037 Things Are Changing

Jiang Qingyun listened to the incessant screams echoing from the barbican and felt a sense of immense satisfaction. He suddenly discovered that in the Great Qing Dynasty, tormenting others was a thoroughly delightful affair, especially when those being tormented held ranks far higher than his own. The pleasure of it even surpassed the joy of having beauties in his arms.

Haruki Murakami once said that power is the best stimulant for vitality. Jiang Qingyun deeply agreed. Power allows one to decide the fate and life or death of others with a single word. This sensation quickens the pulse, dilates the blood vessels, accelerates the heart’s pumping, and leaves one constantly craving more.

A subordinate ran up to him. "Sir?"

"Tell the men, capture Ajige alive and there will be a reward of 200 taels of silver. Also, grab three or five more prisoners; I don't need any more than that."

"As you command."

...

Before long, the barbican fell completely silent. Corpses were piled high; the two hundred cavalrymen of the Bordered White Banner had been nearly wiped out, with only five or six left who could barely manage to lift their blades.

Standing behind Jiang Qingyun were his two stalwarts. Little Zhou Cang, clad in heavy armor, had his long saber planted firmly in the ground; he had been eating meat at every meal lately and was visibly expanding horizontally. His wife, Jiang Nan, wore custom-made light armor and a hollow-carved mask, her bow and arrows slung across her back, her long spear resting with its butt on the ground.

For some reason, this scene reminded Jiang Qingyun of the monk Tianji. If that bald donkey were standing behind him now in his kasaya, the atmosphere would be even more dramatic.

"Sir, Ajige has been captured."

The soldiers dragged over a man bound tightly with rope.

"Release me! How dare a Han army dog lay a hand on this Prince—"

*Slap!*

A heavy blow cut off Ajige’s roar. He stared at the man from the Bordered Yellow Banner of the Han Army in disbelief. A slave striking his master? Was the world turning upside down?

"I am Aji—"

*Slap!*

Another slap.

"I am A—"

*Slap!* Another one.

"I—"

*Slap!* And another.

Jiang Qingyun grabbed him by the collar and rained blows down on him until Ajige lost consciousness.

...

"Send fast riders to the Censorate, the Inner Three Courts, and the Forbidden City. Report that Prince Ying, Ajige, defied an imperial edict, led troops into the capital without authorization, and launched an armed assault on the Xizhi Gate. His intent to rebel is clear for all to see. I could endure it no longer and, having no choice, launched a decisive counterattack. I have now executed 213 treasonous soldiers of the Bordered White Banner and captured the ringleader, Ajige, alive."

The entire city of Beijing was in shock.

The night remained quiet, save for the sound of patrol horses' hooves and the clappers of the night watchmen. The Censorate and the Inner Three Courts played the part of turtles hiding in their shells.

The Shunzhi Emperor sent a guard with a jade pendant; the message was clear: "I support you."

All the men of the Five Cities Patrol Office breathed a sigh of relief. They had bet on the right man! Following the right superior meant rising to greatness with a promising future ahead.

...

South City, Jiang Mansion.

"My Lady, the old mistress has arrived," Green Pearl whispered, noticing Jiang Nan’s return.

"I will change my clothes first, then go to pay my respects."

"There is no need to change, my Lady. Go as you are; it will be more pleasing to her."

In the side chamber, Madam Wen looked at Jiang Nan, who was still in her military attire. Her affection was evident as she took her daughter-in-law’s hands and examined her repeatedly. "Good, good. You are a fine daughter-in-law of the Jiang family."

The two chatted for a while, and Madam Wen took the jade bracelet from her own wrist and placed it on Jiang Nan’s.

...

After Jiang Nan left, Green Pearl remained. Madam Wen spoke with her for a while. Green Pearl was a servant she had bought long ago and raised by her side; having been instilled with her values since childhood, she was considered one of "their own." Thus, the conversation was more candid and direct.

"The young master is a man who does great things. You must take care of the household affairs. If there is anything difficult to handle, come to me."

"Yes, mistress."

"And that Wan Chun, how is she?"

"She was bought by the young master from the Qingyin Troupe in Han Family Alley. They say she is a virgin."

"Hmph, father and son are cut from the same cloth. Keep an eye on her. Discipline her when necessary. No matter how many women enter Yun’er’s household, you will always be the second mistress."

"Yes, mistress."

Green Pearl beamed; the support of her mother-in-law was vital.

...

In the main chamber, Jiang Nan took off her armor and padded clothes, then untied the five layers of cotton strips wrapped tightly around her chest, feeling a sense of relief. The life of Hua Mulan was not easy. As the saying goes: without armor, one feels light; with the horse released to the southern mountains and the rabbit freed from its dark burrow, the blood flows freely.

"Husband, I was truly sweating for you today."

"It’s fine. I only acted after assessing the overall situation," Jiang Qingyun said, lowering his voice. "This man Ajige slaughtered eighty thousand civilians in Shanxi. I suppose this can be considered acting on behalf of Heaven."

Jiang Nan was stunned; she could not imagine the scale of eighty thousand people. After a long silence, she replied, "Husband, I am not very learned. Before I married, my father told me to follow whoever I wed. I will listen to you in everything."

A knock came at the door, and two maids entered with buckets of water. "Young Master, my Lady, it is time to bathe."

"After a day like this, I’m filthy. It is time to wash up."

Jiang Nan blushed, feeling that she had indeed become stifled and sweaty inside her armor.

...

That night, after the lamps were extinguished, the couple spoke in the dark.

"How many years has your father been working as a caravan guard? What are the routes?"

"More than twenty years. Mostly the northern route, escorting furs and tea through the Western Pass to the grasslands."

"And to the south?"

"Merchants heading south all use the Grand Canal; they don't need a guard agency."

Jiang Qingyun said no more and quickly drifted off to sleep.

...

The next morning, sunlight spilled over the capital, reflecting off the accumulated snow, turning the world into a vast, white expanse. Jiang Qingyun rose and went to report to the Censorate.

This was the benefit of a lower rank: he didn't need to get up at four in the morning to shiver inside the Zhengyang Gate, waiting for the Meridian Gate to open for that tiresome morning audience to listen to empty rhetoric.

He rode slowly, taking the opportunity to observe the South City. The Dashilan commercial street outside the Zhengyang Gate looked quite different from before. The damaged roads had been repaired and were now basically level. Drainage ditches had been added to the sides of the roads. The chaotic mix of shops had been reorganized—some demolished, some repaired—and finally given a fresh coat of paint, making everything look neat.

Old-established shops lined both sides of the street, covering everything from clothing, food, housing, and transportation to gold, silver, calligraphy, paintings, antiques, and entertainment. Behind the main street were smaller shops with lower prices, each with its own character.

More importantly, it was safe! The South City Patrol Office used clubs to teach a lesson to anyone who dared to cause trouble, fight, or urinate in public.

These were the visible changes. The hidden changes, however, were known to few. The entire South City, especially the Dashilan area, was dense with informants. Shopkeepers, waiters, tea experts, actors, sedan chair carriers, peddlers, and even courtesans would report any valuable information they heard or saw.

...

After entering the Zhengyang Gate, he soon arrived at the Censorate. Jiang Qingyun lifted the hem of his robe and stepped over the threshold. The colleagues in the courtyard were all smiling at him—a smile of humility.

"Censor Jiang... let's go drinking tonight."

"Censor Jiang... let's visit the Eight Great Hutongs tonight."

Clearly, the latter was more sincere; the former was merely social pleasantry. Jiang Qingyun simply cupped his hands in return with a smile; he knew something must have happened.

As he continued into the Censorate, he encountered Fan Chengmo, who had already stepped down from his post as the Patrol Censor of the South City. The corridor was narrow, wide enough for only one person to pass. Jiang Qingyun did not budge. Fan Chengmo suddenly remembered his father’s words and took the initiative to step back several paces, clearing the way.

"You have urgent business, you go first."

"Hmm."

Jiang Qingyun remained as arrogant as ever.