For the next few days, it rained in Jiangning.
The city gates still hadn’t opened. The unending autumn rain seemed to dissolve the whole city into itself; figures hurried along the roads, yet carried with them a deep sense of weariness and exhaustion. With the gates closed, little could be accomplished, and even ordinarily simple matters now took far more effort than usual. Rice and grain prices climbed daily, disputes of every kind gradually increased, and in these gloomy days, everyone felt a little worn down.
Yet if one set Jiangning’s textile trade apart from all this, the situation there was somewhat different. A storm was beginning to brew, with every house engaged in vigorous maneuvering—new schemes, new connections, all watching for which way the wind would blow, seeking out trends, staking claims. The Wu family, now Jiangning’s foremost cloth merchant, had secured this year’s imperial merchant title, signaling that they might soon prepare for expansion. Of course, within a few months there likely wouldn’t be much major movement yet—securing the title brought with it enormous responsibility, and for now the Wu family still had to make adjustments regarding the annual tribute cloth. But once things stabilized, they would inevitably begin advancing by leaps and bounds.
In contrast, the Su family had begun to falter. After that night of the imperial merchant announcement, Su Tan’er finally emerged again, working actively to stabilize the turmoil the Su family would soon face, seeking out old partners to try to steady their relationships. The Su family still had some reserves of goodwill, and the responses she’d received so far had been reasonably good—but beneath the surface, it was hard to know how many had already begun losing heart, how many had quietly begun making contact with other merchant houses behind her back.
The Xue family could do nothing about any of this; they could only wait quietly, positioning themselves discreetly, accumulating strength, ready to claim a larger share of whatever market the Su family might eventually release. In the past, they had made the most preparations against the Su family, and now they might well seize the opportunity to gain even greater advantage.
None of this had truly taken shape yet, but already it had begun eating away at the entire structure like termites suddenly appearing. Within a month or two, the whole situation might genuinely collapse—the Wu family rising to a new peak, the Su family retreating from its place among Jiangning’s three great cloth merchants, shrinking back down to a mid-sized house, and then… in the eyes of those who understood such things, perhaps declining even further still.
In a certain sense, turmoil within the Su family had already begun.
In the Su family compound now, talk of that night of the imperial merchant announcement lingered everywhere. The Eldest, Second, and Third Branches had already begun drawing clear lines between themselves. Voices, open and veiled alike, had begun speaking of Ning Yi’s incompetence, of Su Tan’er’s incompetence. These past few days, Su Tan’er had still been running about everywhere, too busy to deal with these people at home, and for now, none of them yet dared to say such things directly to her face. But within the Su family, calls to strip Su Tan’er of her authority over business affairs had already begun to rise, with daily arguments breaking out.
It wasn’t only the good-for-nothing sons of the Second and Third Branches spreading such talk—it had begun appearing in the mouths of some of the Su family elders as well. The strength Su Zhongkan and Su Yunfang had been accumulating over the years was finally being unleashed, preparing to deal a decisive, fatal blow to the Eldest Branch once Su Boyong finally fell. With the Su family beset by both internal and external troubles, even Old Patriarch Su could no longer suppress these matters through sheer authority.
It would likely still take some time before these matters became truly settled, but in the eyes of the vast majority, it now seemed all but inevitable that Su Tan’er would soon withdraw from the Su family’s business stage. No matter how hard she tried now to hold things together, to stop the slide, some things truly did collapse like a defeated army in retreat. And being a woman herself made it that much harder for her to project stability in such a crisis—many might acknowledge her business talent, and even believe that this defeat could eventually be reversed, but they found it far harder to believe the Su family would continue to let her helm things going forward.
During this time, criticism directed at Ning Yi was probably the most abundant of all. Though it hadn’t been brought out into the open to demand any particular consequence, privately, even many who had once been close to the Eldest Branch now spoke of him unfavorably, with some even beginning to say this scholar wasn’t worthy of the Second Young Miss. After that night, Su Tan’er had fully reclaimed the position that had originally been hers, leaving Ning Yi with nothing to do. These days he had returned to his former idle existence—outside, the rain fell, the private school remained closed, and he spent his time at home reading, writing, occasionally fiddling with some small cylindrical device, appearing no different from before.
Still, although the city gates remained closed and the private school stayed shut because of it, several people within the Su household had already gone to find Su Chonghua, headmaster of Yushan Academy, requesting that their children be transferred to other classes. These children had originally been students under Ning Yi’s instruction; their parents had apparently decided to align themselves with the Second and Third Branches, and no longer wished for their children to continue under his teaching. Within the Su family, matters concerning the private school had always been something the Old Patriarch valued and controlled most closely. That the maneuvering for position had reached even this point clearly signaled this was no trivial matter, and word of it had already spread widely through the Su estate within just a few days.
September was drawing near, and the weather had turned clear again this day; word had it the city gates might open within the next few days. The tense atmosphere within the city seemed to have eased somewhat, but within the Su family compound, the tension only deepened by the day. Beneath the covered walkway, two maids carried something along, whispering to each other as they walked.
“Making such a mess of things, and that young master acts like nothing happened at all…”
“Some ‘foremost talent’—useless, absolutely useless…”
“The Second Young Miss got dragged down by him too, I bet…”
“Who knows what’ll happen to the Su family now…”
Amid such an atmosphere, maids passing by occasionally exchanged such remarks—it had become commonplace by now. But these two maids seemed to have some bad luck today; just as they were about to round the corner of the walkway, they suddenly found a cold, pretty face waiting for them there. “You two, go help over there—they’re moving things at the neighboring courtyard, and they’re short-handed.”
“Ju— Juan’er, sister…”
“Didn’t you hear me? Everyone’s busy with work—hurry along, won’t you?”
“But… the Fourth Young Miss told us to…”
“The Fourth Young Miss’s matter isn’t urgent. I’ll send someone else. Go, now!”
“Yes…”
The two maids looked displeased, but hurried off all the same.
Juan’er frowned and walked quickly ahead. Before long, she overheard people in a nearby courtyard talking about Ning Yi again—nothing kind, of course. This time she pressed her lips together and finally didn’t go in. Everyone was talking; in the end, it wasn’t something she could control entirely. She simply lowered her head and hurried on toward the courtyard. In the small courtyard, Chan’er was sweeping with a broom. Juan’er walked over, glanced at Ning Yi’s room, then looked upstairs. “Xiao Chan, where’s the young master?”
“Uh, went out, I think.” Xiao Chan held onto her broom. “He said this morning it was finally clear after so long, so he went out for a walk. Did Juan’er need something from him?”
“I passed by the gate just now—the Zhou family’s young lady and young master came looking for him.”
“Hm, but Juan’er, you don’t look so good.”
“Ran into some people just now who don’t understand anything…”
Juan’er coldly repeated what she’d just overheard. Chan’er pressed her lips together, her expression darkening too. These past few days, they’d both heard plenty of this sort of talk; even stepping forward to scold someone about it did no good. There were other things, things they knew but simply couldn’t speak of at all.
“The young master’s really being wronged…” Juan’er said, frowning slightly. Normally rather quiet, she genuinely felt bad for Ning Yi at this moment.
“Sister Xing’er scolded someone yesterday too,” Chan’er said. “But the young master seems pretty relaxed about it all. I asked him yesterday if he was angry, and he was fiddling with that little telescope thing, just shook his head casually, didn’t say anything.”
Chan’er imitated the way Ning Yi casually shook his head, though it was hard to say how accurate the impression was—in truth, she cared about it too. Juan’er said a few more words to her, then hurried off to reply to the Zhou siblings.
After Juan’er left, Xiao Chan stood holding her broom, gazing at Ning Yi’s room for a good while, biting her lip. “Young master…” she murmured softly, then picked up the broom again and swept vigorously.
That same morning, Ning Yi and Nie Yunzhu happened to meet at the small tower.
He had gone to the small laboratory beside the academy to fetch a few things, then wandered over this way on a whim, not expecting Nie Yunzhu to be home. This was the first time the two of them had seen each other since the twenty-fifth of the eighth month.
Seeing him suddenly at the door, Nie Yunzhu’s expression showed clear relief. The two didn’t exchange much greeting—Ning Yi simply raised a small bag and waved it casually, while Nie Yunzhu stood on the steps, breaking into a smile. Looking back on it afterward, it almost resembled a wife welcoming home her weary husband.
“How have you been lately?”
“The shop’s doing fine. Jin’er’s there, so I’m off today.” Nie Yunzhu tilted her head, ushering Ning Yi inside. “And you?”
“Fine too. Just been raining these past few days, so I couldn’t get out. Now that it’s cleared up, I thought I’d take a walk.”
“That’s good, then.” The door to the sitting room stood open, leading directly out to a terrace extending over the river. Autumn sunlight spilled across it; a crooked tree leaned against the small building, casting shade over the terrace. Nie Yunzhu thought for a moment. “Actually… I heard about what happened these past few days.”
“Oh.” Ning Yi glanced at her, then laughed and shook his head. “Er… it definitely wasn’t as terrible as the rumors outside make it sound, though it has been a bit noisy these last few days…”
“Why don’t… I play some music for Liheng, to ease your mind?”
“Wouldn’t that be troublesome? You finally got a day to rest…”
“It’s fine.” Nie Yunzhu smiled, then lowered her eyes. “I… this is really all I’m good for anyway…”
The terrace overlooked the river; the surrounding scenery was pleasant to the eye. The crooked tree cast only a little shade, and most of the terrace still lay in lazy sunlight. Ning Yi grabbed a cushion and sat down casually at the terrace’s edge. When Nie Yunzhu brought over the tea tray, she found him sitting on the terrace floor, back against the wall, one leg bent, gazing at the outline of the distant scenery. She couldn’t help but smile, setting down the tray.
“I’ll go get my zither.”
She said this softly. Ning Yi looked at her and nodded.
A moment later, the sound of the zither rose…
…
Without realizing it, he fell asleep.
A warm, drifting feeling, as if floating in water, a mother’s hand gently brushing over him… Nie Yunzhu didn’t know what tune she was playing—he was utterly tone-deaf in such matters, and hadn’t much cared for old zither music before—but now he found himself drawn into it all the same. Nie Yunzhu occasionally hummed a few bars along with the music, fragments of melody like the murmured words of a woman lost in thought. Every so often he glanced her way; the autumn light fell over her like scattered gold dust, her robes white as snow, her dark hair stirring faintly, her expression intent and focused—yet when he looked over, she would flash him a gentle smile in the gaps between playing.
She must have changed clothes when she came in earlier… realizing this hazily, Ning Yi gradually drifted into sleep. Across the river, willow shade stood like a screen; the autumn wind blew, the river flowing past beneath the terrace through the bend below. Leaves rustled on the terrace, occasionally one drifting down. The zither’s melody mingled with the sound of water and rustling leaves, the woman’s soft hum weaving through it all, gentle and ethereal.
The music stopped at some point he couldn’t tell. The woman sat there for a long while without moving, gazing at the sleeping figure of the man nearby. In all these years, this was the first time she had played continuously for so long. Even in the past, when the mood struck her and she played purely for her own pleasure, it had never gone on quite like this—and in those days, even earlier still, back in the pleasure house, her playing had mostly been for herself. Not long ago, her performance at Yan Cui Tower had carried a competitive edge, with the actual musicianship taking a back seat. Only now, here, was she playing wholeheartedly for someone else—playing at length, hoping to lull him into sleep, hoping he might find comfort and peace.
The wind blew across the river. She pushed the zither aside and stood, her footsteps soft as she quietly cleared away the teapot, cups, and pastries, worried he might slump over in his sleep. Then she sat down beside him in the autumn light, quietly watching his sleeping face.
At some point, the wind seemed to pick up. She went inside and returned shortly after with a thin blanket. Crouching down beside him, she hesitated for a moment, unsure whether laying the blanket over him might wake him—and this blanket was hers and Jin’er’s, carrying a scent particular to women. In that brief moment of hesitation, Ning Yi’s eyelids stirred, and he woke, groggy, rubbing his eyes, bracing a hand against the floor as he sat up.
The woman in white, still holding the blanket, rose to her feet as well, hesitating, momentarily at a loss.
“Ah, sorry, not sure what happened there—fell asleep… must be because you played so well.”
Ning Yi laughed, still a little groggy. Nie Yunzhu didn’t answer. She turned her head, then, that white figure stepping forward, rose onto the tips of her white-socked feet, tilted her head back, and pressed her lips to his.
Soft, warm, faintly trembling and inexperienced—the touch lost the autumn scene entirely amid the wooden terrace by the river bend. The wind stirred; sunlight slanted through the eaves; a single leaf drifted down on the breeze, quietly watching this moment unfold…