“…This humble one is Chen Luoyuan, and I welcome all of you, my friends, to my modest estate. As you may know, several of our friends today have come from afar — among them is a former top scholar of the imperial examinations, a talented gentleman renowned throughout the capital, and…”

The time had more or less come, and nearly everyone had arrived. The middle-aged scholar named Chen Luoyuan, having greeted a portion of the guests already, was preparing to invite everyone up the hill. By the usual account, his reason for hosting this outing was mainly his good relationship with Zhou Bangyan — a man who certainly earned the title “renowned talent of the capital.” But when Chen Luoyuan mentioned a former top scholar of the exams, that came as something of a surprise to Ning Yi.

“Zhou Bangyan placed first in the imperial examinations?”

Generally speaking, those known for their poetry weren’t necessarily all that formidable when it came to the actual examinations. Li Bai, the Poet Immortal, had won imperial favor, but in official circles was regarded as little more than court entertainment. Du Fu, the Poet Sage, had spent decades in officialdom without ever holding a post of any real standing. Lu You had a rocky career, repeatedly sidelined in official life. In some sense, a fine artist rarely made for a fine bureaucrat — a thinker, perhaps, stood a somewhat better chance. If Zhou Bangyan really was someone who managed both, that would be genuinely impressive. But from what Ning Yi had heard, the man held only a minor post around the seventh rank in the capital — which seemed rather at odds with the standing of a top examination scholar.

After Ning Yi asked, though, Qin Shaoqian rolled his eyes in that direction. “Oh, right, my elder brother placed first in the exams back in the fourteenth year of Chengping. Father was already Minister of Personnel at the time — makes you wonder they even dared to pass him.”

The reign era before Jinghan had been Chengping. Qin Shaohe struck people as a fairly low-key sort, seemingly even more restrained than his father Qin Siyuan. Compared to a talent like Zhou Bangyan, Qin Shaohe wasn’t especially known for literary brilliance, nor had he risen through the ranks on the strength of his scholarship — something Ning Yi hadn’t paid much mind to, never suspecting the man had once been a top scholar himself. Presumably this was because his steady, capable handling of affairs had simply overshadowed any literary flair — the classic case of a man who did his real work quietly and saved the boasting, if any, for the trivial things.

Among those gathered today, aside from the various beautiful courtesans from each establishment, nine or ten out of ten were scholars. In their day-to-day lives they were all passionate about poetry and prose, but at bottom, reading and writing were still ultimately in service of passing the imperial exams and becoming an official. Zhou Bangyan had earned his post originally by presenting his Ode to Bianjing, and his fame rested on his literary talent, but the status of a top scholar — in popular legend sometimes even spoken of as the God of Literature come down to earth — was another matter entirely. The Wu dynasty was one where letters flourished; there could be thousands, even tens of thousands of officials, but only one top scholar each year. The moment that title came up, a ripple of astonishment passed through the crowd, and had Chen Luoyuan not immediately followed up by mentioning the man’s status as a prefect, someone likely would have rushed right over to curry favor.

With this small revelation about Qin Shaohe, the attention that had been fixed on Zhou Bangyan and his companions was somewhat diluted for the moment. At the same time, though, both the capital scholars and the Jiangning scholars present grew noticeably more serious, taking the gathering all the more to heart — with a top scholar in attendance, everyone would need to put their best effort into whatever poems they wrote later.

After the round of introductions, the guests had a rough sense now of who exactly had come down from the capital. Zhou Bangyan and the others remained dressed in their scholarly robes as before, while Li Shishi, cradling an ancient zither in her arms, her face veiled, presented a quiet, composed figure. This so-called foremost courtesan of the capital hadn’t chosen any sort of dramatic entrance to seize attention, yet even so, the warm, composed smile visible behind her veil left a deep impression all the same. There was nothing pitiable or fragile about her manner, only…

“Actually, I think this Shishi girl has it pretty rough too…”

Jin’er murmured this beside him. Yun Zhu only smiled. Ning Yi turned his head. “You think so?”

“Mm, she probably just came to visit friends and family, didn’t say she meant to do anything more than that. It’s our side that’s driven her out into this, and now people are even saying she looks down on Jiangning — really, which woman in this line of work would be foolish enough to go looking for that kind of thankless trouble herself. It’s all Puyang Yi and his crowd…”

“She’s doing it on purpose.”

“Hm?”

“Look over there. Qilan’s and Luo Miaomiao’s instruments are both being carried by their maids. She, on the other hand, comes out cradling her zither herself, both hands in front, as if to signal resistance — see how tightly her arms are crossed, holding the instrument almost too firmly, as though hinting she’s being isolated. Her smile looks natural enough, but ever since she stepped out, without saying a word, her body language has been signaling one thing the whole time: I may be the capital’s foremost beauty, but I too was simply built up by others — really, I’m just an ordinary woman, and all of you are bullying me. See? With the beauty looking on, a portion of the Jiangning scholars will already be split off in sympathy — later, when everyone goes after Zhou Bangyan and the rest, they’ll end up going easy on her in the end.”

Having said this, Ning Yi noticed Yun Zhu and Jin’er both turning to look at him. Yun Zhu said quietly, “Such small gestures, and yet so much hidden meaning behind them? Liheng, you really are…”

Ning Yi laughed. “I’m making it up, actually — reasoning backward from the effect. She probably never consciously thought through any of it — some people simply have a knack for reading a situation and knowing instinctively how to respond. Even without deliberate thought, the effect comes out the same regardless. I’m just tacking on some elaborate explanation after the fact.”

“No way, no way.” Jin’er’s eyes were bright, seemingly quite taken with Ning Yi’s analysis. “I think it makes a lot of sense.”

“See — fooled someone already.”

Once Ning Yi said this, Yun Zhu burst out laughing, and Jin’er gave a small snort. “Look at Sister Yun Zhu, laughing so demurely — and after she laughed, she even glanced at you, but there wasn’t a trace of disagreement on her face. Which just goes to show, Sister Yun Zhu believes everything you just said, thinks you’ve got sharp eyes. Hmph, do you always figure out what people are thinking just by glancing at them?”

“It’s not really that impressive…”

As the three of them talked, Puyang Yi came over as well. “Brother Ning, you’ve arrived too.” He glanced at Yun Zhu and Jin’er, recognizing them as women — and possibly even recognizing Jin’er specifically — assuming they’d simply come along because they were fond of Ning Yi. Curious as he was, he didn’t say anything, only offering a slight bow.

“I saw some people over there just now and couldn’t get away to greet you sooner, forgive me, Brother Ning.” He glanced around with a smile. “Quite the turnout today — I imagine this will make for a fine tale in days to come. Are you in the mood to try your hand at anything today, Brother Ning?”

Following the handling of the Su family affair last year, in business circles, those familiar with the matter had given Ning Yi the nickname “Ten Steps, One Calculation” — a name that had only spread within a fairly narrow circle, mostly among the handful of households who’d been burned by dealing with him and still felt a lingering unease over it. Had it reached the ears of scholars, most would likely have dismissed it as a mere business-world trifle — after all, they’d read the sages’ teachings and expected to manage the realm itself one day; if they turned their hand to business themselves, they assumed they’d do no worse, and so found the nickname something of an exaggeration. Puyang Yi, however, having witnessed the entire affair of the imperial merchant scheme firsthand, understood exactly how much weight that nickname carried. He got straight to the point now, asking about Ning Yi’s plans for the day. Ning Yi, though, only shook his head.

“With so many talented people gathered today, I expect watching everyone else perform will be plenty for me. Heh…”

“Er…”

“I already know that Miss Li, as it happens.”

“Oh?”

“As a child, my family lived on Sanlian Lane. Miss Li used to study the zither at a musician’s household near the mouth of that lane, back then. We happened to run into each other again a few days ago — didn’t know her current standing at the time. Only found out this morning.”

In front of Puyang Yi, Ning Yi was perfectly candid about it. The man was startled for a moment, then broke into a rueful laugh, cupping his hands, his manner more good-humored than anything. “Ha, I see, I see — I understand completely. Old friends reuniting — given that connection, it wouldn’t be right for you to write anything on Qilan’s behalf, Brother Ning. Had I known earlier… ha, this was rather mercenary of me, really. Matters of poetry and refinement shouldn’t have been weighed so heavily with self-interest in mind to begin with.”

He cupped his hands in apology, then laughed and sighed. “With Zhou Bangyan’s reputation known throughout the realm today, and without you to anchor things for us, Brother Ning, I fear things look rather dicey for Qilan. It seems I’ve offended Miss Li as well, though there was no ill will in it — I’ll have to ask you to put in a good word for me later. Still, set that matter aside for now — if you’re truly in the mood, Brother Ning, do put any fine lines you come up with to paper. Today’s gathering would feel considerably poorer without a contribution from you.”

The Puyang family’s enthusiasm for poetry and prose certainly had its share of practical, profit-driven motives, but Puyang Yi himself, raised in that family tradition, spoke now with genuine, heartfelt respect for the art nonetheless. This was simply the spirit of the age — poetry and prose had always stood as the highest of arts, and a truly fine line of verse could make people feel as though some trace of sagely spirit ran through it, coloring the entire scroll of history with that particular hue. Now that Puyang Yi knew the matter was a lost cause, he set aside his calculations of self-interest, and the respect he showed for the written word in that moment was, in fact, sincere.

The group chatted a while longer before Puyang Yi took his leave. Only then did Yun Zhu ask about how he’d come to know Li Shishi, and Ning Yi recounted the events at Sanlian Lane from not long before. Yun Zhu said, “So… Liheng doesn’t plan to take part in today’s gathering at all?”

“I only came to watch the performances to begin with. Poetry’s meant to cultivate the spirit, something you write when moved to — going around comparing and competing over it doesn’t really serve much purpose. Besides, they’re doing it to build a reputation, make a name for themselves — I’ve no need for that, so there’s no call for me to steal anyone’s thunder. Better to just play along on the sidelines. Besides… it really would be a bit unfair to them, honestly, ha…”

He had, after all, an entire storehouse of poetry within him, and having absorbed more and more of the atmosphere of this era, his understanding of poetry had only deepened, with more and more of it coming back to him. To say it would be unfair was, in truth, no exaggeration — though the moment he said so, Jin’er naturally shot him a look. “Show-off.”

Then she added, sounding rather pleased with herself, “But I figured it out — that Puyang Yi was using a retreat-to-advance tactic. Once he realized you couldn’t write anything for Miss Qilan, he settled for the next best thing, asking you to go put in a good word with Li Shishi’s side instead — showing weakness to disarm you, in other words. And that line about the gathering losing all its color without you — I’m sure that was fake too.”

Ning Yi nodded. “Puyang Yi’s the sort who likes to bank favors quietly for later use. Back then he never actually did me any great favor — mostly just some flattering praise here and there, icing on the cake, nothing more. He’s the type who only acts once everything’s carefully weighed out. Since I don’t owe him any real debt of gratitude, naturally he’s not going to insist I do him a favor either. Him asking me to write something was, at best, a secondary plan. Besides, however you count it, this outing only has seventy or eighty people involved — as long as nothing major goes wrong, whatever the outcome of the poetry contest, the Puyang family will find a way to build Qilan up into someone on Li Shishi’s level regardless. If Cao Guan wins, they win too; if Zhou Bangyan wins, well, then Qilan shared the stage with Li Shishi as an equal, and from then on, that’s the story people will tell about this gathering. And when Li Shishi goes back to the capital, she’ll be the one talking up her contest with all of Jiangning’s talents. In the end, so long as they’re not fools about it, it’s a win-win for everyone involved either way.”

“You business types really are cunning.” Jin’er pursed her lips, then laughed. “Still, this Puyang Yi seems like a decent sort. The moment you said you knew Li Shishi, he understood right away and even apologized so earnestly — I’d heard before that he’s easy to get along with, and it does seem that way. I… um… I’ve actually run into him a few times before…”

The Puyang family had always been Qilan’s chief patrons, but Yuan Jin’er, as the reigning beauty of Jinfeng Tower in her day, had naturally crossed paths with Puyang Yi a number of times herself, even if there hadn’t been much real contact between them. She found herself recalling those past encounters now. Ning Yi laughed. “What, smitten?”

“Not at all, I just think he’s rather impressive, that’s all — I want to learn from him a little. I think being able to understand other people’s difficulties is a fine quality to have. Back when I was at Jinfeng Tower, there were always people fighting over me — like, say I’d already agreed to attend a banquet at the Chen family’s, and then some young master from the Lu family would show up insisting he absolutely had to have Yuan Jin’er, and it would all end in one big argument. And once it was over, I’d have to go apologize to both sides. But if I snuck out to see one of them, the other family’s young master would get upset; and if I didn’t go, well, then the Lu family’s son wouldn’t come around anymore, and Madam would nag me endlessly about it. No wonder none of them ever built up a business as big as the Puyang family’s. Yun Zhu and I are going to make the Zhu Ji shop even bigger than the Puyang family someday…”

Jin’er didn’t dwell too long on these memories from the past, chattering on cheerfully in a way that Ning Yi found rather endearing, and he couldn’t help laughing along — before shaking his head. “Don’t underestimate Puyang Yi, though.”

“Huh? I wasn’t…”

“That wasn’t him being understanding — that was cultivation. He knew I had my reasons, and since it wasn’t a big deal for him, he did me a favor. If today’s matter had actually threatened the Puyang family’s survival, he’d have said exactly the same words either way. But once he’s said all that, you need to understand — the two of you would already be enemies. He’d turn right around and come after you. Sure, he might ask you for one more favor first, but the outcome would end up the same regardless. In business, there can be real cultivation, but there’s no such thing as real magnanimity — Puyang Yi draws that line very clearly. If you want to learn from him, just don’t go mistaking him for some genuinely virtuous gentleman.”

Since Yun Zhu had ambitions of going into business herself, Ning Yi hadn’t gone into too much detail on that front with her, but with Jin’er wanting to learn, he’d ended up lecturing her a bit more than he’d meant to, and found himself thinking, on reflection, that he’d probably said more than necessary. Jin’er had her own way of handling relationships with people; at heart there wasn’t much real cunning in her, yet she managed to sidestep plenty of genuinely underhanded tactics all the same — that was part of what made her interesting. There was no real need, he decided, to expose her to the darker undercurrents of it all.

And so, in the end, he simply painted Puyang Yi in an exaggeratedly sinister light, turning him into something like a cartoonish, scheming villain, until Jin’er pictured the man dripping with malice from head to toe — which had the effect of diluting that earlier, needle-hidden-in-silk impression of him considerably. The group carried on chatting and laughing as they left the courtyard, following the woods behind the estate up toward the hillside not far off.

By now it was around the second quarter of the hour of the Snake — roughly ten in the morning. The sun had broken through the morning clouds. The hills were thick with woods, though not especially vast in extent, with two mountain streams trickling down through the trees, their ripples catching the sunlight in a shifting, dazzling glimmer. As the group made their way through the fresh, cool woodland, every so often a woman would pluck a few notes on a pipa she carried, the sound of strings and bamboo mingling with occasional bursts of silvery laughter. At the far end of the view, atop the small hill, a stretch of green appeared through the trees — grass as lush and glossy as oil, dotted here and there with wildflowers, sheltered on one side from the fierce southeasterly winds by the hillside and the trees, and open on the other to a sweeping view of the Yangtze and the distant Stone City beyond — the perfect spot, indeed, for a spring outing.