“…We’ve long heard of Liheng’s reputation back at the princely residence, but it was a great pity you weren’t able to attend that previous gathering—we never had the chance to meet. Now that we finally have, I can see that Liheng truly is a young talent of remarkable caliber, living up to his reputation entirely. Old Zhang and I originally intended to head to the Eastern Market to look at a fine inkstone—might I ask where Liheng and the young Princess are headed today…”
“It’s just that the Princess is nearing the age of hairpin-coming-of-age, and wandering about outside like this is somewhat improper, if I may say so…”
It was now early February, and Jin’er’s Shop, having only opened a few days ago, was already doing brisk business. Still, by this point past lunchtime, there were a few private rooms available on the second floor. When Ning Yi arrived with Zhou Pei, Song Qian, and the two scholars Zhang and Li, the main hall downstairs was quite lively; he wasn’t sure whether Yun Zhu or Jin’er happened to be around. Since he had outside guests with him, though, Ning Yi saw no need to seek them out, and instead simply took a room upstairs, where they sat down to have tea and talk.
The room was elegantly furnished, occupying a fine spot in the building—pushing open the rear window would normally offer a sweeping view of the Qinhuai River, though the weather was still too cold to open it just now. Several potted plants were arranged around the room, and a few ink paintings and poems adorned the walls, lending the space a scholarly air. Once everyone had settled in, a serving girl from the shop brought in tea and refreshments, and Zhang and Li began to speak.
The somewhat plump Li Tong wore an amiable smile, playing the role of the good cop between the two of them, keeping things warm and cordial to put Ning Yi at ease. Zhang Rui, whose standing and seniority spoke for themselves, went straight to raising his objections with a furrowed brow. In truth, neither of the two men was entirely free of envy and resentment underneath it all. Li Tong, despite his own literary reputation, had spent several years in the princely household without ever developing much rapport with Zhou Pei or Zhou Junwu. Zhang Rui had at least taught the two siblings something within the household and held a nominal teacher-student relationship with them—but there was no way either of them could match what Ning Yi had, taking the two children to attend classes at an actual academy, reportedly taking them out and about here and there. This kind of relationship was simply on an entirely different level.
Zhou Pei was an independently minded girl, and on an ordinary day, Zhang Rui’s remark about how it was “improper for the Princess, nearing her coming of age, to be wandering about outside like this” would likely have irritated her considerably. But today was a bit different.
Having just clashed with Ning Yi that very morning, and with the embarrassment of being caught crying still fresh, Zhou Pei found herself secretly delighted that the two tutors had so plainly come to challenge her teacher’s standing—she didn’t mind in the least when the old scholars implied she lacked freedom to go out. Her stomach had already been a bit empty, and now her appetite only grew further. She picked up a pastry and sat off to the side, playing the model of a well-behaved student properly deferring to her elders’ teachings, practically nodding along with enthusiasm—while at the same time, secretly hoping Ning Yi would come up with some outrageous line of argument to shut the two tutors down. Of course, for the moment, the real subject of conversation was still being circled. Ning Yi answered with a smile that he was headed to the Consort’s residence to deliver some things, and had simply brought Zhou Pei along on the way.
Li Tong nodded with a smile. “The Consort’s residence… Lord Ming’s household, I take it? I’ve heard Liheng and Lord Ming are on quite good terms?”
“We’re chess companions, more or less.”
“Liheng’s chess skill must be considerable, then. As it happens, I have some understanding of the game myself—perhaps someday, when there’s leisure, we might arrange a match.”
As Li Tong continued with his pleasantries, Zhang Rui glanced several times toward a corner of the room. “Liheng, these things you’re delivering to Lord Ming’s residence—could they be those items?”
Ning Yi glanced at him. “Old Zhang recognizes them?”
“Wouldn’t these be military fire-lances? Might I ask where Liheng obtained them?”
Zhang Rui frowned, and Ning Yi offered a rough explanation. These few fire-lances had originally been obtained through Kang Xian for Ning Yi’s own study; the technology behind fire-lances wasn’t particularly advanced, and by now he’d more or less worked it all out. There was no point keeping so many of them in the small courtyard, and two of them had already broken besides. Though Kang Xian’s own influence behind the scenes was considerable, these fire-lances were, after all, military property, and Ning Yi felt it best to return them and let Lu A’Gui log them properly, so he’d brought them along to deliver.
By this point in the conversation, the topic had suddenly turned to firearms. Zhou Pei, chewing on her pastry, glanced back and forth in some confusion. She’d expected the conversation to turn toward literature and poetry instead—the two tutors sparring with Ning Yi, exchanging verses, composing essays, and eventually becoming the stuff of legend—that was the outcome she’d been hoping for.
Now, hearing Zhang and Li bring up trivial matters concerning Kang Xian, Zhang Rui said, “I’ve seen those fire-lances a few times myself. Such contraptions are truly repugnant—kept in the military, they’re practically useless, like ribs with no meat on them: clever but harmful gadgetry, with no real benefit. I’ve heard several times that Liheng takes an interest in such things—it truly isn’t appropriate. Liheng ought to devote himself to proper scholarship, focusing his energies on matters of genuine worth, or I fear he may well lead himself astray.”
As though struck by something, Zhou Pei’s eyes went round. She held her pastry with both hands, shifted her seat backward slightly, and sat bolt upright, eyes darting back and forth, watching closely for Ning Yi’s reaction and the other man’s expression. Lips pressed together, she looked rather like a rabbit, waiting expectantly for Ning Yi to fire back—only to see him smile, clasp his hands together in a polite gesture, and say, “Old Zhang speaks rightly.”
No spark ignited. The rabbit’s ears drooped. She’d heard from Kang Xian before about her tutor’s temperament—that he was the type who could bow a hundred times and apologize a thousand times over with perfect courtesy, all while never actually changing his behavior in the slightest. Had Old Qin or Grandfather Consort been present today, he might have brought out some real sincerity and genuinely debated the matter. But these two men clearly hadn’t stirred any fighting spirit in him at all, and he’d simply gone along with it, nodding in agreement.
Still, even though Ning Yi was willing to yield, the other side wasn’t necessarily willing to let the matter drop. Zhang Rui shook his head. “Liheng, being young and full of vigor, may perhaps not fully agree with what this old man has said. But what I’m pointing to isn’t really the firearm itself. As I see it, this weapon does little more than make a great deal of noise when fired, enough to startle people, nothing more. Its range falls short of a bow, its accuracy is dismal, loading it between shots is an enormous hassle, and after firing a few rounds it’s liable to explode and injure the very person using it—and it can’t even be used in the rain. Its one advantage, if you can call it that, is that because it fires by gunpowder, even a child or an old man could point it in a direction and use it after a fashion—but that, in fact, is precisely its greatest flaw.”
Though the old man had clearly come with the intent to pick a fight, he was no fool—his understanding of the fire-lance itself was actually quite thorough. “What good does it do to place a weapon that even a child could operate into the hands of the military? What our Wu Dynasty’s soldiers lack has never been strange novelties like this—it’s morale and fighting spirit. Look at how the Jurchen, so vastly outnumbered, still managed to crush the Liao army in defeat, while our own Wu Dynasty soldiers scatter and flee at the mere sight of the Liao. Are people truly so fundamentally different from one another? I’ve seen the Jurchen myself—they’re no three-headed, six-armed monsters. It’s our own Wu Dynasty soldiers today who cling to life, fear death, and think only of comfort and pleasure—only strict discipline and rigorous training can awaken the backbone and fighting spirit needed for victory. As things stand, our troops train lazily, can’t even properly swing a blade or draw a bow—not for lack of physical strength, but for lack of courage and fighting spirit. Placing such weapons in the hands of an army like this would only render it more useless still—even if you doubled the power of this firearm, it would do nothing but harm!”
“That’s exactly right.” Ning Yi nodded—and this time it wasn’t mere courtesy. Some of what the man said, he genuinely agreed with.
“‘Heaven’s movement is ever vigorous; thus the gentleman ceaselessly strengthens himself.’ Such clever but harmful gadgetry only breeds laziness and moral decay in people—the words of the ancient sages are the ultimate truth on this matter. I’ve heard Liheng takes an interest in these things, and being young, that in itself is no great fault. But now that Liheng serves as a teacher to others, I hear he’s even had the young Prince take up an interest in such things—this, I’m afraid, goes rather too far…”
Zhang Rui held a nominal teacher-student relationship with Zhou Pei and Zhou Junwu, and though they weren’t particularly close, he was well aware that the young prince had recently taken a sudden liking to what he called “the study of natural principles.” That explanation might fool an ordinary person, but to men of these old scholars’ generation, it was nothing more than clever but harmful gadgetry, mere craftsman’s tricks. The old man shifted his tone at last, finally arriving at the real point of the conversation. Li Tong, unaware of any of this backstory, frowned. “Surely someone of Liheng’s caliber wouldn’t stoop to such things—Old Zhang, what exactly are you referring to?”
The atmosphere in the room had grown strange by this point—in a sense, this was, at last, the true heart of the matter. Zhou Pei brought her pastry to her lips and took a bite, frowning as she glanced over at Ning Yi, sensing that things had taken a tricky turn. If word later got around the princely household that old Master Zhang had scolded Ning Liheng, she’d feel it as a loss of face for herself too—she found herself anxiously wondering what argument Ning Yi would use to defend himself.
Just as Zhang Rui and Li Tong were exchanging glances and words, someone suddenly knocked at the door. A moment later, a veiled woman entered carrying a tea tray—clearly not one of the restaurant’s regular staff. Her figure was strikingly beautiful, and behind the veil her eyes were bright and lively; she appeared to be at least some kind of manager within the establishment. She offered a few polite pleasantries with a smile, refilled the tea and set down more refreshments, then turned and left. Li Tong seemed to recall something and stared after the woman’s retreating figure, momentarily forgetting all about criticizing Ning Yi. Zhou Pei, however, recognized her immediately—she’d seen her before at the main Bamboo Records shop. This was Yuan Jin’er, the once-famous courtesan, now retired from the trade and acquainted with her tutor.
Sure enough, once the woman had left, Ning Yi rose with a smile as well. “You two carry on—I’ll step out for a moment.”
With that, he left the room, and sure enough, not far down the corridor, Yuan Jin’er was lurking about, glancing this way. In the past, whenever she’d come by to direct the workmen, she hadn’t minded people seeing her face—but now that she considered herself the proprietress of Jin’er’s Shop, she’d become rather more reserved about it, keeping her face veiled to maintain an air of mystery. As Ning Yi approached, she said, “Been busy lately? What brings you here?”
“Just passing through. Where’s Yun Zhu?”
“She was upstairs a moment ago, but I can’t find her now either—someone called her away for something, no idea what. Xiao Min told me you were here, so I came to see. Who’s that with you besides the little girl?”
“A couple of self-important scholars looking for an argument.”
“Scholars?” Jin’er blinked. Ning Yi nodded. “Fairly well-known ones, apparently.”
“No wonder… I think I’ve seen that fat one before…”
As they spoke, a commotion drifted up from the main hall downstairs, mixed in with the sound of a performance. Jin’er, apparently preoccupied with something of her own, kept glancing out toward the street through a window facing that direction on the second floor. Ning Yi leaned over and took a look himself, seeing nothing but the usual flow of pedestrians on the street. “What are you looking at?”
“Uh… nothing, none of your business. Go back and argue with your two scholars.” She thought for a moment, then gave a soft snort. “Honestly, you men are no fun sparring with each other when there’s no woman around to watch—it’s all just showing off for the ladies in the end anyway. Want me to send someone in to watch you two duke it out with words? The two girls from Yancui Tower are here today, real beauties too. Surely you wouldn’t want Sister Yun Zhu sitting in on that—though she’d definitely be biased in your favor…”
Men, showing off purely to impress women—Yuan Jin’er’s offhand remark really did hit the nail on the head. In truth, there wasn’t much to actually debate today; Zhang Rui and men like him operated within their own tightly reasoned system of logic, thoroughly forged and impervious to argument. If it had been someone like Old Qin, someone he’d known for a good while, discussing the real implications of technological transformation might have been worth a serious effort. But these two wouldn’t be worth it.
Even with the utmost sincerity on both sides, there was no real possibility of persuading each other—which meant there was little point in sincerity at all. Ning Yi figured he’d go back and rattle off some detailed facts and figures about “clever but harmful gadgetry” just to bamboozle the two of them—he had nothing better to do anyway.
He went downstairs, used the washroom, and by the time he came back up, having already assembled all the facts and figures in his mind, he had just entered the second-floor corridor when something unexpected happened.
From behind him came the noise of the crowd mixed with music, and as Ning Yi walked toward the room, footsteps came rushing up from behind, and a shoulder bumped into his.
The Bamboo Records branch shop had a spacious floor plan, and the corridor wasn’t narrow either—for someone to bump into Ning Yi like that, they must have been in quite a hurry. Ning Yi didn’t think much of it. The man was tall and burly, dressed in a style that suggested he was from the north, and he went straight into a room up ahead whose door stood open.
“That’s the one…”
The burly man said this as he passed, and as Ning Yi walked by, someone was just closing the door to that room; a few muffled words of conversation drifted out from inside. Ning Yi didn’t pay it much mind at first—he was looking ahead at the corner of the corridor, where Yuan Jin’er was no longer in sight. She’d seemed to be in some kind of mood today; he wondered what that had been about… Just as he was thinking this, his footsteps suddenly stopped, and after a moment, his fingers tapped twice against his side.
Ever since he’d learned that rudimentary internal-strength technique from Lu Hongti, his physical condition had improved considerably, his hearing included. As he’d passed by moments ago, he thought he’d caught fragmentary phrases like “that Qin Siyuan’s side… guards…” though he couldn’t be certain. He stepped back two paces now, concentrating, straining to catch more.
“…are we really doing this?”
“…good opportunity, right now…”
“…too rushed…”
“Keep watch first. Once it’s done, leave the city immediately…”
What was going on?
Someone inside the room had a louder voice, easier to make out, but he still couldn’t piece together the full picture from what little he’d heard. The people inside exchanged a few more words, and Ning Yi took a step forward. Then the door opened. The person who came out glanced his way, then headed toward the corridor exit. Ning Yi turned to look and saw one man, tall and gaunt, dressed in a fur-lined coat, and another who looked like some sort of wealthy young master—both walking with notably steady, confident strides.
Ning Yi thought it over, then turned and followed after them.
Past the corridor was a landing connecting to the staircase, from which one could see down into the main hall. The two men who’d left the room were standing right there, looking down. The hall below had quieted somewhat by now; a girl brought in from Yancui Tower was performing on the small stage. Ning Yi came to stand beside the two men and glanced down for a moment, then waved over a serving boy nearby, asked for the name of the girl performing on stage, and without lingering any further, turned and walked away.
At a table on one side of the hall, Nie Yunzhu sat with Old Qin, chatting with a serving boy; nothing had been brought to the table yet, suggesting Old Qin had only just arrived and sat down. Ning Yi had heard from the old man a few days earlier that once the Bamboo Records branch opened, he intended to come by and take a look when he had the time.
That was precisely the direction the two men had just been watching.
…
Back in the room, Zhang Rui was talking with Zhou Pei. As for Ning Yi’s earlier departure, both Zhang Rui and Li Tong assumed he’d simply fled the scene in defeat, though Zhou Pei knew better. Ning Yi leaving with Yuan Jin’er had set her curiosity ablaze—she could hardly resist the urge to sneak out and spy on them. After all, one of them was the foremost talent of the city, and the other was once one of the pleasure quarters’ four great courtesans; there might well be some genuinely romantic story behind it all. Still, torn between not wanting Ning Yi to lose face and still nursing a bit of a grudge from that morning, she didn’t follow him out, choosing instead to wait for Ning Yi to come back and turn the tables—she had no doubt at all that her tutor would manage to win back some ground, only unsure by what argument he’d do it.
Zhang Rui, thoroughly pleased with himself over what he’d just said to Ning Yi, adopted an earnestly instructive tone toward Zhou Pei, mainly hoping to guide the clever young princess back onto the right path and help her recognize who the truly better teacher was. Li Tong, meanwhile, was already anticipating that Ning Yi would have nothing left to say once he returned. Still, something about the whole situation struck him as odd—among scholars competing for the upper hand, it was unheard of for one side to simply concede when accused of being wrong. Yet today, Ning Yi hadn’t shown the slightest temper, simply smiling and offering a few “you make a fair point”s, which was honestly rather unsatisfying. He resolved that when Ning Yi returned, he’d need to press the matter even harder—word would surely get around afterward, and people needed to know that this Ning Liheng had lost face today. He then recalled the shop’s name, Jin’er’s Shop, and the woman who so closely resembled Yuan Jin’er, and for a moment found his thoughts drifting in that direction instead.
Before long, the door finally opened, and Ning Yi walked back in. He first leaned over and murmured a few words to Song Qian, the princely household bodyguard who’d been sitting quietly off to the side like a shadow. Song Qian’s brow furrowed, and with a grave expression, he stepped out of the room. Ning Yi then came over to the others. Li Tong smiled. “Liheng, Old Zhang and I were just chatting a bit further, and we’ve had a few thoughts…”
Zhang Rui frowned. “It’s more than just thoughts at this point. Liheng, I truly believe this matter is quite serious—it concerns the young Prince’s future, and shouldn’t be taken lightly. You really ought to give us a proper answer on this within the next few days. Otherwise, this won’t just spread through the princely household—I intend to raise the matter with the Prince himself. This isn’t aimed at you personally, however, it’s simply…”
The old man hadn’t finished speaking when he blinked, and Li Tong’s eyes went wide as well. Zhou Pei, who had been sitting hunched over nibbling on a pastry, froze with her mouth open, unable to take another bite. Ning Yi, for his part, didn’t answer either of them. He turned to glance back at the door, then walked over to the corner of the room and picked up the long bundle containing the five fire-lances. He set the bundle down on the table, undid the wrapping, took a look inside, then picked up one of the lances, undid a small pouch of gunpowder, and began pouring powder down the barrel, tamping it down with a long iron rod as he began loading the weapon.
Ning Yi stood there working with his hands, having plainly lost all interest in the pointless debate. Across the round table, Zhang Rui and Li Tong sat watching, unsure what on earth the man was doing. Having loaded one lance, Ning Yi moved on to load another, his gaze sweeping over the two men as he did, even flashing them a friendly smile at one point—though his eyes kept flicking toward the door. Naturally, at this moment, neither Zhang Rui nor Li Tong were in any position to notice such a subtle gesture.
“You… you…” Li Tong swallowed hard. “A… a gentleman uses words, not… not violence…” He stammered through the sentence and couldn’t manage to say anything further—what kind of debate tactic was this, criticizing someone’s clever but harmful gadgetry only to have them load up two firearms in response…
Ning Yi pulled out a fire-striker from his person, flicked it open, shook it a few times, and lit it, then closed it and put it away. He then wrapped up the two loaded fire-lances, slung them over his back in a position where they could be drawn at a moment’s notice, and took a deep breath.
“Something’s come up outside. Why don’t you two sit tight in here for a bit… it might just be a misunderstanding,” he said, then added after a pause, “I hope it’s a misunderstanding.”