Surviving the Succession (A Transmigration Fantasy)

Character Index

Chuluo: Khagan of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Kulun: Chuluo's spymaster, holds the rank of tarkhan.

Zhou Yunqi: Emperor of the Wu.

Zhou Chenqian: Kuang's young son, seen as the heir-apparent due to Yunqi's lack of offspring.

Zhou Xianchun: Archduke of the Wu.

Halime: The Royal Consort, Princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Ashina: Princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate, personal name is Ibilga.

Han Wan'er: Han Daizhi's orphaned niece.

Lin Qinyao: Han Daizhi's wife.

Han Daizhi: Informal head of the Shandong bloc within the Traditionalists.

Zhang Dingyong: Minister of Justice.

Sun Ruhui: Right Secretariat of Justice. Formerly Kayla's advisor.

Jiang She: An official of the Shandong bloc.

Lord Cui: Head of the aristocrats within the Traditionalists.

Zhu Simo: Right Secretariat of Revenue, member of the Shandong bloc.

Yang Lihua: A young laundry maid in Xianchun's household.

Investigator Lin: An Imperial Investigator.

Yu Bianfu: Archduchess, formerly Xianchun's childhood friend.

Empress An: Yunqi's Empress, a young woman of twenty-three.

Qiu Jinwei: Yunqi's advisor of many years.

Investigator Liao: An Imperial Investigator.

Chen Caichun: Director within the Court of Judicial Review, Kayla's advisor and Chen Jian's younger sister.

Chuluo read through the report before him, not even glancing up as a tall man entered the room with lithe footsteps.

"Speak," Chuluo ordered when Kulun remained silent.

"My liege," Kulun greeted him. "There is a new report from the South. As of three days ago, the Wu palace has been placed under lockdown. Our latest reports suggest that it is ongoing."

Chuluo nonchalantly opened the rest of the scroll with a flick of his wrist, listening on with disinterest.

"Again? This new son-in-law of mine would certainly be a disappointment if I can only get three years' use out of him," Chuluo commented.

"We have no reason to believe the Wu Emperor is in any form of danger," Kulun reported. "No measures were taken to secure Prince Chenqian in the east, and while there was a disturbance at Archduke Xianchun's household, his security levels remained unchanged. That does not match the course of action we have predicted for the event of the Wu Emperor's death."

Needless to say, Kulun was referring to the scenario in which Yunqi died but Wenyuan did not, Chuluo noted with a small degree of annoyance. It would be vastly preferable to Chuluo that if one of his sons-in-law were to die, the other would obligingly drop dead as well.

"Any word of what's happening inside the palace?"

His loyal tarkhan seemed to sense Chuluo's subtle irritation, well-hidden as it was, and adjusted his tone accordingly.

"Our people in the palace haven't sent any word. Most likely they are unable to get a message out," Kulun reported. "Our spies in the capital also have little to report on the situation, since not even the Wu officials know what is going on."

He paused for a moment. "However, it is unlikely to be a severe crisis, given that Duke Zhao has been in and out of his household and moreover has ceased going to the Court of Judicial Affairs. Though the princess received a report separately from one of the Duke's retainers, there hasn't been any word from our eyes and ears as to what has happened. Though the princess received a report separately from one of the Duke's retainers, there hasn't been any word from our eyes and ears as to what has happened."

Chuluo gave a single nod of acknowledgement, not at all reacting to his daughter's defiance. She was a mother now and had her own children to think of. He had expected this much when he'd sent Ibilga off into a foreign land at the young age of nineteen.

But she still knew her homeland. Ibilga hadn't removed the spies around her, tacitly permitting them to continue.

"What of Halime?" Chuluo asked.

"I'm afraid we have no word from her either," Kulun replied.

Finally, Chuluo set down his scroll, lifting his gaze to the ceiling with a troubled look in his eyes. Halime was of a more delicate bearing than Ashina–that had always worried him. If not for the fact that she had been the oldest among the most politically-suitable choices, he wouldn't have liked to marry her into such danger.

Her life was like a flickering candle in the wind, that he knew. Chuluo could only hope that whatever crisis was at hand did not involve her. It was easy enough to send her into the Wu, but much more difficult to get her out alive.

That had been included in the calculations from the start. If Halime was divorced or killed, it would eventually become the perfect excuse for Chuluo. Expedient enough for sure, but which father wished to bury his own child? And yet Chuluo was determined that he would bury them all rather than let his nation fall into ruin.

He mulled over the strange report, coldly flicking through his mental files on the Wu.

"Another internal conflict, is it?" Chuluo asked.

"Most likely so, great Khagan."

Chuluo couldn't help but shake his head at that.

"You can expect as much from the Han people," he remarked. "If nothing else, we can trust them to be tearing at each other's throats right until the very end."

"All the better for us then, is it not?" Kulun asked.

In lieu of a reply, Chuluo smiled .

It was well past sunset by the time Han Daizhi returned to his household, but his wife Lin Qinyao had insisted on waiting till he was home for dinner. Han Wan'er was miserably hungry and received her uncle with so much relief that he was almost touched at the display of affection.

In truth, she needed him to hurry the hell up. Sure, he was home now, but Han Daizhi still needed to change out of his official robes, aided by his wife since he couldn't afford a servant, then wash his face and hands with a somberness that was mostly to impress said wife.

After all that, which would take another ten minutes at the very least, he would still need to sit down at the head of the table and have tea first. Tea. Why did he want tea this late at night anyways? Han Wan'er felt a strange impulse to send the table flying across the room, but held it back. She was on the second day of her monthly bleeding when the pain was the worst, and in the mood to devour an entire cow by herself–the fact that Han Daizhi seemed so intent on thwarting her was made all the more unforgivable. He didn't know, of course, or he would be a lot more embarrassed. But he would also hurry up.

Yet Lin Qinyao had forbidden Han Wan'er to make any mention of her menstrual cycle to her uncle or to any other man. It was as if the knowledge of her bleeding would somehow breach their honor and dignity when going to whorehouses did not.

Still, Han Wan'er dutifully poured out her uncle's tea. He was lording over the table now since he didn't really have much else to lord over, and speaking about the court and the state of the country with a loftiness she found obnoxious.

"But only the heavens know what's going on in the palace," Han Daizhi was grumbling now, talking more to himself than to them. "Duke Zhao thinks he can cover the sky with one hand!" He didn't expect his womenfolk to understand, just to sympathize with his troubles.

Her aunt was doing just that at the moment, making soft sounds of sympathy with a worried look on her face.

"Why do you think Duke Zhao is involved?" Han Wan'er asked.

"Why? Well, he hasn't been at the Court of Judicial Review, and he's been in and out of the palace repeatedly," Han Daizhi said. "Even if he isn't behind this, he knows what's going on. The rest of us don't even know if the Emperor's still alive!"

He didn't believe that and had said it for dramatic effect, but Han Wan'er didn't think her aunt could tell. Or Lin Qinyao was just really good at pretending.

A thought occurred to her and was halfway out of her mouth before Han Wan'er remembered to withhold it, but it was too late by then. Hunger and the pain in her lower abdomen had sawed through her usual caution.

"Might it have to do with the Royal Consort then?"

Han Daizhi set down the cup he had lifted, and his wife fell silent. Han Wan'er twisted with discomfort as he leveled her with a thoughtful look.

"With the Royal Consort?" He prodded.

Han Wan'er reluctantly gave her answer, already regretting it. She had wanted to use it for leverage, but what was the point of it now? It wasn't as though she had any way to leverage it in the first place.

"I mean, he's the Royal Consort's brother-in-law," Han Wan'er said. "That might be why he's involved? The Royal Consort is a Turkish princess after all. If she got into trouble or something, they wouldn't want to pursue it, would they?"

Han Daizhi nodded, as if mulling it over.

"Well, Wan'er, that's a very interesting thought. You really are a clever girl, aren't you? But I don't think that's the case here," he said.

"No?" Han Wan'er asked in disappointment.

"Probably not," he said firmly. "But you've done very well to try and think this through on your own."

Lin Qinyao hastily pushed the bowl and chopsticks set before Han Daizhi closer to him.

"Very well, very well indeed," she said. "Now let's eat, shall we? You must be starving."

"Oh, I'm alright," Han Daizhi replied.

"The food is getting cold," Lin Qinyao said, shooting Han Wan'er a warning look before the girl could make a snide remark. "Wan'er, put the teapot down and come sit!"

Han Wan'er dutifully obeyed, but it didn't slip her notice that though he had dismissed her suggestion right away, her uncle was eating slower than usual.

Zhang Dingyong glanced up as a familiar face approached his resting spot under a willow tree. His first, instinctive reaction of annoyance soon faded–he had expected Sun Ruhui to come nagging after him again, but thankfully, it was a man of far less moral integrity.

Han Daizhi? Now that was interesting. Why was the brain of the Shandong faction approaching him, a staunch Reformist?

"Minister Zhang," Han Daizhi greeted him with a deep bow.

"Director Han," Zhang Dingyong said in return. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I apologize for disturbing you, Minister. If you would permit it, I would open the door to the mountain," Han Daizhi said.

Zhang Dingyong's smile was genuine. This was going to be fun, even if it wasn't good.

"Go on, I dislike going in circles with my words," Zhang Dingyong blatantly lied.

"Then please pardon me," Han Daizhi said. "Minister, do you know why the palace has been closed to visitors and officials?"

"I wonder," Zhang Dingyong said cryptically.

"The Emperor has not met with any of his officials in three days and there has been no explanation whatsoever," Han Daizhi said. "This is truly a rare occurrence for such a wise ruler, and I cannot help but be worried."

"Oh? None of his officials? But I've heard that Duke Zhao has met with the Emperor," Zhang Dingyong said in faux confusion.

"Of course, but the Duke is also an Imperial in-law," Han Daizhi said.

"And also the Emperor's cousin," Zhang Dingyong reminded him.

"That too. But outside of his family, no one has seen or heard from the Emperor," Han Daizhi said.

"That's all well and fine, but what do you mean by coming to me with this?" Zhang Dingyong asked. "It seems you should have better companions to discuss this with."

He pretended to peer around Han Daizhi to look for the man's Shandong colleagues.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

"Please don't poke fun at this lowly official," Han Daizhi said. "A man of Minister Zhang's wisdom surely understands that our loyalty for the Emperor surpasses any superficial divisions in political stance, no?"

Zhang Dingyong wondered if his smile was widening too much–it wouldn't do to scare Han Daizhi off, for where would he get his fun then?

"Well, it seems that the Bureau has been busy," Zhang Dingyong remarked.

He actually wasn't sure on any of the specifics. He himself hadn't heard from Duke Zhao either, but it was safe to assume that if the Duke was involved, then so was the Bureau.

"What? Is His Majesty in danger?" Han Daizhi asked in alarm.

"I didn't say that," Zhang Dingyong said cryptically.

Han Daizhi sidled closer, eyes narrowing in calculation.

"I humbly request Minister Zhang to part the clouds and reveal the sun for this foolish one," Han Daizhi said, lowering his voice.

"Well, I couldn't just say what it isn't my place to say," Zhang Dingyong said, trying to tease out what this man thought he knew.

But even so, he was surprised at Han Daizhi's answer.

"Then could Minister Zhang confirm if it has to do with the Royal Consort?"

Well then. He could work with that. Zhang Dingyong briefly weighed the possibilities of screwing over the Shandong faction as opposed to getting throttled by Zhao Wenyuan, and threw caution to the wind.

Why not? Even if they were right, they didn't have enough information to do anything with it. And the treaty was still holding strong–Han Daizhi would be the one who suffered from whatever he made of this.

He cast a sidelong glance of amusement at Han Daizhi.

"Well now, you're certainly well-informed for a mere Director," Zhang Dingyong said.

He took in the brief flash of certainty in Han Daizhi's eyes before sidling his glance away to stare into the distance, all while lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I don't think you need to worry about it," Zhang Dingyong said. "You Traditionalists really do worry far too much–the treaty is still safe."

"What do you mean by that?" Han Daizhi prodded.

Zhang Dingyong cast him a frown, allowing an aborted look of horror to dawn over and disappear from his face.

"What–so you haven't–" He cut himself off, pressing his mouth into a grim line.

"I think we're done here," Zhang Dingyong said curtly, trying his best to act the part of a man who had mistakenly said too much.

"Minister Zhang–"

"I said we're done here!"

Han Daizhi resignedly bowed and left, but Zhang Dingyong knew the man was practically vibrating with glee.

Go on and make a mess, Zhang Dingyong thought with a sardonic smile. I'd like to see how you'll wrap this up when you realize the trouble you're in.

He briefly wondered if he should worry about Zhao Wenyuan's reaction, but decided that it was fine. Technically, Zhang Dingyong hadn't even said anything. How could he, when he didn't even know anything? He'd only made a few vague statements that could be misinterpreted–and if Han Daizhi did just that, that wasn't his fault, was it?

A sudden gust of wind violently shook the branches above him, its chill making Zhang Dingyong sneeze. Frowning slightly, he glanced up at the leaves raining down on him, wondering if this was a sign of fortune or misfortune.

Jiang She and Lord Cui listened on with their mouths pressed into narrow lines as Han Daizhi presented his theory. Jiang She resisted the urge to shake his head in despair.

Just a few words from the most infamous troublemaker in the capital, and Han Daizhi was determined to take on the Royal Consort? It was ridiculous. Had his old friend simply run out of patience waiting for Zhao Wenyuan to make a mistake?

"This is too risky," Jiang She said. "We don't have any proof, and we're operating strictly off rumors. We just might end up being sentenced for lese-majeste rather than accomplishing a thing!"

"We don't need to do a thing," Han Daizhi said confidently. "We only need to let the rumors spread, and then use public concern to demand to know what's going on inside the palace. The rest will happen naturally."

"Rumors are a dangerous game," Lord Cui said, thinking of his in-law and old friend Lord He. "It's not as easy to control as you might think, and it might not happen as fast as you would like either. It's been four days now, but I don't see this lasting too much longer–certainly not long enough for this to take effect! I don't want to pursue this until we have evidence."

"Well, that's true," Han Daizhi admitted. He glanced into the distance, squinting slightly and then nodding in satisfaction to himself.

"Frankly, it doesn't really matter if it's true or not. I have the feeling that this will be an excellent opportunity for us–if we miss it, we might not get another one."

"I can't bet my career on your instincts," Lord Cui said curtly.

"Zhu Simo will pursue the issue of the palace being embargoed no matter what," Han Daizhi said after a short pause. "Look, here he comes now–once he hears this, nothing will hold him back."

"Brother Han, don't!" Jiang She pleaded.

"I'm just saying that he will raise a fuss about this no matter what, and there are plenty who would agree. How is it that the officials of the court can be barred from knowing what happens in the palace without any explanation?" Han Daizhi challenged them. "I say we do this. Even if the rumors die down once the lockdown on the palace is lifted, we can simply twist the direction a bit. Maybe the Royal Consort didn't commit a crime and get away with it. But she could have. If we can shape popular opinion towards that direction, it will take root and blossom splendidly, even if it's not right now."

"The Duke has far more hold over public opinion," Lord Cui said flatly. He was very bitter over that fact. While the aristocrats held more sway over the literati, they could never bring themselves to stoop down and pander to the people.

"Not necessarily," Han Daizhi said, not indelicately. If there was anyone here who really wished to seize this chance, it was surely Lord Cui. Why else would the aristocrat be here, conferring with men decades his junior and several ranks beneath him?

"The people revere Zhu Simo. They see him as the last honest man in court. And since Zhu Simo will pursue this no matter what, we will get dragged along as well. If you insist on not making the most of this opportunity, then it can't be helped," Han Daizhi said.

No one had a chance to reply, for Zhu Simo was now within hearing distance.

"Lord Cui," Zhu Simo greeted his ally, nodding at his Shandong colleagues. "Is there still no word from the palace?"

"None at all," Han Daizhi said with feigned disappointment.

"Just how long will this go on?!" Zhu Simo snarled. "This is unacceptable! We do not even know the state of our ruler when it is our duty to serve him!"

That wasn't a terrible angle, Han Daizhi reasoned, and did not interrupt, expecting Zhu Simo to go on. Instead, the man uncharacteristically stopped.

"Where is Duke Zhao?" He asked instead. "We should be demanding answers from him!"

Han Daizhi and Jiang She quickly exchanged alarmed glances.

"Or maybe not," Jiang She hastily intervened. "He's a busy man and outranks us by quite a great deal. Maybe if Lord Cui–"

"No," said Lord Cui, who was determined not to get dragged in. "You are summoning the wind and bringing the rain upon yourselves by doing this. I will have no part in this."

"What does his rank matter?" Zhu Simo asked. "Is he not also subject to Wu law? Is he not a Wu official? Then he should not be interfering with the duty granted to us!"

Lord Cui shook his head, but Han Daizhi watched on with keen interest.

That actually wasn't too bad of an idea. Han Daizhi could never pull it off–nor could anyone else other than Zhu Simo. But the latter had long since established his reputation in the capital as a man who dares to speak the truth. The Emperor couldn't get rid of him without seeming like a ruler who didn't have the forbearance to accept criticism. The people loved him for cursing out the elite on a regular basis.

But even if they loved him, they would never truly support him, not while the reforms brought them wealth. Now things were different. The jealousy that the shock of wealth had suppressed was now festering beneath the gilding, and not just among the people either. Han Daizhi didn't claim to be a man of keen instinct. In that regard, even his young niece was better than him. Yet he could sense the crack in the porcelain that would remain the size of a hair until the moment it completely split open. Whether it was the commoners, the court, or the Emperor, something had built up, something akin to the frenzy of a mob that tore apart a sacrifice.

They needed to seize this chance, for whatever was coming, it was coming at them fast. Even if they gained nothing more from this than to add to Zhu Simo's reputation in preparation for the storm, it would be worth it.

Ignoring Jiang She's silent pleas for help, Han Daizhi nodded encouragingly.

Kayla handed off a stack of files to be archived, another to be incinerated. Pages of dead men and their life stories were carried this way and that, becoming banal records to be stored and destroyed. It was the third analysis she had carried out this month, and there was still no clear pattern to the spies that survived in the Khaganate versus the spies that did not. Her head was dully aching again, even though she'd gotten in a full night's sleep the day before.

She glanced up as an Investigator approached with purpose, his hands empty. Investigator Lin, she noted. A diligent man, he had been tasked with Yang Lihua's background check. It was unlikely, given what Kayla had seen of the girl, but if Lihua really did turn out to be an assassin or spy, it would be a disaster.

Kayla signaled for everyone else to leave, waiting for the office to clear out before nodding for Investigator Lin to approach.

"Director," Investigator Lin greeted her with a sharp bow.

"Investigator Lin, I trust you have what I asked for?"

"Yes sir!"

He dutifully handed over a file, launching into his report.

"The girl's background is clear," Investigator Lin said. "Yang Lihua, age nineteen, from a farming family of good standing from Hebei Province. No notable figures in that family. Her parents died when she was eleven from a plague, along with two of her five siblings. Her eldest sister already married into another farming household of similar circumstance by then and took her in along with another surviving child who later died from dysentery. Her older brother inherited the farmland but couldn't earn the funds to take a wife, and so put Yang Lihua up for selection when the recruiters came around. She was brought to the capital as part of a cohort five years ago at age fourteen, and soon entered the laundry division. She was only transferred to the Archduke's household one year ago as a gift from the Emperor."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes sir."

Well then, the rest was up to Xianchun.

Kayla nodded. "Good. Release her from custody then."

Investigator Lin made to speak but hesitated.

"What is it?" Kayla asked.

He shifted uncomfortably, looking as though he would rather not say anything, but finally mustered his words.

"The Archduchess, my lord," Investigator Lin said awkwardly. "I'm not sure if the girl will…that is, if she will be quite safe."

"Allow me to revise my orders," Kayla said. "Please release her directly into the Archduke's custody."

"Yes sir!"

Kayla waited for him to leave before picking up her communication device and dialing Xianchun. She had expected that with his pride, it would be a while before he picked up, but Xianchun answered the call almost immediately.

Guess he really cares about that girl, Kayla noted. Good thing I didn't fuck this up then.

"Archduke, I hope that all is well with you," Kayla greeted him.

"Wenyuan," Xianchun replied tersely.

"I am happy to inform you that Miss Yang Lihua's background is clear, and we will be releasing her into your custody shortly," Kayla said.

"Good," Xianchun said, sounding almost startled. His voice grew more excited by the second. "Good! Wenyuan, thank you! I won't forget this!"

"I am happy to be of service," Kayla said blandly. "But my lord, please keep in mind that while we are obligated to protect her safety and that of everyone in your household against outside threats, we cannot interfere in your internal family matters. It falls to you to ensure her safety in that regard."

Xianchun was silent for a moment, and when he replied, his voice was stiff.

"Duly noted."

"If I may be so rude as to offer some advice?"

Xianchun was mulishly silent.

"Or rather, please consider it a sincere request from someone who does not want to argue with your wife a second time," Kayla said.

"Bianfu was out of line, but she was well within her rights to be angry," Xianchun said begrudgingly.

Wow, I didn't fucking call you to hear you defend her.

"I completely agree," Kayla said levelly. "I only ask you to be so magnanimous as to have a proper talk with your own wife. There is a limit to how much outsiders like me can intervene, and I've far passed it already. I'm sorry, my lord, but this is the extent of what I can do for you."

"I…" Xianchun trailed off uncomfortably.

Do I need to beg you to handle your own mess?! Kayla briefly entertained the mental image of hitting Xianchun with a metal folding chair before collecting herself.

"Of course, it is not my place to interfere. But please note that Miss Yang currently does not face any external threats, and we cannot overstep the bounds of our duty. Her life and wellbeing is in your hands now," Kayla said.

"I understand," Xianchun said grimly. "You have my thanks for what you've done, Wenyuan. Be assured of that."

She wasn't going to be assured of anything with how much of a mess he was making of things, but Kayla also had done her due diligence. Hell, she'd gone above and beyond in trying to help him, and he couldn't blame her if things went badly, even if he wanted to keep wallowing in his manufactured misery. He could end up fighting to the death with Yu Bianfu and still owe her a favor for this.

Who would win? Military lady or warrior prince?

Kayla reminded herself that she did not actually want either of them dead and turned her attention back to work.

The brief distraction had not done her any good. Her eyes caught upon the personal history of a dead agent, black ink on white paper. It was morosely short, stark in the cruelty hidden behind bland words.

"Hunan native, came to the capital as a famine refugee fourteen years ago. No surviving kin."

He was the last of his line, this faceless profile on her desk, and his family was completely extinguished now that he was gone.

And yet this pettiness here in the capital–

Whatever paltry ambitions or grudges had fueled the assassination attempt against Yunqi, whatever empty goals the Empress and Qiu Jinwei sought to fulfill with this opening–the small-hearted malice of it overwhelmed her with disgust.

Is this what he died to protect?

And he had died very meaninglessly at that–poor Investigator Liao had never managed one piece of useful intel before being murdered. With his death, the survival rate for the month came down to ten percent.

Offed him just to fill a quota, huh?

And what an asshole move on Chuluo end, placing the spies the way he did. When it came to the time where Kayla had to do what she had to do, the blood on her hands would be of the worst kind. She would have to be the one to do it, after all, and Kayla strongly doubted that anyone would compete with her for the dubious honor.

Something has to change.

She couldn't always be on the defense against Chuluo, only retaining the agents that he deigned to spare, only gaining the sparse nuggets of information that he wanted to feed to her.

A dangerous thought was taking root in her mind, one that Kayla knew she shouldn't entertain.

But we need to balance the scales, she thought desperately. What else am I supposed to do?

Kayla thought of Chen Caichun and hesitated. Her hand hovered over the communication device on her desk for a long moment before pulling away. Surrounded by the files of dead men, she remained in pensive silence.

Cultural Context

只手遮天/Cover the sky with one hand: An Ancient Chinese proverb. This can be used to refer to the absurdity of trying to hide the truth, or to someone who is powerful enough to manipulate information.

开门见山/Open the door to the mountain: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to get straight to the point.

圣明/Wise [ruler-specific adjective]: An Ancient Chinese adjective that refers specifically to a ruler's wisdom and virtue.

取笑鄙人/Mock this lowly one: An Ancient Chinese phrase you can often see in period dramas and pre-modern novels.

拨云见日/Part the clouds and reveal the sun: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to reveal the truth, to clarify one's confusion.

看你怎么收场/See how you wrap this up: A Chinese colloquialism that is usually used to express some form of disdain or "we'll see" sentiment towards someone who is making a mess of things.

招风惹雨/Summoning the wind and bringing the rain: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to bring trouble or to go seeking trouble.

Hebei: A province in North China.

Hunan: A province in Central China. Not to be confused with Henan.