Over the following days, aside from the surrounding world growing a little noisier, everything else remained much the same as usual.

Back at the Su residence, more people greeted him, and more warmly too; there were more invitations from family members, and more things he had to decline. A few students who’d left his class at the academy started wanting to come back, and relatives came around to put in a good word for them—that sort of thing. All expected, all perfectly ordinary human nature, nothing especially strange about the change.

But once “Dingfengbo” had spread, along with people vividly recounting the great battle between the Su and Wu families, even more visitors began coming to Yushan Academy to call on him—much like when “Shuidiaogetou” had first come out, though the visitors this time were considerably more varied in their intentions.

For instance, a merchant of the Puyang family, Puyang Yi, came by once to invite him to a gathering on some pleasure boat or other, with Miss Qilan in attendance, and so on. Though Ning Yi’s impression of the Puyang family remained fairly favorable, he declined such gatherings as a matter of course, as always.

In any case, Qilan held little allure for him. When he occasionally went to the pavilion, it was to listen to Yunzhu play the zither and sing. In this regard, Qilan couldn’t compare to her, especially now that Yunzhu had grown familiar with the tastes Ning Yi enjoyed, and could sometimes even sing quite different songs following the modern singing style he’d taught her.

And even if Qilan held the title of Chief Courtesan, on this side there was also Yuan Jin’er, one of the Four Great Ladies—though she wouldn’t so much as perform a dance for anyone. Her constant bickering rather drowned out any sense of a courtesan’s lofty aloofness, but at least there was genuine feeling in it.

A few days later, he had a meeting with Elder Qin and Elder Kang. The two old men joked with him about his nickname “calculating within ten steps,” but when it came to discussing the whole scheme he’d orchestrated, both agreed it showed the bearing of a great general, handling weighty matters with ease. Afterward, Kang Xian remarked with a smile, “Though compared to ‘calculating within ten steps,’ that outlaw name ‘Bloody-Handed Butcher’ is rather strange. I had people ask around for several days, and no one’s ever heard of anyone making such a name for himself before…”

The power behind Kang Xian ran quite deep, so it was hardly surprising that he’d taken an interest in Ning Yi’s recent doings and had learned of the Ten Step Slope affair. He recounted to Elder Qin what Ning Yi had gotten involved in that night. Elder Qin frowned. “In matters like this, you have to cut the weeds out by the root. Getting mixed up with these underworld types, letting a few of them get away—that could spell trouble down the line. Is there any result yet?”

Kang Xian smiled. “Once I learned of this, I notified the authorities and had a wanted notice issued for these outlaws, sent by fast courier to the surrounding counties. I heard this morning they’ve already caught one—badly wounded, and killed during the arrest.”

Elder Qin nodded. “If they’re going after this with full effort, these people won’t be able to hide for long.”

The two of them were considered great masters of Confucian scholarship, and in their usual games of chess and conversation, what they discoursed on with such eloquence were principles of benevolence toward others. But now, with Kang Xian having raised the subject, Qin Siyuan took it up without a single word of disapproval or admonishment regarding this bloody business of killing—instead treating it from the very start as simply a matter that needed handling, laid plainly before them.

Kang Xian had, these past few days, already been using his influence to intervene in the matter, something Ning Yi had not even known about. But hearing it now, he couldn’t help but shake his head and smile.

From their usual games of chess and leisure, he’d more or less come to understand what sort of men they were. What he saw now only made it clearer—these two old men, who spoke so eloquently of moral principle in their daily lives, were utterly unhesitating when it came time to actually get things done.

In truth, when the three of them discussed the matter, the conversation centered entirely on the skill with which Ning Yi had appeared that night and pulled back the more than twenty men who’d nearly broken through the encirclement. As for the merchants’ clash, the gang warfare, how many had died—none of that seemed to concern Elder Qin or Elder Kang much at all. After all, Su Boyong had been the target of an assassination attempt first; striking back was only proper. If anything concerned them, it was mainly that Kang Xian felt Ning Yi was meant for great things and had no business putting himself at risk over such matters—if something had truly gone wrong, the lives of a few petty bandits could never make up for the loss to the realm.

“That telescope you invented has already been sent to the capital, and work is being rushed to study and manufacture more. There are already a few finished pieces in use with the army now, proving quite useful.” Elder Kang and Elder Qin, playing chess, shook their heads and set aside the rabble from Ten Step Slope, turning instead to what they truly considered important.

“And yet you keep such a low profile that it’s hard even to petition for you to be recognized and rewarded—it’s infuriating… I have a whole group of craftsmen and artisans at home. If you’re interested, I’d gladly hand the lot of them over to you entirely—whatever you want done, just let them get to work. I heard recently from Xiao Pei and Jun Wu that you’ve been dabbling in matters related to gunpowder. To be honest, the military isn’t without its own research into such things. I know you have ideas, but it’s dangerous work—even if you make that fire-lance thing out of iron, it could still explode and injure you. The army’s tried this before, and not always successfully. Why not just share your ideas and let others do the hands-on work?”

The armies of the Martial Dynasty were, by this point, also researching gunpowder weapons, with all manner of scattershot designs, but none had ever amounted to more than flashy but impractical novelties. Kang Xian held Ning Yi in special regard and didn’t want him getting hurt over this kind of research. Just considering the disaster-relief pamphlet and the telescope alone, Ning Yi’s worth was already staggering—not to mention the organizational skill he’d demonstrated in various small matters over these past months. Kang Xian wanted to recommend talented men for the good of the nation, but Ning Yi stubbornly kept to his own ideas—ideas that even he and Qin Siyuan still couldn’t quite fathom—so for now, there was nothing to do but let him go his own way.

Ning Yi’s enthusiasm for firearms, for the moment, stopped right about there—mainly due to limitations at the technical level; the time wasn’t yet ripe to truly develop this further. No matter how far one pushed gun development at this stage, it still couldn’t compete with a strong crossbow. He hadn’t yet decided what to work on next, so he simply shook his head and politely declined Kang Xian’s offer. Accepting it now would only mean another kind of obligation binding him down.

“By the way, how much longer until war breaks out?”

Ning Yi asked this, and Kang Xian shook his head with a smile. “Can’t say for certain. Negotiations are still ongoing over there—Princess Jingguo has been overseeing this for several years now. I don’t ask about it much myself, but judging by how things stand, it should be close to resolution. Now that winter’s set in, the weather in the Liaodong region will only get worse. If terms can be reached, we might see results after spring comes… What does Elder Qin think?”

Elder Qin thought it over, then nodded. “Tong Guan, whatever else he may be… ahem, whatever else, being a eunuch and all, he’s still competent at getting things done. Though I confess I’m somewhat afraid these days…”

“Afraid of what?”

Elder Qin lifted a chess piece and held it a long while before finally setting it down, sighing. “Afraid of haste.”

Kang Xian had never entered officialdom, but Elder Qin had once held real power and high office; the current Duke Jingguo, Tong Guan, had once served under him, and might even still be bound to defer to him in some measure. Yet Elder Qin rarely spoke much of such matters, and this time too, after only a few words, he changed the subject. Still, Ning Yi could roughly see that the old man’s reluctance to say more likely stemmed from how much the matter weighed on his mind.

Playing chess with Elder Kang and Elder Qin, talk of politics was, on the whole, rare; most of the time was spent on scholarly matters, on trivial happenings around Jiangning, and a laugh or two shared over them.

Time passed this way through the end of October. Ning Yi and Su Tan’er’s relationship grew ever more harmonious; once the weather turned cold, everyone would gather in the sitting room in the evenings to chat, play chess, and tell stories—warm and cozy. Su Tan’er still seemed busy these days, but the matter weighing most heavily on her mind had, for the most part, already been settled.

Across the whole scope of the Su family’s affairs, things had, in fact, been rather busy of late. In past years, the Su family’s annual accounting and dividend distribution generally took place around late November or early December. But this year, the influential stewards from all the various regions had come a full month early, and the year-end work that needed doing had already been steadily getting underway. With a crowd of relatives and associates gathered, the Su household was lively day and night—teahouses and taverns by day, pleasure houses by night—and thanks to the dramatic turn of events at the end of October, the Su family’s name had, for the time being, grown all the more prominent in Jiangning’s business circles.

Because of all this, Su Tan’er found herself with hardly any free time. After the clan assembly, her cousin Su Danhong often came to keep her company, so the time Ning Yi got to spend alone with her was actually fairly limited. Still, the relationship between husband and wife had settled into something solid regardless; Su Tan’er had her own mind about things, so there was no need to worry too much over her. It was only on the afternoon of the fifth day of the eleventh month, when Ning Yi returned home, that he found Su Tan’er engaged in something rather odd.

Though the temperature had already dropped, the weather that afternoon was fine, and Ning Yi had come home earlier than usual. The small courtyard seemed peaceful and quiet. He’d assumed no one was around, but a glance revealed Su Tan’er sitting in the pavilion, facing the small building where he lived, lost in thought about something.

In theory, there shouldn’t have been anything major left to worry about after the clan assembly—nothing worth frowning and fretting over like this. Ning Yi looked at her a few times, puzzled, but Su Tan’er seemed too absorbed in her thoughts, her expression shifting this way and that, to notice him. After a moment, he saw her purse her lips as though she’d made up her mind, stand up, gaze deeply once more at the small building, then turn and walk toward the little kitchen.

The decisive expression on her face carried a touch of childishness—the expression of a nineteen-year-old girl—though what difficult decision she’d just made was anyone’s guess. Ning Yi shrugged and went back to his room first. No sooner had he closed the door than he saw Su Tan’er’s figure hurry out of the little kitchen; apparently something had occurred to her, for she walked briskly to the courtyard gate and looked both ways several times. Once certain no one was around, she went back into the kitchen and came out carrying an armful of dry firewood.

Su Tan’er normally cared a great deal about propriety and appearances—she might lend a hand moving goods in the warehouse, but at home she was, without exception, the picture of a proper young lady from a great family; lighting fires or hauling firewood simply wasn’t something she did. Yet the atmosphere at that moment was distinctly suspicious. Ning Yi peered out secretly from his room and watched Su Tan’er, firewood in her arms, size up the small building once more before heading toward the back of it.

Ning Yi shut the door and quietly followed. He watched Su Tan’er pile the carefully selected, easily flammable thin sticks of firewood beneath the window at the back of the room he lived in, seeming to deliberate for quite a while over exactly how to arrange them.

Ning Yi was rather stunned. After all that deliberation, was this woman planning to murder her own husband? Or was burning him to death simply too cruel a method?

It wasn’t long before he discovered that things were about to unfold rather differently from what he’d imagined…