A man fears choosing the wrong trade; a woman fears marrying the wrong man

Jia Heng recalled a passage recorded in the histories and said clearly, "The Hu people's weapons were crude and blunt, their bows and crossbows ineffective. Formerly, five of them were barely a match for one Han soldier. Now, I hear they have acquired much of the Han people's craftsmanship, yet it still takes three to match one... But ever since our dynasty was founded, our Great Han has had excellent military equipment, sturdy armor, and sharp weapons. How did things come to this?"

"That is a long story," Han Hui said. "During Jiajing's reign in the former Ming dynasty, Taizu raised his army in Yuyao, first securing the south before driving north. At the time, many officials, soldiers, civilians, and craftsmen of the northern Ming fled north and attached themselves to the Tatars. Quite a few fled to Liaodong as well."

"I had no idea there was such a history behind it," Jia Heng said, enlightened.

The agrarian civilization of the Central Plains dynasties surpassed the nomadic civilization of the steppes for two reasons: its vast population and its advanced ironworking and arms production. When it came to mounted archery, who could outdo the steppe peoples who had grown up on horseback?

Of course, the Jurchens were a fishing-and-hunting civilization.

Once the age of lining up to shoot one another arrived, the steppe peoples would begin singing and dancing.

Of course, none of those points was the crux of the matter. Another crucial factor was that Chen Han had enjoyed peace for too long: civil officials languished in ease, military men idled at play, and the military system had rotted. None of the three men present would say that aloud.

"Still, compared with our Han people, their skilled craftsmen fall considerably short, both in numbers and in their craft," Han Hui said with a smile.

Jia Heng nodded. "Indeed. Given time to put our soldiers in order and repair our armor and weapons, the day will come when our Great Han performs the victory rites atop Mount Langjuxu."

Han Hui and Yu Zhen both voiced their agreement.

After lunch, they drank a few cups of fragrant tea, left the Exquisite Pavilion, and reached the roadside. Han Hui smiled and said, "Brother Jia, Brother Wendu and I still have business to attend to, so I'm afraid we must leave first. Please take this letter of recommendation. Tomorrow, bring it to Registrar Song at the Imperial College and give it to him."

Jia Heng accepted the letter and put it away, then cupped his hands with a solemn expression. "Thank you, Brother Han."

Han Hui returned the salute and smiled. "Once you arrive at the Imperial College, Brother Jia, we can stroll arm in arm and share another cup."

Jia Heng nodded and watched the two men leave before heading home.

Han Hui and Yu Zhen turned onto another street, their drunkenness easing for the moment.

"Wendu, what do you think of Jia Heng?" Han Hui asked.

Yu Zhen, who had already seemed somewhat drunk, now had clear eyes. "He's a man of substance. I noticed calluses between his thumbs and forefingers, and his arms are sturdy. He seems to have martial training. Most likely, he's accomplished in both letters and arms."

Yu Zhen was the son of Yu Meng, director of the Military Appointments Bureau in the Ministry of War, and had seen plenty of military officers visiting his home.

Han Hui stopped, puzzled. "When did the Jia family produce someone accomplished in both letters and arms?"

"The Jia family earned its noble standing through military merit," Yu Zhen said. "A century on, most of their descendants have become engrossed in pleasure and amount to little, but there are bound to be one or two worthy ones."

Han Hui chuckled. "True enough. The Ning and Rong branches occupy an entire street, and the Jia family's eight branches number over a thousand people. It would hardly make sense if every last one were a wine sack and rice bag."

In the present Great Han, the nobles of Taizu's generation-the Four Princes and Eight Dukes and the Twelve Marquises-were stationed in the capital, sharing command of the Capital Camp's troops and constantly disputing with the civil bureaucracy.

"Brother Zisheng, are you thinking of recruiting Jia Heng?" Yu Zhen asked.

Judging by the previous night, the emperor seemed displeased with the senior grand secretary over affairs on the frontier. This son of the second grand secretary had been lying low at the Imperial College, perhaps gathering capable men for his father, Han Huang, to help address the frontier conflict.

Han Hui shook his head with a laugh. "I hold neither office nor rank. What standing do I have to recruit anyone? I simply saw that he was a man of substance and thought I would forge a friendly connection."

Judging by the previous night, the emperor seemed displeased with Grand Secretary Yang over frontier affairs. Han Hui's father intended to have someone sound out the emperor's wishes, but the senior grand secretary's seat was a volcano's mouth, no easy place to occupy.

Since Emperor Chongping had ascended the throne of Chen Han, he had governed with restless impatience. In thirteen or fourteen years, he had replaced the senior grand secretary five times, sending one out of the capital nearly every two or three years. Yet for all their revolving-lantern succession, the nation's fortunes remained difficult to revive, while the Eastern Barbarians grew stronger by the day.

With senior grand secretaries changing so frequently, factional strife naturally intensified. The Zhejiang Faction, Chu Faction, and Qi Faction spread throughout court and country, reaching the Six Ministries, the Nine Ministers, the Hanlin Academy, the Household Administration of the Heir Apparent, the supervisory offices, and the high provincial authorities. They attacked one another ceaselessly, appointed their own cronies, and wrangled endlessly over personnel, frontier defenses, the salt administration, and more.

Emperor Chongping, however, was adept at wielding power and ruthless in his methods. He also used the Embroidery Guard to watch the officials. Thus, although factional struggles persisted, they remained within certain bounds, with undercurrents surging beneath the surface.

The current senior grand secretary, Yang Guochang, belonged to the Qi Faction. Tang Kuan, commander-in-chief of Ji Town, was likewise a native of Shandong and had been recommended by him to command that crucial northern garrison.

Han Hui and Yu Zhen continued talking as they headed toward the Han Mansion.

Qin Mansion · Rear courtyard

As the Mid-Autumn Festival approached, warm, gentle evening light filtered through the window gauze and fell over the small table and floor of the side chamber. Outside, several clumps of chrysanthemums bloomed brilliantly beneath the veranda eaves, their delicate fragrance drifting into the room in faint threads. Curtains and ornamental tassels hung down, and on a brocade couch with its drapes held up by golden hooks sat a lovely young woman in a pale-red gauze skirt, a gold hairpin tucked into her hair.

"What are people saying outside?" Qin Keqing's slender willow-leaf brows drew together slightly, and a hint of anticipation appeared in her bright eyes.

Though Qin Keqing was young, her beauty was natural, already showing the promise of a fragrance and loveliness that could captivate a nation.

In particular, since she would later become close to Feng-jie, there was a certain brisk decisiveness to her temperament. She was not really so timid and weak.

"Miss, everyone says that Jia Heng has no interest in studying or bettering himself," Ruizhu said. "He spends his days mixing with rogues and scoundrels alongside his cousin. Before this, he was at Jia Rong's beck and call in the Ning Mansion. Later, Jia Rong got into a quarrel with Vice Minister Liang's son, and Jia Heng took a blow from a cudgel for him. He was bedridden for several days."

"Ah..." Qin Keqing's face turned frost-white, and she cried out, "How could that be?"

Only the day before yesterday, she had overcome a young woman's bashfulness to tell her father that she wished to honor the marriage agreement. How could Jia Heng be so worthless?

And he even fawned over Jia Rong of the Ning Mansion?

At that thought, Qin Keqing's heart sank ever deeper.

"Miss, you were too impulsive that day," Baozhu said. "He seemed a good man to you then, but how could you know he wasn't putting on airs to deceive you and the master? You should have asked around about what he was like in private... Besides, marriage is a great matter, decided by parents' commands and matchmakers' words. I've always thought there was sense in that old saying. I know you aren't someone who despises poverty and loves wealth, but that eldest son of the Jia Family must at least be worthy of your character."

Ruizhu sighed and added, "A man fears choosing the wrong trade; a woman fears marrying the wrong man."

She and Baozhu were their mistress's maids and had grown up with her. If their mistress married her new husband, they would accompany her into his household as well.

Qin Keqing's face was pale now. Her pearly teeth bit into her bloodless cherry lips, her hands and feet were icy, and her heart brimmed with both regret and hurt. "But what should I do?" she asked hoarsely.

"Perhaps you could plead with the master," Baozhu suggested softly after some thought.

"No, I mustn't. Since I've already agreed to the marriage, how can I keep turning this way and that, going back on my word? If he truly is a bad man and makes a scene, what would I do then?" Qin Keqing shook her lovely head hastily and spoke softly.

"But... surely you won't just marry him?" Ruizhu said.

Qin Keqing's cheeks were pale, and the rims of her eyes began to redden. With tears hovering in her eyes and sorrow clouding her brows, she looked so pitifully lovely that anyone would have felt tenderness for her.

Baozhu thought for a moment. "Miss, why not stall for now? Since he often curries favor with Jia Rong in the Ning Mansion, he may not be able to withstand pressure from the Jia family. If he withdraws from the marriage himself, your reputation will remain intact."

"That makes sense," Ruizhu agreed. "Then everyone would be happy."

Qin Keqing's brows remained knitted. "What if the Ningguo Mansion comes to propose then? I've heard that Jia Rong of that household amounts to little as well."

Baozhu smiled. "Miss, Jia Rong is still young, and his character hasn't settled yet. Once he marries, perhaps he'll settle down. Besides, the master of the Ning Mansion will be there to keep him in line. Surely he wouldn't let you suffer?"

Had Jia Heng been there, he would certainly have asked: he was not very old either, so why couldn't he change?

Of course, the two maids were not necessarily greedy for wealth and rank. It was simply that, if both men "amounted to little," they might as well choose the one from a ducal or marquisate household. At least he enjoyed his ancestors' sheltering legacy, and marrying him would mean a life of wealth and comfort. This was only human nature and hardly blameworthy.

Qin Keqing, however, shook her head gently and said clearly, "Mountains and rivers are easier to change than a person's nature. If I refuse a collateral descendant of the Jia family, there is no reason for me to accept a son of their ducal household afterward. What sort of person would that make me? I can simply remain at Father's side and serve him for another two years."

"That is quite right," Baozhu said with a smile. "With your looks and character, Miss, you would be more than qualified even to enter the palace as an imperial consort."

Ruizhu smiled too. "How did Li Taibai put it? 'The powdered beauties of the six palaces lost all their color.'"

"You two little hussies do nothing but spout nonsense. That refers to Yang Yuhuan being a beauty who brought disaster, not anything good." The two maids' teasing left Qin Keqing unsure whether to laugh or cry, but it did dispel much of the gloom from her face.