When she opened her eyes, the light was faintly yellow, the night outside the window still silent — yet she felt no peace in it. In her head, throughout her body, all manner of discomfort, restlessness, unease — yet for a moment she couldn’t pin down where that discomfort came from. Why did it hurt so much? Fragmented images flickered through her mind — no way forward, pursuers behind, something collapsing… amid this chaotic haze, a familiar voice reached her.

“The young mistress is awake.”

It was Xiao Chan’s voice — she recognized it instantly, without needing to think or search for it. She closed her eyes, struggling to gather her thoughts, and when she tried to force herself up, Xiao Chan pulled the blanket and pressed her back down. The young maid hadn’t used much strength — mostly because Su Tan’er herself had little strength left to resist. In her blurred vision, she saw eyes rimmed red.

“What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse, hardly sounding like her own.

“The hour of Chou is nearly over.”

“Young mistress, don’t get up…”

“I’ll go warm the medicine…”

Voices sounded around her — Xiao Chan’s, Juan’er’s, Xing’er’s — but it was Liheng who told her the time. He’d stayed too. Her mind still felt wretched, but there was a certain warmth underneath it all. She recalled what had happened before: “Shopkeeper Liao and the others…”

“Young mistress, please don’t think about all that right now, all right?” Juan’er, at the bedside, choked out the words. Su Tan’er shook her head apologetically, speaking weakly: “I can’t help it…”

“Shopkeeper Liao and the others have already gone home to rest,” Ning Yi’s voice sounded beside her, and then he said gently to Xiao Chan and Juan’er, “I’ll talk to her. Go help Xing’er outside.”

The two maids nodded and left, heading to the next room to brew medicine. As quiet settled, Su Tan’er’s vision and mind gathered a little more clearly. Her husband sat there, dressed in that same blue robe as he’d worn during the day, having pulled up a stool to sit and watch over her. His manner was much the same as when they chatted upstairs on ordinary days — head tilted casually, carrying that scholarly air of calm detachment and steadiness. Though a young man’s face doesn’t easily convey gravity and maturity, this truly was the image of the talented scholar she’d once pictured in her heart.

His learning surpassed that of countless others, yet he never flaunted it — the depth and quiet within him carried a great deal of quiet strength. Su Tan’er had never given this much thought before. By rights, being called the foremost talent ought to always leave people with a sense of how formidable he was, and yet within the household — herself included, along with Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and Xing’er — none of them seemed to feel that particularly strongly. From beginning to end, their dealings with him had always been easy and natural; others hearing of his reputation might feel a swell of pride, might be startled the moment they learned of it — but the women of this household, from start to finish, seemed only ever to see this simple, ordinary man. Viewed from a distance, outsiders saw the aura of the foremost talent; viewed up close, all one seemed to see was this plain, unassuming person.

Yet somehow, seeing him now, that aura of the foremost talent suddenly came rushing back to mind. He too had stayed up from evening straight through until now without resting, hadn’t he? However much he might be called her husband, in the end she’d still burdened him with all this — he was, after all, a scholar, and shouldn’t have been dragged into matters of business — yet here he was… She smiled apologetically, and as she was about to speak, Ning Yi held out a piece of pastry to her.

Just like their chats upstairs, she almost instinctively reached for it, but her hands had no strength left. The pastry spun in the air before he caught it himself and ate it, chewing for a moment, then took a gulp of tea to wash it down, his expression unbothered.

“I can eat these things. You can’t — you only get to drink medicine.”

She wanted to laugh, but the wave of emotion brought on a spell of dizziness and exhaustion. In her heart, a helpless thought: why did he have to try to make her laugh?

Then she heard Ning Yi say, “And… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Hm?” The weak woman on the bed opened her tired eyes once more.

…

The charcoal fire burned, steam rising from within the clay pot as the smell of medicine began to fill the air. The three maids kept watch nearby, occasionally glancing at the wall beside them, worry evident in their eyes.

Xiao Chan seemed slightly better off; Juan’er and Xing’er were both weighed down with anxiety. Their mistress had finally woken, but still ran a high fever — this long night, in truth, had only just begun. With their mistress fallen ill, the Eldest Branch’s affairs would grow all the harder. They’d grown up alongside their mistress since childhood and knew exactly how much effort and sacrifice she’d poured into all of this — she would absolutely refuse to back down, and they had no idea whether the young master could persuade her otherwise. But even if he did manage to persuade her — what then, about the Eldest Branch’s affairs? Would they simply have to let their mistress watch all that effort go to waste?

“…What did the young master just have us do — what’s it all for?”

“Can’t make heads or tails of it…”

“The place where young master does his experiments has things like this too…”

“But what use could it possibly be…”

“No idea…”

As they brewed the medicine, the three maids shared their doubts with one another. Earlier, Ning Yi had had them draw grid lines across sheets of rice paper with ink-thread, then began marking things on it using the account books from three years back — some were place names, names of Su family shops, but most were strange, crooked little symbols, simple strokes, circles, half-circles, and the like, utterly incomprehensible. The young master worked fast, only occasionally pausing to frown and think, and twice had called the three of them over to ask why the accounts showed a discrepancy at a particular point, then noted the answer beside the symbol.

The young master wanted to understand the state of the Su family’s affairs, but what good could this possibly do? None of them could make sense of it. Over the past year, the young master had always struck them as warm and deeply learned, but never one to concern himself with business matters. Now the entire Su family faced a crisis, with shopkeepers and stewards who’d spent decades in trade all scrambling to respond — the young master, scholar that he was, even if he wanted to help, would likely just be a scholar’s last-minute scramble, of little real use. Different fields required different expertise — surely that was how it had to be.

“The young master…” Xiao Chan, closest to Ning Yi among the three, said quietly, head lowered. “The young master is really something…”

She’d known before that Ning Yi was impressive — and ever since she’d become intimate with him, that feeling had naturally grown stronger. But even so, there were limits. In the past, when she’d wanted the young master to help share some of the young mistress’s burden, it had mainly been for the sake of the closeness between the young master and mistress — having someone share the load would surely please the young mistress. But when it came to business, surely the young master couldn’t take the young mistress’s place. In such matters, even in Xiao Chan’s eyes, the young master might be far more capable than most ordinary people — and that alone was already remarkable — but to say he could outdo everyone at everything, that was simply impossible, and Xiao Chan couldn’t bring herself to believe that either.

“We all know the young master is impressive, very clever, but he can’t possibly be as brilliant at everything as he is with poetry…” Juan’er said quietly.

“The young master said he had a way, and he wouldn’t lie.” Xiao Chan could only cling stubbornly to this belief for now. Beside her, Xing’er stared at the charcoal fire in silence for a long while, then finally reached up and wiped at the corner of her eye again.

“I know the young mistress’s temperament, but this time, as long as the young master can convince her to rest properly, that would be enough.” Perhaps because something weighed heavily on her heart, Xing’er — usually the strongest-willed of the three — found herself crying repeatedly that night, her voice choked. “As long as the young mistress is all right, even if she can’t become head of the family, she’s still the young mistress, the young master is still the young master, and we’ll all still be together… as long as that much holds, that’s enough…”

Her emotion spread to Juan’er and Xiao Chan beside her, and a heavy grayness settled over them again. As Juan’er choked up, Xiao Chan said quietly, “The young master will find a way…”

“Mm.” Xing’er and Juan’er nodded beside her, though in truth, probably neither of them fully believed it.

As long as their mistress came through this safely, that would be best. As for everything else, they could only leave it to the rest of the household to strive for — the old patriarch, Shopkeeper Liao, Shopkeeper Xi, Second Master, Third Master… in a household this large, surely someone would be able to hold it up…

…

While the maids went to brew the medicine, in the bedroom, the oil lamp’s flame still flickered. Ning Yi sat by the bed, took a sip of tea, and slowly relayed Physician Sun’s diagnosis.

“It’s not just a cold — it’s more than that, and you know it yourself. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but if your mind can’t settle, if you can’t stop worrying because the problem isn’t solved, and not being able to settle makes it even harder to solve the problem — it’s turning into a dead end… I know you’re probably sick of me going on like this…”

He paused briefly. Su Tan’er shook her head slightly, then spoke, her voice as faint as a wisp of smoke about to vanish in the wind: “Husband, I understand… but how could I let it go…” Her expression turned sorrowful.

“Whether you let it go or not, that’s up to you,” Ning Yi said, resting his palm on her forehead. “You’re in no state right now for a long discussion, so I’ll just give you the short version. I just finished going through the Eldest Branch’s account books from three years back.”

“Hm?” Su Tan’er looked confused.

“I just finished going through the Eldest Branch’s account books from three years back,” Ning Yi repeated calmly, watching her. “Your father is still not out of danger, and neither are you. Grandfather may consider sending someone to take over, but you won’t accept that. From this point on, though, you cannot get out of bed. Everything’s already on the table, so from here I’ll help you with it. Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and Xing’er are all here too — but for some matters, only I can act on your behalf. It’s the only way…”

“I know you have every question in the world, but there’s no need to go into it all right now. Tomorrow, the day after, once you’re a bit more clear-headed, we’ll talk it through properly — there’s something I want to discuss with you too. But for now, just a few points: we’ve known each other over a year now. I need you to understand one thing — when I say I can do something, I can do it. I mean this very seriously. This matter, right now — I will help you see it through…”

Su Tan’er, gripping his hand, shook her head with difficulty, a smile on the verge of tears breaking through. “Husband, this matter… you don’t understand…”

Ning Yi stopped her from shaking her head, leaning in closer, looking at her. “No — I understand exactly what kind of matter this is. I’m saying this after already knowing. I want you to know that too. Whether you trust me or not comes down to how you judge my character and what we’ve built together — but for now, just remember that I’ve said this. That’s what matters most…”

“After that — over the next few days, meetings and discussions will happen right here in your room. You can listen from the bed, watch, think it over, doesn’t matter. Whatever decision gets made, I’ll explain the reasoning to you, you nod, and then we send it out. I know you won’t let go of this, that it’s impossible to leave you out of it entirely — so I won’t shut you out. I’ll just reduce how much of the thinking you have to do yourself. All you need to do is judge whether what I say makes sense… will that work?”

Su Tan’er closed her eyes. After a long moment, a single tear slid down from the corner of her eye. Ning Yi slowed his words.

“The Su family hasn’t reached the point of real disaster yet — the enemy hasn’t made their move yet. Right now you need to prepare to drink your medicine, think less, just remember I’ve already said what I said. If I say it’ll be solved, it will be solved. Then get a good night’s sleep — at least for now, let your heart rest easy. Nothing will happen to the family, because I’m here. All right?”

Su Tan’er, eyes closed, nodded.

“Good. We’ve agreed, then.”

Ning Yi drew back and took a sip of tea. A moment later, Su Tan’er opened her eyes again. “Husband, I feel much better already…”

“You merchants have absolutely no talent for persuasion.” Ning Yi pursed his lips, shaking his head to show his disbelief.

Su Tan’er smiled faintly, and another wave of dizziness washed through her mind.

Then Xing’er, Juan’er, and Xiao Chan came in carrying the bowl of medicine, helped her sit up, and got her to finish it. Under their watchful, concerned eyes, she finally sank into a deep sleep, murmuring one last thing before drifting off: “Husband, go rest too…”

“I know.”

She woke once in the middle of it all, the sky beginning to lighten faintly. Xiao Chan sat dozing in a chair nearby; that familiar figure still sat by the desk at the window, apparently writing something. She closed her eyes again and drifted back into sleep — perhaps because of that silhouette, this time, her heart felt just a little more at peace…