The sun sank lower, and in the room facing the river, the woman’s paintbrush paused briefly before resuming its motion.
Years ago, she’d sent some of the children under her mother’s care to that alley to study zither, song, and the arts of performance, boarding them there for two years, so Li Yun retained some impressions of the place herself. Hearing her daughter mention an old acquaintance, and connecting it to Yu Hezhong, she frowned. “Someone you used to know? Who?”
“A child who used to live in the middle of that alley, always buried in his books. His father was a sour, pedantic scholar type, always arguing with the family. I remember now—the surname was Ning…”
“Oh.” Mother Li recalled it now. “That child wasn’t much of a scholar either, always getting scolded, scolded half-witted, if I remember right. When we left, I recall his father had passed away too. Is he still living there? How did you recognize him?”
“I didn’t, at first—he’s changed a great deal from before. I saw him sitting by the courtyard gate holding a book, went up to ask, and only then realized who he was.” The woman studied the painting before her, brush strokes flowing, having already fully captured the alley she’d visited that day. Her painting style was elegant and fresh, leaning toward realism even amid its overall gracefulness—by the standards of traditional Chinese painting, which favors mood and atmosphere over strict representation, her technique might not be called truly masterful, likely never having received formal instruction from any great teacher, relying instead on her own natural talent, gradually refined through self-study. But that she’d reached this level of clarity and skill on her own was proof enough of considerable talent.
Though the alley itself came through fresh and orderly in the painting, one of the three figures depicted speaking there remained somewhat blurred—in the end she’d only sketched a few careless strokes for that figure, leaving it impossible to tell whether it was meant to be an adult or a child. “The way he spoke was completely different from that child who used to just sit by the door reading. But thinking about it now, I can’t quite place what exactly was different. Maybe I was mistaken. Today it was mostly Brother Yu doing the talking—he barely said much at all…”
Mother Li grew visibly alarmed at this. “Shishi, don’t tell me you’re… harboring some old feelings again…”
The woman shook her head with a smile. “There were so many people I knew as a child—there’s not really that much sentiment attached to most of them. Meeting an old acquaintance far from home is simply a matter of fate; there’s no need to go seeking them out deliberately. Besides, I heard he’s married into a family here—some local merchant household, apparently. Since Brother Yu and I keep in touch, and Brother Yu enjoys it, associating with him further would only end up causing him unnecessary trouble for no reason. We ran into each other once today, and that will likely be the end of it.”
“That’s good, then…” Mother Li patted her chest in relief. “Best not to keep entangling yourself with people who can’t measure up to you. As for this Yu Hezhong—well, since we’ve already crossed paths with him, Mother will simply chalk it up to bad luck and not give him too cold a shoulder normally. If he keeps coming around too often, though, our Fan Tower might as well turn into a charity house… That Ning family boy married into someone’s family, did he? Ha, I always knew that boy would never amount to much. What was his name again?”
“I don’t know—today I just gave my surname as Wang, didn’t want to give my real name, so he didn’t offer his either. Later, when Brother Yu came over, there wasn’t really an introduction.”
“Just as well you don’t know. Oh, by the way—word of your visit to Jiangning has been spreading like wildfire lately, someone’s clearly stirring things up behind the scenes, but there are always a few people you simply can’t avoid or turn away. I think we should just settle on one or two occasions, hold a proper reception, let them get a taste of what the capital’s like, and then you’ll have the rest of your time free to relax—Mother will keep you company, we’ll go for walks, unwind a bit.” Mother Li smiled, then frowned again. “Hmph, and if any of those shameless women out there really do try to ride on your fame to boost their own, don’t hold back on their account—give them a proper lesson if it comes to that.”
“That would make enemies, though—they’d say I was being arrogant…” Li Shishi tilted her head, considering. “And Jiangning’s a big place too—who knows, maybe I really wouldn’t measure up to them.”
“You’re always trying to please everyone, even in something as plainly a contest as this…”
“Same thing happens back in the capital, really.”
“They already know they can’t measure up to you, so being nice to them just earns you their goodwill in return. But this bunch of women in Jiangning won’t appreciate it the same way. I went to see Yang Xiuhong today, and she said this year Jiangning’s lost half of its Four Great Ladies—the worst year yet. That Qilan and Luo Miaomiao are simply no good. Tsk, and Yang Xiuhong’s had a rough time of it too—last year, one of her star girls just up and ran off. If she’d bought her own freedom to marry, fine, that would’ve been understandable enough, but instead she went off to open a tavern with someone. And there was another one before her, extraordinarily talented in music and verse, who did the exact same thing—bought her own freedom and left. Now the two of them run a tavern together, and it’s driven Yang Xiuhong half mad. Those two girls have no idea how hard life really is, you know—had wealthy young suitors all lined up to marry them and make them proper young mistresses, and they wouldn’t have it, ran off to make a public spectacle of themselves instead…”
Having visited her fellow madam at Jinfeng Tower today and heard all this from Yang Xiuhong, Li Yun immediately thought of her own daughters, and now found herself nagging away at Shishi to preempt any similar notion, worried she too might one day run off without a proper place to land. Shishi, listening to all this, found it rather amusing. “Those two elder sisters sound quite admirable, actually.”
“What’s admirable about it, Shishi, you must never think that way…” On and on she went.
Shishi nodded. “Mm, I won’t do anything like that.”
“I know you well enough, Mother’s just saying it to be safe. Oh, right—I heard that Brother Zhou of yours came looking for you today, what a shame you weren’t in. If you’re in a good mood tomorrow, why not go out with him for a stroll? And while you’re at it, see if he’s got any new poetry to show—might as well let him crush the rest of these overconfident Jiangning talents once and for all!”
The tone carried a hint of real irritation, and Shishi laughed. “Mother, what’s got you so worked up?”
“I’m not worked up, it’s just that you came here purely to rest and unwind, and yet those wretched gossips have spread the word around, and this bunch of Jiangning scholars can’t think of anything better to do than stir up trouble. Saying you’ve come to challenge them, saying that if you do show up, they won’t even pay you any mind, that they’ll only write their poems for the likes of Qilan and Luo Miaomiao instead—tch, as if anyone would even care. If that talented Brother Zhou of yours hadn’t come along with you, Shishi, you really might have been made a fool of. And now word’s spreading that even their so-called top talent is going to write a poem for Qilan too, just to have her overshadow you completely. This time, even though we’ve only met a person or two, and we’ve no wish to compete for the sake of competing, we still need to prepare properly.”
“Who exactly is this ‘top talent,’ anyway?”
“There’s no true consensus on who’s best in literature, of course—everyone’s got their own opinion. Some say it’s Cao Guan, there’s also a Li Pin whose poetry is quite good too, though he’s left Jiangning now. There was also someone called Gu Yanzhen you actually met once, but he’s not in Jiangning anymore either…”
The woman nodded. “I believe I did meet him, yes—two years ago now, when I was still quite young.”
Mother Li thought a moment more. “There’s also, there’s also talk of that Ning Liheng, the one who wrote ‘Shuidiaogetou’ and ‘Qingyu’an.’ Though I asked Yang Xiuhong about him today, and apparently he doesn’t write much for Jiangning’s literary circles, doesn’t attend the usual literary gatherings, keeps himself rather mysterious—hard to say whether he’d actually get involved.”
Given the distance between Jiangning and the capital, poems like “Shuidiaogetou,” “Qingyu’an,” and “Dingfengbo” had indeed made their way to the capital, though everything else about their author had grown vague and blurred through word of mouth. Li Shishi had sung these very poems herself and heard some of the rumors surrounding their author, but she still couldn’t quite form a solid impression of the man himself. She tilted her head back slightly, thinking it over, then broke into a smile. “I’ve heard he doesn’t usually write new verses, doesn’t attend literary gatherings either. If he happened to write something new because of me, and everyone got to see a fine new poem out of it, that would be a happy thing indeed, wouldn’t it?”
Where she’d spoken with detached indifference about the whole rivalry earlier, now, discussing the author of those poems, a faint note of pride and confidence slipped into her smiling words—and in the next instant, it seemed as though nothing remained but pure anticipation for the poetry itself.
Mother Li knew her daughter’s temperament well enough. Her usual air of indifference stemmed partly from genuine disposition, and partly from a long-cultivated pride that simply took certain things for granted. Deep down, she found herself hoping this Ning Liheng wouldn’t actually get involved, though outwardly she simply reminded her daughter to spend more time with that talented Zhou Bangyan fellow, to secure a fine poem from him as insurance for this trip.
She knew her daughter’s true talents well enough—when it actually came time to perform, pure, elegant, dignified, or charming, whatever the moment called for, she could deliver it flawlessly, capable of handling even the most difficult of guests without a hitch. But by nature, she tended toward a certain languid passivity—if, say, tomorrow she were told to go ask Zhou Bangyan for a poem, she might well feel there was no real need for it. If Zhou Bangyan happened to come find her instead, she’d simply receive him politely and leave it at that, forcing her mother to nag at her again and again and again. Only after enough repetition would she finally get around to doing something she’d otherwise considered unnecessary.
This daughter of hers had always been this way—so long as those around her genuinely meant well by asking something of her, she’d do it eventually, even if she personally saw no point in it.
And so, though some of what she said occasionally struck her mother as rather odd, Li Yun remained thoroughly fond of this daughter of hers all the same. This, she thought, was what it meant to be truly obedient and sweet-natured…
By the time Mother Li had finished her string of nagging, lamps had already been lit throughout the small courtyard and the surrounding streets, and small boats drifted past on the river outside the window, their warm golden lantern-lights sliding by. On the other side of the city, at the Su family estate, a small family dinner was being held in Ning Yi’s courtyard, mainly to entertain Qin Shaohe, who had come to visit.
This eldest son of the Qin family was nearing forty, with a square, handsome face that conveyed both refinement and dignity, though he wasn’t without a gentle, good-humored side either—his overall bearing, however, leaned primarily toward the proper, upright demeanor of a true gentleman, much like his father. Qin Siyuan, having reached the age of sixty and weathered various upheavals, no longer serving in official life, tended toward wit and humor in his dealings with Ning Yi—but twenty years earlier, he too had likely carried himself in much this same manner and style.
Qin Shaohe had already learned of this young “brother’s” remarkable capabilities from his father’s letters. Later, when the floods struck, being himself a man of considerable talent, he’d been among the first to receive the relief strategy his father had sent him, made a few adjustments suited to local conditions, and achieved remarkable results—turning in the single most outstanding performance in last year’s disaster relief efforts. He and his brother Qin Shaoqian had always found their careers advancing more slowly than others, owing to their father’s fall from grace, but with this latest achievement, his superiors had finally been compelled to promote him to prefect. Grateful for Ning Yi’s help, and now doubly so given that Ning Yi had recently saved his father’s very life, he’d made two visits to the Su residence after consulting his father, on both occasions declining to reveal his official rank, treating Ning Yi purely as an equal. The moment he saw him, he’d offered his thanks first of all.
The two of them now sat in the hall, eating dinner together. Su Tan’er had come out to greet them a few times before retreating back to the inner rooms, leaving only Chan’er to attend to them nearby. She knew something of Qin Shaohe’s status, and with Ning Yi having been out that afternoon and this visit being purely personal in nature, she hadn’t been able to call on her father or grandfather or any other family elders to receive him properly. After offering her own greeting, she’d left Xing’er to attend to him while Juan’er went to find help, feeling somewhat anxious about the whole situation. Once Ning Yi returned, she’d come out again to exchange a few words with their guest, after which things had settled into a more normal rhythm. Now, sitting composedly in her room reviewing the account books, she could faintly hear the sounds of laughter and conversation drifting over from the hall, feeling a stirring mix of excitement and no small amount of pride beneath her outward calm.
A prefect, no less!
The highest-ranking official the Su family had ever really dealt with before was a prefect as well—every year when Song Mao came to visit, the whole household treated it as an enormous occasion. But she also knew Song Mao was closer to the second branch of the family; though the Su family’s business did benefit somewhat from the connection, there wasn’t much she personally could count on from it. Now, though, thanks to her husband, she too had a prefect in her circle, so to speak.
Well—perhaps it would be more accurate to say… it belonged to her and her husband together.
A few days earlier, when her husband had mentioned it to her, he’d said only, in an offhand tone, “I hear he’s some prefect or other.” She’d been a little startled at the time, though she already knew Elder Qin was a formidable figure from earlier visits, having gone to pay respects around the new year. Back then, she’d thought her husband quite impressive, treating the old man as an equal in matters of scholarship, but hadn’t quite grasped the full weight of it—she’d simply felt it wasn’t easy for her husband to have cultivated such a connection, and told herself not to think too much about it, not wanting to taint such a refined friendship with crude thoughts of profit. But this afternoon, when the man himself had actually come calling at their home, that was when she truly began to grasp the full significance of it all.
Su Tan’er was, admittedly, no stranger to worldly affairs and had certainly had occasion to deal with high officials before—but those encounters had always been purely transactional exchanges of interest, nothing especially warm or personal about them. Most people would find it hard to fully understand just how deeply the Su family yearned for official rank and power—in this world, merchants remained, after all, a lowly class regardless of wealth, and even Su Yu’s tremendous effort in establishing Yushan Academy had, in the end, been born of exactly this kind of longing. In the past, Su Tan’er had never been able to count on Song Mao for much, regarding him at best as a somewhat distant protective umbrella for the Su family as a whole. But Qin Shaohe’s manner in coming to visit this afternoon made it clear to her that this was something entirely different from an ordinary exchange of favors.
Though he hadn’t revealed his official rank today, it was precisely this manner of approach—combined with the life-saving debt he owed—that signaled something else entirely: the beginning of an actual friendship going forward. Handled well, such a connection might even extend down through future generations.
In the past, no matter how her business dealings had gone, no matter what connections she’d cultivated or which officials she’d come to know, she’d always thought of herself, at the very core, as simply a merchant—at best able to help elevate the Su family into a truly great merchant house. But now, the feeling in her heart was entirely different. She sat composedly before the desk, reviewing the account books, though her mind was anything but composed. Juan’er and Xing’er beside her, having some vague sense of their guest’s status, whispered quietly. “Young mistress, that Elder Qin is the prefect of Jiangzhou, you know. Young master seems to be getting along with him wonderfully.”
“Mm.” Su Tan’er nodded evenly.
“If word got out that a prefect came to visit our household like this, and that young master even saved his family’s life—people would be positively green with envy, especially the second branch…”
“No idle gossip.” Su Tan’er shot them a cool glance. “Don’t make such a fuss over it. My husband and Prefect Qin have formed a bond as gentlemen, with no interests involved whatsoever. If you two go flaunting this outside, you’ll only sully their friendship. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Though.” Su Tan’er tapped the end of her brush against her lips, thinking it over. “It wouldn’t hurt to let a little word slip to the second branch. Just be careful about it—we mustn’t let anyone say we’re being showy.”
“Understood!” The two maids exchanged a glance and a smile. Showing off with appropriate restraint—that was precisely their specialty.