By late October, the temperature had already dropped, and dawn came later.

Before the rooster’s crow, the great Su household had already stirred from sleep and begun to move. After last night’s upheaval, today too was bound to be a day of bustle and confusion.

When Ning Yi woke, faint light was flickering outside the window. Chan’er, long accustomed to his rhythm, had already risen and was heating water in the small kitchen. Her shadow fell across the corridor as she moved lightly about, humming a little tune under her breath.

The three maids had all taken part in last night’s events, and by the time Ning Yi and Su Tan’er returned from outside the city, it had already been very late before everyone finally lay down to sleep. Ning Yi had the internal cultivation technique Lu Hongti had taught him, which did him a great deal of good for keeping fit; two hours of sleep a night was enough to restore his energy. But for little Chan, this was rather taxing. Still, the girl sounded lively enough—though a moment later he heard her cough softly, whether from smoke or something else he couldn’t say.

Not long after Ning Yi lit the oil lamp in the room, Chan’er, right on cue, brought over the hot water. When the door opened, the morning wind moaned and the lamplight wavered; she hurried to kick the door shut. She too had only just gotten up, dressed in a thin pink jacket, her hair not yet properly done up, which only made her look all the fresher and more charming. After setting the basin on the stand, she came to the bedside to hang up the mosquito net for him.

“There’s a strong wind this morning, a bit cold—might rain, too. Will young master still go out for his run?”

“Mm, it hasn’t started yet, has it?” Listening to the wind whistling under the eaves outside, Ning Yi looked Chan’er up and down, then pressed a hand to the little maid’s forehead and frowned. Chan’er blinked, looking utterly puzzled. “Young master, what’s wrong?”

“You seem to have caught a cold.”

Ning Yi got out of bed, draped an outer garment over Chan’er, then pressed her down to sit at the edge of the bed. He looked her over once and made up his mind. “Go back and sleep some more later. It’s gotten cold—pile on another blanket.”

Chan’er pressed a hand to her own forehead for a long moment. “No… no I haven’t. I don’t feel hot.”

“Of course you can’t tell you have a cold yourself. You only went to sleep late last night, and this morning the wind’s this strong, and you’re only wearing this much.”

He walked over to the stand, wrung out a towel, and washed his face, his expression serious. Chan’er protested from behind him. “It’s really fine, I’m very healthy…”

In truth, though Chan’er and the other maids looked delicate, they did all sorts of physical work day in and day out, and their constitutions were considerably sturdier than most people’s—even Su Tan’er herself was nowhere near as frail as an ordinary wealthy young lady. But Ning Yi wasn’t about to argue with her. Once he’d finished washing his face, as Chan’er came over to take the basin, he caught her hand instead and pulled her out of the room.

Though Chan’er and Ning Yi were close in heart, and there had already been plenty of physical contact between them—she had long ago been promised as his—the matter hadn’t been formally settled, not before the young mistress had truly consummated her marriage with him. Now, caught by the hand like this, she immediately flushed and didn’t dare protest, following him out with her head lowered.

The courtyard was still quiet at this hour. Juan’er and Xing’er didn’t need to attend to Ning Yi’s early rising, and having also been exhausted the night before, they hadn’t gotten up yet. When Ning Yi pulled her to the door of her own bedroom, Chan’er finally protested in a low voice. “But… there’s still work to do, and since I’m already up, I should heat more water… I really haven’t gotten sick…”

Ning Yi laughed, pushed the door open, and shoved her inside, pointing at the bed. “Go to sleep. No talking back.”

Chan’er wrapped herself in Ning Yi’s single-layer robe and sat down at the edge of the bed, pouting. “Young master hasn’t slept much either.”

Ning Yi laughed. “I’m a first-rate martial artist with unrivaled skill—how can a nobody like you compare yourself to the Bloody-Handed Butcher? Now behave.”

Though he himself didn’t look particularly old, whenever he spoke with Chan’er he always seemed to treat her like a child—things like “behave” and “no talking back.” Deep down, Chan’er was quite unhappy about this; mostly she disliked being treated as a child by him. But whenever Ning Yi actually said it, she could only obey meekly. She pouted and looked at him for a moment, then finally took off her shoes and, still wrapped in his robe, curled her body into the blanket, leaving only her small face exposed.

Ning Yi walked over to the bed and smiled at the girl’s resentful expression. After a good while, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Chan’er blinked, her small face instantly burning, too stunned to speak.

Once Ning Yi turned, blew out the lamp, and left, closing the door behind him, Chan’er finally pulled her hand out from under the covers and pressed it against the spot on her forehead where she’d been kissed, then pressed it against her own burning-hot cheek. The room was dark and silent, the sound of the cooled wind drifting in from outside. Wrapped in the blanket, the little maid felt as though she were entirely enveloped in her young master’s shadow, warm beyond measure—and it was that dizzy, floating feeling that made her wonder if she really had caught a cold after all…

…

In truth, Chan’er’s constitution was fine; there was no sign of illness. But given how hard she’d been working these past days, Ning Yi had taken notice, and now that matters had been settled, it was time she got some rest.

He returned to the room, carried the basin off to empty it, then went to the small kitchen. The firewood in the stove was still burning—Chan’er had said earlier that since she was up anyway, she might as well heat extra water for Juan’er and Xing’er to use. The water still needed a while longer to boil, and with nothing else to do, Ning Yi lingered nearby, tossing in a few sticks of firewood now and then. Presently he heard a soft creak from the courtyard, and a figure in white stepped out and walked this way.

In the dim light, the figure’s bearing was unmistakably Su Tan’er’s. She wore a white single-layer top and trousers, the trouser legs made of white silk embroidered with two small yellow flowers, and moon-white embroidered shoes on her feet—clearly still in her sleepwear, with a long outer coat draped over her shoulders, held closed with one hand as she came toward the little kitchen. Once she confirmed it was Ning Yi, she smiled faintly, stepped into the room, and crouched down beside him by the stove, perhaps feeling a bit cold herself. In the firelight, the delicate curve of her figure was cast plainly before Ning Yi’s eyes.

“Where’s Chan’er? I thought I heard her heating water here just now.”

“She hadn’t slept long either, so I sent her back to rest.”

“You really shouldn’t be the one doing this kind of work, husband…”

Su Tan’er’s concern for the maids didn’t quite extend that far, but for Ning Yi, the main point was simply that he didn’t consider tending the kitchen fire something worth making a fuss over. He tossed in another dry stick, and the fire crackled and popped.

“It’s nothing. They’ve all been tired these past few days. What about you—why are you up so early?”

“I…” Su Tan’er crouched there, rising slightly on her toes, gazing into the stove’s fire but not answering his question, and said quietly instead, “Are you going out for your run again this morning, husband?”

“Mm, it’s not raining today either.”

“These next few days… maybe you shouldn’t go?”

Su Tan’er glanced at him, and Ning Yi thought about it for a moment before understanding. Last night’s affair wasn’t fully over yet—the Hundred Blades Alliance’s men were, after all, nowhere near as disciplined as an army. When they’d finally surrounded Ou Peng’s group of more than twenty men, and those men had fought desperately to break out, by the time the government troops arrived, four or five had still managed to cut their way out in a bloodbath—and that Ou Peng had actually dragged the badly wounded Xi Junyu away with him in the escape.

The Hundred Blades Alliance held considerable sway in the Jiangning area and had pursued them all the way afterward, though the outcome was still unknown. By the time the government troops arrived, Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, and Su Boyong had had no choice but to leave as quickly as possible.

Su Tan’er too had only slept a short while. But with this weighing on her mind, and having had no chance to speak with Ning Yi about it the night before, upon hearing him stirring she’d wanted to urge him not to go out these next few days—to see which way the wind was blowing, so to speak. She’d hurried out of bed without even taking time to change or do her hair, throwing a single-layer robe over her sleepwear before coming out—proof enough of how anxious she was about this. Yet her tone as she spoke was as casual as any ordinary chat about household matters. Ning Yi smiled and told her there was no serious danger, no need to worry.

In truth, there were indeed reckless, hot-blooded types who, once they’d taken a loss, would immediately strike back to catch their enemy off guard. But given yesterday’s bizarre turn of events, those men who’d come to seize him had likely not yet figured out what had happened. Even if some of them had escaped, they’d have been badly wounded, and their remaining companions would still be hunted down by the Hundred Blades Alliance. To come after him now would be foolishness, not recklessness—the odds of it were slim. Having gotten a taste of what his martial skill could do, Ning Yi’s confidence had grown considerably, and he was disinclined to go tiptoeing around such an unlikely possibility.

The two of them chatted quietly for a while longer, exchanging a few laughs over small household matters. Once the water boiled, Ning Yi banked down the fire in the stove, and after a few more words of caution, Su Tan’er finally pulled her coat tight and returned to her room. Seen from behind, her figure still looked slight, but the smile she’d worn when she turned back had been warm and at ease. Many things now weighed settled in her heart, and in this moment, this nineteen-year-old girl looked every bit her age.

That morning, as usual, he went for his run along the same route, and indeed no one bothered him along the way. He spent a while chatting with Nie Yunzhu in the small pavilion, talking mostly about site selection and renovations for the new Bamboo Records branch, and about the high-proof liquor—no mention was made of last night’s affair. It was Yuan Jin’er who bounded in, full of energy, to tell him about the new lyrics he’d written, leaving him momentarily dumbstruck.

Ning Yi hadn’t brought up any of it, but of course Nie Yunzhu was well aware of the recent changes in the Su family; naturally she’d been keeping an eye on things. And with Yuan Jin’er as her lively little informant, she’d of course heard about last night’s poem the moment it started circulating.

Last night, while Ning Yi had been rushing outside the city, the two women had been discussing all of this in their chambers, piecing together the events of the whole night.

Yuan Jin’er, sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, had never had a good word to say about Ning Yi personally. But largely because of her regard for Sister Yunzhu, she’d come to think of him as something rather special—an “insider,” so to speak. That she and Ning Yi competed over Sister Yunzhu was one matter, an internal squabble; how she presented things to outsiders was another matter entirely. As for how Yunzhu herself felt about it all, that hardly needed saying.

Strictly speaking, they hadn’t been involved in what happened, so it had little bearing on them—but Jin’er chattered on and on about it while Yunzhu listened with a smile, occasionally interjecting a word. The pavilion was quite far from the Su residence, but there beside the river bend, the two women’s mood seemed almost more worth celebrating than if some triumph of their own had occurred. Ning Yi still didn’t know about the “Dingfengbo” poem, so Yuan Jin’er, embellishing freely, told him all about the commotion at Changyun Pavilion and Yuexiang House the night before, reciting the line “straw sandals and bamboo staff, lighter than a horse—who’s afraid!” Yunzhu occasionally chimed in with a smile to add a detail here and there.

In the end, Ning Yi could only spread his hands and laugh. “Well, now I’m famous again.”

“Ning Liheng, calculating you within ten steps,” Jin’er criticized. “This man is far too cunning and sly. Sister Yunzhu, don’t pay him any mind from now on, or he’ll sell you off and you’ll be thanking him for it while you help him count the money.”

Yunzhu smiled and glanced at Ning Yi without answering. In her heart, she had already given herself to him; thinking about it, it wasn’t so different from having been sold to him after all. She simply trusted his character—the idea that he might sell her off again wasn’t something she believed for a moment, wasn’t even worth considering. There was no lingering unease in her heart at all. After a good while, she finally turned to Jin’er with a smile. “Hardly anyone even recognizes me anymore—I wouldn’t fetch much of a price. If anyone’s worth selling, it’s you, Jin’er.”

Jin’er rolled her eyes. “Hmph, no one’s ever going to sell me off.”

After chatting and laughing like this, they left the pavilion and headed home along the road, still early morning by the time he returned—right around the usual hour when everyone sat down together for breakfast. These past few months, the small courtyard had generally been rather quiet, but today, the moment he returned, many people greeted him along the way. By the time he reached the courtyard gate, he found a great many maids and servants gathered there, with the sound of conversation drifting out from the reception room inside, and several maids carrying tea in and out through the doorway.

Ning Yi walked to the doorway and glanced in, only to discover that Su Tan’er was already up and dressed, her hair and makeup done. The visitors in the room were several cousins, along with two uncles from the clan. Su Tan’er sat in the lower seat, chatting and smiling with them. Her smile carried a poised, cultured elegance, and the clear-eyed innocence of the nineteen-year-old girl from not long ago was once again veiled beneath it.

Whenever Su Tan’er entertained guests, Ning Yi’s presence usually went unnoticed. But this time, the moment he appeared in the doorway, ready to slip away, the people in the room had already spotted him, and in an instant the whole courtyard fell silent. Su Tan’er turned, saw him, and rose with a smile. “Husband, you’re back.” Ning Yi then greeted each of the relatives in turn, exchanging courtesies. Now that these people had begun to take Ning Yi seriously, they found they didn’t really understand his character and weren’t sure what to say to him first. Ning Yi smiled. “Please, keep talking—I don’t understand much of this. I’ll go have Xing’er and the others get breakfast ready.” And with that, he walked off just as he always did.

Leaving the sitting room, he crossed over to the small pavilion opposite, intending to find Xing’er and the others to prepare breakfast, but the first thing he found was Chan’er, humming a little tune as she carried something over. She looked at Ning Yi, blushed slightly, then pouted. “Young master, I’m not sick.”

After a moment, she added earnestly, “I only just got up—I slept until now.” Clearly afraid Ning Yi would send her back to bed again.

Not long after, Ning Yi and Su Tan’er sat down with the group of relatives for breakfast. Most of them were the type who were close to the main branch of the family, but not quite close enough—though the talk was framed as casual family chatter meant to strengthen ties, the real subject, naturally, was business.

While speaking with Su Tan’er, everyone kept an eye on Ning Yi’s expression, watching to see whether he’d say anything. Their veiled meanings, their hints, the thoughts behind their words—Ning Yi understood all of it perfectly well, but he genuinely paid it no mind. Throughout the whole meal, aside from occasionally urging people to eat, he spent the rest of his time with his head down, eating his porridge and dishes in silence. No one could quite read his attitude, and some began to wonder whether this Ning Yi truly cared nothing at all for family affairs.

In truth, what occupied Ning Yi’s mind at that moment was mostly the stir that “Dingfengbo” might cause once it spread further, along with that idle remark about “calculating within ten steps”—and the fact that when he went to teach class today, he’d need to have a word with that girl Xiao Qi, who could never keep a secret. Though, thinking about how badly her father had just been played, she was probably having a rough time of it too—better to be magnanimous and forgive her, offer a bit of comfort, and let it go.

Naturally, there were also those who thought his silence meant he simply wasn’t one to show his hand easily, and that he’d probably discuss things privately with Su Tan’er behind the scenes. Of everyone at the table, only Su Tan’er more or less understood Ning Yi’s temperament, and she found the whole thing rather amusing in her heart.

Just what sort of person this peculiar husband of hers really was—it would probably take everyone a good long while to truly understand. And perhaps, for many people, they would never understand him at all, not in their whole lives…