Behind the Jinfeng Tower, in Yuan Jin’er’s room, Kou’er was vividly recounting what had happened not long ago at the Old Rain Tower:

“…and then, when that Master Ning finished writing this lyric, all those people were dumbstruck. That Xue Jin, who’d originally wanted to embarrass him, even asked: didn’t you say that ‘Prelude to Water Melody’ was written by a Daoist priest? And then Master Ning told him… hahaha… Master Ning said, that Daoist priest that day… hoo hoo hoo… had chanted, chanted two of them… hahahaha…”

As soon as she finished speaking, Yuan Jin’er, who had been lying on the bed listening, suddenly burst out laughing so hard she doubled over: “Sister Yun, this man is quite amusing…”

Yun Zhu was holding the paper and looking at it. She knew Ning Yi, and couldn’t help picturing in her mind the scene Kou’er had described. Thinking of Ning Yi’s unconventional nature, she thought he really was the type who would do such a thing, and couldn’t help but smile.

Kou’er had actually always been somewhat partial to that Master Cao Guan, and while she’d enjoyed telling the story just now, after a moment she grew a little uneasy again: “Miss, Sister Nie, is this lyric… really that good? Master Cao and the others’ expressions were really strange. Miss, you’ve said before that there’s no fixed standard for poetry contests, and Master Cao is already the best there is—could it be that he really couldn’t match up…”

Yuan Jin’er smiled, looked over the lyric again, exchanged a glance with Nie Yunzhu, then shook her head slightly: “Going by what you’ve described, Kou’er, after tonight, someone’s probably going to crown that Master Ning as the First Talent of Jiangning. What a pity… he’s a merchant family’s matrilocal son-in-law.” She frowned. “Someone of his caliber, why would he ever become a matrilocal son-in-law? Could it be that the Su family forced him into it…”

Previously, people had suspected that Ning Yi’s compositions were plagiarized because of his status as a matrilocal son-in-law, but after tonight, it seemed unlikely anyone would dare doubt him again—naturally, no one would believe that joke about the Daoist priest chanting two poems either. As Yuan Jin’er puzzled over it, Hutao, who had been hesitating beside them for a long while, tugged at Nie Yunzhu’s sleeve and said quietly: “Miss, this Master Ning—could he really be that Master Ning?”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but both Yuan Jin’er and Kou’er beside her heard clearly, and their eyes went wide: “Sister Yun… you know Ning Yi?”

Yun Zhu thought for a moment, then idly plucked at the strings of the guqin beside her. A few notes leapt out, and after a moment she said: “If I told you he was the composer of that strange melody from earlier, what would you think, Jin’er?”

“Ah…” Yuan Jin’er was stunned for a long moment, thinking of that strange yet lovely tune, unable to reconcile the thought in her mind. She looked again at the “Green Jade Cup” lyric before her—it was pure and dignified to the utmost degree, and yet that “outside the long pavilion, beside the ancient road” was truly unconventional, breaking every rule. “If it’s really as Sister Yun says, then that’s truly… rather strange…”

“Sister Nie, do you really know this Master Ning? What kind of person is he really? Tell us about him…”

Kou’er leaned in toward Nie Yunzhu. Nie Yunzhu looked at the lyric in her hand, thought for a moment, then slowly raised her head, her gaze drifting toward the corner of the room.

Indeed—what kind of person was he, really?

Thinking back on it now, she found it hard to put into words herself. When they’d first met, she’d fallen into the river and dragged him in with her; after he’d pulled her out, he’d been slapped for it, and hadn’t even tried to explain himself. Afterward, in their time together, he’d always been so casual—running back and forth every morning, the little conversations whenever he paused. Even though she’d long since heard of his reputation for talent, in his every action he never carried himself like a scholar; what occupied him day to day were always odd, out-of-the-way things.

“It’s just killing a chicken, no need to thank me.”

“Charcoal pencil… for writing…”

“Building up the body… a scholar is useless for anything else.”

“If I could learn some martial arts or something… the kind that’s really impressive out in the martial world…”

“‘Puddle of Blue Rain’… not fit for polite company, but I like listening to it.”

“Preserved eggs… you can call them treasure eggs or jade eggs if you like…”

If she told others about these things, they might think this man was arrogant or something. But in their interactions, she only ever felt at ease—a kind of ease unlike anything she felt with any other gentle, cultured scholar. Arrogance was something that only came from being immensely pleased with oneself over something, but she could sense that he truly wasn’t self-satisfied about any of it, nor did he look down on others—it was simply an air of nonchalance. What others liked, he wouldn’t say he disliked, but he didn’t take particular delight in it either. Still, over these several months of contact, though he’d never actually shown her his literary, romantic side, and she herself had never brought it up, she couldn’t deny that in her heart, she still held some small anticipation for it.

When will the bright moon appear? I raise my cup and ask the blue sky… Just how far could the talent of someone who could compose such a lyric actually go? Nie Yunzhu, in her heart, had always harbored a small hope of finding out. Even though being with Ning Yi’s carefree, unrestrained side put her at ease, and she believed more and more that this was likely his truer self, she still hoped that one day she might witness that other side of him—the side that belonged to a man of letters.

Not until this moment, seeing this “Green Jade Cup,” picturing in her mind the scene of him writing it—the mockery, the obstruction, the taunting from the crowd, and his composed, easy smile as he faced it all—did she think: if only I could have been there…

Listening to Kou’er’s question, looking at the lyric, this thought suddenly welled up strongly in her heart. Outside, the Lantern Festival night was as bright as day; he’d said at the restaurant that he had urgent business, though she didn’t know what it was, didn’t know where he was right now—suddenly, she found herself wanting very much to know these things…

After a moment, Nie Yunzhu pressed the feeling back down.

…

After the bell tolled midnight, Ning Yi was walking back with Xiao Chan. Xiao Chan kept murmuring the “Green Jade Cup” lyric over and over, occasionally asking: “Young Master, Young Master, what was that line about the golden threads again?” And Ning Yi would answer each time.

He was in a rather bored mood, because after writing the lyric, they’d lost track of the person again.

While writing the lyric, he’d thought it was rather fitting for the occasion, especially since he’d been tailing that female assassin the whole time. But maybe it was too fitting—perhaps it was that final line, “suddenly turning back, there she is, where the lantern light is dim,” that had caught the assassin’s attention. When he and Xiao Chan had gone after her, after circling the area a few times, they discovered the female assassin had vanished completely from his tracking range.

Perhaps it was precisely because the lyric fit so aptly that it had given away his trail—that, he really hadn’t anticipated. He wondered, half-mischievously at the time, whether it might have gone better if he’d changed the line to “suddenly turning back, she is not there, where the lantern light is dim…”

If the female assassin really had grown wary of him, then continuing to pursue her stubbornly would do more harm than good. Since the matter hadn’t worked out, he simply let it go. After wandering around a bit more with Xiao Chan, they turned back together. Along the way, Xiao Chan was still excited about what had happened earlier, going on and on about Xue Jin’s dumbfounded expression, even putting her hands on her hips and laughing smugly: “Hmph, now no one will dare speak ill of Young Master again.”

Ning Yi laughed: “Ah, speaking ill of me wouldn’t do any good anyway…”

“Why not?”

“Because the Daoist priest only chanted two of them.”

“Hehe…” Xiao Chan laughed.

In any case, the matter of people accusing him of plagiarizing poetry was, for the time being, basically resolved.

Some things—like tonight—might look like mere coincidence, but there was often calculation behind them that wasn’t obvious. From the start, Ning Yi felt the ideal way to resolve the matter was along these lines. He wasn’t a man with particular scruples about it; the poems he knew, once brought into this world, became a kind of strategic resource—useful for whenever the need arose. It was just that, for now, there was nothing pressing enough to warrant using them merely to gain vanity, but since Xiao Chan had already let it slip, there was no need for him to deny it—no point in shouldering blame for something he could easily resolve.

As for mingling with that crowd of literary talents day after day just to build up a reputation, that was something he’d never once considered. Since he only did it on a whim, he preferred to keep things simple; he’d kept the matter buried for five months, but figured there would always come a point where it couldn’t be avoided, at which point he could just resolve it. Tonight, he’d genuinely wanted to chase down the female assassin—after all, to his mind, a reputation as a talented scholar was entirely dispensable, the sort of thing you might pick up in passing if it fell into your lap, whereas martial arts skill was an entirely different matter. Who would have guessed such an unexpected turn of events would occur—since Xue Jin, Su Chonghua, and the others had pushed things to that point, he figured he might as well go along with the flow.

He hadn’t really thought through these considerations in such explicit detail, nor had he truly, deliberately planned any of it. But habits formed from past experience lingered—when playing around or relaxing, such as chatting with Old Qin, Old Kang, Nie Yunzhu, and others, he could afford to be unguarded and carefree. But the moment he sensed even the slightest threat, these seemingly casual responses had likely already been turned over and calculated in his subconscious dozens of times. He could only laugh bitterly to himself in idle moments that he’d never in his life escape scheming.

There was still no hope on the martial arts front for now, but at least the matter of the poetry had been resolved—something to show for it. After walking a while longer, Xiao Chan suddenly said: “Young Master, Xiao Chan doesn’t like this lyric…”

“Hm?”

“That bit about searching for her through the crowds, a hundred, a thousand times… Young Master, you were chasing that female thief just now.”

Ning Yi was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. Xiao Chan pursed her lips: “Young Master, if I tell Miss later, you’ll be in big trouble…”

“Mm-hm, I know, I know.” Ning Yi nodded, walking ahead with a smile. Xiao Chan hurried to catch up from behind: “Young Master, I really am going to tell Miss…”

“I know…”

Xiao Chan liked Ning Yi to some degree, but there was no way she could hide something like this from Su Tan’er for his sake; at the same time, she didn’t want there to be any ill feeling between Ning Yi and Su Tan’er. For a moment she wavered between “loyalty to my mistress” and “keeping quiet for Young Master’s sake, for the sake of the family’s harmony,” but seeing Ning Yi looking so unconcerned about it, she felt her own fretting was rather pointless, and wanted nothing more than to run up and bite him.

“Young~ Master…”

“I know, I know… Besides, the lyric is written that way, but it doesn’t mean it’s about searching for her specifically. Besides, in the end, he didn’t find her, did he… Come on, come on, let’s go, hurry up…”

While master and servant were chasing and bantering their way down the street, back at the little teahouse, Su Tan’er, having already settled her business dealings, had also received the “Green Jade Cup” lyric, and learned everything that had happened at the Pu Garden poetry gathering. She sat there now, chin resting on her hand, gazing placidly into empty air, seemingly lost in thought. At the side of the square table, Xi Junyu sat with his fingers lightly touching together, looking at the paper on which the lyric was written, his expression calm—only someone who knew him especially well might have noticed that faint trace of gloom in his eyes.

Originally, with the business settled, Su Tan’er still had to wait for Ning Yi and Xiao Chan to return, and he could have used the time to discuss upcoming business plans with her—after all, it was the Lantern Festival night, and there was room enough to touch on other small matters besides. Whatever kind of man Ning Yi was, he and Su Tan’er had already been working together for several years, and there were things between them that couldn’t simply be washed away; the atmosphere, to him, had always felt pleasant enough. But once this lyric arrived, and after Xiao Juan repeated the rumors she’d heard, once Su Tan’er fell quiet, he knew that everything had been swept into disarray. Whatever more he might say, Su Tan’er might still put on a show of listening earnestly and smiling in reply, but in truth, it would no longer mean anything.

Before long, Ning Yi and Xiao Chan came up from below. Su Tan’er smiled and nodded at him: “Husband’s back. If there’s nothing else important, Manager Xi, why don’t you head off first. Thank you for all your trouble today.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.” Xi Junyu smiled, cupped his hands in a bow, and exchanged a few parting words with Ning Yi. As he turned to head downstairs, he glanced back and saw Su Tan’er pressing her lips together forcefully, pointing hard at the paper on the table in front of Ning Yi, the smile in her eyes brimming over—like the gesture of close friends who understood each other perfectly. He and Su Tan’er, too, shared an understanding, but it was only the understanding of the business world; Su Tan’er, who seemed soft and gentle on the surface, was in truth frighteningly serious much of the time, and there was a sense of accomplishment to be had in pulling off certain deals through their coordinated understanding—but he had never once seen her smile like this.

Ning Yi picked up the paper and looked it over, laughing as well, saying something in explanation. He seemed to notice that her collar had come slightly askew, and Su Tan’er, smiling, reached out and straightened the collar of his robe for him…