Silence walked between them for a few paces.
At last, the Emperor nodded.
"Very well," he said. "We will not march on Yong'an. We will not call the Road City rebel in our edicts. We will say: these are foreign customs in border villages. They are to be watched, not imitated, unless they make grain flow more steadily."
He looked at Ren.
"You will go to the border," he said. "Reed Mouth. Reed Mouth's neighbors. Any place with a sparrow on the wall and our banner over the storehouse. You will tell the local officers: if Qi comes waving decrees and shouting 'bandit,' they are to listen politely and then decline to join any 'correction' that spills onto our soil. In return, those halls will pay their taxes and keep their own streets quiet."
Ren bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"And, Ren Kanyu," the Emperor added, softer, "if, in watching this Road, you begin to think its law feeds my people better than my own, you will tell me. Even if I am tired of hearing it."
Ren's throat tightened for a beat. "I will," he said.
The Emperor flicked a drop of water off the rail.
"I am too old to be offended by my own provinces doing better without my supervision," he said dryly. "Go. Before the cranes decide you look like a fish."
—
Reed Mouth had grown new tiles since Ren's last visit.
The first sparrow still watched over the tavern door, its scratched wings crooked. Beside it now hung Shuye's copied board: UNDER ROAD CITY LAW, with its neat list. Beneath that, on a newer plank, someone had added in clumsier strokes: NO COLLECTOR EATS FREE.
Aunt Cao caught Ren's eye as he ducked under the low beam. "You again," she said. "Last time you brought fog. This time?"
"Instructions," he said. "And a question."
She snorted. "Sit. My knees answer questions better when my hands are busy."
He sat at the end of the bench. The tavern was full but not noisy; people drank with one ear turned to the door now.
Ren laid his official seal on the table, face down. Aunt Cao eyed it, unimpressed.
"Zhang has changed his tune," Ren said, straightforward. "No more grain for those who tear down sparrows. Only punishment for those who leave them up. Word is already walking this road."
A fisherman cursed under his breath. "We knew it was too sweet," he muttered.
Aunt Cao sniffed. "He waves carrots, then sticks," she said. "Kings always have both. What does your wolf bring?"
Ren absorbed the casual your without flinching.
"The Emperor of Xia says this," he said. "Any village on our side of the river that hangs the sparrow and pays his tax will not be called rebel in our halls. If Qi comes with ropes and edicts, our captains will defend our border, not help them carry you away."
The murmurs around them sharpened.
"Why?" someone demanded. "What does he want?"
Ren looked at Aunt Cao, then at the others.
"He wants full granaries," he said. "And fewer riots. He thinks your little tiles make both more likely." He let a flicker of dry humor show. "He also thinks a tired regent in Qi wasting soldiers on chasing wood is good for us."
Aunt Cao barked a laugh. "Honest, at least," she said. "I can live with being someone's useful accident."
"Understand," Ren added, "this is not charity. If you hang the sparrow and cry 'Road City' to cheat our tax or shelter bandits, we will come. With law of our own."
"And if we hang it and obey both sets of numbers?" the young woman who'd questioned the proclamation last time asked. "Whose law wins when they fight?"
Ren did not pretend to have a clean answer.
"Yours," he said. "If you keep it sharp. If your tablets make it easier for my officers to keep the peace, they will learn to like them, whatever they say in the barracks. If your law gets in the way, they'll push back."
"And you?" Aunt Cao asked. "Where do you stand when law and law bang heads?"
"On the bridge," Ren said. "Trying to keep it from breaking."
She studied him, then nodded slowly.
"That's a fool's job," she said. "Good. We need more fools."
He smiled despite himself.
Outside, in the square, his aide was already speaking quietly with the local militia head, explaining the Emperor's instruction: no participation in Qi "corrections"; no handing over of villagers for having tiles on their walls. Protect our own roads first. Let Qi clean its own houses.
Later, as Ren walked down to the river, he saw the sign at the ford had changed. Once it had only shown the depth and the ferry price. Now, someone had scratched:
UNDER ROAD CITY AND XIA PEACE: NO BEATING WITHOUT WITNESS. NO TAX WITHOUT RECORD.
He paused.
"Brave," his aide said under his breath.
"Practical," Ren replied. "If my Emperor's seal means anything, let it mean something here first."
He drew his brush and, beneath the scratched characters, added a line in his own neat hand:
ANY DISPUTE AT THIS CROSSING WILL BE HEARD UNDER BOTH LAWS. SIGNED: GENERAL REN KANYU, BY ORDER OF HIS MAJESTY OF XIA.
His aide stared. "Now Zhang will really call them traitors," he said.
"He already does," Ren said. "This only makes our side of the road less confused."
He stepped back. The river slid past, uninterested, but the farmers waiting with their carts read the new line three times.
"Two laws," one murmured. "Maybe we can hide in the cracks between."
"Or build in them," another said.
Ren let the words sit.
When he rode back toward Bai'an, the fog had lifted a little. In his sleeve, a fresh pigeon silk rustled: Aunt Cao's rough thanks and a promise that if any Xia officer tried to eat free in her hall under the sparrow, she'd smack him with her ladle under witness and cite both sets of rules.
He found that he looked forward to seeing which of his captains would dare test her.
The Road City was no longer just a rumor from the Qi side. Its tiles hung on his Emperor's soil now, under a sky that was very much not theirs.
If Ziyan ever decided to call herself something more than Speaker, if she ever decided her Road was more than an irritant, she would find that Xia had already given it a small, grudging space to breathe.
Cracks everywhere, Ren thought. In edicts, in loyalties, in old stones.
All anyone like him could do was decide which way to widen them.