Qin Siyuan would be brought back in a few years' time.
Since withdrawing to Jiangning, Qin Siyuan's dwelling had not been luxurious — a plain, bookish courtyard, nothing more. Song Mao sent in his card with the rites of a disciple, and before long was invited inside. Only then did he find that there was already another guest: an old man in fine, gorgeous clothes, whom Song Mao had never met, but who was plainly of no ordinary station. Old Qin made the introductions, and Song Mao understood who he was.
Kang Xian, courtesy name Mingyun, consort of Chengguo Princess. The old man took no part in court affairs, but he was the husband of the present Emperor's paternal aunt, and his name stood exceedingly high in literary circles. To make his acquaintance was naturally a great help to an official; Song Mao hurried to pay his respects with the rites of a disciple.
Old Qin and this disciple had never had much to do with each other from day to day, but the man had come every year for several years running, and now of course he showed him warmth.
He and Kang Xian had been admiring some calligraphy and paintings, and he drew Song Mao, who had arrived so opportunely, over to join them. Song Mao was flattered past all measure; but though he had talents of his own, they were far beneath these two, and he dared not interrupt.
He only stood respectfully to one side, listening to the two of them talk, answering only when he was occasionally asked something, and thinking that in a few days he might pay a call at Chengguo Princess's residence.
It was in this atmosphere that footsteps sounded outside, followed by the voice of Lord Qin's concubine Yunniang. "They're in the study admiring paintings — just go in, young master... ah, and this is...?" Old Qin and Kang Xian were examining a long scroll; Kang Xian, eyes intent on it, said offhandedly, "So he's come after all. I really do wonder what sort of thing could possibly surprise this old man..." Old Qin began to laugh. Then the door, which had been left ajar, was pushed open and someone walked in.
The man was clearly well acquainted with both Kang and Qin. He wore a long robe of dark blue, but in his hand he carried a jar — and what startled Song Mao was that the newcomer looked barely past twenty. He came in smiling as though about to speak, caught sight of Song Mao, and paused slightly. Song Mao supposed him to be a son or nephew of the Kang or Qin household and was about to introduce himself when Old Qin had already spoken.
"Haha, Liheng, there you are! Come, come and meet him — this is a disciple of mine from years back, Song Mao, Yufan..."
The young man smiled and cupped his hands. "Brother Song. A pleasure."
Then Song Mao heard Old Qin say, "Yufan, this is a young friend of Minggong's and mine..." He paused. "Ning Yi. Ning Liheng."
Song Mao's pupils shifted, just slightly. Then he put on a plain and honest smile. "Master Ning... would you be that Ning Yi, Ning Liheng, of 'When did the bright moon first appear'? Haha, I have long heard of you."
After a few polite words, Kang Xian fell into easy conversation with this Ning Yi. "Didn't you say you had some good things to bring? Could they be in that jar?"
"Haha, naturally." Ning Yi set the jar down on the table as though it weighed nothing. "Brother Song is here as well — good. Today we can all taste these century eggs together..."
Kang Xian blinked, then shook his head as though not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
"And here this old man was thinking it must be some novel thing — I never imagined it would be something to eat. Ning Yi, my boy, this is no idle boast on my part: in all the world today there are few snacks or dishes this old man has not eaten or laid eyes on. I'm afraid you'll be losing face today... Oh, this looks like a salted duck egg. Different in appearance, but cured this way it can only be a salted duck egg. Don't tell me you've cured a flower out of it..."
Ning Yi laughed. "As it happens, a flower is just what I've cured for you to look at..."
Song Mao had little interest in salted eggs or century eggs or anything of the kind, and though he now sat in the Prefect's chair, before these two men he had stayed stiff and constrained throughout. Now he watched the others talking and laughing; then that concubine, Yunniang, came in from outside with a basin of clear water and a few sets of bowls and chopsticks, and seemed on quite familiar terms with Ning Yi besides. Thinking over all he had seen today, his heart went on quaking with shock...