The Weight of a Name
In Liaodong, peace had settled firmly over the land. Though material abundance fell short of what the capital enjoyed, public safety was markedly superior. Unlike the capital, which had suffered a Xiongnu siege years earlier, Liaodong had not faced a single external threat since General Jin Kai seized control. Internally, with Jin Kai holding the reins so tightly, even common thieves were nearly impossible to find. The people of Yangping had come to view this safety as perfectly natural.
When they saw outsiders, caution was only to be expected—yet the locals here showed almost none of it. Instead, they approached with open curiosity and without hesitation. Even now, an apple rested in my hand, a gift from a Yangping merchant who had welcomed this stranger with a warm smile. I took a bite of the crisp fruit and turned to the vendor.
“This is a peaceful place,” I said.
“Well, of course it is. We have our General here, after all. Even the Donghu and Joseon can’t so much as twitch in front of him, you know?”
The Donghu—boasting the strongest force among all the northern nomadic tribes. And Joseon, which had built the most kingdom-like state in the east, save for the various feudal lords. Both had once been formidable powers that threatened Yan itself. In the past, Yan had sent hostages to the Donghu and relied on diplomacy to prevent conflict with Joseon. That was before Jin Kai appeared.
“I’ve noticed the Donghu seem nearly subservient to General Jin Kai. What about Joseon?” I asked.
“Joseon? Hmm… they’re a bit standoffish, I’d say.”
“I saw that a Joseon delegation arrived.”
“Ah, that’s been going on for a while. They got a proper beating last time, so they’re watching the General’s mood, aren’t they? There are merchants slipping in and out too. Why? Planning to head all the way to Joseon for trade?”
“Hardly. It’s far too distant to be practical. Ah, thank you for the apple. If you ever visit the Mubi Trading Company, I’ll return the favor.”
“No need, my friend. It was just one apple. My wife loves the goods your company brings in, so consider it my thanks.”
After that brief exchange with the fruit seller, I continued wandering through the Liaodong market, engaging in small talk with various locals. It was a perfect opportunity to gauge the immense authority Jin Kai wielded—almost like a minor king in his own right. I also uncovered two unexpected facts.
“I was scared out of my wits back then. The adults kept saying not to worry, but then they said the Xiongnu were invading, and that Zhao’s… Yan… Yan something-or-other was going to crush Yan and come for us. They didn’t say it out loud, but I bet the grown-ups were pretty shaken too.”
The first revelation was that the people of Liaodong were far more interested in the affairs of Yan’s heartland than I had assumed. Despite the natural barriers of the Yiwulu Mountains and the Daling River creating some distance from the Yan homeland, they still shared a common identity as people of Yan. It was not the fierce nationalism that would emerge in later eras. There was no intense patriotism or sense of solidarity—merely a mild awareness of “Well, I suppose I am a Yan person.” Their keen attention to Yan’s situation stemmed from fear that if the homeland fell into chaos, Liaodong’s peace would shatter as well. No matter how semi-independent Liaodong appeared, it was by no means equal in power to Yan proper. In terms of population alone, it ranked among the less significant administrative regions. If Yan grew forceful, conscription would be unavoidable.
If Jin Kai truly decided to rally the Donghu and Joseon, he might actually stand a chance in a fight.
That was precisely why the Yan court had chosen to leave Liaodong to its own devices. But what if Jin Kai were to die? Without the man whom the Donghu respected and Joseon sought to court, would they truly risk war with Yan for Liaodong’s sake?
They won’t gamble on a war with Yan.
Jin Kai’s absence would leave a tremendous void. That was the power of a renowned general. They were the kind of existence that could overturn a war that seemed impossible to win. Merely by being present, they inspired absolute confidence in victory, compelling men to charge onto the battlefield.
“But I hear that General Jin Kai’s son is on the verge of death…”
The second piece of information came from an overheard conversation about Jin Kai’s family. Whoever had spoken so carelessly must have realized their mistake, because they immediately clapped a hand over their mouth and fled without looking back. Given that the speaker had learned it from a friend working inside the inner citadel, it seemed only a limited circle in Yangping knew the truth. Otherwise, even with Yan neglecting Liaodong, it would be difficult to believe the court remained unaware.
If Jin Kai’s son dies, only one descendant will remain.
His granddaughter, Jin Muyang. But she was still a child who had not even reached ten years of age. At present, Jin Kai had no heir.
Exactly one week after arriving in Yangping, I completed all preparations and gave my instructions to Han So.
“Go to General Jin Kai and tell him this: I have come to see him.”
The time had come. The time to have a decisive confrontation with Jin Kai.
While Ji Dan wandered the marketplace, the Joseon delegation held a formal meeting with Jin Kai. Even after a full day of lengthy discussions followed by a banquet, the delegation remained in Yangping. Jin Kai had chosen to withhold an immediate answer to their proposal, opting instead to reserve judgment while they awaited his decision. The Joseon side had not expected a reply overnight. Given the gravity of the matter, they had anticipated that Jin Kai would require time for careful deliberation.
During that waiting period, Bia wanted to leave the inner citadel again to explore, but this time Hyul firmly dissuaded her. There was no telling when Jin Kai might reach a conclusion and deliver his answer. If they were outside and missed the opportunity, he might change his mind. Unable to argue against that logic, Bia had no choice but to remain inside the citadel. Hyul did, however, grant her freedom to move about within its walls. Even that came with restrictions within the bounds of what had been permitted to them, but it was far better than being confined to their quarters.
Bia soothed her disappointment by roaming the inner citadel. Whenever she had free time, she often wandered alone without servants. At first, there had been a commotion as people tried to locate her, but after a few days that fuss died down. She disliked being followed, and she always returned at the exact appointed time. Besides, the inner citadel was a place where safety was rigorously guaranteed.
Yet Bia kept one secret from both Hyul and the servants: at night, she would slip out unnoticed and enjoy secret walks in areas that had not been permitted. Naturally, she still observed certain boundaries. She never committed the rudeness of venturing into the deepest parts of the citadel where Jin Kai resided. Climbing stealthily onto the inner walls to gaze at the outer city was usually the extent of her adventures.
But tonight was different.
Her intention to climb the inner wall remained the same, yet everything changed the moment she witnessed a side gate of the inner citadel opening. Bia held her breath and watched intently. With her keen eyesight, she could make out details even at a distance. If it were a thief, she would have to abandon all secrecy and run to report it immediately.
But the figures who entered through the side gate were, astonishingly, people she recognized.
“Huh… that boy is…”
Bia spotted a familiar-looking youth and instinctively started to greet him, but she quickly lowered her raised arm and swallowed her words. The boy was not alone. Walking ahead of him like a guide was the very official who had once led her to Jin Kai.
Why?
Hadn’t the steward of the Mubi Trading Company already met with Jin Kai? Moreover, this was the inner citadel of Yangping—a place ordinary people could not even set foot in. While the citadel was occasionally opened for trials, the boy was clearly being treated as an honored guest. Before even considering that, it was the middle of the night. This was hardly the hour to admit anyone for a trial or any other ordinary purpose.
I’ll follow them.
Though Bia loved her country of Joseon and took her responsibilities as a member of the royal family seriously, she was still a young girl. The primal human instinct of curiosity proved too strong to resist. She silenced her footsteps and trailed after them.
The place the boy was heading was somewhere Bia herself had never been. Setting aside the fact that, as a guest, she had not explored every corner of the citadel, it was clearly not a location meant for ordinary visitors.
Just how far is he going?
Perhaps it was to reduce the number of watchful eyes. Bia was light on her feet; if she was careful, her steps barely made a sound. Even so, the fact that she had not been detected yet was strange. There could be only one explanation: someone had deliberately cleared people from this route.
Bia’s suspicion and curiosity deepened. Just who was this boy that such measures were being taken?
Following them with bated breath, she arrived at the rear garden of the inner citadel—a place even she had never been granted permission to enter. It was not ostentatious, but carried a rather serene and refined atmosphere. There, one person waited.
General Jin Kai…?
The lord of Yangping Castle. The ruler of Liaodong. Jin Kai himself.
So he summoned the boy. That explains why there was no one around.
When Jin Kai’s aide, having finished guiding the visitor, turned to leave, Bia pressed herself tightly against the wall and held her breath. Fortune must have been on her side. The official walked right past without noticing her and left the garden.
Only two figures remained beneath the moonlight in the rear garden: Jin Kai and the boy.
Surprisingly, it was Jin Kai who spoke first.
“I did not expect to meet you in this manner.”
“Nor did I,” the boy replied.
They had exchanged only a single sentence each, yet Bia’s shock was overwhelming. She was so startled that she nearly cried out; only by covering her mouth with both hands did she manage to stop herself. As she began to doubt whether she had misheard, Jin Kai spoke again, as if to confirm her ears had not deceived her.
“You have grown quite thin.”
Jin Kai was using honorific speech. The same Jin Kai who had spoken to her with only half-courtesy was now employing such a respectful tone… That could only mean the boy possessed authority equal to—or perhaps even greater than—her own.
“Lord Ji Dan.”
He was a prince of Yan.