CH 5

Sure enough, the city of Nanjing was turned upside down. 

Xie Yilu woke before sunrise the next morning to see what was happening outside the city, but before he had even made it out of Taiping Gate, he came across Qu Feng’s soft palanquin headed for the same direction. The scene around them could be summed up in Qu Feng’s own words as: “Why the ruckus? They’re just cutting some trees!” 

The road out of the city was filled by an endless stream of civilians, some headed to sign away their property, others there just to gawk at the commotion. There were even merchants taking advantage of the chaos to peddle their wares. The distance from the city gates to the pear orchards was crammed full of people setting up canopies right where they stood, baking flat cakes and hawking beverages. Together, they managed to create a bustle no different from any city market. 

The palanquin struggled to push through the crowd, so Qu Feng abandoned it altogether to travel on foot with Xie Yilu. AP: Stockades set up by the Imperial Weaving Bureau lined either side of the path, and at every few steps was an armed fire-tender standing guard over the traffic. Xie Yilu did not tell Qu Feng about what had happened last night; with the way things were looking now, the civilians could overpower the Imperial Weaving Bureau even without the Ministry of War to deploy troops. 

The one in charge atop the platform was still the same burly Jurchen, Yishiha, as last time. He was flanked by a pair of dark-skinned eunuchs from Annan, who were in charge of supervising the signatures. Xie Yilu recognised Ruan Dian immediately. He was holding his sheathed sabre in his arms, looking ready to spring into combat at any moment. He’s a very interesting fellow — his likes and dislikes are all written on his face. As soon as he saw Xie Yilu, Ruan Dian shot a hate-filled glare in his direction. He’s forthright. 

The first to sign were all ordinary people with no money, no men and no power. Xie Yilu and Qu Feng watched from the crowd as they wept while pressing their thumb prints onto the documents. Then, very slowly and a little abjectly, they reached into their money bags to take out the money that the eunuchs were extorting and placed it carefully onto the documents. 

“Next!” the eunuch in charge of signatures shouted at the top of his lungs, and the innocent people who had just been robbed of their property were pushed and shoved off the platform like animals. 

“They’ve gone too far.” Xie Yilu wanted to call them out on the spot, but Qu Feng pulled him back by the wrist. At that exact moment, someone was struggling to push through the crowd behind them. Xie Yilu glanced absentmindedly at this newcomer — it was that Zhang Cai he had seen at Lingfu Temple. 

“I said, come back!” Ruan Dian suddenly called out from atop the platform. Xie Yilu and Qu Feng looked back and saw that Yishiha had jumped off the platform and was pushing his way over against the flow of the crowd. 

Almost at the same time, someone dashed past Xie Yilu and blocked Zhang Cai’s path. Standing as close as he was to them, Xie Yilu recognised him as the Annan child who had threatened him with his sabre last night — he remembered the outrageously long sabre. 

Zhang Cai halted his advance and confronted him in vigilant silence. They were both only children, yet they had the faces of adults. Xie Yilu tilted his head and asked Qu Feng, “Aren’t they both Liao Jixiang’s subordinates?” 

“Yeah,” Qu Feng did not understand either. “The Imperial Weaving Bureau isn’t like Zheng Xian. They’re normally very discreet and don’t show their true colours. Nobody can see through them.” 

“ Leave, A-Liu!” Yishiha rushed over, his large frame pushing the civilians aside as if they were made of paper. He was the strong gale, the turbulent wave, and he arrived before them in the blink of an eye to catch Zhang Cai’s hand in a death grip. “Why are you here?” 

Zhang Cai was only as tall as Yishiha’s shoulder. He pressed close to him, as if to throw himself into the other’s arms. “I came to see you.” 

“Go back quickly.” Yishiha held onto his hand and did not let go. “This place is a mess, and if your elder brother finds out…” 

“I’m not scared that he’ll find out.” Zhang Cai stood on tiptoe to look over Yishiha’s shoulder at A-Liu. “I was afraid that this troupe of Annan barbarians you’re following might treat you badly.” 

In a flash, A-Liu was reaching behind himself for the sabre he carried on his back. Seeing that he was about to draw the blade, Yishiha whipped around and slammed his massive hand onto the one that A-Liu was using to grip the sabre hilt. A-Liu tried to draw his weapon but could not, so he turned his gaze towards Ruan Dian, who was still standing on the platform. By now, he had already crouched down and was staring at them as if watching a play, but he still slowly shook his head.

A-Liu let go, and so did Yishiha. The long sabre slid down A-Liu immature but powerful back to hang about his waist, where it swayed back and forth a few times before coming to rest.

Yishiha pulled Zhang Cai away by his hand and led him back towards the city; Xie Yilu, Qu Feng and the surrounding spectators all gave them a wide berth. Zhang Cai stared at the platform the entire time and suddenly asked, “You were only meant to get their signatures. Why did you also make them pay?” 

Yishiha was silent. 

“Yishiha!” Zhang Cai was enraged for an unknown reason. “Why did you make them pay?” 

“A-Cai…” Yishiha looked embarrassed. Zhang Cai shook off his hand. “If the Lord Director heard about this…” He paused, likely knowing that some things must not be said aloud in the current setting. Xie Yilu picked up on the implication of his words — could it be that Liao Jixiang was unaware of his eunuchs’ extortions? But was he not the one who ordered the trees to be cut in the first place? 

Zhang Cai refused to leave, instead turning back around and pushing forwards. Yishiha chased after him, shielding him as he would a precious jewel. For a man as large as he was, he had certainly fallen head first into this weak child’s thrall. 

It was true that each eunuch supervising signatures was also charging money; the civilians they victimised were visibly furious but could only stifle their indignation. One of them was just about to place his money onto the table. He was an elderly man in his sixties or seventies, his face and hands densely wrinkled, his frame emaciated from poverty and manual labour. His skin was so tanned that it glowed under the sun, and he wore only one shoe to match his tattered clothing. 

Zhang Cai was separated from him by two lines of people, but he violently shoved them aside and barged through. Those who had been shoved swore loudly, and the money had already left the old man’s hand, but Zhang Cai caught the copper coins in mid-air with one hand and sent all of them clattering back into the old man’s grasp. 

“Go.” He gave the old man a gentle push. 

The eunuch supervising his signature jumped to his feet. “Cai-ger1!” 

Zhang Cai glared sidelong at him and sharply berated, “Do you have the right to speak here?” 

Yishiha wrapped a hand around his slender wrist to tug at it from behind while Ruan Dian, cradling his sabre, walked over unhurriedly. “Zhang Cai, the Lord Supervisor has assigned the task of cutting trees to me. What are you Gaoli people butting in for?” 

Zhang Cai glared daggers at him, clearly furious, but his childish face only made him look as though he was about to cry. He drew out two silver yezi2 cards from his money pouch and slammed them onto the table. “Is this enough!?” 

Ruan Dian frowned as he looked at him, feeling more or less a little embarrassed. All of a sudden, he smiled and turned to face Yishiha. “Oh great vajra3-wielding guardian4, what are you waiting for? Escort your living Bodhisattva5 out of here!” 

Yishiha reached out a hand, but Zhang Cai shook his arms in resistance. “I can walk on my own!” 

He walked two steps, then looked behind him at Ruan Dian, who was still standing atop the platform. “ If you go through with this, something bad is bound to happen!” 

Ruan Dian only strode towards the platform’s other end as if he had not heard a thing. 

Yishiha chased after Zhang Cai, trying to soothe him all the while, but Zhang Cai pushed him away again and again, his left hand clenching the sabre hanging from his waist. Then, a stone came flying out of nowhere and smacked loudly onto his forehead. He did not utter a single scream before collapsing to the ground as if someone had cut his tendons. 

Yishiha rushed forward like a madman, gingerly turning him over to find that his left temple had become a mangled mess that was bleeding all over the ground. High up on the platform, Ruan Dian had also witnessed the chain of events. He pulled out his sabre and threw the scabbard under his feet. “Who fucking did it? Pull him out, now!” 

His subordinates sprang into action, and those armed with sabres all unsheathed their blades. Judging by the direction of the stone, it had been thrown by someone in the two rows that Zhang Cai had just shoved aside. A-Liu bounded straight towards the unruly mob that had made trouble. Seeing that the eunuchs were about to use force, the civilians picked up their own weapons, and the scene immediately descended into chaos. Xie Yilu pushed forward, hot on A-Liu’s heels as he dived into the whirlpool. 

Jin Tang lifted his sleeve as he pushed his large brush into the white xuan6 paper and dragged, leaving a trail of dark ink in its wake. The eunuch grinding ink beside him clapped in appreciation, exclaiming, “Great calligraphy, yeye. What lively and upright calligraphy!” 

Jin Tang laid down his brush and replied contentedly, “It really does feel good to copy a few lines from《Da Bao Zhen7》like the Lord Director does!” 

Jin Tang was just reaching for his decorative seal8 when a fire-tender rushed in from outside, swallowed and said, “Yeye, go take a look. Someone’s smashed Cai-ger’s head open!” 

Jin Tang’s face blanched, and his soul seemed to have fled in an instant. The hand clutching his sleeve loosened, and the wide satin sleeve dropped into the inkwell where it was stained black.

Supported by eunuchs on both sides, he staggered to the door of Zhang Cai’s room. When he pushed it open, Yishiha stood up from the bed. Jin Tang’s expression froze as soon as he saw him, and he stretched out a hand with the palm facing upwards. 

A fire-tender stepped into the room and took out a feather duster from a thin-necked vase, placing it deferentially into Jin Tang’s hand. Grabbing the duster by its feathered end, he rushed forward and struck Yishiha a few dozen times on end. Only after he had exhausted himself did he throw it onto the ground, yelling, “Get lost!”

Yishiha kept his head down as he muttered, “The north of the city is in chaos.” 

Jin Tang’s cheek twitched. “Noted.” 

Yishiha turned his head away and went outside. Once he had left, Jin Tang kicked the feather duster away and shouted angrily, “Never allow that Jurchen into this room again!” 

“Ge9,” Zhang Cai woke up and called out to him softly. 

Jin Tang hurried over, grasping his little hand, but he could not bring himself to look up at Zhang Cai’s injury; the sight of the rag wrapped around his head as a makeshift bandage and the trail of dried bloodstains almost brought tears to his eyes. “I told you to not go, not go, but you just wouldn’t listen to me!” 

Zhang Cai did not speak, but as his little hand traced circles on Jin Tang’s palm, Jin Tang’s heart softened. 

“I just wanted to go and have a look.” Zhang Cai pouted like a petulant child. “I was scared that they’d bully him.” 

Jin Tang replied helplessly, “Who can bully someone his size?” 

“They make life difficult for him because we’re together.” 

Jin Tang exploded in anger. “What do you mean, you’re ‘together’? Do you know what it means to be together?” 

Zhang Cai pursed his lips and began to cry. “It means that I think of him and he thinks of me. That kind of ‘together’.”

Jing Tang stroked his hair and wiped away his tears. Zhang Cai buried his face into the blankets. “It really hurts, ge.” 

Jing Tang sighed. “Just think of Gansu, and it won’t hurt anymore.” 

Zhang Cai closed his eyes and nodded. That was right — think of Gansu, the yellow sand that stretched into the horizon, the pools of blood, the fallen warhorses, the corpses that burned until they burst open… Jin Tang knew he was remembering those things. He tightened his hold on Zhang Cai’s hand. “Cai-a10, Yishiha follows the Annan crowd. He isn’t one of us.”

Zhang Cai grumbled, “He doesn’t want to follow the Annan crowd — it’s just that you don’t want him.” 

“He’s a Jurchen. Why should I want him?” 

“Then why does Ruan Dian want him…” Zhang Cai said quietly. “They all say that… Ruan Dian is more generous than you.” 

Jin Tang hated nothing more than to hear that Ruan Dian was better at something than him, and his beautifully delicate face hardened in an instant. “Yishiha doesn’t study and can’t read; how do you expect me to think highly of him?” His manner had frozen over along with his voice, and he turned away angrily. “His nature is only suited to fighting and killing with that Annan gang!”

Zhang Cai tugged lightly on his clothing, but Jin Tang ignored him. Undeterred, Zhang Cai said, “Ge, the Annan crowd are always looking to one-up us — I know you don’t have it easy.”

Jing Tang’s gaze softened again, and he patted Zhang Cai’s hand comfortingly. “Remember, never, ever put your life on the line for someone else, no matter how much you care for them.” 

Zhang Cai lowered his eyes and only replied after a long while had passed “Yishiha would never do that.”

Jing Tang laughed coldly. “Stupid child!” 

He stood up to leave, but Zhang Cai clung to him. “Ge, Ruan Dian and his cronies made people pay.” 

Jin Tang was not surprised at all;he only nodded and said that he understood. Then, his gaze swept inadvertently over the fabric bandaging Zhang Cai’s head. It was the lower hem of a man’s inner robe, made of a very rough fabric that eunuchs would never use. “Who bandaged your head?” 

“Don’t know,” Zhang Cai replied sleepily. “Yishiha said he was an official.” 

“An official?” Jin Tang did not believe him. 

“A minor official,” Zhang Cai said. “Yishiha saw him before but doesn’t know his name. He’s new to Nanjing.” 

Jin Tang tucked him into the blanket like a gentle mother. “Be good and go to sleep.” 

Xie Yilu had injured his hand, and most of his left arm and leg could not move either. The civilians held nothing back this time, even taking up their rakes and hoes, but the Imperial Weaving Bureau pulled out their shackles. Although the crowd quietened down as soon as the arrests began, Xie Yilu knew that this was only the calm before the storm; he feared that violent waves would await them in the future. 

Evening had fallen by the time he arrived at Lingfu Temple. The stone lantern stand appeared empty at first glance, but he reached in stubbornly and was rewarded with a small, narrow-faced and thin-handled bamboo fan. Unfurling it slowly, he saw that one face was painted with boneless11 plum blossoms in the folded paper style while the other side had four golden characters written in Liu12 calligraphy: 汝作舟楫13. 

“Thou art…the boat and oar14?”  Shocked, Xie Yilu repeated the words aloud. This message was unlike all others of the past; it was no sentimental verse by one with too much time on their hands, but rather more like a revelation of one’s true feelings. It gave Xie Yilu the impression that his pen-friend might have encountered some difficulties in life and that he had become like the boat in the lake of his heart, carrying him across the woes of Xiaoyao Ford15 and into the bliss of the joyful realm. 

I want to see him! Xie Yilu’s thoughts had never been  so torturously captivated by one person like this before, and he wanted nothing more than to see his friend at that exact moment. A verse came to his mind, but without a brush and paper, it could only linger searingly in his mind. He wanted to ask: “Long have we known each other in dreams, might we meet now in the mortal dust16?” 

This chapter doesn’t introduce any new agencies or titles so I’ll use this opportunity to discuss the Imperial Weaving Bureau.

As its name suggests, the Bureau was a state-owned textile manufacturer. The production of silk has been heavily nationalised industry for much of Imperial China and it was consistently one of China’s largest export goods. During Ming, silk continued to be exported via the maritime silk road. The Imperial Weaving Bureau was therefore tasked with manufacturing the vast quantities demanded by Western buyers. Moreover, it also supplied the Imperial court with textiles, including specialty ones like those used to make dragon, serpent, douniu and flying fish robes. Thus its importance, wealth and status were much higher than its name might imply.

Having said that, I am yet to find any record of a Eunuch Superintendent of the Bureau who was politically powerful and internet resources discussing the Bureau are rare. A part of me feels like the author’s choice to portray the Bureau as she does is due to the influence of the TV series Ming Dynasty 1566, in which the iconic character of Yang Jinshui served as the politically shrewd and morally ambiguous Eunuch Superintendent of the Imperial Weaving Bureau in Hangzhou.

As a final note, I have updated my translation of 锦衣卫 from “Embroidered Uniform Guard” to “Brocade Uniform Guard” to be more consistent with the silk textiles translations given by the China National Silk Museum. I have updated Chapter 2’s Translator Notes to reflect this and changed all instances of the term to the new translation.

1.  哥儿, a form of respectful address for boys from noble families. 

2. 叶子, literally “leaf”. The name for cards used in a card game called 叶子戏 that was very popular during Ming. 

3. 金刚, the Chinese term for Sanskrit “vajra”. A legendary and ritual weapon in Buddhism (especially Vajrayana), Hinduism and Jainism. Symbolises the indestructibility of the diamond and the irresistible force of the lightning bolt. 

4. 护法, the Chinese term for Sanskrit “dharmapala”, literally “dharma protector”. A type of wrathful deity in Buddhism who protects the dharma (roughly can be understood as ‘justice’). [

5. 活菩萨, epithet for someone who is compassionate for the needy and suffering. [

6. 宣纸, a type of high-quality rice paper. 

7. 《大宝箴》, originally an admonition presented to Emperor Taizu of Tang by Zhang Yungu (张蕴古) who hoped that Taizu might accept his criticisms and become a wiser ruler. Later in Ming, Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng wrote an annotated version called《大宝箴注解》, which his pupil, the then 14 year-old Emperor Wanli copied to practise his calligraphy. Source. [

8. 闲章, a seal usually inscribed with poetry or verse, used for artistic purposes on creative works. 

9. 哥, elder brother. 

10. The -a suffix is a familiar ending added to names in Korean. It is used by two people of the same social standing who are close to each other, or by an adult/parent to a child. I don’t know Korean so this is only what I found through research. 

11. 无骨, a technique in Chinese painting that paints directly with coloured ink rather than first drawing an outline and then colouring inside. Visual reference. 

12. 柳体, the calligraphy style of Tang Dynasty calligrapher Liu Gongquan (柳公权, 778-865). Liu was considered 1 of the 4 masters of the regular script (楷书). Visual reference. 

13. From《古文尚书·说命》. 

14. Chinese has many dated or literary second-person pronouns like 尔, 汝, 君. This phrase is a callback to the earlier 尔惟盐梅 (Thou art the salt and plumb), which uses 尔 to mean ‘you’ but here 汝 is used. Since English only has ‘thou’, I have no choice but to use it every time. 

15. 逍遥津, the site of a battle in 215 where Sun Quan and his Wu forces were defeated by the Wei force led by Zhang Liao and barely escaped. 

16. 红尘, refers to the real world.