At the first trill of morning birdsong from the trees, Shan emerged from his study. Draped in his usual white changshan, the young scholar stepped into the courtyard. He was met by Mayumi, who had just emerged from her quarters with a posture of subtle fatigue.
"Morning, Shan," she said, striving to mask the exhaustion in her voice. Yet the dark crescents under her eyes revealed the truth with merciless clarity.
"Morning," the scholar replied, brushing past her without inquiry. He gave no thought to it, as his mind was preoccupied with tidings from a particular client, the Gan Jin patriarch.
Though not yet formally inducted into the city's administration, Shan was already enmeshed in the patrimonial intricacies of the Upper Ring gentry. Across centuries, alliances such as the marriage of the Ganjinese heir to Lady Qian Jin were not merely ceremonial, they served to stabilize tenuous relations among the city's influential households. But beneath the veneer of propriety, these unions functioned as strategic instruments. It can bind wandering generals and scholars, talents coveted by independent warring states to their own banner, securing them from the enticements of rivals.
Shan savored a moment with a steaming cup of tea beside the stone table, the aroma rising like a silent prelude. He paused thoughtfully before addressing the one who had brewed it.
"What do you make of Lady Qian Jin?" he asked unexpectedly. "Do you think this alliance between two pillars of the Upper Ring will come to fruition? After all, we have had no small hand in shaping its course."
It was peculiar, even daring for a man of such scholarly refinement to discuss politics with a person of modest upbringing. Mayumi only noted with quiet acknowledgment, mainly about overprotective shadow that cloaked Lady Qian Jin behind the high walls of her estate.
"Such is the fate of many noblewomen in the Upper Ring," Shan said, a rare moment of melancholy softening his usually impassive tone. "Even if this strategic marriage grants her freedom from one confinement, it merely trades one set of walls for another, no less gilded."
Mayumi, though unversed in the subtleties of aristocratic life, was not blind to the constraints imposed on women of the gentry. Born outside luxury, she nonetheless understood that across most Earth Kingdom societies, tradition demands women to remain largely sequestered within their households, their audacity to traverse the markets entrusted to servants.
"General Sun Bin is a member of the Council of Five. As with many generals or bureaucrats poached from other states, he faces fewer constraints here. The possibility of their defection or relocation cannot be dismissed entirely." Shan explained the history of this particular individual, elaborating why Lady Qian Jin is so sheltered from the world. "The general himself is crippled, kneecaps shattered by false accusations, or so the records claim. Yet, through a painstaking and excruciating climb, he attained high office. I respect his perseverance. I understand why he seeks to safeguard his daughter. Although, there is a reason why it is Lady Te Gaogui who is respected for beauty and intellect."
Yet Mayumi harbored another question, one that lingered at the edge of her curiosity. Why is Shan so preoccupied with this particular union?
"I know you disdain the petty charades of these prominent families," she asked. "But why do you involve yourself in their affairs?"
Shan's expression hardened. He held the Upper Ring clans in disdain, yet public appearances demand a careful diplomacy. The city thrived on these subtle hierarchies, and as a Zhuangyuan, he could scorn some families and mock others within the limits of propriety.
"Yours truly is hardly in the business of sustaining their existence, if you can even grasp my meaning. My abilities far outweigh the need to compensate for a scion's mediocrity, yet the will of my mentor remains inviolate." He moved to the table, pouring himself another cup of tea with deliberate calm. "Unlike the bulk of the scholarly gentry or those sanctimonious Earth Sages, I am not a curator of family lineages. What I do now is nothing more than my response to an environment dominated by patrimonial clans. To me, an aspiring servant of the state must discharge their duties faithfully, uncorrupted by personal ties or selfish ambition. As I told your sister, the Earth Kingdom is shackled by patrimonialism, which suffocates any hope for a truly meritocratic order. Across the continent, most states elevate leaders through kinship rather than candidates with good records. I simply make do with the materials at hand." He paused, his expression tightening as thoughts turned to the greatest obstacle to his vision. "The entrenched lineages of the Upper Ring cannot be dismantled overnight, at least in the eyes of my mentor. It may take years, perhaps generations to erode their hold on governance entirely." The White Scholar then remembered one particular thorn that must be removed sooner or later." The Ximen family alone has members who ensnared many positions in the city's bureaucracy. Even those unaccustomed with the delicate ways of governance would understand such people who naturally harbor conflicting loyalties stood the state and family come into conflict."
"But isn't the Keju meant to prevent this very problem?" Mayumi asked. "Selecting individuals based on merit rather than lineage, that is the very essence of the civil service examination."
Shan conceded the truth of her observations, yet emphasized further. Officials, bureaucrats and generals are still unfortunately humans, burdened with fallible traits that Legalist scholars long condemned as liabilities. Inevitably, the web of clan patrimonialism seeps into their ranks, bending loyalties away from the state and toward family interests.
"I cannot overstate the number of dynasties undone by civil servants whose loyalties bent not to the state, but to clan and kin. Personal ambition, avarice, and the hollow pageantry of courts claiming to be incorruptible have toppled more kingdoms than invading armies ever did." Shan allowed his legalist leanings to surface, envisioning a realm purged of hereditary ties in governance. "The Keju's greatest flaw lies in its blindness to the gentry's inherited advantage. The wealthy can purchase tutors and refinement, while the farmer's son, bound to his fields, seldom has such fortune. How then can the common people hope to rise as civil servants? Worse still, the system can still foster officials who betray the very state they serve. I suspect much of this eludes your comprehension."
Mayumi felt an urge to fully proclaim her awareness but checked her tongue. To do so would unravel the fragile illusion of illiteracy she had so carefully cultivated, drawing eyes she did not want upon her. Nevertheless, even some of her humble station knew the truth, corruption can gnaw and meddle at every institution, even the military. A brilliant general could be undone not by the enemy's blade but by the treachery of supposed allies in the court. History teems with monarchs who exalted venal courtiers while condemning their finest commanders to death, damning their kingdoms through folly dressed as policy.
"Shan, people will always care more for their family than for the state," Mayumi countered softly. "It is... natural."
"Of course, but self-interest eclipses even blood," said the White Scholar while seated on the stone chair. "I believe when conditions allow, people betray kin as readily as they betray kings. Incentive, not sentiment, governs all."
Mayumi fell silent. In a land that had for millennia exalted the sagely virtues, Legalism is a rare and often frowned upon philosophy. This iron school of thought, endorsed by some despots, had long stood in opposition to the genteel gentry and Earth Sages who likened ideal governance to the harmony of a family. Shan was fortunate that his profession and circumstances excused his audacity. His calligraphy, an art sought after by Upper Ring households with coin enough to pay for beauty, shielded him from too much scorn.
Even so, he trod carefully. The city's bureaucracy still bristled with scions of influential houses, and navigating their intrigues demanded finesse. Though the Zhuangyuan busied himself facilitating a marriage alliance between two great families at his mentor's behest, he found no joy in the perfumed game of flattery and entanglement.
A sharp pounding at the siheyuan's doors cut through their quiet discourse. The knockers clanged insistently, lacking all subtlety.
Shan merely lifted his head, as though long expecting the interruption.
"At last," he muttered without relish.
"Is anyone within?" came a youthful voice. "I bear tidings from the Gan Jin patriarch!"
Shan's gaze narrowed to a blade's edge. Even Mayumi knew that the messenger's brashness was ill-suited to the Upper Ring, where gossip traveled faster than fire through paper.
She moved to the double doors and pulled them open. A young man stood clad in white and gold, unmistakable colors of the Gan Jin Tribe. Immaculate and composed, he bore the polished manner of a clansman entrusted with his patriarch's word.
Shan, still seated upon his stone chair, sipped his tea as if the moment held no weight. In his private vision of statecraft, generals and ministers would anchor themselves to Ba Sing Se with loyalty secured not by empty courtesies or arranged marriages, but by fair recompense and duty. Yet the world he knew now seldom dealt in such simplicity.
Mayumi took her place beside him as the messenger came into the courtyard bowed, initiating the ritualized exchange that prefaced the delivery of invitations. In this custom of garnering participants, emissaries would be personally sent to the home of recipients, demonstrating respect and sincerity.
"Greetings, White Scholar," the young man began with formality. "I come bearing the words of our esteemed patriarch."
"Spare me the ornaments," Shan replied, his voice edged with impatience. "I mean no discourtesy to your elder. But please, let us not linger, unravel the news."
"V-very well, then," the young Ganjinese said, taking no offense. "I come bearing most auspicious news. Our Young Master Gong Zi shall wed the esteemed Lady Qian Jin, daughter of General Sun Bin. The Patriarch will host a grand ceremony at his estate and has cordially invited you to attend and partake in the celebration. Your presence would, without doubt, render this joyous occasion all the more distinguished."
The attendance of a young but accomplished scholar could also augment the wedding's prestige, particularly since Shan is a figure of considerable renown, the city's latest Zhuangyuan scholar. Along with other important guests, his presence would lend undeniable legitimacy to this event in the eyes of the aristocracy.
Alternatively, perhaps the Gan Jin patriarch simply believed it would be improper if the very individual responsible for securing his son's match were absent. Such an omission might offend the White Scholar's far more influential mentor, who is very likely to be invited.
Mayumi observed as Shan leisurely finished his tea. He drained the cup to the last drop, then rose with measured grace, hands folded behind his back.
"You have rehearsed your lines well," Shan remarked flatly, relieved that an unpleasant duty had concluded. "Convey to your esteemed patriarch that I accept his invitation."
The young Ganjinese's gaze flicked momentarily to Mayumi's attire. The poorly mended fabric, its haphazard stitching and its ill-chosen green hue were an affront to any who valued propriety.
"This bodyguard will accompany me for my safety," Shan added firmly. "I trust neither you nor your patriarch will object."
Though outwardly a harmless scholar who doesn't even hold a knife, Shan's gaze coneys otherwise. Even the young Ganjinese, accustomed to his own social superiority, would not contest such a display. In Upper Ring, it was common for citizens, particularly those of some standing, to hire personal protectors or private guards for leisurely outings. A scholar might wield words like swords, but in matters of physical confrontation, they are woefully unarmed compared to those trained in martial skill.
"N-no! Not at all, White Scholar!" The messenger stammered, though his discomfort regarding Mayumi's tattered attire was palpable. "I will relay this immediately to our patriarch."
Mayumi escorted him to the exit. Once the ordeal concluded, she returned with a pressing question.
"Did he leave a letter? It would be useful to know precisely when the wedding will occur." Her eyes swept the courtyard. Shan had managed to repair the disorder wrought by Jin Lian, though the Gan Jin messenger's memory remained unreliable.
"No need to fetch him," Shan sighed, pouring another cup for himself. "I suspect this obligatory nuptial will take place within a week or two. But if that messenger forgets, I can just avoid attending by using this oversight as an acceptable excuse."
He elaborated on a particular custom among the aristocracy throughout the Earth Kingdom. When hosting an auspicious event, a host would often send a messenger multiple times to the invitee's residence, a gesture considered a mark of sincerity.
"There will also be numerous officials present, particularly those with close ties to the Gan Jin patriarch and the family of General Sun Bin. I do not anticipate any unexpected commotion. But if I am required to be there, your presence will also be essential should any disruption threaten my safety."