The river flowed on unhurried, ripples of light shimmering across the canal’s surface, while the summer insects chirped along both banks. Clouds of yellow-green fireflies drifted like mist along the waterway, scattering into a hazy blur whenever a boat passed, then gathering together again.
The pleasure boat had moored by the riverbank. Lights burned both inside the cabin and at the bow—not bright, but enough to enclose a small world of their own amid the darkness of the canal. This was, of course, the boat that Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had been traveling south on. Few people remained aboard now, since Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, the maids, and the household stewards had all been invited over to dine on another pleasure boat.
The two boats had crossed paths at dusk, and the group of talented young men on the other vessel had been effusively friendly. The one who ended up drawing everyone’s attention, oddly enough, was Lin Tingzhi—who had gone almost unnoticed since boarding. After the greetings were exchanged, the other party invited everyone on this boat to stay and enjoy themselves in Jiaxing for a few days.
Since Lou Shuwan still had goods waiting to be delivered, a lengthier stay was out of the question. But for reasons of her own, she proposed staying one night in the area. The invitation, it turned out, wasn’t without merit: the boat they’d boarded that day belonged to the Fangqing Court, and although it was a brothel establishment, its kitchen—especially its whole-fish banquet—was renowned as one of the finest in all of Jiaxing. Hence the invitation to go feast on fish aboard their boat.
Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had, after all, come for leisure, and Jiaxing wasn’t far from Hangzhou—the two places kept close ties, and Lou Shuwan was something of a local host here. Since she’d made the suggestion, the group readily agreed, bringing along Su Wending, Su Wenfang, the accountant, and the steward. This left few people behind on their own boat—the boatman, family members of the various households, and a handful of servants, none suited to such a gathering, stayed behind, ate a simple meal, and passed the time chatting and enjoying the cool evening air around the boat.
With the adults off at the banquet, the children left behind naturally asked where everyone had gone—especially after their favorite storyteller, the family’s son-in-law. The wives of the accountant and steward, having nothing else to do, explained roughly that he’d been invited off by some very impressive people.
Recalling the spectacle from earlier—talented scholars and men of learning on that other boat, all introduced as people of considerable standing, quite possibly including men who’d passed the imperial examinations—the merchant-family wives were naturally impressed, and couldn’t help urging the children to study hard and better themselves if ever given such a chance. Back at the Su household, they’d known the son-in-law was an impressive figure too, but of course there was no comparing him to these properly pedigreed scholars.
The Jiangning contingent had no real sense of how things stood in Jiaxing, nor any idea just how much standing that group of scholars actually held—only that the display had certainly looked impressive. A few of the hands who’d traveled with Lou Shuwan’s party knew a bit more, and got to talking about it at the stern: how skilled Wen Duqing was at poetry, what kind of reputation Du Ruohan held around Jiaxing and Hangzhou, and inevitably, talk turned to their young mistress, and then to Lin Tingzhi. They’d previously thought little of Lin Tingzhi, but hearing all this now, they realized the man was quite the talented scholar after all. A Su family hand named Dongzhu, listening nearby, was unimpressed.
“So what? Our own son-in-law is nothing these people can match. Everyone in all of Jiangning knows his name. Why, even when an official as grand as a chancellor recently invited him to the capital, he didn’t go.”
“Liar.”
“A chancellor?”
“Er, well—some big official about as important as a chancellor, anyway.”
Dongzhu wasn’t entirely sure of his ground here either. A few days earlier he’d overheard Xiao Chan and Juan’er murmuring something about a chancellor, or some high official, inviting the young master to the capital, and the young master declining. He himself could hardly imagine an official as grand as a chancellor, and when others pressed him for details, his confidence wavered—though he kept up a bold front regardless.
In truth, even Xiao Chan and Juan’er didn’t have a very clear picture of the matter. How could their gossip possibly explain it properly? Qin Siyuan had only just been about to head to the capital, his official post not yet settled; Ning Yi had merely mentioned it in passing, giving only the roughest sketch—something about a Minister of one of the Six Ministries, or a Left or Right Chancellor position. Xiao Chan and Juan’er, though well-informed about most household matters, were still merchant-family maids, and such things were ultimately beyond their grasp.
Lou Shuwan’s own husband was likewise a man who’d married into her family, and the household hands had seen clearly enough, once aboard the boat, that the two situations were fairly similar—so they’d naturally been forming their own private assessment of Ning Yi’s standing. Now, struck by Dongzhu’s claims, they still found it hard to believe. Back and forth they went, and though Dongzhu—convinced of his master’s greatness—offered up a few specific anecdotes, they weren’t quite convincing enough. Still, the others were inspired to share what they’d heard about the Su family’s son-in-law in the past.
Piecing together the scattered remarks from the women, children, and hands, no one could paint Ning Yi as some grand official—but they did, at least, sketch out a rough outline of an impressive man.
On this summer night, the distant scattered lights traced the outline of Jiaxing city; along the forest road nearby, the occasional traveler or carriage passed, their lanterns weaving simple paths of light. Aboard the boat, everyone whiled away the time in idle chat. When the children asked how long the adults would be gone, the women answered with some confidence that such gatherings usually didn’t break up until deep into the night. But not long after they’d said as much, a few lanterns appeared on the distant road, their light flickering among the willows along the embankment, drawing closer—and it was, indeed, Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, and the others returning. Xing’er led the way carrying a lantern, while Xiao Chan carried a round fan, occasionally trotting along the embankment to shoo away the dancing fireflies. Soon, faint laughter and chatter could be heard.
Ning Yi and the others had, in fact, walked back after finishing their meal. Their arrival aboard brought a burst of lively commotion—Juan’er and the others had even brought back some packed leftovers for everyone to try.
“The fish really was delicious—quite different from the flavors back in Jiangning. We’ll fix up some rice to go with it later so everyone can have a taste.”
Only Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, the three maids, the accountant, and the shopkeeper had returned; Su Wending and Su Wenfang had stayed behind on the other boat. The two of them had always enjoyed such literary gatherings, and Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had let them stay a while longer, since Lou Shuwan and Lin Tingzhi were still there as well. Honestly, when Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had finished eating and taken their leave, packing up some food to bring along, Lou Shuwan’s expression had been one of genuine surprise.
In truth, this invitation, though ostensibly meant to treat old friends to a meal, carried an undertone among the guests that suggested their true interest lay elsewhere. Among that circle of talented men south of the Yangtze, Lin Tingzhi was famous—known for his romantic exploits as much as his poetic talent, if not more so. As for Lou Shuwan, they knew little, but between Lin Tingzhi’s introductions and the hesitant hints from those in the know, the group gradually pieced together something of the woman’s background.
A strong-willed woman, a husband who’d married into her family, wealth beyond measure, and beauty to match—perhaps Lin Tingzhi had already become her secret companion. And that other woman from out of town, Su Tan’er, shared a similar background. In short, there seemed little need to worry too much about either of their husbands. The region around Suzhou and Hangzhou had always had something of a romantic reputation, and this group didn’t harbor any deliberately ill intentions—within the framework of orthodox Confucian propriety, flirtation between men and women was considered its own kind of romance, and verses exchanged with playful intent, glances traded by lamplight aboard a pleasure boat, were simply part of that romantic tradition. Since the woman in question was the wife of a merchant family, there seemed no need for excessive scruple—so, using the invitation to Lin Tingzhi as a pretext, they’d gathered everyone together. In substance, it was really nothing more than an ordinary, properly conducted banquet among guests.
Of course, if the invited party actually developed certain feelings, and things later proceeded by mutual consent, then everyone would simply have to admire the man’s skill—one more romantic tale to add to the collection of stories worth telling.
Hosting a banquet aboard a brothel’s pleasure boat was, admittedly, a bit reckless to begin with—but the main invitee was Lin Tingzhi, and the food really was excellent. Su Tan’er, being a married woman, could easily have declined outright, but since Lou Shuwan had extended the invitation, and Ning Yi didn’t want to dampen the mood over excessive caution, they went. After chatting with the group for a while, Ning Yi got a rough sense of the situation, so he happily enjoyed the meal, and once it was done—before the poets’ creative fervor could truly take off—he rose to take his leave, packing up some food on the way out.
Lou Shuwan was rather taken aback. Her motives for inviting Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had actually been fairly complicated—partly to show off the breadth of the Lou family’s social connections, and partly because she felt a kinship with Su Tan’er’s similar circumstances, though of course she could never say outright what was going on between her and Lin Tingzhi. With Lin Tingzhi shining so brightly today, she’d wanted Su Tan’er to see the literary elegance of him and the other scholars. In her mind, Su Tan’er, having married an unremarkable scholar, would surely feel at least some admiration for these celebrated men of talent and romance, even if she didn’t say so outright—and if she harbored even a little envy, then later, if she learned the truth of Lou Shuwan’s own affairs, her first reaction would surely be envy and temptation rather than contempt.
She’d tried to persuade them to stay with a few words, but Su Tan’er had responded with a simple, negotiating sort of composure, gently declining in just a few sentences. Lou Shuwan had considered leaving with them too, but watching Ning Yi and Su Tan’er depart so effortlessly, she felt that following after them would only make her look somewhat forlorn by comparison.
She wondered, too, whether perhaps Tan’er had actually wanted to stay—but with her husband present, she’d grown accustomed to keeping things within proper bounds. In truth, a few years back, Lou Shuwan herself had felt much the same way—wanting to maintain a tolerable arrangement with her own husband, each of them keeping things simple and undemanding, living out their lives that way. It was only later, as she grew increasingly contemptuous of his various failings, that she’d gradually grown weary of it all. Now, she told herself that a few of the men here had old ties to the Lou family, and used that as an excuse to stay behind; with Su Wending and Su Wenfang staying as well, she felt her pride was at least somewhat preserved.
Back on their own boat, Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, and the others lit lanterns at the bow, set up a table and chairs, and settled in to talk and enjoy the cool evening air. They still had some distance to go before reaching Jiaxing proper, but Ning Yi had no intention of going into the bustling town to sightsee. He told the accountant and steward to do as they pleased—if they wanted to bring their families out for some fun, that was fine too. Sitting with Su Tan’er at the bow, with Xiao Chan and the others bringing out melons and fruit, watching the fireflies dance, there was something of the flavor of childhood evenings back in the countryside—except for the mosquitoes, which were fierce enough that before long someone had to light mugwort in a basin to drive them off, and everyone sat there fanning themselves.
“Bored, are we? Would you like to go browse the market?”
Ning Yi turned his head to ask. Su Tan’er smiled and shook her head. “Not at all.” The three maids sat side by side at the bow, watching the fireflies; Juan’er turned back and said, “The scenery here is really lovely.”
After a while, Su Tan’er said softly, “‘Silver candles, cold autumn light on the painted screen; a light silk fan to sweep away the fireflies. The night sky’s steps are cool as water; lying there, watching the Herd Boy and Weaver Girl stars.’ It does feel a bit like that, doesn’t it?” The poem, in truth, described the Qixi Festival, and it was only late April, the early days of summer—not exactly a perfect match for the season—but since a line or two happened to fit the scene, Ning Yi nodded along happily anyway. Su Tan’er had once loved poetry, reading and reciting it in her idle hours, but ever since learning her husband was supposedly a “great talent,” she’d somehow recited it less—perhaps the mystique and grandeur poetry once held for her had faded somewhat in her heart.
In the distance, the lights of other pleasure boats could be seen; before long, a cargo vessel churned up waves as it headed north through the night. Su Tan’er, thinking of Lou Shuwan and the others still aboard that other boat, mused for a moment and then said with a soft laugh, “Actually, I think Lou Shuwan looks down on you a little, my husband.”
Ning Yi gave a noncommittal smile. “Her own husband married into her family too.”
“I suspect they don’t get along very well.”
“Couples who get along as well as we do are probably rare enough.”
There was a touch of self-satisfaction in Ning Yi’s words, but Su Tan’er simply thought it was true, and laughed. “Probably because you’re such an odd one, husband. I doubt most married couples could manage what we have.” She thought for a moment, then added, “If we want the business in Hangzhou to go well, the Lou family would certainly help, so…”
“If you start worrying about things like that, you won’t be much good at business going forward.”
“I do care a little, I suppose. But… thinking about how they’d feel if they truly knew who you really are—well, heh, I suppose I have a bit of a mean streak in me. And those others just now, too…” She waved her fan to disperse the mist drifting in front of her, brushing back a lock of hair by her temple. “It does seem strange, though. Your poetry has surely made its way to the Suzhou-Hangzhou area by now—so why didn’t any of them react when they heard your name introduced?”
Ning Yi laughed. “Too few poems, for one thing. And besides—it’s quite far away, and news doesn’t travel so efficiently in this age. They might have heard the name Ning Liheng mentioned somewhere, but as for what kind of family he comes from, how many wives and concubines and siblings he has, what he looks like, whether he’s lame in one leg—who could possibly know any of that? Someone might say Ning Liheng stands eight feet tall with a waist eight feet round, for all anyone knows. In the end, it’s hard to say what image of Ning Liheng exists in their minds. Last time, that group of scholars from the capital who came to Jiangning also spread word that I wander the brothels seducing women wherever I go, or that I’m some dignified man in his forties or fifties. To them, that kind of image probably seems more believable.”
“Heh, and there’s that childhood sweetheart, Miss Li, wasn’t it,” Su Tan’er teased, then covered her chin with her fan and corrected herself, “oh, wait, Miss Wang.”
“You remember that quite clearly.”
“Well, if she really was your childhood sweetheart and, as the rumors say, favored you—should she ever get the chance to enter our household, I, as the elder sister figure, ought to remember her surname properly, don’t you think?”
“Such a virtuous wife…”
Ning Yi murmured this, and the two of them went on to talk about the taste of the fish from the other boat. As for the fact that none of those people had recognized her husband’s famous name, putting on such airs of privilege—privately, Su Tan’er did feel a bit put out about it. Neither Lou Shuwan nor Lin Tingzhi knew the truth either—or perhaps it wasn’t that they didn’t know, but that they hadn’t thought of it, or hadn’t dared to imagine it. Just as they were talking, more laughter and chatter approached the boat—it was Su Wending and Su Wenfang, back at last. Whatever good fortune had befallen them, the two were grinning from ear to ear as they boarded, asking after their sister and brother-in-law before heading straight for the bow.
“What’s got you two so pleased with yourselves?” Su Tan’er eyed them, then glanced behind them. “Where are Shuwan and the others?”
Ning Yi laughed. “Bet they wrote a brilliant poem and swept the whole gathering off its feet. That’s no good—you two show up in Jiaxing and suddenly you’re bursting with poetic inspiration, putting everyone else to shame.”
Both of them waved their hands frantically, laughing with delight. “No, no, we didn’t write anything! That Lou woman and her lover are still back there, but they should be back soon too.”
“Don’t talk about people like that!” Su Tan’er shot them a glare. Su Wending stuck out his tongue and clapped a hand over his mouth, still grinning, while Su Wenfang laughed. “We didn’t write anything—didn’t get the chance. They wrote a few poems, then huddled together discussing something, then came over to ask us questions, and that’s how they found out who our brother-in-law really is. You should have seen their faces—so awkward! And that Miss Qing’er… ha! Anyway, our poetry skills are useless, we were only there to explain who our brother-in-law really was. Once that was done, we said our goodbyes and left. Ha, no telling if they’ll come chasing after to challenge you, brother-in-law—but Lou Shuwan and Lin Tingzhi should be along soon…”
Su Wending and Su Wenfang couldn’t stop laughing. Ning Yi listened with a wry smile of his own, while Su Tan’er, intrigued, blinked at them. “What happened, what happened? Tell me, quickly…” Beside them, Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and Xing’er were all leaning in to listen too, even fetching chairs for Su Wending and Su Wenfang so they could sit comfortably and tell the whole story.
The fireflies danced on, the night deepened, and before long, Lou Shuwan, Lin Tingzhi, and the others made their way back as well…