Isolated town in northern border region

He sat in that chair for a long time. The chair was made of hardwood, and the cushion was worn thin. There was a thin layer of air between his back and the back of the chair, like a gap that had not yet been filled. He was not holding anything in his hands, nor was he looking at anything. He was just staring at the blank blackboard in front of him, his gaze fixed on the surface of the board, which was covered with a thin layer of chalk dust.

Then he stood up and put away his lesson plan. The cover was curled at the edges, and inside were several pages of unfinished homework, which he pulled out and set aside separately. After thinking for a moment, he put it back in. He put the chalk back in the box, the lid closing with a soft click, like a lock closing. He closed the classroom door; the sound of the hinges turning was faint, but clearly audible in the quiet corridor.

As I walked out of the Imperial Academy gate, the lanterns in the drill ground had just been lit. The lantern bearer was hanging the last lantern on a pillar, the hook striking the iron nail with a crisp, resonant sound that carried far in the early winter twilight. The dim light cast a long shadow of his, stretching from the threshold along the cracks in the bluestone slabs, curving once in the center of the drill ground, and continuing to spread out into the distance, finally disappearing at the foot of the wall at the far end of the drill ground.

On the third day, the National Assembly Hall was noisy all day. The coffered ceiling of the dome caught everyone's voices and then bounced back, oscillating between the beams and pillars. The people from the Northern Frontier faction sat on the left, and the people from the aristocratic families sat on the right, separated by a long table with several cups of tea that had gone cold. A thin film floated on the tea, like a layer that had not yet been stirred.

As the official in purple robes stood up, the leg of his chair scraped against the brick surface with a harsh sound. He held a scroll of joint documents in his hand, the parchment scroll swaying slightly. He said, "Of the thirteen southern prefectures, seven have fallen into banditry, thirty thousand people have been displaced, nine engineering schools have been burned down, and sixteen workshops have been occupied. The King of the Northern Frontier, sitting in the capital, not only refuses to send troops to quell the rebellion, but also condones his general Luo Daniu's kidnapping of the Queen and coercion of councilors, openly defying orders. Tell me, is this empire still worth living?"

On the northern frontier side sat a military general in worn armor. His armor was cast iron, with a dent in the shoulder blade. After listening, he put down his teacup, the bottom of which made a dull thud as it hit the table, and said, "Are you finished?"

The official in the purple robe pursed his lips, then straightened his back again: "Finished."

The military officer stood up, walked to the desk, unfolded a scroll of official documents, pointed to the entries, and said, "In these thirteen prefectures, the banditry in eight prefectures only emerged after the aristocratic families announced the 'recruitment of local militias.' The armor and weapons of these militias were allocated by the imperial court, and the allocation documents were approved by the National Assembly, bearing the seal of your aristocratic families. You yourselves approved the armor and weapons, sent them south yourselves, and then overnight those armor and weapons appeared on the bandits. You call this banditry? This is clearly your own dogs running rampant and biting people."

The purple-robed official's expression changed: "You're slandering me!"

The military officer sneered, "Slander? Then tell me, why did the Cui family use steam engine blueprints from the Northern Frontier in their three workshops in the south? Why did they burn coal from the Northern Frontier? Why are the ironware they produce engraved with the words 'Cui Family,' and why are there page numbers from 'A Brief Introduction to Engineering' on the flip pages?"

A moment of silence fell over the council chamber. It was brief, but enough to make the thin film on the surface of the several cups of cold tea on the table tremble slightly. Someone on the right lowered their head, someone shifted their gaze to the cold tea on the table, and someone loosened and then re-interlaced their fingers on the table.

The official in purple robes remained silent for a long time before speaking, his voice lower than before: "Blueprints can be copied, coal can be bought. You won't let the Northern Frontier sell, but you won't let other places produce it themselves?"

The military officer pushed the official document forward an inch: "Build it? You know how to build it? You haven't learned how to build one? You can't even distinguish between numerator and denominator, what kind of steam engine are you building?"

These words were like a pair of tongs that had been burning for a long time being dropped into water. A long silence followed in the council chamber. Someone on the right shifted their gaze from their teacup, but it didn't fall elsewhere; it remained hovering half an inch above the table.

The official in purple robes moved his lips a few times, his voice rising slightly, but thinner than before: "Regardless of the circumstances, it's a fact that Luo Daniu kidnapped the Princess and the councilor. This is treason. Treason deserves execution. If the King of Northern Frontier is even protecting this, then Parliament should hold new elections, and those who protect treason should be removed from Parliament."

Immediately, voices echoed from the right. First a few, then a chorus of voices: "Yes! A re-election!" "The Northern Frontier faction has been ruling unilaterally for too long!" "Isn't it time for the aristocratic families to speak?"

The people from the Northern Frontier faction on the left all stood up. No one spoke, but their gazes fell on the row of seats on the right, like a row of shields being erected, blocking the approaching wave of sound from the opposite side.

The general concluded, "A re-election? Fine. Let's re-election then. But before that, let the prince thoroughly investigate the case in the south. Who killed someone, who caused trouble, who took the weapons to support bandits—find out the truth before we speak." With that, he turned and walked out, each thud of his boots on the bricks heavier than the last, like a nail being repeatedly hammered.

The council chamber door closed behind him with a dull thud, like a closing crack, wetting half of what was left unsaid on each side.

When the news reached the Imperial Academy, Xiao Lie was grading homework. Twelve homework books were spread out on the table, each filled with crooked handwriting. Xu De stood at the door and recounted what had happened in the council hall. As he spoke, his gaze never left Xiao Lie's back, as if waiting for that back to turn around.

Xiao Lie continued writing without stopping after hearing the explanation. In the notebook he was correcting, a student had added an extra equal sign to the end of an equation. He crossed out the extra horizontal line with the tip of his pen, rewrote the correct format next to it, and then put down his pen. He said, "They need to choose again."

Xu De said, "Yes."

Xiao Lie neatly arranged the completed homework books, stacking them one by one, and placed them on a pile of books that was already nearly half his height on the bookshelf. He stood up and walked to the window, where he stood for a while. The begonia on the windowsill was mostly withered, its leaves curling and changing color from the edges, like a scroll painting closing in from the edges. He pressed his finger on the rim of the pot; the ceramic pot was cold, and his fingertip touched a tiny crack.

He said, "Let's have a re-election. I won't run."

Xu De froze, standing on the threshold with his left foot inside and his right foot outside. When he spoke, his voice carried a slight crack: "Your Highness?"

Xiao Lie turned around. His gaze fell on the half-withered begonia on the windowsill, then returned to his own. His tone was calm, as if he were speaking of something he had thought about for a long time before deciding to say it, each word spoken with firm conviction: "I've figured it out. Teaching them technology alone isn't enough. You teach them arithmetic, and they can calculate acreage and wages, but they can't figure out why they're poor. You teach them geometry, and they can measure beams and angles, but they can't figure out why they're being oppressed. You teach them oxidation, and they can prevent iron from rusting, but they can't stop those who see them as objects to be corroded."

He paused, and the wind from the depths of the corridor rustled the corners of the unfinished stack of workbooks on the desk, the paper making a soft, rustling sound. He continued, "Technical skills alone aren't enough. They also need something else in their minds—the knowledge that they deserve to be human."

He returned to his desk and spread out a new sheet of paper. The surface of the hemp paper had a faint, fibrous texture from the pulp. He picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, skimmed it along the edge of the inkstone, and wrote three lines. The brushstroke was steady, each stroke landing precisely where it should. As he finished the last stroke, he lifted his wrist slightly, the brush tip leaving a fine, tapering finish. He picked up the letter, blew on the ink, folded it tightly, and handed it to Xu De.

A fingerprint was pressed onto the seal, the fingerprint's lines spreading across the red ink. He said, "Send it to Congress."

Xu De's hand trembled slightly when he took the letter. He glanced down at the words on the envelope; there was no recipient's name, only the character "国" (Guo, meaning "country"), written heavily, with the last stroke drawn out longer than usual. He stood at the door without moving, his hand clenching the envelope, creating a crease, before finally releasing it.

Xiao Lie said, "Go."

Xu De turned and left. His steps were slower than when he came, each step drawing out longer than the last. The lantern at the end of the corridor, which had not yet been lit, swayed gently in the wind, its tassel waving in an arc.

That afternoon, Xiao Lie wrote a second letter. This letter was addressed to Jiang Min. He wrote it more slowly than the first, pausing once to glance at the darkening sky outside the window before resuming his writing. After finishing, he didn't blow on the ink; instead, he left the letter on the table to dry completely before sealing it. The letter contained only one sentence: "Effective immediately, the Princess Consort will move to the villa in Yongzhou, guarded by soldiers from the Northern Frontier. She is not permitted to leave without my written order."

He sealed the letter and handed it to another servant. The servant took the letter, turned and left, walking a little faster than Xu De.

After sending the letter, he tidied up his things in his study. He took one of each of the sixteen textbooks and put it into a bundle, an old bundle with several worn lines on the cloth. He neatly arranged the lesson plans and corrected workbooks and locked them in the drawer, making a soft click as he inserted the key into the lock. He turned to the blackboard and traced the number "1" again, very slowly, starting from the top and ending straight to the bottom without pausing, then put the chalk back in the box.

As he walked out of the Imperial Academy gate with his bundle on his back, the lanterns in the drill ground had just been lit. The dim light cast a long shadow of his, stretching all the way to the stone steps outside the threshold. He didn't look back; his steps didn't falter as he crossed the threshold, like a stream of water that had already chosen its direction.

When he had walked about twenty steps, he heard someone call out behind him, "Your Highness!" He stopped and turned around and saw a group of craftsmen standing at the gate of the Imperial Academy, a second group of students standing under lanterns, some holding half-finished homework books, some leaning half their bodies out of the door frame, and some standing at the front with their mouths open.

Xiao Lie looked at them and spoke in the twilight, "I've taught you everything I needed to. The rest you'll have to practice on your own. Once you've mastered it, teach others. When I return, I want to see that you've spread those things to faraway places."

One of the students shouted, "Your Highness, will you come back?"

Xiao Lie stood there, silent for a moment. A gust of wind blew, causing the lanterns at the entrance of the Imperial Academy to sway. The light and shadow shifted a few inches across his profile before settling back, like a pointer being recalibrated. He spoke, "Come back. Wait until I'm done." With that, he turned and continued walking. His silhouette paused briefly at the open gate at the end of the training ground before he crossed the threshold and disappeared into the darkness beyond the lantern's reach.

That night, Xiao Lie's convoy departed from the north gate of the capital. There were no ceremonial guards, no banners, only a dozen or so unassuming carriages and over a hundred elite soldiers from the northern frontier, dressed in civilian clothes. The wheels rolled dully over the stone slabs of the city gate, repeatedly clattering beneath its domed ceiling. Zhou Xun rode at the head of the convoy, his mount a long, thin gray horse, its hooves striking the ground with a steady rhythm. Luo Daniu rode at the rear, his horse a size larger than Zhou Xun's, making him appear like a moving platform. In the middle were several carriages loaded with teaching materials and provisions, their tarpaulins billowing slightly in the night wind.

After leaving the city, Luo Daniu glanced back at the city gates of the capital. The silhouette emerging in the night was slowly shrinking, like a seal being retracted. He spoke softly, "Are we just leaving like this?"

Zhou Xun didn't turn back, but his voice carried on the night wind: "What are we going to do if we don't leave? Stay and argue with them? Do you think you can win an argument with them?"

Luo Daniu said, "I can't win an argument."

Zhou Xun said, "Then let's go. The Prince's word is final."

Luo Daniu didn't ask any more questions. He urged his horse to catch up with the caravan, the horse's hooves landing on the thin layer of early winter frost on the official road, making a series of soft, crackling sounds, like a page being turned, from one chapter to the next.

At dawn, Jiang Min received the letter. It arrived at Chenshi (7-9 AM), while she was copying a book in her study, her pen hovering over the last vertical stroke of the character "山" (mountain). When the servant placed the letter on the corner of her desk, her gaze lifted from the paper, fell on the envelope, paused for a moment, then she put down her pen, picked up the letter, and opened it. She unfolded the letter and read the line of text, from beginning to end, then again. She placed the letter on the table, her finger slowly tracing the strokes of the characters. Her expression remained unchanged, but when her finger reached the last character, "出" (out), her nail pressed a faint arc into the paper.

She put down the letter and said to the servant standing at the door, "He's gone."

The servant didn't dare to reply.

Jiang Min turned to look out the window. The courtyard of the villa wasn't large, and the few plum trees outside the window hadn't yet bloomed; their bare branches stretched out in the morning light, like a row of blank spaces yet to be filled in. The morning light filtered through the branches, casting a long, thin, incomplete shadow on the windowsill. She whispered, "He's gone back to the northern frontier. He's abandoned the entire capital."

She was silent for a moment, then spoke, her voice lower than before, like an echo returning from an exit: "He abandoned the capital, abandoned the parliament, abandoned those waiting for his statement. He went back to the northern frontier to start anew." She paused. "He lost a move, but he didn't intend to continue fighting for pieces on the chessboard. He overturned the chessboard."

That afternoon, the Cui family and other prominent families jointly submitted a petition. The petition was written on fine Xuan paper, smooth and with even ink. The title was lengthy, beginning with "Your humble servants respectfully submit this petition," followed by four sections: "The banditry in the south is escalating," "The King of the Northern Frontier stands idly by," "Luo Daniu is holding a high-ranking official hostage," and "The law of the land cannot tolerate this." It finally culminated in its core message: "We request the King of the Northern Frontier to punish Luo Daniu for treason, in order to uphold the law, appease the people, and quell the banditry." Seven private seals were affixed at the end, each one clear and intact.

The acting official did not issue a reply after reading it. He read the petition from beginning to end, then from end to beginning, before closing it, placing it in the filing cabinet, and locking it. His movements were slow, as if he were giving the seven private seals enough time to cool completely before closing the cabinet door. After locking the cabinet, he stood for a while, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The twilight was spreading from east to west, like a piece of cloth being slowly unfurled, cutting the entire sky into strips of varying widths.

He withdrew his gaze, closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, and turned to leave the room. The courtyard outside was quiet. A breeze blew through the corridor, causing the unlit lantern under the eaves to turn slightly. The tassel swayed in the wind in a slow arc, like an uncalibrated pendulum slowly closing in on where it should stop.

On the distant northern horizon, a very faint wisp of smoke was being slowly dispersed by the wind, becoming so thin as to be almost invisible, leaving only a faint gray line across the bottom edge of the horizon. The wind continued to blow, carrying away even the last remaining trace of dust.

No one knew where Xiao Lie's convoy had gone. But all the gazes directed in that direction lingered for a moment before the dust settled completely, as if waiting for it to thicken again, or perhaps simply wanting to look a little longer at what was about to dissipate.

After that brief moment, darkness fell completely. Lanterns were lit one after another, from the entrance of the National Assembly Hall to the corridors of the Imperial Academy, from the crenellations on the city walls to the drill grounds in the military camp—all the lights shone simultaneously. The wind blew through the newly lit lanterns, causing the light to sway gently. Each swaying light had its own rhythm and amplitude, like a group of strings vibrating at their own frequencies, not yet playing a unified melody, but slowly moving towards the same predetermined beat.