A courtier with a thin beard and thinner patience stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing just short of accusing Ren of insolence. "We cannot ignore a seed of rebellion simply because it isn't aimed at us yet. The general takes too narrow a view. Law that comes from below today may question Heaven tomorrow."
"Let Heaven answer," someone muttered at the back. It might have been the Emperor. It might have been the wind.
Ren stayed silent.
"You would have me refuse Zhang's invitation," the Emperor said. "Decline to help him tidy his embarrassing frontier."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Ren said. "For now. Let him spend his ink and his soldiers against a stone that refuses to crack. We will watch. We will learn which blows work."
"And Haojin?" the Emperor asked. "A town that straddles our river. Their law-house sits half in our shadow, half in Qi's."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Your Majesty will have Du Yan's full report soon," he said. "My scouts say he enforced Zhang's order with as light a hand as duty allowed."
"Your Du Yan walks your Road more than Qi's, then," the Emperor observed. "Perhaps that is another experiment I did not authorize."
The bearded courtier cleared his throat again. "If we do nothing, we appear weak," he said. "Qi will think us uninterested in order. Our own nobles will whisper that the Emperor fears a barefoot girl more than an armored regent."
The Emperor's gaze did not leave Ren's face.
"Let them whisper," he said. "I have been called worse enemies than law."
He lifted the scroll and rolled it in, Zhang's words disappearing into a neat cylinder.
"We will send a reply," he said. "Diplomatic. Regretful. We will express concern about any 'unregulated armed groups' along our shared border. We will praise Zhang's vigilance. We will not commit troops."
The bearded courtier's mouth flattened.
"Your Majesty," he said, "if you will not send soldiers, at least send an edict. Name Yong'an 'under observation.' Warn our border people that anyone dealing with their law-houses does so at their own risk. Gossip alone could be a leash."
Ren fought the urge to step between the words and the throne.
The Emperor looked east again, toward a sky that held no visible city.
"Ren Kanyu," he said. "Has Yong'an harmed our people?"
"No, Your Majesty," Ren said. "They've weighed fish, settled quarrels, and kept Zhang's patrols honest at two ferry crossings."
"Have they sworn by Xia?" the Emperor asked.
"No," Ren said. "They swear by their Road. And by their own sore backs."
"Then," the Emperor said, "they are not yet ours to bless or curse."
He turned, robe whispering.
"This is my decree," he said, voice carrying like a careful blade. "Xia will not march on Yong'an. We will not call them rebel. We will not call them ally. Our border generals will defend our villages, not other men's pride."
Murmurs rose, shocked, approving, outraged, depending on which pocket they came from.
The bearded courtier tried again. "But, Your Majesty—"
The Emperor lifted a hand. The hall obeyed.
"We will, however," he went on, "watch. Closely. I want a list of every town where their so-called Road has put down a foot on our side. I want to know which of our merchants pay their scales, which of our petty lords curse their tablets, which of our officers drink in halls that bear their sparrow."
His gaze fell back to Ren.
"You will send me those names," he said.
Ren bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"And Ren Kanyu," the Emperor added, softer. "If you discover that their law gives my people bread where mine has given them hunger, you will tell me that too."
Ren's breath stopped for a beat.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said.
The Emperor flicked a hand in dismissal.
When Ren backed out of the hall, the roofs still felt wrong under his feet. But the stone, just for a moment, had seemed willing to listen.