The Su residence’s small courtyard.
Night had fallen, lamplight flickering in the room and under the eaves; the courtyard, which had grown somewhat quiet after the New Year, had turned lively again tonight.
Ever since dinner, a steady stream of visitors had come by to sit for a while before leaving again. Ning Yi hadn’t wanted to draw all this attention over what had happened that afternoon, but in the fighting he’d, after all, taken a punch or two, and picked up some injuries on his leg as well. Nothing serious—he’d already had the wounds treated and bandaged over at Bamboo Records—but the smell of medicine was impossible to hide from anyone. When Xiao Chan heard he’d been caught up in something dangerous and gotten hurt—apparently quite a harrowing ordeal—she checked him over with tears welling in her eyes.
“Young master always loves getting himself into these dangerous things… last year it was that assassin, and his hand got burned—it had only just healed not long ago… and now this again…”
Having passed the New Year, Xiao Chan had turned seventeen this year, but this petite, sweet-faced little maid had never given much weight to her young master’s fearsome nickname, “the Bloody-Handed Butcher.” Though Ning Yi trained his body every day and occasionally boasted to the household about being invincible under heaven—having recently even claimed the proud achievement of taking down a vicious bandit with a fire-lance—in Xiao Chan’s mind, he was still, more or less, filed under “mild-mannered bookish scholar.” She fussed over his injuries with genuine distress, and before long Su Tan’er returned as well, along with Xing’er and Juan’er, who then sent Xing’er to fetch a physician. By nightfall, word of Ning Yi’s injury from the day’s events had already spread throughout the Su household.
By this point, the events at Bamboo Records that afternoon had already stirred up considerable talk throughout the city of Jiangning, and within half a day, word had reached several ears within the Su household as well. The version circulating was somewhat more patriotically embellished, telling a stirring tale of Liao assassins striking down a court official at a restaurant, only to be stopped in the end by the collective courage of the crowd—this, in fact, was the very narrative Ning Yi had arranged afterward, coordinated with the help of the Prince Kang household, the Consort’s residence, and other allied forces.
The sudden violence that afternoon had, in the end, all stemmed from the need to save Qin Siyuan. Given the choice, Ning Yi certainly hadn’t wanted the fight to break out inside Bamboo Records itself. The shop was, after all, thriving with plenty of customers, and having suffered this kind of unwarranted disaster, who would dare come back afterward? Unfortunately, the attackers had been utterly resolved, and in the end, there had been no way to avoid what happened.
Tallying it up afterward, more than thirty people in total had suffered injuries, minor or severe, though thankfully no innocent bystander had lost their life—a fortunate outcome, all things considered. Once he’d gotten a full picture of the situation, Ning Yi drew heavily from the shop’s funds to compensate everyone involved—though naturally, he didn’t frame it as “compensation,” but rather as a reward for the bravery shown by those who’d helped stop the Liao assassins. Even those who hadn’t been injured received a payout, so long as they’d been present in the hall at the time.
That said, at the moment it had all happened, no one had actually known these men were from Liao—the assassins had been ferociously skilled fighters, and hardly any of the guests present had dared engage them directly; most had simply scrambled to get out of the way. Still, having made these arrangements, Ning Yi also had Lu A’Gui help spread and shape the rumors circulating through the city, framing the story mainly around how the arrogant Liao had dared to strike right in the heart of Jiangning, believing the Central Plains had no one capable of standing against them—only to be met by the righteous fury of the common people, who rose up together to fight them off. Though the enemy had been fierce, the people of the Wu Dynasty had proven no pushovers either, rising bravely and selflessly to the occasion, and so on and so forth—essentially spinning the whole affair into a praiseworthy tale of heroism meant to stir up patriotic sentiment among the people, even embellishing the injured as heroes, and over the following month, the shop would prominently feature this story in its promotions. With any luck, this disaster might actually be turned into something of a boon.
Whatever the case, this kind of crisis management was really the only viable approach, and Ning Yi handled it with practiced ease—with Kang Xian’s network lending its support behind the scenes, there was little cause for concern.
As for the events of that afternoon, Ning Yi still found himself puzzled by certain aspects. Though the five attackers had been formidably skilled, the assassination attempt itself had struck him as rather mindless—clearly not the product of careful, deliberate planning, which suggested there was no real organization directing them from behind the scenes. Besides, Liao was currently seeking assistance from the Wu Dynasty; it made little sense for them to go to the trouble of sending men to kill Qin Siyuan now, since there’d be no real point to it. Later, cross-referencing this with items recovered from the wealthy young master’s body, and after consulting with Old Qin, Lu A’Gui, and the others, they finally arrived at a conclusion that was almost darkly comical.
This leading young master was apparently some minor Liao noble, who had brought along a handful of formidable household retainers and traveled south under the pretext of conducting trade, moving freely from place to place. With relations between Jin and Liao currently tense, and Liao harboring no small amount of resentment, voices among the Wu Dynasty populace calling for a strike against Liao while the opportunity presented itself had grown louder as well. He’d apparently caught wind of the rumors circulating about Old Qin, and upon arriving in Jiangning, the timing had simply aligned, prompting him to decide, in a fit of righteous outrage, to carry out the assassination himself.
This seemed the most plausible explanation for now, though confirming the details would require further investigation. Two of the attackers had still gotten away, and the authorities were currently working to track them down; if they couldn’t be caught, Ning Yi felt this could turn into something of a headache. Since ancient times, fanatics had always been the most difficult to deal with, and patriotic zealots willing to act on their convictions were precisely one such breed. For now, he could only hope that the leading young master had been the sole fanatic among them, with the rest simply following orders—otherwise, if they sought revenge, he himself wouldn’t be too concerned, but he worried they might come after Bamboo Records instead.
As for the street thugs who’d happened to be caught up in the whole mess, Ning Yi didn’t much care to trouble himself over them—Kang Xian, Lu A’Gui, and even Song Qian certainly wouldn’t let the matter go easily. Having come through this ordeal and saved Qin Siyuan’s life, Song Qian would likely receive a substantial reward out of Kang Xian’s gratitude alone, while the thugs who’d ganged up to beat him, along with whoever was behind them, were surely in for a rough time ahead…
Having gradually seen off the stream of visitors who’d come to check on him, Ning Yi finally recounted the events of the afternoon in rough detail—though he left out the part about having personally killed two men, focusing mainly on the story of saving Old Qin, and telling the fighting itself with a bit of comic embellishment.
“…As for what happened next, I suppose you could call it a real dramatic turn of fate, because all of a sudden… out charged some kind of ox demon king…”
After joking about it for a while, once night had fully settled and they’d gone to bed, Su Tan’er lay with her head against his chest, her long hair loosely spread out, seeming to breathe in the medicinal scent from the bandages wrapped around him. After a moment, she spoke softly. “It really was quite dangerous this afternoon, wasn’t it?”
“Hm?”
Ever since coming home that evening and hearing Ning Yi’s rough account of his injuries, Su Tan’er had grown rather quiet, simply staying close by his side—when Xiao Chan brought over the washcloth and tea, she’d even helped hand them over herself—though it wasn’t entirely clear why she’d been acting this way. Only now did she finally speak. “Before I even got home, I’d already heard about the Liao assassination attempt—I never expected husband would be caught up in it too. They say the assassins were incredibly vicious—two of them died, one was badly wounded, and two more got away, both blinded in one eye. Dozens of people at that restaurant were hurt, and someone even fired a gun…”
She paused for a moment. The two of them were curled up together under the blankets by now, Su Tan’er wearing nothing but her undergarment, pressed close against him, her voice very soft. “They say dozens of people bravely helped subdue the attackers—as if that’s ever really how it goes… Apparently there was a scholar who fired the gun, and afterward got into a fight with men wielding blades and clubs… people dying, people getting hurt, just thinking about it sounds terrifying. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but once I got home and saw husband, that’s when it really started to sink in…”
Ning Yi paused for a moment, his hand stilling on her back. “Er… it really wasn’t that bad…” In truth, as far as he himself was concerned, the fight had been extremely dangerous indeed.
Su Tan’er didn’t press the matter further, simply rubbing her cheek gently against the bandages a few times before closing her eyes. “Mm.”
The room lay quiet and dark for a while longer, until Su Tan’er opened her eyes again and said softly, with a faint laugh, “Husband, find some time… and take Xiao Chan as a concubine.”
“Er?”
“I don’t show you enough care…” Su Tan’er said softly. “I keep thinking it must have been so dangerous, and that husband shouldn’t go charging into things like that so recklessly—but then I think about it more, and realize that if something happened involving Old Master Qin, husband would surely rush in regardless. It’s not really my place, as a wife, to say anything about that, so in the end there’s nothing I can say… though in my heart, I’m still worried, and thinking back on it now makes me shudder…”
She turned her cheek slightly and laughed. “If husband took Xiao Chan as a concubine, I could have her go on and on about you all day long—when really, it would just be me pulling the strings behind the scenes, hehe…”
Ning Yi fell silent for a moment, at something of a loss for words, and could only stroke her back and sigh. “You’re supposed to call yourself ‘your concubine’ if you want to sound more like a proper, virtuous wife…”
In truth, Su Tan’er was, for the most part, entirely without fault when it came to being a proper, virtuous wife—the vast majority of the time, she naturally referred to herself using exactly that kind of self-effacing language; it was only occasionally that Ning Yi managed to coax her into saying “I” instead.
Whenever the two of them met up on the balcony across the way every few days, back in the old days, their language with each other had sometimes been rather more unguarded. Ning Yi would often sigh in the tone of an old friend, “Su Tan’er, you really are a sly one…” and Su Tan’er, in turn, had come to adopt that same easy, friend-like manner in response—when she was in a good mood, their meetings would sometimes turn into little exchanges like, “And who might you be, sir, wandering onto my balcony?” “Your husband.” “…Ah, a pleasure, a pleasure.” Now that their relationship had reached its most intimate stage, that old unguarded playfulness had naturally become a kind of private amusement between them—Su Tan’er only ever let that unladylike side of herself show during these intimate moments alone with him; in front of anyone else, even her own maids Xiao Chan and Juan’er, she never behaved this way.
At this, Su Tan’er nodded. “Your concubine was wrong…” After a moment, she set aside the joking tone. “Truthfully, husband is fond of Xiao Chan too, isn’t he? And Xiao Chan is fond of husband as well, it’s just, I don’t know, um…”
This was the first time the two of them had discussed Xiao Chan since consummating their marriage—some things, it seemed, had long gone unspoken but tacitly understood between them. As for the possibility that Ning Yi might one day take Xiao Chan as a concubine, Su Tan’er wasn’t entirely unprepared for it; she had, in fact, once actively arranged for Xiao Chan to keep him company. Still, bringing it up now, after they’d consummated their own marriage, inevitably stirred up more complicated feelings. She genuinely wasn’t sure, in fact, whether anything had truly happened between Ning Yi and Xiao Chan. If it had, and she’d simply said nothing all this time, she felt she would have failed this little maid who was as close to her as a sister.
She was someone who saw things clearly, and having finally brought up the subject of Xiao Chan tonight, Ning Yi thought it over and gave her the essential details of what had actually happened between them. As a maid, it wouldn’t do for Xiao Chan to become pregnant before her mistress did, and the medicines used to terminate a pregnancy were harmful to the body—out of these concerns, Ning Yi had held back from actually consummating anything with her. Ning Yi had already more or less known that Su Tan’er herself had put Xiao Chan up to it in the first place, and now, with a smile, he mentioned a bit of it. Su Tan’er laughed, somewhat abashed, and simply nestled against him without saying anything more.
The rest of the night passed without further conversation. The next morning, Ning Yi rose early once again. Though he still carried his injuries, between his excellent internal cultivation and the medicine, he felt hardly any discomfort by now. The technique Lu Hongti had taught him was designed to be practiced through everyday movement, and worked well for building strength and health—it was only in moments of sudden, explosive force that it took any real toll on the body. He ran through a few preparatory movements in the courtyard, then set off at an easy jog, leaving the Su residence behind, making his way along the Qinhuai River through the morning mist toward the small building where Yun Zhu lived.
Whatever the case, with Yun Zhu injured yesterday and Yuan Jin’er having jumped into the river in such weather, he couldn’t help but feel a bit worried about them…