The lamps blazed brightly. Regarding the Su family’s recent troubles, the first round had already made things clear enough — business for the main, second, and third branches was all declining, one supplier or distribution channel after another beginning to demand concessions. At its root, it all traced back to the main branch having made a serious misstep in a major decision — the imperial merchant bid had started with far too much fanfare, only to collapse suddenly afterward, and with a woman now managing these affairs, it had finally sparked real turmoil.
This was, of course, a way of skirting the real issue — what had actually stirred up outside turmoil was mainly the ripple effect of the third branch’s bid for the estate. But saying this much here was already enough to serve the purpose.
“Everyone, I feel I should say a few words here.” In the hall, Su Zhongkan rose, his voice cutting through the murmuring and discussion. “In business, when you set out a plan, when you try to pull off a deal, you can’t simply believe that wanting it enough guarantees success. Often, everyone puts in their utmost effort, and in the end it still doesn’t work out — that happens often enough. As for why we failed to win the imperial merchant title this time, everyone here understands the reason well enough — it was truly the Wu family’s underhanded dealing, not a failure of strategy on our part. Niece Tan’er’s ability and business acumen are plain for all to see — this wasn’t the fault of any particular person.”
“But, even if it wasn’t anyone’s fault, given how things have unfolded, there ultimately needs to be some accounting, some explanation. Just how much money was spent on this imperial merchant affair, how large a hole has been left in our accounts — some have said we emptied out silver reserves from many places running around for this. Whether that’s actually true, everyone deserves to know clearly. Up to now, all of this has been handled by Niece Tan’er behind the scenes; my third brother and I haven’t gotten involved. So I feel that today, the first priority should be making sure everyone understands just how large the shortfall really is…”
He’d barely finished speaking when Su Yunsong stood up. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.” Someone behind him rose as well. “You’re actually asking my main branch to make its accounts public, right here and now?”
“You’re kicking us while we’re down!”
“I don’t believe the lines between my Su family’s main, second, and third branches have been drawn so clearly yet!” Su Zhongkan frowned. “And besides, since this whole affair has affected the entire family now, all the clan elders here today surely deserve to have some clear numbers in mind. If the imperial merchant matter were still unresolved, of course we couldn’t open these accounts up just yet. But now that it’s over, the dust has settled. If we’ve fallen short, we’ve fallen short — what’s left to hide!”
Su Yunsong looked over at Su Tan’er and Su Boyong. “The imperial merchant affair touches on a great many things — the specific details behind it were never disclosed to us before. How can we possibly compile these accounts today out of nowhere? Zhongkan, this really ought to wait until…”
“Why not just wait until next year, then!” Someone from the second branch stood up. Su Zhongkan turned and gestured for quiet, and then someone from the main branch stood up too. “What are you even saying? Does Yunsong not have a point?”
The scene grew chaotic again for a moment. Su Tan’er rose, about to speak, when up above, Su Yu suddenly struck his cane against the floor. “Enough arguing!” The surroundings finally quieted down. And it was in the midst of everyone settling back into their seats that Su Tan’er began to speak — but at that moment, another figure stepped forward from among the main branch’s members. This was a relatively important steward within the main branch, a distant relative of the Su family named Su Tingguang. He held some papers in his hand, his expression seeming somewhat hesitant. Su Tan’er looked at him. “Uncle Tingguang…”
Su Tingguang glanced at Su Tan’er and sighed. “As for today’s matter, I… I actually side with Second Cousin here. I have some accounts of my own that really ought to be brought forward now.”
Everyone looked at him. For the first time, the meeting hall fell utterly silent, as though something had reached a critical threshold and was finally about to break through. The main, second, and third branches, even the clan head and the elders above, all wore varying expressions.
Only Su Tingguang’s voice rang out in the next moment.
“While the imperial merchant matter remained undecided, these accounts were all still fluid, but given the state of the household now, to say things could still change would be deceiving ourselves. Everyone knows how hard Tan’er has worked these past few years — she made her plans early for the imperial merchant bid, prepared early, and spent a great deal of money on it. It wasn’t a failure of strategy…”
He sighed. “What I have here are the accounts I’ve been quietly diverting from the Yuanzhou region over the years. The current shortfall is roughly fifty-some thousand taels, which can no longer be made up. Eldest Cousin, Niece Tan’er, everyone…”
Up above, Su Yu narrowed his eyes. Tan’er closed hers and turned her head aside. Su Boyong lowered his head, his expression unreadable. Elsewhere, Su Zhongkan’s gaze turned serious, while Su Yunfang listened intently.
Su Tingguang kept speaking, but his words could no longer be clearly heard — the entire meeting hall erupted into an uproar, and as the lamplight spread outward, it stirred up ripples among the crowd gathered in the surrounding square.
…
That commotion carried over the courtyard wall, audible even here in this courtyard. Over at the meeting hall, things had finally started to break — or rather, those who’d been planning to erupt had finally made their move.
“Guessed wrong about what?” Su Danhong glanced over that way, then turned back to look at Ning Yi.
The peanut shells sat on the table. Ning Yi kept his head lowered.
“From… a few years back.” He seemed to think for a moment before speaking, his words coming slowly. “Everyone’s already known for a while that Tan’er wants to fight for the position of family head. But ability aside, she’s still a woman in the end — nothing can change that fact. Even within the main branch, most people who genuinely trust Su Boyong have always felt uncertain, wavering, about how they feel toward her. A lot of people have been wavering.”
“So, even if the old man helps her secure this position of family head, the problem would still linger — who knows when these people might lose confidence in Tan’er. It’s only human nature, but rather than just letting that sit and wait, why not deal with it now, while there’s still a way to, and give them a bit of a lesson in the process.”
Su Danhong frowned, her face full of confusion, not understanding at all what he was getting at.
Ning Yi lifted his head, gazing toward the lamplight over there, the countless fragments of murmured discussion. “What’s happening today is mainly because of the third branch’s bid for the estate, but that can’t really be put on the table openly. To make the case that the main branch is no longer capable of managing so much business, to push the clan elders into biting the bullet — better to remove Su Tan’er, this destabilizing factor, than keep dragging things out. Or perhaps the only avenue left is to make an issue out of the accounts lost on the imperial merchant affair — in any case, that’s what’s right in front of everyone now.”
“Su Zhongkan and Su Yunfang have been working at this all along, so naturally some people would step forward — and it’s not entirely about loyalty either, it’s more a question of confidence in the main branch, in Tan’er. Whenever things get tense, they always remember that Tan’er is, after all, a woman. If these people don’t act now, they might become a problem later too — so, before Tan’er’s position is formally secured, might as well give them a warning now, a kind of rehearsal, so they’ll understand that when they run into a difficulty like this again in the future, Tan’er will be able to handle it.”
“What exactly are you talking about?”
“The thing you guessed wrong about.” Ning Yi smiled. Just then, several figures approached from over there, led by Su Wengui — this fellow had tried to be clever and provoke trouble the day Su Boyong was assassinated, and ended up getting beaten bloody by Su Yu’s cane for it, ever since giving Ning Yi dark looks whenever he saw him. But this time, seeing Ning Yi and Su Danhong together, he only paused briefly before breaking into a smile and walking over.
“Liheng. Why don’t you go take a look over there, you know? It’s all kicked off inside, ha ha.” Su Wengui said with a smile, then lowered his voice. “Internal strife, did you know? Uncle Tingguang and Uncle Mianyun have both come forward, laid out your main branch’s shortfall in the accounts, everyone’s arguing away, an absolute mess. Tan’er’s practically alone against them all, nearly got scolded right there — you’re her husband, and you’re not even going over to check on her, honestly… tsk tsk tsk tsk… no warmth of feeling at all.”
The confused look on Su Danhong’s face still hadn’t cleared, and hearing Su Wengui say all this, combined with what Ning Yi had just said, it all felt rather unsettling. She looked at Su Wengui, then back at Ning Yi. Su Wengui noticed her expression. “Eh? Cousin Danhong looking worried?”
Su Danhong just stood there looking at Ning Yi. Ning Yi laughed. “See, you’re feeling it too…” Then he turned to Su Wengui and pulled out a handful of peanuts. “Want some?”
Su Wengui stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “No thanks.”
He had to get back to watch the show, after all.
…
Same night, Changyun Pavilion.
A crash — a wine cup shattered on the floor.
“Liu Qingdi, don’t get so full of yourself, I’m telling you!”
“So what if I am full of myself?” Amid the noise, Liu Qingdi, face flushed red, spoke each word deliberately.
The scene had grown somewhat chaotic. As the host, Puyang Yi was finding this rather a headache. Of course, tonight’s turn of events was, one might say, quite dramatic — for some reason, Liu Qingdi had drunk a great deal today and could no longer control himself, mocking one after another of those who’d argued with him tonight, then dashing off poem after poem, as though determined to battle the whole crowd with his literary prowess alone. As for the few who could stand as his equals tonight, such as Cao Guan, they simply sat off to the side, watching the show and drinking, saying nothing, not getting involved — the scene had grown somewhat out of hand.
Of course, though the mood tonight wasn’t great, if word of this got out, it might well turn into quite the tale afterward, and Liu Qingdi’s reputation would surely soar. Amid the wild argument, someone finally couldn’t hold back and spoke up.
“You really think you’re the finest in all of Jiangning? What I know is, there’s someone who casually wrote a ci poem for a nine-year-old child in private, and it’s a thousand times better than yours.”
“And who exactly are you talking about!?” Liu Qingdi shouted.
“Ning Yi, Ning Liheng!”
At the name, everyone present froze for a moment. Puyang Yi frowned; Cao Guan, holding up his wine cup, narrowed his eyes; Liu Qingdi’s face flushed red, then pale, then red again, his eyes turning fierce.
Someone beside him spoke up. “Ning Yi has a new poem out?”
“How does Brother Kongshan know of this?”
“Bring it out quickly, let’s see…”
At once, a buzz of discussion broke out; even Qilan, busy trying to smooth things over nearby, couldn’t help craning her neck to look.
Liu Qingdi waved a hand, taking a while to catch his breath before roaring, “Bring it out, then! Don’t tell me it’s ‘Drinking Wine with Pei Di’ again! Is that Daoist by his door reciting a third poem now!?”
Chen Lu, self-styled the Recluse of the Empty Mountain, snatched up a long table beside him, already flushed with anger too, grabbed the brush that was about to fall to the ground, and struck it hard against the table.
“I, Chen Lu, am no man of overflowing poetic genius! I write poems and ci purely to cultivate my temperament! Perhaps I can’t match your skill, but I simply cannot stand this attitude of yours! This ci isn’t mine, but I’ll show it to you anyway — let you see that there’s always a greater sky beyond the sky, greater talents beyond your own!”
“Well said!”
Someone began applauding.
“Then write it out! Let’s see what this fellow’s really capable of!”
Chen Lu glared at him, then began stirring his brush vigorously in the ink, pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote three large, hastily-scrawled characters: Calming the Waves!
The strokes of his brush moved without pause. A crowd of people, already flushed and agitated, gathered around. Chen Lu held his breath, his chest heaving. On the rice paper, the ci poem appeared with each stroke of the brush —
Listen not to the sound of rain striking through the trees; why not chant and stroll on, unhurried? Bamboo staff and straw sandals outpace a horse with ease — who’s afraid!
Having written this much, Chen Lu glanced up at Liu Qingdi, then continued writing —
A cloak of rain and mist, and I’ll spend my life as I please!