It was nearing midnight, and the bustle of Jiangning was building toward its peak. The carriage cut across from the Su residence, threading through the relatively quieter streets, and slowed as it approached Wuyi Lane.
The whole way there, countless festive lights flickered past the carriage windows. Lifting the curtain to look outside, even the streets that were normally quiet were now alive with noise, and by the time they reached the commercial district near Wuyi Lane, the road ahead was a solid mass of people — the carriage might as well have been stuck in mud. A dragon-dance procession was coming through, drums and gongs clanging, so the young driver had no choice but to pull the carriage aside.
“Sister Chan, it’s not going to be easy to get through up ahead.”
The boy was probably a year or two older than Xiao Chan, yet still called her “sister.” Though these past few months she’d seemed to just tag along after Ning Yi, in fact she and her two sisters had trained under Su Tan’er’s hand for years. Since Su Tan’er might well one day take charge of the entire Su family, her three most trusted maids commanded a certain deference even from stewards of higher and lower rank — which was why a mere servant girl like her could summon a carriage on her own. This boy, newly signed to twenty years of indenture at the Su household, had some idea of her standing and treated her with due respect, glancing at her with a touch of curiosity — she looked younger than he did.
“I see it, I’ll get off here — you go on back.” Xiao Chan lifted the curtain and hopped straight down from the carriage, turning to flash him a smile before waving. “Thanks!”
“I— I’m Dongzhu.” The boy worked up his courage, stammering out his own name, then looked up. “There’s too many people up ahead — let me walk you through.”
“Brother Dongzhu.” Xiao Chan bowed with a smile in thanks, then waved again and turned. “No need, I’ll be fine.” She darted off into the crowd like a butterfly, her small hand still visible waving a few times in the air before she vanished into the throng.
Xiao Chan had wandered this city back and forth more times than she could count, and knew it well. Setting aside any truly extreme situation, when it came to handling people, running errands, and smoothing over little troubles, this sweet, innocent-looking girl was actually far more capable than a country boy like Dongzhu. Besides, in a crowd this dense, it seemed unlikely anyone would trouble a young girl simply out enjoying the festivities — spoiled young masters, wastrels, and bullies were certainly common enough in this era, but they weren’t around every corner either.
Bouncing happily through the noisy crowd following the dragon dance, she passed a brothel where faint, lilting singing drifted out, mingling with the roar of the festival streets. Before long, someone came running down the street holding up a sheet of paper: “The Lichuan Poetry Gathering — Young Master Tang Yu’s new poem on bamboo—” and pasted it up on a poetry board in front of a shop. A crowd immediately gathered around it. An old vendor pushing a cart of tea eggs and layered flatbread laughed and steered around the crowd, and Xiao Chan likewise dodged the cart, hurrying forward with a grin to see what the fuss was about.
After skimming a few lines, she hurried on with the flow of the crowd toward the riverbank at the far end of the street. Wuyi Lane was just a short way off — narrower, but no less lively, blazing with lanterns and packed with people, and closer to the riverbank the most bustling spot of all, the Confucius Temple, was already visible.
This stretch of riverside street was the brightest jewel in all of Jiangning — the road lined with exquisite lanterns. The six linked pleasure boats of the Pu Garden poetry gathering would cruise the Qinhuai all night, and at some point they were bound to pass by here. Having attended these gatherings before, Xiao Chan knew to come straight to this spot and wait. She found a curio shop run by the Pu family along the road, presented her invitation, and the shopkeeper promptly sent someone to flag down a small boat. By then, that gilded floating dragon palace had already appeared far off at one end of the Qinhuai, framed by the other pleasure boats around it, gliding this way.
Little boats along the bank kept drawing near and pulling away again; before long this small boat too slipped lightly from the shore amid the lantern light, rowing out to meet the great linked vessel approaching mid-river. At the bow, the little maid clasped her fingers lightly in front of her, tilting her head up to watch the pleasure boat draw closer, its lantern-light gradually illuminating her cute little bun of hair and her small, slightly wistful face. Music carried across the water — another round of song and dance inside was probably drawing to a close, though she didn’t feel any particular regret over it. Just getting to come and see this was already wonderful enough. If she could learn a tune or two here… She thought of how the young master liked to listen to songs in the evenings… yes, the young master would surely be pleased.
Inside the pleasure boat, the singing and dancing wound down, followed by enthusiastic applause. Small boats then began ferrying up some of the finest lines composed at the gathering, some accompanied by praise and commentary from various notable figures. A poetry gathering, after all, couldn’t simply be a crowd sitting still composing and appreciating verse the whole night through — from the moment the boats set sail there’d been all manner of entertainment, songs to hear, lantern riddles to guess, scenery to admire, keeping the mood and inspiration flowing. But by this hour, the event had entered its most crucial phase. Though tonight’s revelry might well stretch past the third watch, past three in the morning, the truth was that once midnight passed, the poetry gathering itself would begin to wind down.
The main reason was that most of the older men, or the middle-aged ones in poorer health — poets, after all, tended not to be terribly robust — could only manage to stay this long before their energy gave out and it was time to head home. And within literary circles, it was precisely these figures who carried real reputation; anyone hoping to make a name for himself or draw notice tonight cared most about their opinion. Once they departed, what remained was the true game of talented men and beautiful women — courting didn’t really begin in earnest until after midnight, turning the affair into something of a grand gathering for dallying with courtesans. Even in an age where such dalliance was commonplace and could be dressed up in refined language, its significance paled after that point — given the choice between fame and female company, most men of this era would choose fame first.
So by this hour, various fine verses had already begun trickling out one after another; the very best of the evening had already made the rounds earlier. Several poems on the moon tonight had proven strikingly brilliant, and Su Tan’er had copied a few onto the plain white paper before her, quietly chatting now with a woman of the Wu family whom she knew.
She genuinely loved poetry, though she had no particular skill in it herself — but in this era, poets held a status not unlike modern celebrities, and what girl’s heart didn’t harbor at least a little romantic fancy? Precisely because she lacked the skill herself, she admired the art all the more; the sight of some talented young man displaying his brilliance before a crowd naturally stirred something in her.
Of course, this was only a small part of her spiritual pursuits in life — much the way modern girls might adore some pop idol. Fond of it as she was, she didn’t show it too openly in daily life, and besides, her own husband Ning Yi clearly had no real gift for poetry — she’d known that clearly enough ever since reading that poem about “three lotus roots floating on the jade pool,” and he’d admitted as much himself. Not that it mattered much either way.
A while later, Xiao Chan arrived as well, following a maid who’d led her over.
“Has the young master gone to bed?”
“Mm, he has.”
“Juan’er and Xing’er are over there — why don’t you have them squeeze another cushion in for you?”
“Alright, I’ll head over, my lady… good evening, Miss Wu.”
After paying her respects to the Wu lady beside them, Xiao Chan trotted off toward where two little maids were waving her over. Juan’er and Xing’er were sitting together at a low table laden with all kinds of exquisite fruits and snacks, and Xiao Chan squeezed in between them, the three girls immediately dissolving into giggles.
Not far off, Su Tan’er and the Wu lady rose and strolled a little. At gatherings like this, men and women were generally kept separate, divided by a folding screen, though the rule wasn’t strictly enforced. Not everyone invited to the Pu Garden poetry gathering was an unmarried young lady — most came as married couples with family in tow — and though a partial divide was maintained out of propriety, people moved about freely enough that husbands and wives could still meet and talk. Su Tan’er walked with the Wu lady to the ship’s rail to look at the lights along the shore, and the woman’s husband came over as well. The Wu family ran the largest fabric house in Jiangning, and the two sides already knew each other; after a few pleasantries and some talk of fabric business, Su Tan’er, meaning to give the couple some privacy, was about to step away when Xue Jin and a few other young men came over as well, waving their folding fans. They wore scholar’s headscarves now instead of their usual merchant’s dress, done up as students for the occasion — with the evening breeze blowing, they cut quite the figure of refined, feathered-fan elegance, or, well, folding-fan elegance.
Xue Jin had rather stolen the spotlight tonight, having just composed a poem on the moon that drew praise and responses from the crowd — one of the finest offerings of the whole Pu Garden gathering. As he approached, the Wu family man cupped his hands with a laugh. “Brother Xue’s talent is remarkable — tonight you’ll surely win Miss Qilan’s favor. Congratulations are in order.”
Qilan was one of the most celebrated courtesans along the Qinhuai these past few years, selling her performances but not herself, praised as unmatched in both looks and talent, with some connection to the Pu family — which was how they’d managed to invite her tonight. She would choose several of the evening’s favorite poems to set to song; she had her own prepared numbers as well, of course, but whichever verses she chose to sing were invariably whatever had drawn the most attention at that stage of the gathering.
There was considerable maneuvering behind the scenes — talent alone didn’t decide everything, though it certainly decided most of it. Xue Jin’s poem was genuinely good, and with his family’s backing besides, there was every chance he’d be chosen as the evening’s grand finale. If he won Qilan’s favor tonight, the months that followed might well bring him opportunities to grow closer to her — invitations to banquets, discussions of poetry and literature — which would be quite the feather in his cap. And if he could go further still, and actually win her over, taking her virtue and bringing her into his household, that would be the ultimate proof of his charm as a man.
The Qinhuai River had flowed for hundreds of years, and stories like this cropped up every year, each becoming, for a while, a fashionable topic of gossip. In such stories, men naturally basked in the attention, and afterward, once his name got out, people would envy him as a dashing, talented romantic — his reputation only growing louder for it.
Being praised now, Xue Jin made a show of modest demurral. The Wu lady beside them added with a smile, “Your poem moved even this humble one, Master Xue.” Su Tan’er, too, enjoyed the verse and offered a few words of praise. In truth, it was a case of mutual flattery lifting each other up — those who really knew him, like the Wu woman and Su Tan’er, understood perfectly well that his poem had likely been purchased from some famous scholar for the sake of appearances.
Xue Jin, delighted at the praise, demurred a bit more, and after a round of conversation, remarked, “Such a pity Brother Ning couldn’t make it tonight — seeing an occasion this grand, he surely would have produced something wonderful…”
Su Tan’er’s brow furrowed slightly. As the group chatted animatedly, one of the hosts, a middle-aged man of the Pu family, came over as well — this was Puyang Yu, younger brother of the Pu family patriarch, himself a successful examination candidate in his younger years and a man of some talent. He’d been making the rounds attending to the guests, and now, smiling, joined the conversation to ask what everyone was discussing. Xue Jin explained that Su Tan’er’s husband Ning Yi had originally meant to come, but had unfortunately caught a cold these past few days — such a shame, given how talented he was and so on.
“I doubt that very much,” someone spoke up from behind them. “I hear this Ning Yi, though he’s had a few years of schooling, is nothing but a mediocrity. Whether he came or not makes no difference.”
Xue Jin turned with a smile. “Now, Brother Feng, don’t go spreading nonsense. I’ve seen Brother Ning’s bearing and manner myself — the Su family searched high and low before settling on him…”
The Wu family, being on somewhat familiar terms with Su Tan’er, knew perfectly well that her husband had no particular talent, which was why, in their earlier conversation, they’d only asked after his health and never touched on anything to do with literary skill. Watching this little performance now, the two of them naturally understood exactly what Xue Jin was up to. He’d once courted Su Tan’er, been rejected when his family proposed marriage, and clearly still carried some resentment, playing at these petty little games now. To be fair, the performance itself had no particular finesse to it, but its effect would land all the same — if he kept this up, by tomorrow rumors might well be circulating in certain circles that Su Tan’er had married a useless man. The Wu woman shot her husband a look, hoping he might step in and cut things off, and he noticed, hesitating a moment as if unsure what to say. Su Tan’er, smiling, was about to speak up herself when Xiao Chan suddenly piped up from beside her.
“That’s right, the young master’s very good at writing poems!” She’d been playing and eating snacks with Juan’er and Xing’er, holding a piece of pastry meant to repeat a magic trick Ning Yi had taught her, only to fumble it and drop the pastry on the floor. The three of them had noticed what was going on nearby — Juan’er and Xing’er had already mentioned that the young Xue master seemed to mean no good — and now Chan’er, thinking it over, stepped closer. “The young master even wrote a poem tonight.”
The little maid’s words left both Xue Jin and Su Tan’er briefly stunned. After a moment, Xue Jin broke into a smile. “Oh? Brother Ning has produced a new work as well? Wonderful — do bring it out, let everyone take a look.”
His delight and openness seemed entirely genuine, though inwardly he was already laughing. He’d long since inquired into exactly how much learning this Ning Yi actually had — after years of study the man could certainly string together a poem, but what sort of poem it might turn out to be was another matter entirely. He simply assumed the little maid didn’t know good poetry from bad. Under the earlier circumstances, a few idle remarks from bystanders might have caused only minor damage — but if an actually poor poem were brought out and put up for everyone to “appreciate,” that would settle the matter for good.
“Mm, alright.” Xiao Chan nodded, pulling a folded sheet of paper from inside her clothes, chattering as she did. “Tonight the young master wasn’t feeling well and wanted Chan’er to sing him something, so Chan’er brought him a book of song lyrics to pick from. But the young master said he didn’t much care for any of those, so he wrote one himself. Here it is — Chan’er copied it down…”
Didn’t care for any of them, so he wrote one himself — quite the bold claim. Su Tan’er and Puyang Yu beside her both frowned slightly; only Xue Jin’s smile grew brighter and more earnest still. As Xiao Chan spoke, she handed the paper to Su Tan’er, whose expression was still uncertain. Su Tan’er looked the paper over, confirmed there really was writing on it, glanced once more at Xiao Chan, then turned back properly to the page, her lips moving silently as she read.
Halfway through, the movement of her lips slowed, and her expression grew steadily more complicated. She paused, glanced once more at Xiao Chan, then returned to silently reading the rest of the verse. Xue Jin, smiling, craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse — unable to actually make anything out, but still pleased with himself all the same.
Silent reading — what good would that do? You’ll have to bring it out for everyone eventually, and when you do, I’ll be more than happy to read it aloud myself, ha!
He thought this with the satisfaction of a prank well executed.
A moment later, a great burst of fireworks bloomed off to one side of the boat, and amid the dazzling glow, Su Tan’er finally held out the paper.
“Might I ask Uncle Puyang for his judgment…”
Puyang Yu had already sensed something was afoot, and now nodded with a smile. He held this Su family daughter — outwardly delicate but every bit as capable as any man — in high regard, and thought nothing of it that her household had married in a son-in-law of little talent; it happened often enough. Xue Jin’s rashness and pettiness, on the other hand, he found rather distasteful. He resolved then and there that even if the poem proved poor, he would find some kind words to say and smooth things over as best he could. He took the paper and looked down at it, already turning over in his mind what kind of praise he might offer.
The fireworks blazed overhead, and the others waited for his first word of judgment. Xue Jin wore a refined, courteous smile. Su Tan’er glanced at him, then let her gaze fall back to the paper in Puyang Yu’s hands, lightly biting her lower lip.
In the flickering light of the fireworks, her eyes carried something hard to put into words…