That Winter (3)
Every gaze in the Directorate of Ceremonial settled on Jong Deok — the finest scout leader in the Central Military Commission, a Junior Seventh Rank Scout Commander.
The looks that passed between him and Jin Myeong were thick with doubt. Jong Deok stood there in an awkward slouch, sniffling, and the unspoken questions hung in the air as plainly as if they had been spoken aloud. Him? Are you sure about this one?
"I am certain. This humble servant nearly wore himself out securing His Excellency the Left Commander's permission."
Jin Myeong offered a faint smile as he pressed the point a second time.
Professional scouts were rare creatures, and the knowledge they carried belonged to an entirely different order from ordinary combat skill. To look at a faint footprint or a snapped twig and reconstruct everything that lay behind it — that was no common talent. Terrain, climate, astronomy, geography, local custom, the small habits of a people: a scout had to hold all of it, then pluck out only what the moment required and weave it into a judgment. Training could furnish the basics. The rest was born of a native gift colliding with the right kind of life.
"The Left Commander himself…?"
"Yes, Superintendent."
The news that Zhang Fu had been reluctant to let the man go eased some of the skepticism from Zheng He and the Grand Eunuchs. Zhang Fu had inherited a ducal title from his father and spent a lifetime on the battlefield — a veteran of veterans. That a man like that had not wanted to give Jong Deok up was, in itself, a credential.
"Scout Leader Jong. A pleasure. I am Zheng—"
"Aiyu! No need for all that, surely. In this great Ming of ours, what official doesn't know the Grand Director? Hahaha!"
Jong Deok snatched the introduction out of Zheng He's mouth before it could finish. Scouts spent their lives hunting enemies, living with the twin risks of discovery and isolation. A posting to the Eastern Depot was not enough to make a man of his years and experience nervous.
"Hong-hong! Is that so. I hear you were on the summit of Tangshan when those Blood Death Archery Corps vermin gathered. What do you intend to do now?"
"I don't know how much you've been told, but the rebels would have spent the night before in Yingtianfu."
The eunuchs startled. The Blood Death Archery Corps, lodging in the imperial capital the night before the attempt? Even if the darkest place was under the lamp, that was a stretch. The Jinyiwei had hundreds of informants seeded through the capital. Had the rebels truly been here, they would have been seen. It was not an easy claim to swallow.
"The rebels stayed in the capital?"
"From the summit of Tangshan I watched them come in from three directions — northwest, west, and southwest."
"And that tells you it was Yingtianfu?"
"Take those three bearings and a range of fifty li — that's about twenty kilometers — and Yingtianfu is the only thing that fits. Not the center. The outskirts."
Jong Deok narrowed the search to a concrete distance, and he did it with the easy confidence of a man who had already run the numbers. The awkward slouch was gone. He paced in front of the table where the Grand Eunuchs sat, hands and feet working as he talked, and the room fell into the current of it — that particular blend of swagger and showmanship that made a story land.
"Fifty li?"
"I was told the rebels' iron bows were heavy bows — a full five feet of them, give or take. It's the first month of the year. Bows and strings that size, left out in this weather too long, lose their spring. You can't even string them."
"Can't string them?"
"The strings snap. Pop, pop. The bigger the bow, the worse it is — leave it strung in a cold wind and you'll get a few shots, maybe, before the string goes."
"Is that so?"
"To keep those iron bows at full power, they would have had to stay within a hard march of Mount Baohua — faster than a quickstep, no more than one shichen out. Two hours, at the outside."
A quickstep over level ground covered roughly twenty-five li in a shichen — about ten kilometers an hour.
"Hence fifty li. The rebels were Peak Realm masters. They could have used qinggong, could they not?"
"A thousand men with packs that heavy, all of them unfolding qinggong at speed? Wouldn't they have been spotted in a heartbeat?"
"Oh-hong…! Quite so. And scatter them too far and you lose efficiency."
"That's right. Spread them too thin and the command chain and the signals get messy long before you ever assemble."
"Three days have passed. Can you still track them? Is it not already too late?"
Zheng He's question was the question in every eunuch's mind. Today was the third day since the bloodbath. Snow had fallen in the interval, and physical traces, as a rule, only grew fainter with time.
"Supervisor Zhang said… well… today's the funeral, so let's not work until it's done."
"…He did."
Jong Deok let the mention of the funeral trail off, and a shadow passed over Zheng He's face, and over the faces of the eunuchs with him. When this meeting ended they would go to bury their dead. That was to be the last duty of the day. For three days Zheng He and the Grand Eunuchs had been buried in the aftermath of the Mount Baohua massacre — the cleanup, the accounting of merit, the funeral arrangements. The Jinyiwei were already investigating the Blood Death Archery Corps besides.
"…So. Can you find them?"
"I was the one who asked for a few more days in the first place. The funeral just happened to fall across it."
Delaying the pursuit of a matter this grave on account of a funeral was not, strictly speaking, a reasonable thing to do. Jin Myeong knew that as well as anyone. It was simply that Jong Deok's proposal and the circumstances had fallen together with an almost indecent neatness.
"You asked?"
"The heavy snow that day made tracking by ground sign a waste of time."
"Then what do you propose?"
"The answer to this one lives with the common people. Ask them the day of, or the day after, and they clam up — terrified they'll be swept up in a treason charge. They won't talk."
"Oho…? There's sense in that."
"Give it a few days, though, and the fear starts to ease. People get an itch to run their mouths. By now there ought to be commoners out there whose tongues are fairly twitching."
"I see. I understand. Supervisor Zhang — when do you mean to begin?"
"Tomorrow, or the day after. Wait any longer and people's memories start to go soft."
Jin Myeong looked at Jong Deok with a solid, settled confidence, then answered Zheng He, thinking as he did:
Good. Keep it just like that. Jeong Go brought me a real find this time.
The true target had already been decided: Songlim Garden in Chuzhou. Gong Jeong-mun had said as much before he chose to die. Look at Songlim Garden in Chuzhou. But the bargain with Gong Jeong-mun was not a thing that could be told to anyone. Jin Myeong could not afford to reveal that he had already known the Gong siblings — and nothing short of saving those two children would have been enough to move Gong Jeong-mun in the first place.
Jong Deok. You're going to have to scratch this old eunuch's itch for him.
The hunt was going to be steered toward Songlim Garden in Chuzhou regardless. Jong Deok's job was to make the path there look inevitable. For that reason alone, the man was going to be indispensable.
"Very well, Scout Leader Jong. You heard, I trust? From today you belong to the Great Ming Eastern Depot."
"Would I… happen to be working with Supervisor Zhang, then?"
"Does that matter?"
"Well… Supervisor Zhang's house is Yuwol Pavilion, and the cooking there is a little…"
The moment his own business was settled, Jong Deok slumped back into that awkward posture as if nothing had happened and scratched the back of his head. He had his reasons for choosing the Eastern Depot so readily, and one of them was Jin Myeong — and Yuwol Pavilion. The men who worked with Supervisor Zhang, he had heard, got taken along now and then and fed properly. Where else was a man going to find a chance like that?
"Oh-hong-hong-hong! So you're one of those as well. Supervisor Zhang recommended you — of course you'll work with him. Who else did you imagine you'd be paired with?"
"Ahaha…! Well then, that's just fine. I've been getting a bit tired of field work lately anyway, and a man my age has to start thinking about his later years. This looks like a much better berth. Ah — and what I just said, keep that between us, would you?"
"Need you ask? Good! Scout Leader Jong Deok!"
"Sir?"
"From this day forward, you are Jong Deok, Junior Fifth Rank Saban of the Great Ming Eastern Depot."
Is hereby bestowed the title of
of the Great Ming Eastern Depot
"Khuhp! J-Junior Fifth Rank! I am overwhelmed! No — thank you! Gonggong!"
Jong Deok's nostrils flared, steaming with excitement at the unexpected windfall. Junior Fifth Rank! And a Saban of the Eastern Depot, no less — an office whose star was only just beginning to rise.
Who the hell said eunuchs were small-minded? Fuck! Their generosity's wider than Dongting Lake! In my whole damn life, aside from taking an enemy general's head, I've never seen anything like this. Fuck!
Junior Seventh Rank Scout Leader to Junior Fifth Rank — a leap of three full grades. It was a miracle. Jong Deok, gifted this unforeseen promotion, made up his mind then and there to bury his bones in the Eastern Depot. Had he not come here, he would have spent the rest of his life bouncing from battlefield to battlefield, and the best he could have hoped for was to limp into retirement as a Seventh Rank Platoon Commander.
"A man of your years, with a skill neither this Depot nor the Jinyiwei possesses, deserves at least that much. Zhangban Yun — coordinate with the Central Commission and the Ministry of War and settle Jong Deok's military registry."
"Yes, Superintendent!"
That evening, on the great road beyond Xi'an Gate.
The sun had already set, but Yingtianfu, blanketed in white snow, was still bright. Moonlight caught on the packed snow and washed the world in a soft silver, and the torches and oil lanterns hung throughout the capital's market wards threw a warm flush across the cold streets. Night in the imperial city never truly went dark.
"Grandmother! Yumo!"
The funerals of the fallen eunuchs done, Jin Myeong left the palace with his brothers. The House of Zhu and the Inner Court, who understood a eunuch's heart in such matters, had given their blessing without hesitation.
"Our eldest grandson has come."
"Myeong!"
Holy Mother Yeongyeon and Civil Chancellor Zheng Hui had been waiting, having heard that precious guests would be brought this evening. They came forward to receive him. Behind Jin Myeong, Minister of Revenue Xia Yuanji and Zheng He followed, watching with open fondness.
"Hehehe! The boy is a world apart from how he is in the palace, is he not, Grand Director?"
"Hong-hong! Indeed, Your Excellency. Even the realm's foremost inner courtier seems to find his true age the moment he comes home."
"You honor us with your presence, Your Excellency. Grand Director."
"You've come."
Yeongyeon and Zheng Hui, having first taken Jin Myeong's hands and touched his face, stepped forward and offered a clasped-hand salute. Of tonight's guests, Xia Yuanji and Zheng He stood highest.
"Elder Yeong, Miss Zheng — it has been too long. I thought I might impose on your hospitality after so many months. Would that be all right? Hehehe!"
"Hong-hong! Unlike His Excellency Xia, I am a mere Fourth Rank, and my stipend is nothing to speak of, so I shall simply ride on His Excellency's coattails."
"You — is that the sort of excuse the Superintendent of the Great Ming Eastern Depot ought to be making? Hehehe!"
"This humble servant's words happen to be true. Hong-hong!"
"Do come through to the rear garden. Zheng Hui."
"This humble one will show the way."
After a round of that easy banter, Xia Yuanji and Zheng He fell in behind Zheng Hui, and behind them came Jin Myeong, the rest of the eunuchs, and Jong Deok.
"Oof! Yuwol Pavilion! That sheen — that smell — khhh!"
Jong Deok, among them, was twisting his head in every direction like a child let into the market for the first time. And well he might. On a Junior Seventh Rank stipend, this was not a place a man dared set foot. Yuwol Pavilion was the wine house of dreams. And the women's voices drifting from every side were fantasy itself — jade tones that made a man's ears snap around in spite of him.
Half of everything in this world is fate, that's the truth. Luck's been pouring in since the New Year, it has! Kh-heh-heh!
Jong Deok gazed at Jin Myeong's broad back and pictured himself driving a tap into it. The young man was the luck of a lifetime — a miracle that would not come twice.
A short while later, in the largest inner chamber of the rear garden.
From the vases set along one wall, a quiet fragrance unfurled through the room.
"Hehehe!"
"Oh-hong-hong-hong!"
Xia Yuanji held the seat of honor, Zheng He beside him. Facing them, the company sat in a long row, and before each man a small individual tray had been laid out in the manner of a palace banquet — one tray to a person. Dishes of every color steamed gently; wines of every perfume stood waiting.
The wine went around, the cups went around, and the mood of the night deepened by degrees. They say the fragrance of wine travels a hundred li, the fragrance of flowers a thousand, and the fragrance of a person ten thousand. In the rear garden where Jin Myeong and the people of Yuwol Pavilion had gathered, all three were present.
In time, Jin Myeong's turn arrived.
His turn at what?
Jin Myeong and the company had filled their cups and were in the middle of a game. The moment his declaration landed, groans broke out on all sides, and men folded their last remaining fingers in a rush. Minister of Revenue Xia Yuanji. Eastern Depot Yeongban Gongsun Dajing. Saban Jong Deok. Qianhu Jeong Myeong-su and Middle Station Master Jiang Wenchen, among others.
Zheng He and the eunuchs clutched their bellies and howled with laughter.
That was when Xia Yuanji spoke up.
"Come now! That crossed a line!"
At a drinking table, all men were equal. Xia Yuanji and the rest had set their ranks aside and were addressing one another with the courtesy of peers.
"They say the arm bends inward, but this is going too far!"
Xia Yuanji had risen as the representative of those who had just been forced to fold their last fingers. Anyone who isn't a eunuch, fold — and a dozen men had gone down like leaves in an autumn wind. Was that not a bit much? It was not as if they could simply cut the things off.
Gongsun Dajing and the other intact men joined ranks behind him. They had already drunk far too much, round after round. Internal energy was forbidden; this was a contest of native liver and native stamina alone.
And yet—
The eunuchs' chorus rolled right over Xia Yuanji and the intact men's protests and buried them.
There was nothing for it. The intact men lifted their cups with faces full of grievance. Hesitate, and you were liable to catch an extra penalty round — the wise thing was to drink it down and be done.
Gulp, gulp, gulp. Clack.
The first among the intact men to set his cup down was Gongsun Dajing.
"Let's go! Quickly!"
He urged the next round in a voice thick with indignation. The next turn was his, and even the usually composed Gongsun Dajing had caught fire once a contest was on the table.
But then the eunuchs narrowed their eyes and looked the company over, as if something were still unfinished — as if it were not quite over yet.
"Khh… I'm drunk! What's the matter with all of you? I said let's continue."
Clack.
Xia Yuanji, last of the intact men to set his cup down, swept a look across the eunuchs and asked.
The eunuchs' heads turned, as one, to the seats immediately beside them.
In those seats, wearing the same look of baffled incomprehension, sat the family of Yuwol Pavilion.
The women of Yuwol Pavilion. Which was to say: those who had never had anything to fold in the first place — and who were, most certainly, not eunuchs.
The company was still trying to work out what on earth was happening when the eunuchs' chorus started up again.