By mid-February, the rains had begun to fall.

With Qingming still a little way off, the cold spring rain washed the world clean and clear, while sprouting grasses and budding flowers gradually adorned it, bit by bit, into abundant bloom.

In this era, Qingming counted as a major occasion, and with just over ten days remaining, the Su family had already begun preparations for the ancestral rites. As had been the case the previous year, Ning Yi found himself rather idle during this particular season—being married in without having changed his surname, he wasn’t permitted to enter the ancestral hall, and so on the day itself he counted for little as a participant. Some of the Su women still had preparations to help with for the rites, but Ning Yi, naturally, wasn’t expected to concern himself with any of that either. As it happened, he tended to be fairly idle in daily life anyway, so this arrangement didn’t stand out as anything particularly unusual for him.

Being barred from the ancestral hall wasn’t a serious matter in itself, but by common understanding it also meant not being taken seriously—which, by conventional thinking, would make a man lose face, given how the world always went on about what a “real man” ought to be like. Last year had passed the same way without incident, but this year the matter had left the Su family somewhat troubled. According to Chan’er, several of the family elders had gone to discuss it with Su Boyong, wondering whether some way could be found to let Ning Yi take part in this year’s ancestral rites, so he wouldn’t feel left out—though they hadn’t managed to work anything out, leaving everyone rather at a loss.

After all, Ning Yi’s importance within the Su family had by now become impossible to ignore; though he held the status of a son-in-law married into the family, his actual achievements had earned him a grudging respect from everyone regardless. His status as a matrilocal son-in-law was, of course, a fixed condition of his marriage into the Su family, unchangeable—yet not letting him into the ancestral hall meant he’d never receive proper ancestral offerings from future generations either, and by now everyone had grown concerned enough about the matter to worry Ning Yi might harbor some resentment over it. After discussing it at length, they’d even brought Su Tan’er in to ask her opinion. She, too, found the matter a headache, and upon returning home had raised the subject with Ning Yi indirectly, a few careful hints here and there. Ning Yi thought it over.

“‘Su Yi’ or ‘Su Liheng’ doesn’t have much of a ring to it…”

“This concubine thinks so too.”

“Then let’s not bother changing it… no need to overthink it. As for those elders, just let them be. If they want to worry about it, that’s their business, no harm in it…”

Human nature and social convention—Ning Yi understood it all clearly enough after a moment’s thought. He recognized where their anxiety came from, but even setting aside his general indifference toward most things, changing his surname was simply not something he’d ever be willing to do—and the other party, he suspected, understood this too, which was precisely the source of their continued unease.

Of course, suspicion and worry of this sort had become unavoidable from the very night Su Yu and the old patriarch had revealed the truth about the imperial merchant designation. These people would inevitably worry about whether he harbored ambitions, whether his capabilities had grown too great, whether he might carry this or that grievance—none of which mattered much to him. Whatever constraints, pressures, or limitations they wished to impose, he had no objection; from the very start, Ning Yi had never had any designs on the Su family’s wealth or power.

Though his relationship with his wife remained very good, when it came to matters like the ancestral rites, Su Tan’er would occasionally trail off mid-sentence, hesitant. But none of that mattered either—someday, eventually, she would come to understand what sort of person he truly was, and even if she found it strange at first, given enough time, understanding would come naturally.

It might well be a long process, but working through it gradually was enough.

At the academy, teaching his class of students each day, Ning Yi had noticed something odd about Zhou Pei’s mood lately. He already knew the girl had been troubled by rumors circulating about her family selecting a prince consort for her—normally a fairly resilient girl, she’d apparently even cried in secret over it. Recently he’d noticed her acting even stranger, having caught her a couple of days earlier furtively picking leaves off a tree, washing them, and then hiding somewhere to chew on them. Those leaves were bitter as anything—Ning Yi frowned just thinking about it, unable to fathom what had gotten into this esteemed young princess’s head.

As her teacher, he did pay somewhat closer attention to the handful of female students in his class—simply because rarity made them notable in a way; after his tutoring, these girls would have no further opportunities to continue their education, since all that awaited them afterward was marriage and managing a household.

But his attention went no further than that—trying to actually counsel them would be futile regardless. Whatever psychological troubles they might have were, after all, products of society itself; society being unchangeable, thinking too much about it would only do them harm. The old saying that a woman’s virtue lies in having no great talent still held rather firmly true in this world. So, regarding this suddenly odd-behaving young princess, Ning Yi continued simply teaching her arithmetic and nothing more, asking no further questions.

Outside the Su household, the assassination affair at Bamboo Records had, with the assassins having escaped, effectively come to a close for now. The whole matter had erupted suddenly and faded just as quickly, though the faint undercurrents of significance running beneath it were enough to attract the attention of anyone paying close attention. The Liao, the Jin, the Martial Dynasty—some complex maneuvering among the powers had only barely revealed itself here.

The matter was, admittedly, rather beyond Ning Yi’s usual scope, and even caught up in it as he was, Qin Siyuan’s life remained pressed under that same complicated stillness, with little visible change. Whenever Ning Yi visited, they’d simply chat about ideas from books, play a game of go, or discuss household trivialities; Ning Yi mentioned the Su family’s recent troubles, and the old man laughed it off, remarking that Ning Yi’s own excessive modesty was causing people no end of trouble. On matters of state, however, the old man never breathed a word.

During the assassination attempt at Bamboo Records, Yunzhu had been wounded, and Jin’er had subdued one of the attackers—effectively saving Qin Siyuan’s life. Long ago, Ning Yi had once floated the idea of having Qin Siyuan adopt Yunzhu as a goddaughter, though the idea had fallen through after Yunzhu’s performance at Yancui Tower. Still, Yunzhu had maintained a connection with the Qin household, occasionally visiting to pay her respects to this “Grandfather Qin.” After this latest incident, Qin Siyuan had one day brought the matter up again.

The last time, when Ning Yi had first proposed it, the significance had already been considerable enough—for a former official to adopt a girl from a pleasure house as his goddaughter would, once word got out, inevitably damage Elder Qin’s reputation. But Ning Yi’s thinking at the time had been rooted in his understanding of what she meant to him; he’d been determined to secure her a solid patron, and as for Elder Qin, on one hand the two of them already understood each other reasonably well, and on the other, Ning Yi had been prepared to invest something of his own into the matter—so long as the old man agreed, he certainly had the means to ensure the old man wouldn’t come out the worse for it after a few favors exchanged. Later, though, because Yunzhu had come forward once more on his behalf to help push the old man toward agreeing, it had started to feel like overreaching, and Ning Yi had let the matter drop.

But this time, with Elder Qin himself bringing it up, the significance carried an entirely different weight. Back then, Elder Qin had merely been a dismissed official; now, with public sentiment running high in his favor and having just survived an assassination attempt by Liao agents, should he be recalled to office, he’d rise almost overnight to a position second to none. That such a man would raise this matter again left even Ning Yi momentarily taken aback.

There was no question of accepting on Yunzhu’s behalf, nor was there any need to voice a refusal either. Since Elder Qin’s household had lately been hosting a steady stream of important visitors, it wasn’t really appropriate for Yunzhu to come calling herself, so instead Ning Yi brought Yunzhu and Jin’er along for a visit, allowing the old man to properly thank them for their help.

That afternoon, tea was served out in the courtyard, and the group chatted for a while. Qin Siyuan was well aware of the nature of the relationship between Ning Yi and Yunzhu. “Just what exactly is the arrangement between you two—I confess I find it rather hard to say. Never seen anything quite like it before…” The two of them had, of course, long since reached the point where they could openly be together, only held back from that final step, it seemed, by Jin’er’s interference—Ning Yi had no way of bringing her home as his own. Yet bringing Yunzhu along to visit like this, or having Ning Yi decide certain major life matters on her behalf, felt entirely natural regardless—almost, in feeling, like a husband bringing his wife home to visit her father-in-law. Whenever Qin Siyuan mentioned this sort of thing to Kang Xian, he found himself thoroughly at a loss over it.

Jin’er, by this point, was on familiar terms with the Qin household herself, and hearing this, launched excitedly into a full accounting of Ning Yi’s various failings to Elder Qin. Ning Yi and Yunzhu could do little but listen, occasionally sipping tea and smiling ruefully. Their calm indifference to all this, in Jin’er’s eyes, came across as the shameless resignation of two people too far gone to care, and she found herself thoroughly annoyed at Yunzhu’s own stubborn indulgence of it all. “Grandfather Qin, you really ought to give them both a proper scolding.”

Qin Siyuan laughed. “You’ve said yourself they’re too far gone to be reasoned with—scolding won’t wake them up. Honestly, if a person can truly lose themselves in something in this life, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Let’s just give them some time.”

“Hmph!” Jin’er gave a cold snort. “I refuse.”

Though she said this, in truth Jin’er had no real way to do anything about it—and if she was honest with herself, she probably wasn’t entirely displeased with how things had turned out either. Once recovered from her illness, she went right back to her usual routine of bickering with Ning Yi day after day, chatting about business at her shop, living her leisurely days as always. These past few days, though, talk in Jiangning had grown increasingly lively over the matter of Li Shishi from the capital coming to visit friends—no one quite knew who’d started stirring it up, but the whole affair had somehow been recast as a challenge from the capital against Jiangning, with numerous local men of letters already mobilizing, egging on Qilan, Luo Miaomiao, and the rest to arrange a performance in the coming days, inviting Miss Li to come and measure herself against them. The lady herself hadn’t even arrived yet, and already the whole city was buzzing with anticipation.

“This Li Shishi is quite famous, you know—apparently lots of talented men in the capital write poems for her. There’s one called Zhou Bangyan who’s quite well known too; I’ve read some of his lyrics, they’re really good.” That afternoon, having come by the pavilion, Yuan Jin’er was also following the Li Shishi affair closely. “Lots of talented men in Jiangning have written new pieces lately. Aren’t you going to write a new lyric too, great talent Ning, to put down that arrogance from the capital?”

“Write a poem? Sure, happens I’ve got some inspiration lately.” Ning Yi picked up his brush and began writing at once. Jin’er’s mouth fell open, and she quickly leaned across the table to look; Yunzhu, passing by, also curiously craned her neck to see.

“Germanium plutonium uranium chlorine thorium arsenic cesium, claiming all the charm for this humble garden. Potassium sodium calcium magnesium lithium beryllium francium, its faint fragrance drifting beneath the yellow dusk moon… what kind of poem is this…”

Ning Yi had been trying to recall the periodic table of elements lately, though he could never quite get it right. He looked over the paper, shaking his head with self-satisfied amusement. “Ah, what a fine poem, what a fine poem… though there are still four more lines to go—next comes lead, aluminum, tungsten, palladium, fluorine, carbon, oxygen… hmm, that one sounds a bit like it doesn’t quite itch…”

“Tch, fine, don’t write it then. Always like this…” This particular poem, “A Small Plum Tree in the Mountain Garden,” apparently hadn’t yet made its way into the Martial Dynasty. Jin’er peered at the lines about claiming all the charm for the humble garden and the faint fragrance drifting beneath the yellow dusk moon. “Wasting a perfectly good line for nothing. Some great talent you are…”

She thought about it, then added with a laugh, “Oh, right—speaking of which, a gentleman came to visit Sister Yunzhu this morning. Very good-looking, very composed, well-read, and an official too—he probably writes better poems than you do. Sister Yunzhu had a great time chatting with him.”

“Oh?” Ning Yi laughed. “I don’t believe it—how could anyone write poetry better than this?”

“It was Elder Qin’s eldest son,” Yunzhu said from behind, smiling. “Because of the assassination attempt on Elder Qin, and with Qingming coming up too, he rushed back from Jiangzhou. He came by specially today to say thank you. He mentioned he’d stopped by your place yesterday too, but had to leave in a hurry without meeting you—did Liheng not know?”

“Qin Shaohe… someone did come by yesterday, yes, though he didn’t leave a name—said he’d come back again, though.”

Ning Yi thought about it and understood. He’d heard mention of Qin Siyuan’s two sons many times before—Qin Shaohe and Qin Shaoqian, one a scholar, the other a military man, both having risen to positions of considerable trust in politics and the army respectively, thanks to their father’s standing. Last year, owing to his capable handling of famine relief, Qin Shaohe had already been promoted to prefect of Jiangzhou; likely too busy with official duties, neither brother had made it back to Jiangning for the new year. This time, hearing news of their father’s assassination attempt, they’d apparently rushed back in haste.

He asked Yunzhu a bit more about this Qin Shaohe. As Qin Siyuan’s eldest son, the man was already nearing forty; Jin’er’s description of him as handsome, composed, and well-read wasn’t far off the mark. From what Ning Yi had heard from Qin Siyuan himself in the past, this Qin Shaohe was modest and steady by temperament, carrying much of his father’s bearing, and was in fact the one who’d truly inherited Qin Siyuan’s scholarly legacy. But he wasn’t one to seek the spotlight; under his father’s influence, he valued substance over showy display, and though his skill in poetry and prose was quite solid, he wrote sparingly, which was why his literary reputation had never spread far. In official circles, he’d advanced steadily, step by careful step, though he’d suffered somewhat from his father’s fall from grace in past years, only recently seeing promotion again.

The three of them chatted a while longer about the two Qin brothers, and Ning Yi, having toyed further with “A Small Plum Tree in the Mountain Garden,” finally wrote out the actual poem and handed it to Yuan Jin’er to look over. She read it once, sniffed dismissively. “Nothing special, really.” But it was clear she liked it well enough regardless.

Ning Yi cautioned her not to show it off to anyone—she could keep it for herself, but if she wanted to show off, she shouldn’t drag his name into it. On his way home that day, he stopped by the Qin residence and confirmed that the Qin family’s eldest son had indeed returned, though he’d gone out that afternoon to pay other visits. By the time he got home, he found someone had come to visit as well—not Qin Shaohe, but Puyang Yi of the Puyang family. Ning Yi hadn’t been home yet, so Su Tan’er and Su Boyong had been the ones entertaining him.

“…Brother Ning has surely heard the rumors these days about Miss Shishi from the capital coming to visit. All of Jiangning is stirred up about it, everyone hoping to see Qilan and Miss Shishi go head to head in a proper contest… Ha, though her true intentions remain unclear, there’s certainly a chance the two might cross paths. I feel that, given how much this touches on Jiangning’s reputation, I’d like to ask Brother Ning to make an exception this once and write a new lyric for Qilan, for the sake of our city’s literary honor—just to have something in reserve, so to speak…”

In their past dealings, Puyang Yi had always kept a rather humble, deferential manner, never once making any unreasonable request. This time, though, Ning Yi understood immediately—the man had been cultivating this relationship for a long while now, and clearly meant to finally collect on a return for his long-standing goodwill…