“…er… Dingfengbo?”

Standing by the small lawn in Yushan Academy’s outer courtyard, Su Chonghua smiled as he glanced at the paper, then frowned slightly. By now Xiao Qi had run up to him too. “Headmaster Uncle.”

“Mm.”

“Headmaster Uncle, that’s mine.”

Bowing respectfully to Su Chonghua, Xiao Qi looked at the sheet of paper with a smile. Su Chonghua, looking at the sweet little girl, handed the paper back to her. As Xiao Qi took it and carefully folded it away to tuck inside her robe, a flicker of hesitation crossed Su Chonghua’s smiling expression.

He’d only glimpsed the very beginning of the poem, but he recognized the handwriting immediately.

Dingfengbo…

The name of this particular cí form gave him pause, and he said, “Xiao Qi, could you let Uncle have another look at that… poem?”

“Huh?” Xiao Qi paused, blinking, then said “Oh,” and handed the poem back with both hands, pressing her lips together as she watched him, seeming to want to remind her headmaster uncle to be careful not to tear the paper, but deciding this would be too impolite to say and holding her tongue. Su Chonghua smiled and took the sheet, unfolding it carefully, reading it once quietly to himself, his brow furrowing. He read it through again from the beginning, and after a long moment, let out a complicated sigh, glanced at Xiao Qi beside him, and smiled once more. “Xiao Qi, this poem…”

“It’s mine.”

“Heh, I know it is—did Master Liheng write this for you?”

“Mm.” Xiao Qi nodded. “Yi—er, Teacher, he traded with Xiao Qi. He said it’s mine now, and Xiao Qi should take good care of it.”

“I see.” Su Chonghua thought for a moment, nodded, and handed the paper back to Xiao Qi. “You must take very good care of it indeed.”

Xiao Qi tucked the poem away and left. Su Chonghua watched the little girl’s retreating figure for a long while before finally shaking his head with a laugh. This Liheng fellow really did have genuine talent, and yet even now, what does he do but write out a Dingfengbo, and show it to nothing more than a little girl. Sure enough—off in his own corner, admiring himself, consoling himself—did he even realize how ridiculous it would look if this ever got out?

Ning Yi hardly mattered much anymore at this point. There were still a few matters to attend to that afternoon, and a poetry gathering to attend that evening—Su Chonghua put the matter out of his mind and went on to deal with other business.

The afternoon appeared calm and quiet; the tension gripping the textile trade hadn’t reached Jiangning’s ordinary citizens at all. Along the streets and alleys, pedestrians came and went as always, restaurants and teahouses filled with the light strains of music, and every so often someone would mention some tidbit of current gossip—the Su family, the Wu family, the cloth trade—touched on in passing conversation. It was during this very afternoon, at a certain rather secluded teahouse, that Su Tan’er, accompanied by a few carefully vetted, thoroughly trusted stewards and three maids, met with several members of the Wu family, led by Wu Chenghou.

“Ning Yi… why isn’t he here?” Without much in the way of greeting, this was Wu Chenghou’s first question, after glancing around the room.

“My husband has never much cared for the small workings of the marketplace. After that day when he wrote his poem to gently chide Uncle, he hasn’t concerned himself with the matter again, and I don’t much like to trouble him further over it.”

Su Tan’er’s conduct in business matters had always been remarkably measured and composed, but her underlying strength of will was something everyone understood clearly—despite being a woman, she’d never been willing to defer to anyone. And yet now, her words carried a soft, almost dependent air, as though sheltering under her husband’s wing, and this only made Wu Chenghou angrier still—especially the mention of “writing a poem to gently chide Uncle,” which was clearly nothing more than dragging out that line about “the newly powerful mock those still climbing” all over again: her husband had finished the job, reminded her once more, and she still hadn’t caught on—so, well, he simply couldn’t be bothered to concern himself further. Whatever this was to them, to her husband, it was clearly nothing more than a trivial afterthought, dealt with in passing.

“Heh, so it would seem that whatever my worthy niece and my Wu family have gone through, your esteemed husband has scarcely given it a second thought.”

Su Tan’er smiled, her expression carrying a hint of matter-of-fact resignation. “It has nothing to do with Uncle. It’s simply that I, your niece, am too stubborn by nature, taking success and failure far too much to heart. If it weren’t for my husband’s pity for me lying ill at the time, he likely wouldn’t have troubled himself to intervene over something so trivial. My husband foresaw everything about today’s outcome two months ago already, and every step of what has followed since—each and every detail—was arranged with perfect clarity in advance. I’ll go over it all for Uncle’s benefit shortly. In terms of talent, insight, and strategic planning, I fall far short of my husband. There’s no need for Uncle to be upset over this matter…”

“…Hmph!”

The wind blew past the alley corner near the teahouse, thinning out this rather unwarm exchange into the surrounding air; nearby, the street bustled with passersby. The afternoon slipped gradually away amid this steady flow of foot traffic. By evening, Su Tan’er and her three maids climbed into a carriage to head home, with several other stewards’ carriages following behind, carrying thick stacks of ledgers and account books. Su Tan’er pulled back the curtain to look out at the darkening evening sky, then broke into a smile.

“Chan’er, tell me—did what I said to those Wu family people earlier sound commanding?”

“Huh?” Not expecting her mistress to ask such a question, Xiao Chan blinked, momentarily at a loss. “What? Er, com… commanding, yes…”

“Mm, I thought so too—quite impressive, really.” Su Tan’er nodded to herself, satisfied. Her young mistress had been acting a bit oddly today, though at her core she hadn’t changed much—calmly and composedly negotiating with the Wu family delegation, though some of what she’d said early on about her husband had seemed rather excessive, leaving all three maids feeling a bit embarrassed on her behalf. Later, once the Wu family began to suspect she might be deliberately provoking them with such remarks, they’d stopped bringing up Ning Yi altogether.

“But you know, once young miss brought up young master’s part in all this to those Wu family people, Steward Cao and the others were quite startled, hee hee. They had no idea why the Wu family had secretly handed over so much to us. During the break, this servant overheard them talking amongst themselves—ah, so young master Ning is really this capable? These past two months, this is honestly the happiest they’ve looked.”

The stewards and managers following along behind weren’t particularly influential figures within the Su family, but they’d essentially been vetted and selected by Ning Yi and Su Tan’er together—mid-level personnel with no prior involvement in this affair. In negotiating with the Wu family this time, even if the Wu family had honestly laid their entire fortune out for the Su family to pick through, the sheer volume of work involved would still have been considerable. Chan’er, Juan’er, and Xing’er could help to some degree, but on their own, they clearly couldn’t sort through all of it—these next few days would still require the assistance of this group of stewards and managers.

Since first ordering them to come and assist, and demanding secrecy, Su Tan’er hadn’t told these few men very much, so naturally they hadn’t understood the reasons behind it all. But given their position within the Su family, they certainly understood well enough what had been happening these past two and a half months. Watching the dust seem about to settle, only to see this sudden reversal—hearing Su Tan’er’s exchange with the Wu family delegation, watching the Wu family’s people wear expressions of resentment while forced to swallow their pride—it was hard for them not to understand that the Wu family had suffered a devastating blow under these circumstances, with Su Tan’er turning defeat into victory.

That such a dramatic reversal, kept secret to this degree, had apparently been orchestrated by their own household’s Young Master Ning was almost unbelievable. Over these past two-plus months, who could say how much scheming this husband and wife had been carrying out behind the scenes? These men had originally watched, expecting the Eldest Branch to fall, harboring quiet reservations about Ning Yi, occasionally shaking their heads in idle conversation, and feeling all the more that Su Tan’er wasn’t being treated fairly. Only now, in these snatched moments between tasks, could they finally shake their heads in genuine admiration at the depth of strategy this husband and wife had woven throughout the entire affair.

If things played out as Su Tan’er had described—taking as much as they could reasonably claim—then afterward, the entire Wu family would likely be crippled for a long time to come.

For now, only this handful of people riding in the rear carriages knew of this exhilarating turn of events. On the way home, they happened to encounter Ning Yi; Su Tan’er stopped the carriage to let him climb aboard, and the stewards in the carriages behind watched him with expressions that had utterly transformed—unreadable, complicated looks mixing admiration, sighs, respect, and speculation all together. Su Tan’er also stepped down to give them a few final instructions before the two groups temporarily went their separate ways.

By the time they arrived back at the Su estate, Su Tan’er learned that her cousin had arrived that day. As for this cousin, Su Danhong, it wasn’t the first time Ning Yi had met her; understanding the closeness between her and Su Tan’er, he accompanied his wife to see her right away. The meeting that followed, however, wasn’t especially pleasant—Su Danhong showed him a certain measure of displeasure, neither warm nor entirely cold. Ning Yi more or less understood the reason behind it. After dinner, he went out alone for a walk, and just as he neared the courtyard gate, Su Tan’er caught up with him, offering an apology on her cousin’s behalf.

“It’s nothing. She’s just worried about you, under a lot of pressure herself—I won’t hold it against her. Go on back and keep her company.”

“Mm.” Su Tan’er pressed her lips together, then added, “I’ll have Xiao Chan accompany you instead.” She called Chan’er over and had her go with Ning Yi on his walk.

As close confidantes, after some careful observation of each other’s moods, Su Danhong realized her own attitude had been somewhat inappropriate—that it had put Su Tan’er in an awkward position, at the very least—and so she offered an apology of her own. “Still… if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have lost the imperial merchant business the way you did, after preparing for it all these years. I feel for you, truly…”

“Sister Hong, you don’t understand…”

“You two still haven’t consummated your marriage, have you?” Since Su Danhong had come to visit, she’d naturally be sharing Su Tan’er’s room tonight, and glancing at the furnishings of her cousin’s chambers, she could more or less guess as much already. “You know… just take it as a joke. If you’d married Steward Xi back then instead, things might well have turned out very differently.”

Su Tan’er frowned slightly. “Sister Hong, please don’t make jokes like that anymore.”

“Hm?” Su Danhong frowned, looking at her with puzzlement. “What exactly do you feel, toward this husband of yours?”

“I… I honestly don’t know myself…” Su Tan’er shook her head, her face flushing slightly.

As for how she truly felt about Ning Yi, in truth, she genuinely couldn’t say for certain.

In fact, just as Su Danhong had pointed out, the two of them had been married for quite some time now, and the marriage still hadn’t been consummated—in Su Danhong’s eyes, this truly did suggest some real distance between them. If, in Su Tan’er’s own heart, her husband had turned out to be exactly the bookish fool she’d once imagined, then after a year or nearly two years living together, she’d probably have accepted her fate by now and consummated the marriage without further thought. But as it happened, that wasn’t quite the case, and some time would still need to pass before things reached that point regardless.

In truth, in terms of simple affection, if all that mattered were reaching the point of “accepting one’s fate,” that threshold had likely already been crossed by the turn of last year. But her relationship with her husband was, to her, a genuinely strange thing altogether—in a thousand years’ time, something like this might be called “falling in love,” but in this era, what young woman ever had such an opportunity? Caught up in the middle of it, she felt both curious and uncertain, unable to categorize her feelings into any familiar shape. It wasn’t until she’d fallen ill previously that the opportunity to raise the subject of consummating their marriage had even come up—but then she’d been bedridden, and once recovered, she’d been consumed with steadying the situation with the Wu family ever since; she’d simply had to be genuinely busy, and could only wait until everything had settled to properly arrange it.

By now, though, she’d come to take the matter quite seriously, unwilling to go through with it carelessly the way one might when simply “accepting one’s fate.” She wanted it to carry some real symbolic meaning, and yet she didn’t want outsiders to know the marriage had gone unconsummated until now either, worried people might gossip about her husband because of it—altogether, a rather vexing situation, and time was running rather short now… That night, lying beside her cousin, she tugged gently at Su Danhong’s sleeve and asked in a small voice, “Sister Hong, tell me… when husband and wife live together, how exactly does it… work…”

Even someone as formidable as she was in business matters spoke now in a voice barely above a whisper. To Su Danhong, hearing this in her current mood, there seemed something faintly forlorn about it too. “You… why are you asking about this now, of all times…”

“It’s just… on our wedding day… I ran off before I could hear… hear Mother and the aunties explain all this…”

This, after all, wasn’t something she could very well ask Chan’er or Juan’er about.

A wave of melancholy passed through Su Danhong’s heart, and she found herself recalling what her father and Xi Junyu had said earlier. Her cousin had always had a fierce, unyielding temperament, but this time, circumstances truly had overpowered her—Su Danhong guessed that her cousin probably wanted, after all this, to finally shed the burden of being a formidable businesswoman, to settle quietly into fate and simply become a proper wife at home. And as it happened, her husband would bear some responsibility in all this going forward too—which likely meant the years ahead wouldn’t be especially happy ones for her either.

And so, over the following days, her impression of Ning Yi never quite improved. Every time she saw him, her manner remained cool and distant; but since she was cool toward him, he was equally cool toward her in return, and neither one came out ahead in that particular standoff. Whenever Su Danhong saw Ning Yi and Tan’er walking together, thinking of her cousin having to “accept her fate,” she couldn’t help but feel it was rather like a fine flower planted in cow dung, a fine head of cabbage about to be rooted up by a pig—as though Ning Yi had somehow transformed into a pig, nosing away at her cousin, the cabbage, again and again. She had, of course, no idea that this particular head of cabbage was currently contemplating tying a red silk sash around herself, hoping to lend the whole rooting-up process a bit more meaning, and wasn’t nearly so put-upon or resigned about the matter as she imagined.

It was only now, having come to stay at the Su estate, that she could truly feel firsthand the pressure the Eldest Branch was currently under. With the clan assembly counting down day by day, the Second and Third Branches went about happily rallying support everywhere, everything seeming all but settled, the Eldest Branch—already isolated and lacking in allies—now appearing more abandoned and estranged than ever. Every glance that came their way seemed to say, in a few days you’ll have lost your power—and, most galling of all, she herself found she largely agreed with that assessment. Su Zhongkan, Su Yunfang, Xi Anzhi, Yu Daxian—one after another, they held forth with the confident air of victors already assured of triumph…

Under these circumstances, Su Tan’er left early and returned late every day, her exhaustion plain to see; whatever occasional flashes of sunshine and happiness appeared seemed, to Su Danhong, more like the resigned glow of sunset after accepting that nothing could be salvaged, and it pained her to see it. Given all this, Ning Yi’s apparent idleness, seemingly carefree throughout the day, grated on her all the more, and she occasionally couldn’t help but toss out a few cutting remarks. Ning Yi would simply look at her with an odd expression, entirely unashamed. Once, after Su Danhong made some sarcastic comment, he suddenly spoke up. “I was just thinking…”

“What…”

“Why don’t we name your future son Su Huaji [Catalyst]?”

“Er…” Su Danhong stared blankly for a long moment, unable to grasp why he’d brought this up. “My husband’s family doesn’t even have the surname Su… and what’s wrong with that name, anyway? I actually rather like it—if you’re so fond of it, you could name Tan’er’s eldest son that instead…”

Struck by this rejoinder for the first time, Ning Yi sighed and slunk away in defeat, leaving Su Danhong pondering for a long while, unable to figure out what exactly had just happened.

In truth, Ning Yi had previously joked to himself that, being a matrilocal son-in-law himself, he might as well consider naming a daughter Su Danhong and a son Su Huaji. This time, finding Su Danhong being rather tiresome, he’d tossed off the joke without thinking it through, only realizing afterward that her own husband hadn’t married in as a son-in-law at all. Su Danhong had inadvertently hit the mark by sheer accident, and Ning Yi, struck by his own joke turned back on him, found himself rather deflated for a moment.

Five days, four days, three days, two days… Time in the Su household passed in this atmosphere, counting down toward the day of the clan assembly, until it arrived: the twenty-fourth day of the tenth lunar month, with just one day remaining before the deadline for the Wu family’s first shipment of Splendid Gold Brocade.

The morning brought beautiful light, mist drifting through the pale golden glow.

Within the Su household, the atmosphere this particular morning was extraordinarily unusual.

A sense of something like rebirth suffused the entire estate—a turning point, a hope, a milestone—so many people, it seemed, even felt something different in the simple act of opening their doors. Su Yunfang, opening his own door, drew in a deep breath; in the neighboring courtyard, the steward named Yu Daxian gazed toward the east. Su Zhongkan had been sitting out in his courtyard since before dawn, watching the mist drift, watching the morning light rise. Xi Anzhi, passing by the courtyard gate, bowed toward him. “Good morning, Second Master.”

Today would bring a battle—a battle they’d already won, or so they believed. Or rather, tonight, they would see a matter finally confirmed, the fruits of their labor harvested at last.

And beyond the Su household, many others were also quietly watching how things unfolded here. At the Xue residence, several brothers gathered together this morning; Xue Yan stood beneath the eaves, looking in this direction, and turned with a smile toward the others, patting his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Tonight, I’m treating everyone—we’ll go to that new place on Persimmon Street, the Moon Fragrance Pavilion.” Persimmon Street wasn’t far from the Su estate. “The Su family’s affair will be settled tonight.” Similar conversations were unfolding across a good many households involved in the textile trade.

Ning Yi wasn’t at the Su estate. He kept up his usual habit of morning exercise, running through the mist, already quite far from the Su household by now, having just passed the small tower by the river, where he exchanged a greeting with the beautiful, serene woman standing by its door. He still had a fair distance left to run; only after circling back would he stop in at the small tower to sit for a while.

To him, today felt no different from any other.

“You’ll be busy today, won’t you?” Not long after, once he’d stepped inside the small tower, the woman smiled as she brought him a cup of tea. “Liheng’s family is holding their big meeting today.”

“The clan assembly—I married in, so I can’t attend.” Ning Yi said this without a trace of shame. “So it has nothing to do with me.”

Those fools could hold their meeting all they liked—he didn’t have to go… how wonderful.