Xie Yilu returned home from the Ministry. Dinner was a dish of dried bamboo shoots and a dish of tofu. Datian served him while he washed his hands, chattering on about the situation outside the city. He answered perfunctorily with a couple of exhausted words, then lowered his head and walked into the study. On the desk lay a stack of neatly folded letters, the ones he had forgotten to take in the morning. The moment he saw them, his chest warmed. He glanced at the sky, tucked the letters into his robe, and was about to go to Lingfu Temple.
Just as he pushed open the door, a cry came from outside the window. It was far away, perhaps a street or two over, the sorrowful wail of a woman. He sighed and was about to step outside when, before he could take a step, someone on the street ahead began crying too, as though they were competing with each other. Soon the crying became a whole chorus, stretching continuously through the night.
There was no need to guess. It was because of those trees.
Xie Yilu dejectedly retreated into the room. The letters in his bosom suddenly felt heavy. He pulled them out and had just opened one corner when he saw his own deliberately polished, delicate little handwriting:
“…I wonder whether this will suit your wishes? When the third month comes and Guyu arrives, when the whole garden is in bloom, its appearance will be beautiful, its fragrance will be…”
He suddenly crumpled the paper, rolled it into a ball, and threw it into the brazier.
People were losing their entire fortunes, yet he was indulging himself in the romantic amusements of his study. But where could he speak of the oppressive misery in his chest, with nowhere to vent it?
He casually pulled over a sheet of paper, gripped a large brush, dipped it into thick ink, and wrote four characters in one sweep:
You alone are salt and plum.
Salt grains were salty, plums were sour. Without sourness and saltiness, there was no flavor in the mouth. It was just like these letters, which spoke of the writer’s feelings every day—they were the only bit of flavor Xie Yilu had in his days in Nanjing.
Without waiting for the ink to dry, he casually folded the paper, pinched it in his hand, and pushed open the door. Datian was tidying the baskets in the courtyard. Seeing him, he hurriedly stood up.
“Open the door.” Xie Yilu tightened his wotou headscarf.
Datian threw down the basket and ran ahead of him to lift the door bar. When the door opened, a man wearing a black gauze hat stood outside, his hand raised as if about to knock. Xie Yilu recognized him as an administrative clerk from the Ministry.
“Something happened?”
The clerk bowed. “Master Ye asks that Your Excellency go over at once.”
It was official business. Xie Yilu turned around. Without needing him to say anything, Datian had already run out of the house carrying his official hat. Xie Yilu took it and put it on as he walked.
“Who is there?”
“The Minister, Vice Minister Liu, and Director Ye, and then Your Excellency.”
They were all important figures, and all of them were people who had not been present at Zheng Xian’s banquet.
Xie Yilu stopped for a moment. “What is it about?”
The clerk gave a sheepish laugh. “How would a little man like me know?”
Xie Yilu smiled too. This fellow clearly knew.
“Where are you from, Clerk?”
“I’m from Qian’an.”
“Qian’an…” Xie Yilu thought for a moment. “Are you a fellow townsman of Master Ye?”
The young clerk put on a deeply secretive expression. “I wouldn’t dare presume such a connection.”
After a while, as though unable to hold it in any longer, he lowered his voice and said, “My family and the Ye family live opposite each other, just across one street.”
Xie Yilu courteously gestured for him to walk ahead, while he himself fell half a step behind. The clerk immediately beamed with smiles and bashfully insisted on letting him go first. They went back and forth like this, politely yielding to each other, and before long they arrived at the Ministry of War.
Xie Yilu assumed he would wait in his own office, but the clerk instead led him to the door of the Minister’s office. After telling him, “Please wait a moment,” he went inside to announce him.
The door closed, then opened again. Director Ye came out, rolling up his sleeves. He stared rather sharply at Xie Yilu for a moment before asking, “Do you know about the Imperial Textile Bureau cutting down the trees?”
Xie Yilu lowered his head. “I do.”
Director Ye stepped closer.
“If I give you five thousand men and have you go suppress them, do you dare?”
Xie Yilu abruptly raised his head and stared at his superior in disbelief. Director Ye’s fingertip emerged from his sleeve and lightly pointed in the direction of Xie Yilu’s home.
“Can you not hear the crying throughout the city?”
Xie Yilu said nothing.
The eunuch in charge of the Nanjing Imperial Textile Bureau was one of the most powerful eunuchs of all. He held an imperial edict and official seal. This was a matter that could cost him his head.
“When do we move?”
“At daybreak. They will start cutting the trees.”
“There’s no time to make arrangements.”
“The soldiers have already been assembled. They’re outside Shence Gate.”
Xie Yilu could not help shivering.
He knew why they had come looking for him: because he was new here, because he had suffered exclusion from the eunuchs, and because he was eager to establish a firm footing.
“Director!” From far away, the gatekeeper hurried toward them, holding a name card in his hand.
Director Ye was clearly annoyed by the interruption, but he took the name card with a pursed mouth. The instant he saw it, his expression changed.
Xie Yilu paid no attention. He only knew that, whether he agreed or not, he would not be leaving tonight.
Director Ye paced back and forth where he stood. After pacing for a while, he hurriedly turned around and went back inside. They must have discussed it among themselves, because after quite some time, a single sentence came from within:
“Let him in!”
The gatekeeper went to escort the visitor inside, while Xie Yilu was awkwardly left standing where he was.
Soon the man arrived.
He was a young eunuch, alone, tall and straight, from a distance resembling a jade tree. He wore a bluish-green half-collared zhidu robe, a moon-white inner lining, a broad sash, and black boots. At first glance he looked unremarkable, but Xie Yilu immediately noticed the small official fan he carried, one that cost fifty taels of silver.
The clerk came out to receive him. To Xie Yilu’s surprise, he addressed the man as “Master Mei.”
The two passed each other. The man surnamed Mei gave Xie Yilu a rather amiable glance, but it was obvious that in those eyes, there was simply no place for a minor sixth-rank official like him.
The clerk directly invited the man inside. He himself did not enter, but came back out and stood shoulder to shoulder with Xie Yilu. He was clearly staying outside specifically to watch him.
Xie Yilu understood.
“Who came?”
Obviously, the clerk did not want to say too much. But the two of them had gotten along fairly well on the way over, so he felt awkward refusing.
“You’ll know sooner or later anyway.”
He lowered his voice.
“He’s the chief steward under Liao Jixiang of the Imperial Textile Bureau. Mei Acha.”
“Mei… Acha?”
What a strange name.
“Some say he’s a Miao, others say he’s Yi. No one knows his background clearly.”
Xie Yilu thought back for a moment.
“The Imperial Textile Bureau…?”
“Yes. There are many eunuchs from outside the region.”
The previous eunuchs had included the Korean eunuch Zhang Cai, the Annamese eunuch Ruan Dian, and now the southwestern eunuch Mei Acha. There was also that big fellow Yishiha, whose name sounded Jurchen.
“Liao Jixiang isn’t Han Chinese?”
“He is Han Chinese,” the clerk said firmly. “Before coming to Nanjing, he was in Gansu. He spent ten years at Jiayuguan as a eunuch supervising firearms. Haven’t you noticed that every little eunuch under him carries a knife?”
Xie Yilu gave a derisive snort.
“What battles can eunuchs fight? Aren’t they just arrogant and tyrannical in ordinary times, then flee the moment battle comes?”
“Gansu is a harsh place, you know.”
The clerk unconsciously rubbed his hands.
“In winter, there are goose-feather snowstorms, cold enough to freeze your hands and feet off. If the Tartars raid the city in the middle of the night, whether you’re a man or a sheep, they’ll slash open your belly all the same!”
He was speaking with great enthusiasm when the Minister’s door opened.
Director Ye escorted Mei Acha out.
The two of them looked somewhat strange, especially Director Ye. He had the awkward expression of someone who wanted to speak but did not know how to begin.
Mei Acha did not even offer a word of farewell. He merely clasped his hands, turned around, and walked away along the road he had come from.
Director Ye, however, stared at his back and rashly called out:
“Master Mei, take care!”
Xie Yilu was extremely surprised.
Addressing a eunuch as “Master” was already beyond the usual bounds, let alone with such respect.
Director Ye turned his head thoughtfully and saw Xie Yilu.
“You can go home.”
Xie Yilu stared blankly. “My lord?”
“Go home.” Director Ye waved his hand impatiently. “The troops outside Shence Gate are being withdrawn immediately.”
Xie Yilu’s stubborn streak rose up.
“Why?”
Director Ye curved his lips in amusement, making his beard tremble strand by strand.
“Do I still have to tell you why?”
Xie Yilu smiled coldly as well.
“That eunuch came carrying a gift list, didn’t he?”
Director Ye was enraged. He fiercely flung his sleeve and strode away sideways.
Mei Acha indeed had a gift list tucked inside his robe.
But it was not for the Ministry of War.
After leaving Six Ministries Street, he rode through Hongwu Gate and went straight to Zheng Xian’s official residence in Taiping Lane. When the guards saw him, they did not even ask questions. They obediently called out, “Master Mei,” and eagerly invited him inside.
Zheng Xian’s small flower hall was famous throughout Nanjing’s official circles.
There were glazed screens, agate mountain ornaments, a woven floral carpet made by Muslims, and a pair of Siamese red parrots. Even the chains used to tether the parrots were solid gold.
Mei Acha sat beneath the pair of parrots and slowly sipped his tea. After waiting roughly half an hour, Zheng Xian came out with his long hair loose, wearing only an undergarment.
“At this hour of the night…”
Zheng Xian grumbled, looking as though he were in a foul mood. He plopped himself down beside Mei Acha, one bare foot planted on the edge of the chair.
“What is it, Seventh Brother?”
Mei Acha shot him a sidelong glance and put down his tea.
“Sit properly.”
Zheng Xian did not immediately do as he was told. His snow-white hand wandered through his long hair.
“Say what you have to say. Spit out whatever shit you came to spit out.”
But slowly, he lowered the foot he had placed on the chair.
“Hurry up. I want to sleep.”
His lazy, careless, half-angry expression was extremely characteristic of him. Mei Acha, however, seemed accustomed to it. He reached out and lightly rubbed Zheng Xian’s chin.
There was a fresh tooth mark there, one that had just been bitten. It was still moist.
“You won’t be able to sleep when you go back either, will you?”
Zheng Xian’s brows moved slightly, and he smiled like a jasmine flower.
“Seventh Brother, isn’t this a little pointless…”
“Loan me some men.”
Mei Acha suddenly spoke.
Zheng Xian froze and straightened his body. Slowly stroking his hair, he said,
“I’ll lend them to you. As many as you want.”
Suddenly, he gave two half-smiling snorts.
“If it were someone else…”
Mei Acha knew whom he meant.
He took out the prepared gift list from his robe, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward him.
Zheng Xian did not even look at it.
“What does he need men for?”
“He’s afraid the common people will cause trouble.”
Mei Acha tiredly rubbed his temples.
“There are too many households in the city that have pear trees.”
Zheng Xian gloated.
“Serves him right!”
He casually picked up Mei Acha’s cup of tea. He did not drink it, merely turning it around in his palm.
“Why is he cutting down the trees?”
Mei Acha said nothing.
Zheng Xian waited a while. His long finger lightly dipped into the teacup, and with a mischievous air, he smeared the tea that the other man had drunk across his own lips.
“Forget it if you don’t want to say.”
He was about to stand when Mei Acha stopped him.
“Qi Wan is coming.”
Zheng Xian immediately leaned over, like a nosy young girl.
“That old bastard is coming… to prepare tribute for His Majesty?”
Mei Acha nodded.
Zheng Xian understood at once. His eyes shifted.
“Then have Liao Jixiang ask the Ministry of War for troops. Why come to me?”
“They did.”
Mei Acha sighed.
“The Ministry knows about the matter, but they refuse to step forward.”
“Oh, come on.”
Zheng Xian sneered, apparently somewhat angry as well.
“Normally, they never stop putting the people of the world on their lips. But when they’re actually needed, every damn one of them crawls back into his shell!”
Mei Acha said solemnly,
“They don’t want to get involved with eunuchs.”
After a long pause, he called softly,
“Ninth Brother…”
“Enough, Seventh Brother.”
Zheng Xian interrupted him.
“No matter when it is, you’ll always be my Seventh Brother. But Liao Jixiang…”
He fiercely shook his sleeve, his resolute manner carrying a hint of icy beauty.
“When he’s doing well, I won’t take advantage of his glory. If he capsizes…”
Zheng Xian smiled.
“I’ll definitely step on him once.”
Mei Acha grabbed his wrist.
“We all came out of the palace. Why make things so difficult?”
“It’s not that I’m deliberately making trouble for him.”
After a pause, Zheng Xian said,
“It’s that he looks down on me.”
Mei Acha was about to speak again when an old woman hurried over from behind and whispered several words into Zheng Xian’s ear.
Zheng Xian took the opportunity to shake off Mei Acha’s hand.
“Enough talking. The one in my room has been waiting too long.”
Mei Acha relaxed his body and leaned back, barely settling against the back of the chair. He raised his brows.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Zheng Xian laughed without a care.
“I’m in a good mood today, so I used a little medicine…”
He leaned close and gave a teasing wink.
“The drug has taken effect on that woman now.”
Mei Acha said nothing more. He took back the gift list, patted Zheng Xian on the shoulder, and stood up.
“Go have your fun.”
Xie Yilu went to Lingfu Temple from the Ministry of War. He tucked the letter inside the stone lantern and looked left and right, reluctant to leave.
It was nothing more than a weather-worn stone hollow and a person in a letter whom he had never even met. Yet he felt as though he were trapped in a net, tormented by a demon of his own heart. Alone, he spoke to the stone lantern until he finally felt cold all over. Only then did he reluctantly return home.
He had just stepped onto the main road carrying his lantern when he heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him.
Before he could move aside and take a closer look, the galloping horse had already swept up like a whirlwind. In a sudden flash, there was a familiar streak of bluish green.
Mei Acha!
Xie Yilu could tell for certain that he was heading toward Jubao Gate.
At this hour, what was he doing leaving the city?
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept along the ground beneath his feet. The candle flame shook violently inside the lantern.
Xie Yilu hurriedly steadied the flame.
And just then, from the mountainside north of the city came a chorus of sharp, metallic clack-clack-clack—
The Imperial Textile Bureau had begun cutting down the trees.