In the courtyard, Su Tan’er’s expression looked faintly dazed. She had always called Ning Yi “husband” in the more formal sense before, but this soft murmur of “my lord husband” carried a gentleness that seemed to seep warmly into the heart. That hazy state didn’t last long, though — she raised a hand to rub her face, shook her head, then picked up the fire-striker by the desk. Light flickered a few times at the window, and the oil lamp in the room was lit again. Ning Yi pursed his lips; on her side, she laughed a little, embarrassed.
“Ah, I’m almost done… just a bit tired.”
She shook her head and her already somewhat mussed hair, then folded her hands on the desk and looked up, smiling at Ning Yi. After a moment, Ning Yi turned and left; the figure in the window went back to work, and it was more than half an hour later before the light finally went out.
That day was the eleventh of the seventh month, in the eighth year of Jinghan. The next day at the academy, Su Zhongkan, Su Chonghua, and several other teachers held a meeting, naturally calling in Ning Yi and Li Pin as well. This was mainly because the situation outside was growing tense, and the academy had already decided to close temporarily.
Most of the children studying at the academy were relatives of the Su family in some way; those whose homes lay outside the city had, by this point, mostly entered the city with their parents and been settled at the Su residence. In the month or two after the gates closed, things outside the city would be relatively chaotic, but inside wasn’t exactly comfortable either — daily life couldn’t simply continue as normal. Old Master Qin, for instance, had already packed up his chess stall days earlier and stopped setting it up.
The academy had also already learned that Li Pin would soon be heading to the capital. He’d originally planned to leave after the flooding passed, intending to stay and teach for another month or so. But now that the academy was closing temporarily, they likely wouldn’t be seeing him there for that month. At midday, Su Zhongkan hosted a farewell banquet at the best restaurant near the academy to see him off.
From the moment Li Pin had joined Yushan Academy, Su Chonghua and the others had known he could never stay at such a small academy for long. Still, riding on Li Pin’s reputation had certainly raised the academy’s standing. Those in the know now understood this departure meant he was heading off to take up an official post. Su Zhongkan generously offered a large sum in salary and travel funds, along with plenty of kind words, wishing him smooth sailing and a bright future.
“Dexin and Liheng are the two finest talents at our Yushan Academy. The rest of us are old and past our usefulness. Though Liheng’s temperament is a bit too reserved, which is a pity — he ought to learn more from Dexin. Dexin is worldly and adept with people; that is the cultivation someone destined for great things ought to have…”
At the banquet, the rest were all middle-aged or elderly, and inevitably brought up Ning Yi and Li Pin together in conversation. In truth, both men were now regarded as top talents of Jiangning, though Ning Yi’s case was rather extreme — some considered him Jiangning’s foremost talent, to the point that others hesitated to even put brush to paper for poetry when he was present. Yet he didn’t attend poetry gatherings, didn’t mingle with the many literary men, and carried the title of a matrilocal son-in-law besides — with such talent, yet no one could quite tell what he wanted. People had largely settled on calling him eccentric. Some privately thought he was fishing for reputation; others thought him a strange genius. Either way, his fame was never quite like that of Li Pin or Cao Guan.
Su Chonghua spoke these words as an elder, and Ning Yi could only smile. “Headmaster, please don’t tease me.” Li Pin laughed. “Liheng handles himself far better than I do in the world — it’s I who should be learning from him…”
“Ah, I know you two are close, but Dexin, there’s no need to speak so kindly on Liheng’s behalf.” Su Zhongkan waved a hand with a smile from the side. “Once the gates close, who knows when they’ll reopen. Dexin, you still have a month or so before you leave — no good sitting cooped up at home the whole time. If you go to any poetry gatherings, please do bring Liheng along. He’s a scholar, but far too withdrawn — that’s never good. Actually, why don’t we do this: tonight I’ll have Wenxing and the others host at Yancui Tower, and you two go along together, get together with the young people. Don’t refuse now. The younger generation at home are all rather useless — you two can consider it teaching these younger brothers a thing or two, how about it…”
Li Pin had no objection to this sort of thing to begin with, and with Second Uncle Su Zhongkan speaking up, Ning Yi found it hard to decline and had no choice but to agree. After the meal, as the group headed downstairs, Su Zhongkan came up beside Ning Yi.
“Others at home go on about the Eldest, Second, and Third Branches as if it matters — really, it’s just outsiders enjoying the drama. We’re all one family in the end; there’s no need to divide things up so much. Those cousins of yours are useless — if the family business were truly handed to them, they’d run it into the ground sooner or later. Tan’er’s business sense puts men to shame; if she were to take over the Su family someday, that would actually be the best outcome. It’s just a pity she was born a daughter — sometimes that leaves her isolated and without support. With things tense both inside and outside the city lately, her temperament tends toward doing everything herself. I can tell from seeing her recently that she’s been wearing herself thin. You’re her husband — you ought to look after her more, cherish her, urge her to ease up a little. The business of the world can’t all be done in one lifetime.”
Su Zhongkan spoke with evident sincerity, and Ning Yi nodded respectfully in agreement. Among the third generation of the Su family, there was no one of real worth besides Su Tan’er — but the second generation was a different story. Su Boyong, Su Zhongkan, and Su Yunfang each had their own talents, and the overall affairs of the Su family were still firmly in their hands. Whether sincere or not, this speech alone was enough to show that Su Zhongkan was no simple man.
By the time they made their way home, the afternoon was already half gone. Passing through the outer courtyards into the inner ones — since many relatives had recently been settled at the Su residence — there was a fair bit of noise outside. By the time they reached their own courtyard, that noise had faded. Sunlight filtered down through the high branches into the rather quiet courtyard; there seemed to be no one about. Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and Xing’er were all absent — whether they’d gone out with Tan’er or were off handling matters related to the Eldest Branch’s relatives, who could say. The window of Su Tan’er’s room was open; as Ning Yi walked over, he saw her slumped asleep at her desk, much like the night before — likely she’d been handling some matters at midday and had drifted off. The breeze passing through the courtyard stirred the loose strands of her hair.
Since she was asleep, Ning Yi had no intention of disturbing her, and went straight back to his own room to read for a while. Amid the cicada song, he got up again and went to check the small kitchen where water was heated, lit the fire, and set water to boil, intending to take a bath.
In this era, bathing was actually a rather troublesome affair — filling the bathtub required going back and forth many times, quite a hassle, and afterward, emptying the tub was even more trouble. The bathroom had a large water vat for storage, but today it had run dry, so he had to fetch water from the small kitchen next door, hot water included. In winter, a fire could be kept going beneath the tub to maintain the temperature, but in summer and early autumn this generally wasn’t done.
His strength had grown considerably of late, especially after practicing the breathing method Lu Hongti had taught him — such simple labor barely made him break a sweat now, and there was a certain satisfaction in the carrying back and forth. Having mixed in some hot water and filled the tub more than halfway, the courtyard remained quiet, the distant noise of the crowds feeling almost unreal. On an early-autumn afternoon, in this ancient world a thousand years removed from what had once been his modern one, doing such an ordinary task felt strangely wondrous.
So much was missing from this life, but at least he had martial arts now, and this… small family of sorts. As he drew water into the vat, feeling the strength gathered within his body, he found himself wondering what the three maids might be busy with, each in her own way, on an afternoon like this. Then, carrying two buckets of water, he turned down the corridor, made his way to the outer chamber of the bathroom, lifted the curtain, and stepped inside — only after a couple of steps did he clearly make out the figure standing before the bathtub.
Her blue-green outer robe and long skirt already hung on the clothes rack to the side. The woman wore a red undergarment and thin white silk trousers, her figure slender and graceful, her fair, smooth bare back turned toward Ning Yi. Her shoes and stockings had already been removed and set on the floor beside her. She reached up and pulled out several hairpins, and a cascade of long hair spilled down like a waterfall, swaying with the motion of her head. Just as Ning Yi took in the sight, the woman turned back around, both hands cupped to her cheeks, a few fingers sunk into the dark strands of her hair, her eyes still holding the confusion of someone just woken.
Su Tan’er’s confusion had good reason behind it. At midday, while handling matters at home, she’d grown drowsy — she’d slept poorly the past few nights, and today’s noon heat was high, the courtyard quiet. Slumped over her desk, meaning only to doze briefly, she’d heard faint sounds outside — Juan’er cleaning, wiping down porcelain, tea sets, tables and chairs — and had absentmindedly told Juan’er to heat some water for a bath. Her mind already hazy at the time, she hadn’t managed to stay awake and had fallen asleep.
Juan’er, hearing the instruction, had happily run off to heat the water; but by the time everything was ready and she went to call her mistress, Su Tan’er was already asleep. Knowing how exhausted she’d been these past few days, Juan’er figured sleep mattered more and went on with her cleaning. Once finished, sweaty herself, and with her mistress still sound asleep and the water starting to cool, she simply went and bathed herself. Then someone had come looking for Su Tan’er, and she’d gone off to attend to it — which was exactly why Ning Yi had found the water vat empty when he returned.
Su Tan’er had just woken and, momentarily disoriented about the time, had come wandering over in a daze. She wasn’t even sure whether she’d actually asked for a bath — but seeing the water already prepared brought her back to her senses. She was in the middle of undressing when she turned and saw her own husband behind her, carrying two buckets of water, and her brow furrowed slightly.
Ning Yi was a little confused himself, but he recovered much faster. After a moment’s thought, he set down the buckets and silently turned to leave.
Before he’d even made it past the curtain, a soft cry of alarm came from behind him, followed by a splash — Su Tan’er had fallen into the tub, already more than half full of water. She’d clearly been startled.
The fact that she hadn’t cried out when startled — whether that spoke to self-control or to a temperament somewhat repressed into strangeness, who could say — Ning Yi glanced back, sighed inwardly, then grabbed a bath towel from nearby and walked over, reaching in to lift Su Tan’er out of the tub, wrapping the towel around her upper body, and helping her to sit down beside it.
Leaning against Ning Yi, Su Tan’er coughed without pause for a moment. Ning Yi patted her back through the towel and sighed.
“If you’d drowned in your own bathtub, who knows what people would say, hm?”
“Cough— hah… cough cough… husband…”
Su Tan’er’s body trembled as she laughed, sheepish and strained, and for a moment the coughing only grew worse…