Qian Jiaoniang was busy with her embroidery business, while Xing Muzheng was managing Yuzhou in an orderly manner, while also having to reunite with his relatives. Jiazhou’s spies had gathered detailed information about the Xing family’s branches. Xing Muzheng reviewed the intelligence reports from the past few days and invited his three relatives to meet again.
These past days, XIng Muzheng had been busy with official duties and had also deliberately kept his distance. Steward Ding, carrying out his orders, received them with great warmth. Xing Yanan too was not impatient; after persuading his second uncle and son, he settled peacefully in the Marquis’s residence.
When Second Uncle Xing entered the front hall together with Xing Yanan and Xing Muzhao, Xing Muzheng was already standing inside. Seeing them come in, he steadily stepped forward and offered the respects of a junior.
Second Uncle Xing was flattered beyond measure, and even Xing Yanan was somewhat caught off guard.
Xing Muzheng addressed Second Uncle Xing as “Second Great-Uncle,” Xing Yanan as “Third Uncle,” and Xing Muzhao as “Sixth Brother.” Second Uncle Xing secretly glanced at Xing Yanan. Muzheng had not inquired in detail about their generational order, yet the way he addressed them was not wrong, showing he had clearly learned it elsewhere. This much Yanan had already expected. Muzheng also did not conceal it, but instead apologized to the elders: “This matter concerns the bloodline of the Xing clan. Muzheng could not but be cautious. If there has been any offense, I beg Great-Uncle and Uncle’s forgiveness.”
Xing Yanan replied, “The Marquis ought indeed to be cautious.”
Muzheng said, “Third Uncle may simply call me by name.”
Then Xing Muzheng summoned Qian Jiaoniang and his son Xing Pingchun, who was home on holiday, to come out and pay their respects. Qian Jiaoniang, like Muzheng, bowed with respect, while Xing Pingchun kowtowed to the elders. Though Second Uncle Xing still harbored complaints at having been kept waiting for several days, when he saw the precious young heir of the Dingxi Marquisate kowtow to them, his gloom instantly dispersed. If Muzheng had truly disdained them, how would such a noble child perform so great a respect?
After respect and greetings were exchanged, Qian Jiaoniang led Pingchun away. Since kinship had now been acknowledged, there were many matters of clan recognition to discuss. The Xing clan in Jiazhou still numbered nearly a hundred; among them only Xing Yanan had entered officialdom. In truth, they had people of all walks of life, but the most accomplished were of Xing Yanan’s branch. His father had once passed as a licentiate, married the daughter of a wealthy landowner, and enjoyed considerable repute in Jiazhou. Yet the local officialdom was corrupt and incompetent, and because the Xing family would not go along with the current, they had offended many. Now that they had been recognized by the main line, and Muzheng was a territorial lord, moving the whole clan back to Yuzhou was naturally the best choice. But this was not something Yanan and the others could take the initiative to say. Muzheng understood and said: “Since Great-Uncle wishes to return to the ancestral line, maintaining two separate branches in two places is no long-term plan. Though I am unworthy, Heaven has granted me the small domain of Yuzhou. If Great-Uncle and Third Uncle do not disdain it, you may move to Yuzhou to reside. Kinfolk could then look after one another.”
Hearing Muzheng himself propose the matter and resolve such a major concern, Second Uncle’s aged face bloomed with joy. But before he could speak, Muzheng added: “Uncle Zeng’s line has many descendants, near and far, male and female — all may come. Only Fourth Uncle Xing Yanwen’s household cannot.”
Xing Muzhao, usually close to Yanwen’s son Xing Muyang, bristled as soon as he heard this, his brows rising like a cat with fur standing on end. “Why can’t they come!”
Xing Muzheng said nothing. Though the speaker was his younger cousin, Xing Muzheng was long accustomed to holding authority and had no habit of explaining.
But Xing Yanan knew perfectly well. Fourth Brother Xing Yanwen was eldest uncle’s son — weak of character, not ill-natured, but he had married a vile wife. That wife was lazy and greedy, domineering and unreasonable, throwing the household into chaos. Her natal family colluded with corrupt officials and threw their weight around in Jiazhou. Xing Muzheng was clearly cutting away rotten branches. That he had investigated so thoroughly in such a short time genuinely astonished Yanan.
Now the oldest living elder of the family, Second Uncle of course knew the situation in Yanwen’s household. Yet the entanglements were such that they could not be explained in a sentence or two. “Dear grandson, the character Xing cannot be written without two strokes. However one looks at it, Yanwen is still a member of the Xing clan. To cast him aside… does not sit right.”
Xing Muzheng said, “Fourth Uncle’s wife’s clan is powerful. He will hardly wish to come to my poor and barren land. If he does wish to come, then let him first put her away.”
These words, once spoken, were like a military order — final.
Xing Muzhao, knowing little beyond books of sages, had long been shielded by Yanan from sordid matters. He only knew his fourth aunt was a shrew; he did not know the rest. Hearing Xing Muzheng speak so harshly, he flushed red and wanted to retort, but Xing Yanan pulled him back, and he unwillingly held his tongue.
Xing Yanan said, “Yuzhou is my worthy nephew’s domain; naturally, all is as my nephew decides. We who come are already troubling you, and should not shamelessly make more demands. But Fourth Brother has his household; it is not for us to decide with one word. We will go back and discuss it with him and the rest of the clan. Whether they stay or leave will be their own choice. Of course, I will also carry your instructions to them.”
Xing Muzheng and Xing Yanan exchanged a knowing look. Muzheng inwardly smiled faintly; he had thought this Third Uncle lacked adaptability, but clearly it was not so.
Xing Muzheng then discussed further particulars with the three. When the steward came to invite them to lunch, Xing Muzheng summoned Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Pingchun, and the group ate together. Second Uncle, having drunk some wine, became slightly tipsy, and Qian Jiaoniang had him helped away to rest. Xing Muzhao, still childish at heart, hit it off with Pingchun, who invited his young uncle to play in his courtyard. Only Xing Yanan remained with Xing Muzheng and Qian Jiaoniang in a side hall to drink tea.
This side hall faced a bamboo grove with strange rocks, quite elegant. Yet under the blazing sun, cicadas chirped loudly, making the heat feel even more oppressive. The maids brought ice buckets, but only two. The room cooled somewhat, but was still hot. Xing Yanan could not help fanning himself with a folded fan, thinking privately: usually the guest quarters of the Marquisate were well provided with ice buckets — why today only two?
Qian Jiaoniang knew the reason. Because she was present, Xing Muzheng never allowed too many ice buckets. Even when the two of them sweated together on the bed, he had stubbornly refused more ice. He would not sleep in another room either, insisting on bearing the heat with her. Fearing that even the newly recognized relatives would suffer from this habit, she excused herself and left. As she went, she told Ding Zhang to bring in more ice buckets. Sure enough, once they were placed inside, Xing Muzheng did not refuse.
The side hall finally cooled down. Xing Yanan’s restlessness dissipated, and he realized Xing Muzheng had kept him back for something further.
“Third Uncle, in my domain there is a county called Zhiye. I wonder if you’ve heard of it.”
Xing Yanan was slightly taken aback. “I know a little.” Though he had resigned from office and not served again, he still kept abreast of many affairs of the Xie dynasty. Zhiye County was counted among its poorest: barren land, few scholars, plagued by floods. The court had taken no taxes there for years; instead it had to send silver annually for disaster relief. That such a wretched place had been allotted to his own nephew’s fief — it seemed less like a reward than like cutting away a festering sore. Indeed, the court’s calculations were always shrewd.
Xing Muzheng nodded. “Then if I hope that Third Uncle will go to Zhiye and serve as county magistrate, would Third Uncle be willing?”
Xing Yanan was startled.
Xing Muzheng did not miss his expression. He said calmly, “I have been to Zhiye. Though the land is poor, it is not to the point where nothing can grow. Besides natural disasters, there are… other causes. Would Third Uncle be willing to govern it on my behalf?”
Xing Yanan’s blood, long dormant, stirred hotly again. He greatly admired Xing Muzheng, believing him a rare talent of the age. And such a talent actually trusted him, entrusting him with office. “But… I have long been away from the official world. I fear I will fail your expectations.” If there were natural disasters and “other causes,” then surely all the officials there were a pack of greasy-boned parasites.
Xing Muzheng said, “What I want is precisely the spirit with which Third Uncle once resigned his office.”
Xing Yanan looked at him steadily. Whether in the deep of night he ever regretted—this was known only to Xing Yanan himself. Now he was offered the chance to realize his ambition once more. Did he still have the courage with which he had stormed out back then?
After a moment, Xing Yanan’s eyes sharpened, his lips pressed together, and with a snap he closed the folding fan in his hand. “Good! Foolish Uncle will not fail the trust!”
