The house Ning Yi—or rather, the previous Ning Yi—had once lived in sat within a small alley in the northern part of Jiangning city. The courtyard was modest in size, and couldn’t really be called an ancestral home of the Ning family. The Ning clan had already begun its decline back in the previous generation; the once-grand family estate had long since been sold off, then demolished and rebuilt into other housing, and by the time of Ning Yi’s father, the family had moved into this alley, living in fairly straitened, difficult circumstances ever since.

Going back further, to Ning Yi’s grandfather’s generation and beyond, the family had apparently still been fairly comfortable scholarly gentry, having once held some minor official rank—which was in fact how Su Yu had come to befriend them, since at that time it was likely Su Yu, as a mere merchant, who’d been the one reaching upward for the connection. Ning Yi’s father had apparently enjoyed some years of relative prosperity in his youth, and carried himself with a certain measure of pride befitting a man of letters, which, framed generously, might be called a kind of scholarly integrity.

Since crossing over into this world, Ning Yi had heard a few accounts of how his father had been regarded during his lifetime. According to Su Tan’er, her honored father-in-law had, in his day, been generous and open-hearted, with a wide circle of friends—only, unfortunately, he’d never met with the right circumstances, his luck simply never turning, and so he’d never managed to pass the examinations. Hearing this a few times, Ning Yi came to understand the picture well enough: the man had been by nature something of a wastrel, grand in ambition but lacking in real substance, spending freely despite having no scholarly accomplishments to show for it, and had simply squandered away what modest foundation the family once had. In his younger years he’d indulged himself without restraint, and later, once the family fell into hardship, he’d grown despondent—and being a man of some learning who still thought rather highly of himself, the combined strain on body and spirit had eventually led to his early death.

The previous Ning Yi had never enjoyed even the brief taste of glamour or ease his father once had. From the time he was old enough to understand anything, the family had already been struggling; not a particularly clever boy, pushed by his father to study yet never achieving much, he’d been a rather pitiable child, weighed down by life from the start. But this had also meant he’d never developed any real sense of pride or arrogance—had it been otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have ended up choosing to marry into the Su family, and none of the events that followed would have happened either.

The present Ning Yi held little interest in the life trajectory of that previous person. Since his marriage, he’d returned to this house only a handful of times. Having married into the Su family, with all their wealth at his disposal, a modest little courtyard like this naturally held no particular appeal to him. So, technically, this remained property belonging to Ning Yi, and Chan’er or Juan’er would occasionally send maids over to clean up. He’d come this afternoon because Chan’er, under Tan’er’s instructions, was to give the place a proper cleaning, and having nothing else to do, Ning Yi had come along.

With Qingming just a few days off, Tan’er had told him the night before that they could come by here on the day itself, together, to burn some paper offerings for his late parents. Ning Yi, of course, held no memories of this body’s blood relations, but he still took the meaning of honoring one’s ancestors seriously enough, and that Tan’er had thought to arrange this counted, in the end, as a genuine gesture of affection on her part—he’d nodded and agreed readily enough.

Behind this arrangement, naturally, lay some discussion among Su Yu, Su Boyong, and the others. Ordinarily, a man married into a family this way could hardly expect such consideration—much like a woman married out of her own family, taking things back to her maiden household was generally seen as improper. In an age governed by the logic of family as empire in miniature, the boundaries of the household were, after all, guarded strictly. But since the Ning family had no remaining relatives to speak of, Su Yu had already indicated his willingness to let a second son born to Ning Yi and Tan’er take the Ning surname—this small concession was enough to keep the matter from becoming any real issue.

Of course, the time spent here would still need to avoid overlapping with the Su family’s own ancestral rites—everything deferring to the Su family’s schedule first and foremost. Since Tan’er had wanted to spend a day here with him before Qingming, Chan’er was now busy tidying up the place inside and out, with Ning Yi lending a hand moving tables and chairs. Since no one lived here normally, the rooms held little more than some tables, chairs, wooden cabinets, and similar furniture; bedding, cloth, clothing, and other items prone to dampness hadn’t been prepared at all. Chan’er’s visit today was mainly to get a general sense of the place’s condition—to make it truly livable, they’d certainly need to bring in more maids and servants to help tomorrow.

“Young master, you don’t need to help, really—these tables have been sitting so long, they’re covered in dust. If you move them, you’ll get all dirty…”

Holding a new broom and sweeping at the old bedframe, a headscarf wrapped around her hair, Chan’er, deep in her work, occasionally turned to protest. Ning Yi, in the meantime, had already carried a few crates out of the bedroom and brought in some chairs to replace them, then moved on to hauling in a sandalwood table that had been stored in another room—having sat so long, the table too had gathered quite a bit of grime. Ning Yi, being strong, handled the moving without much strain, though watching him do it clearly irritated Chan’er.

Where was it heard of, the master doing a servant’s work? Though after being around him for so long, she knew Ning Yi had little concern for such formalities—the occasional boiling of water or washing of his own face without waiting on anyone was one thing—but taking on this kind of dirty, heavy labor himself was really going too far.

“If I get back and the young mistress sees young master all dirty, she’ll scold me again for it…”

Chan’er, being well accustomed to this kind of work, wielded her broom briskly, cleaning the room thoroughly, her movements quick and efficient, and somehow she managed to avoid getting much dust on herself at all, while Ning Yi, from moving a few things around, had picked up plenty. When Chan’er protested, he simply laughed and dragged a dust-covered finger across her cheek in a streak. The two of them busied themselves this way around the small courtyard, and the room that had nearly become a storage shed gradually began taking shape. Once the larger pieces had been moved, the finer tidying and sweeping was left to Chan’er after all; Ning Yi sat out in the courtyard, sorting through the odds and ends stored in the crates, occasionally listening as Chan’er chattered on.

“Young master, why didn’t you agree to help that Puyang young master with the poem he wanted?”

“Not worth it. I’m not even that close with this Qilan person, and writing a poem for her wouldn’t gain me much anyway—and besides, we’re talking about Li Shishi here. If I go writing poems for one side without even weighing the situation first, she’s bound to take a dislike to me, right? Gaining nothing on one side while earning the other side’s resentment—as a businessman, that’s just a terrible deal, don’t you think…”

That was more or less how he’d answered when Puyang Yi had come by the previous afternoon asking for a poem. Of course, the joking was only half in jest—at the end of the day, Ning Yi hadn’t given him an answer on the spot either way. Puyang Yi had always been a reasonably decent, clever man; handing over a poem here or there wouldn’t have cost much in itself. But as Ning Yi saw it, this whole affair seemed rather unreliable to begin with—Qilan had, after all, been deliberately propped up by the Puyang family, and whatever hype followed would surely be driven largely by them. Whether Li Shishi would even bother competing with anyone remained entirely unclear so far, so there was no reason for him to eagerly throw himself into the fray. After all, adding flowers to brocade was never as meaningful as sending charcoal in the snow.

Ning Yi might not have consciously worked through all this reasoning at the time, but for him, it was simply obvious at a glance how best to handle such matters. When Puyang Yi had come to ask the favor, Ning Yi had joked around a bit, then made clear that if the matter genuinely required his help, he’d naturally do whatever he could—but for now, as a sensible man, there was no need to declare his position too early in this awkward little contest between beauties.

He’d said it lightly enough, and Puyang Yi, knowing well enough Ning Yi’s habit of keeping his distance from pleasure houses, had still left satisfied, having secured the promise. Only, apparently, upon returning, he’d relayed Ning Yi’s exact words to Qilan, leaving her thoroughly put out: “This concubine has sent Master Ning I don’t know how many invitations already, and he’s never once paid Qilan any mind—and now he says we’re not even close? That’s really quite unfair of him.”

Though phrased as a complaint, the remark actually came across as rather intimate in tone, well coordinated with Puyang Yi’s own approach. Hearing about it, Ning Yi could only shake his head and laugh. That was simply how businessmen operated—so long as things stayed within reasonable bounds, everyone borrowing a bit of hype from each other now and then was no great matter, and he wasn’t inclined to take it too seriously.

The afternoon passed by in this kind of atmosphere, Chan’er occasionally sharing bits of gossip about Li Shishi, and occasionally, in between sweeping, mentioning how much regard the Su family now held for their son-in-law—the rumor about the second son he and Tan’er might have someday taking the Ning surname had already started to take some shape. In this era, and given his status as a matrilocal son-in-law, this really was quite a remarkable thing, and Chan’er was genuinely happy for him. Sitting outside, Ning Yi smiled and said:

“So then, Chan’er—once you’re married to me someday, if you have children, they’ll take the surname Ning, and Tan’er’s children will take the surname Su. How does that sound?”

Chan’er, caught off guard by this kind of joke about “marriage” out in broad daylight, blushed bright red, her expression turning complicated. “Young master, if anyone else heard you say that, Chan’er would be beaten to death…”

That much was certainly true—Ning Yi had said it rather thoughtlessly, but thinking about it now, he understood, and offered a few words of comfort with a smile. After a moment, Chan’er, cloth still in hand, sat down beside him, lowering her head.

“Chan’er knows young master means well, but… please don’t keep saying things that make Chan’er think too much… Chan’er is the young mistress’s attendant-maid, and will stand by her side her whole life. Like… like if young master ever married someone else on the side, Chan’er would team up with the young mistress to make her life miserable. And if young master ever took up with someone outside, Chan’er would go with the young mistress to confront them too… Chan’er’s actually quite formidable, you know—I was trained by the young mistress herself, and any ordinary little vixen wouldn’t stand a chance against Chan’er at home. Young master, young master had best be careful…”

The little maid struck a pose somewhere between proud and timid as she issued this warning, and Ning Yi couldn’t help but laugh. He knew perfectly well what the three maids in his household were capable of—by modern standards, any one of them would have made a perfectly competent senior manager; it was only here that their status happened to be that of maids, outwardly appearing docile and obedient, while in truth their skill at managing and coordinating all manner of affairs was already exceptional. Just as she’d said, if some concubine really did try to worm her way into the household, between her and Su Tan’er working together, that woman would have a very hard time of it indeed.

“All right, all right, understood—though ‘make her life miserable’ sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it…”

“For young master’s sake, Chan’er will ask the young mistress to spare her half a life, at least…”

“Tch…”

The two of them chatted for a while longer in the courtyard. Once the cleaning was done, Chan’er bought some incense to burn inside, while Ning Yi sat in the courtyard sorting through the contents of the wooden crates. There wasn’t much of genuine interest among them—a few small trinkets that perhaps carried traces of the previous Ning Yi’s earlier life, though most had turned to junk by now. After looking things over for a while, Ning Yi began tossing out some shattered jars and pots, along with moldy, scattered bundles of bamboo strips and old books, discarding them as he went. In the process, he came across a copy of the Thousand Character Classic that was still in decent condition, filled with various handwritten annotations—clearly something the previous Ning Yi had written as a child—which held some sentimental value, so he set it aside to keep.

The afternoon sun was pleasant, spilling warm across the bluestone-paved alley. On his way back, Ning Yi sat down for a moment on a bluestone bench by the gate. The alley ran deep and secluded, courtyards and doorways lined up one after another in close succession, a few old trees scattered among the black-tiled roofs and gray walls, with the occasional passerby offering him a friendly nod—Ning Yi, not entirely sure whether he actually recognized them, nodded back all the same. In the distance, the sounds of foot traffic and carriages drifted in from the street beyond the mouth of the alley.

Some of the residents of this alley knew him, and a few even knew of the considerable reputation he’d built up recently—though Ning Yi himself held no real memory of this particular alley. Still, sitting there on the stone bench, he found himself feeling a certain quiet sense of peace. He sat leafing through the worn old Thousand Character Classic, and when a page, already torn, fell loose, he simply tucked it back in to hold it in place. It was in the midst of this that he noticed someone looking his way.

It was a woman dressed in white scholar’s robes—though disguised as a man, her true identity as a woman was easy enough to make out. In fact, she’d already appeared at the mouth of the alley by the time Ning Yi first sat down; long enough that an ordinary person could have walked the length of the alley back and forth eight or nine times in that span. She’d been wandering along, stopping here and there, seemingly looking at something, and only now, drawing closer, did Ning Yi take notice of her. The woman had a delicate, oval face, a pointed chin, and small lips; dressed as a man, she looked rather slight and thin. Her gaze drifted toward Ning Yi, then tilted slightly to peer through the open courtyard gate behind him.

Ning Yi, holding the worn copy of the Thousand Character Classic in one hand and the loose page in the other, glanced back at her. Only then did the woman nod, lower her head, and turn to leave—only to stop again, nod once more in greeting, and speak. “Er… may I ask, sir, has the person who used to live here… passed away?”

“…How long ago?”

“About… seven or eight years, I think…”

Ning Yi glanced back over his shoulder. “I, along with my parents, have lived here all along, as far as I know… And you are…?”

The woman didn’t look particularly old—though her attire made her seem mature, she was likely not much older than Chan’er, and might well have known the previous Ning Yi. He frowned slightly. The woman studied him for a moment, then a smile touched the corner of her mouth. “Ah, you’re little Ning…”

“Do we know each other?”

“Well… I suppose you could say so…” The woman didn’t seem entirely certain herself. She pointed toward a somewhat nicer-looking courtyard at the other end of the alley. “I lived over there for a couple of years. I’m surnamed Wang—we probably never talked much.”

As she pointed toward that courtyard, she lowered her head slightly, a hint of something she seemed reluctant to voice flickering in her eyes. On the whole, though, it seemed the two of them had simply once lived in the same alley, perhaps exchanged a few words in passing, but likely hadn’t been especially close. Ning Yi waited a moment, and sure enough, she went on with a smile. “Back then you used to study here all the time—I remember it well. I even came by once to borrow some soy sauce from your house.”

“Ah, I see…” Ning Yi laughed along in agreement. Since she clearly wasn’t a particularly close old acquaintance, and she seemed rather pleased to be reminiscing, he wasn’t inclined to spoil her mood, offering a few perfunctory responses instead. Just then, another figure came jogging over, clearly recognizing the woman. “Sister… Sister Wang, you really did come here after all…”

“Just came back to have a look. The place hasn’t really changed much.”

“My family used to live over there, do you remember, Sister Wang? Though it’s been sold off, so there’s no going back to see it now.”

The newcomer was a young scholar in a blue robe, who had apparently also once lived in this alley. The woman surnamed Wang glanced his way. “Oh, right—Hezhong, do you remember this gentleman here?”

The two didn’t appear to be a couple, but given their shared origins from the same neighborhood, there was a certain warmth between them nonetheless. The man called Hezhong glanced over at Ning Yi a few times, feigning indifference, though Ning Yi could easily tell how much he cared about the woman. He looked over again, then glanced back at the courtyard behind them. “Could this be… the silly bookworm? Ah, no, wait, back then we called him… what was it…”

The woman surnamed Wang frowned slightly. “Little Ning.”

“Oh, right, that’s it, Little Ning. It’s me—Hezhong, Yu Hezhong. I used to live over there. We played together often as kids—shame I moved with my parents to Bianjing later on. Back then, whenever we called you out to play, you were always getting punished with copying and reciting texts. So, how’s it going—still buried in your books? You must have earned some kind of official title by now, surely?”

The man calling himself Yu Hezhong seemed quite warm and enthusiastic, even reaching out to give Ning Yi’s arm a friendly pat—though the look in his eyes carried a rather transparent undertone. Ning Yi, at that moment, held a worn old book in his hand, and though the robe he wore would have fetched a considerable price if sold, having spent the afternoon moving things around, it now bore a few stains here and there—at a glance, he looked every bit the picture of a long-down-on-his-luck, dull-witted bookworm, his attire far from neat or presentable. Yu Hezhong’s friendly pat only served to highlight this impression further, practically underscoring it on purpose.

Ning Yi found the whole thing rather amusing. He glanced down. “Haven’t earned any titles yet, actually.”

“Ha, no matter, no matter—a hardworking fellow like Brother Ning is sure to succeed eventually…”

Yu Hezhong, having initially taken some interest upon noticing the two of them talking and sensing that this Miss Wang seemed to have some interest in this “little Ning,” now, having gotten a closer look at his old friend’s current state, found himself considerably more pleased with the situation. Sunlight spilled down over the alley, and the three of them, having perhaps shared little real history to begin with, now fell into conversation like old friends reunited after a long absence…