Originating at the southern reaches of the Grand Canal and bordering the mouth of the Qiantang Sea to the east, Hangzhou had, since ancient times, been the most quintessential embodiment of what scholars called the “watery towns south of the Yangtze”—waterways crisscrossing both within and beyond the city. These crisscrossing channels brought not only picturesque scenery but also thriving commerce, rivaling even Jiangning or Bianliang in prosperity. Yet this was not quite the era of Hangzhou’s true commercial peak.

Historically speaking—before the Southern Song’s capital relocation—Hangzhou had not yet reached the true pinnacle of its status as a commercial center, even though its trade was already quite well developed by this point. Its true zenith would come only after the Southern Song moved its capital here, renaming it Lin’an; the city’s commercial development would then surge many times over, propping up half the prosperity of the entire Southern Song dynasty.

The situation now was much the same. At present, Hangzhou’s most bustling commercial district still centered around the area from Guanxiang Lane to Yangbatou. As for the Taiping Lane neighborhood where Ning Yi and Su Tan’er now resided, though it too had lively streets, it still couldn’t compare to that district. The lane itself was well-suited for residential living, with several dense, towering camphor trees. At the mouth of the lane, a small martial arts hall run by the Liu family seemed to be doing decent business, its grunts and shouts echoing throughout the day—rather full of vitality, upon closer listen.

In their first few days in Hangzhou, the main activity had been touring around by carriage. Sometimes they’d get out and wander on foot; without detailed tourist maps in this era, exploring one place after another felt something like a treasure hunt through hidden realms. They’d already visited West Lake, and of course couldn’t miss Sunset Hill and Leifeng Pagoda—the children were most curious whether the White Lady really lived beneath the pagoda. As for the Ten Scenes of West Lake known to later ages, those had to be sought out one by one.

Wandering freely like this sounded romantic in theory, but in practice, it could actually be rather tedious. People from later ages, accustomed to the coldness of modern cities, might find themselves endlessly curious about some authentic old shrine or back alley—but the truth was, genuine ancient streets and lanes were nowhere near as romantic or pleasant as the tourist attractions of later centuries. Stone-paved dirt roads, low eaves, narrow alleys, some streets awash with sewage, roosters crowing and dogs barking, beggar children lying by the roadside—watch long enough, and you’d realize this wasn’t scenery at all, but simply life.

Without the layout, decoration, and management of later-era scenic districts, appreciating the scenery here relied far more on one’s own inner sense of atmosphere and the freedom to let one’s imagination wander. A grand old tree with its canopy spread wide over some alley might not, in itself, be particularly beautiful—but if you were in the right mood, the countless streams of golden light filtering through its branches could become a delightful sight. But see the same beauty too often, and it too would grow mundane. And so, if one truly wanted excitement, the bustling, unpretentious commercial districts were actually far more satisfying—which was why, after visiting the usual classic sights, Ning Yi, Su Tan’er, and the others mostly found themselves gravitating back toward commercial areas like Guanxiang Lane and Yangbatou.

To be fair, though she admired the sensibilities of scholars and loved poetry and prose, Su Tan’er was, at heart, not a particularly romantic or atmospheric person. Wandering the markets alongside Ning Yi, she’d rest at teahouses when tired, listening to storytellers and little tunes, but her mind was, more often than not, occupied with calculating where to set up the next warehouse, where to place the workshop, how to open the next shop.

Ning Yi, for his part, wasn’t especially enthusiastic about sightseeing either—it was more take-it-or-leave-it for him. He’d already seen plenty of carefully curated, heavily embellished scenery in his previous life. The unrefined, authentic sights of this era might have held some initial novelty, some sense of tranquility, but once he’d grown used to them, they didn’t hold much appeal either. At his core, he wasn’t really someone who loved scenery—he found far more enjoyment in the interactions between people: watching the bustling crowds haggling in the markets, the idle chatter and laughter up in the teahouses, his wife and the maids pointing things out to each other—these were the things that consistently brought him genuine pleasure. Compared to the joys found in mountains and rivers, he far preferred this kind of human, man-made delight.

Once they’d settled into their residence in Taiping Lane, and after visiting that small martial arts hall a few times, the idea of using this period to train a bit resurfaced in his mind.

Naturally, Su Tan’er was firmly against the idea of her husband going to study at some little martial arts hall like that. Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and the others largely shared this view. He’d mentioned it casually one evening at dinner, and that very night, the three maids wore expressions of quiet resentment and hesitation. Their status meant they could hardly presume to comment on decisions made by their master—but Ning Yi’s usual easygoing manner had made them all feel like one big family, close enough that they couldn’t help worrying on his behalf, afraid he might actually go through with something so “unorthodox.”

The gap between scholarly and martial pursuits was simply too vast in this era. In a sense, Ning Yi had already built quite a considerable reputation in the world of poetry and literature; even though he himself paid it little mind, the moment he decided to go apprentice himself at some small martial arts hall, others would immediately sense the incongruity of it.

Even if he himself didn’t care, how could Xiao Chan and the others bear to watch their own young master get shouted and barked at inside some backstreet martial arts hall? Even someone as prominent as Alliance Leader Cheng of the Hundred Blades Alliance back in Jiangning, upon meeting the young master, would address him respectfully as an elder despite the money involved—but a small street-corner establishment like this was simply beneath consideration.

That was how they felt in their hearts, and each night as they brought water and lit candles, their glances seemed to speak volumes, though none of them dared say it outright. Su Tan’er, having heard their concerns, offered no clear opinion of her own, maintaining a quiet, gentle demeanor.

The family had only been settled in this courtyard house for a few days, still purchasing and arranging furnishings. As bedtime approached, Su Tan’er went to the room next door to bathe, while Xiao Chan brought over a basin of water for washing feet, kneeling beside the bed to remove Ning Yi’s shoes and socks, then dipping his bare feet into the warm water.

Ning Yi had always done this sort of thing himself in the past—he didn’t need Xiao Chan’s help removing his shoes and socks, and after so much time together, this had become the usual habit. But today, Xiao Chan seemed to move through the task with practiced ease, and Ning Yi said with a smile, “That’s fine, I’ll do it myself.” Xiao Chan only glanced up at him once, then lowered her head again, murmuring softly, “Xiao Chan has nothing else to do…” Small and delicate, she crouched there focused on her task, saying nothing more—looking, to Ning Yi, rather like a young wife who’d just been scolded, leaving him both amused and exasperated.

As for the matter of the martial arts hall, Ning Yi had really only felt a passing interest, mentioning it casually—regardless of what Xiao Chan and the others thought of it, or whether he agreed with their concerns, he still rather liked the idea. He waited for the little maid to try to talk him out of it, but instead, much as she had back when they’d first met, she simply said, tearfully, in that same tone as before, “Xiao Chan may be just a maid who doesn’t understand much, but she’d never go gossiping about something like this…” and then fell silent, head bowed.

A moment later, Su Tan’er returned to the room as well, having bathed and changed into a moon-white robe, her hair still slightly damp, hanging loose like black silk. She walked to the bed, moved the lamp to a different spot, turned up the flame a little, and then opened the window. Xiao Chan picked up the basin and left the room quietly, head down.

Ning Yi lay back on the bed, amused, while Su Tan’er sat by the window, letting the cool summer breeze help dry her hair. She seemed to have something on her mind, occasionally lowering her head in thought; her gaze would meet his now and then, and after a moment, she’d simply smile quietly.

After a good while like this, she rose, closed the window, climbed into bed, waved a cattail fan to drive the mosquitoes from the bed curtains, and finally extinguished the lamp. The night grew quiet. When the night watchman’s drum sounded the hour of zi outside, the lamp flickered back to life briefly in the room—someone had gotten up, cleaning away certain traces left behind by their activities—and once the light went out again, the two of them curled up together in bed, wrapped in a thin blanket, already growing tired.

Su Tan’er rested her forehead against the man’s neck beside her, not particularly wanting to speak, nor to do much of anything. She had a few things she could say, a few things she could do, but with their bodies pressed close together like this—she wore no clothes, and the man holding her could feel her body quite clearly, her chest pressed tightly against him, able to feel every part of her against his skin, and he… could surely feel just as clearly the swell of her chest against him… and everywhere else besides, every part of her body pressed against his…

This was nothing new anymore—physical intimacy between the two of them was no longer a matter of a day or two. She thought that, perhaps, for any couple who had already shared a bed, none of this would feel particularly novel—but on a night as quiet as this, feeling all these sensations still stirred up an oddly peculiar emotion within her. She thought to herself: if her husband, too, was feeling all of this right now—feeling that she wore no clothes, feeling the private parts of her body—if she let it show, she’d have to pull away, because that might seem far too shameless. He wouldn’t say anything, she wouldn’t say anything, and they’d just stay like this, pressed together.

She didn’t know whether her own thoughts were strange or not. Compared to what they’d already done earlier, this moment somehow left her feeling even more curious and satisfied—using her own body to sense his. This man named Ning Yi belonged to her, and she, in turn, belonged to the man who held the position of her husband—yet they weren’t, after all, the same person. She didn’t know what would happen if she spoke these feelings aloud. Perhaps they’d both feel embarrassed—perhaps not; her husband had always been an unusual sort, but even if he wouldn’t say anything strange in response, she still couldn’t bring herself to say it.

The reason she wasn’t wearing anything tonight was simply that she couldn’t find her clothes. In the past, after such moments, she’d usually put her undergarments back on—but this time, when he’d gotten up and casually tossed the rumpled blanket out from under the bed curtains, her undergarments and clothes had all gotten bundled up inside it. She’d reached for them a few times without success, and by then Ning Yi had already blown out the lamp and climbed into bed, pulling her into his arms with one hand as usual, wrapping the two of them together in the blanket. After that, he hadn’t behaved any differently than usual, simply holding her against him as a matter of course, leaving her alone with her own wandering thoughts.

She liked this feeling very much, but didn’t dare move much, either. If Ning Yi suddenly grew curious and started touching her, or asked, “Where are your clothes?” she’d simply answer naturally, “You threw them out,” and then get up to find them, or have him get up to look. So she stayed quiet, unmoving, saying nothing.

There were other things she’d meant to say, but at this moment, her mood was simply lazy and quiet. The matter of the martial arts hall was one such topic—it should have come up that evening, but she’d never brought herself to mention it, partly because she felt private conversations were better saved for the bed, and partly because… ever since evening, she’d been thinking, the whole time, about bathing, returning to the room, putting out the lights… and this, of course, was something she would never, under any circumstances, tell anyone else. On the surface, she never let even a hint of it show.

She’d watched plenty of operas and heard plenty of stories, and didn’t know whether she counted as some shameless, wanton woman. She couldn’t ask about it, couldn’t speak of it, couldn’t possibly let it show—but over the past six months or so, she really had grown to love this feeling of lying together in bed at night. As evening approached, her mind would start to anticipate it. This mood never interfered with her other tasks; she handled matters at the cloth shop, chatted with the maids, arranged the next day’s schedule, spoke with visiting relatives—all with grace and composure, everything in perfect order.

It was only as if, somewhere outside her body, there existed another version of herself, quietly counting down the hours, a little demon inside her frantically striking the watch drums—beat, beat, beat—hurrying bedtime along. And then, once it finally arrived, that little demon who looked just like her would seem to let out a long sigh of relief, and she’d go about washing her face, or bathing, washing her hair, in that same unhurried, deliberate way, drying it off just as slowly.

Then, once they were finally curled up together, she felt nothing but a heart full of contentment—though she also felt it wasn’t quite right to voice any unhappiness. Still, when Ning Yi’s body suddenly shifted slightly, her heart gave a sudden lurch.

Ah—had he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything, pressed this close against him? Quick, find something to talk about…

But Ning Yi only brought his other hand around to rest at her waist as well.

Still, the words slipped out anyway: “Are you bored, husband…?”

The moment she’d said it, her face flushed red in the darkness. He hadn’t noticed—but that hand remained resting at the small of her back, and because she’d spoken, his fingers seemed to brush teasingly against her spine a few times, a ticklish sensation. That particular spot really was enough to make her blush.

But he hadn’t noticed—it was clearly an unconscious movement.

So she stayed perfectly still, not moving at all…

…

“Are you bored, husband…?”

“Hm?”

“About the martial arts.”

In the dark room, soft whispers, then a brief pause of silence.

“Just a passing whim. We’ll see, later on…”

“But…”

“Xiao Chan and Xing’er both give me that look. Juan’er’s quieter about it, but she watches from behind. Made me feel like some wayward youth about to throw his life away on the wrong path—who could stand that?”

“If you really wanted to, husband…”

“Just a passing whim, haven’t decided anything. That hall’s small anyway, we can talk about it later. I know my limits.”

That hand drifted downward without seeming to notice, coming to rest at the base of her spine—ticklish… she felt a faint numbness spread through her body… it couldn’t go any lower than that…

“Mm.” All she could manage was a single syllable.

“Besides, I already promised—there’s still plenty to keep me busy accompanying you these next two months.”

“Oh.”

At the start of the journey, the two of them had made some rough plans together—both being people experienced in business, they knew the purpose of coming to Hangzhou wasn’t just sightseeing; there were still plenty of matters that couldn’t be avoided. What required Ning Yi’s participation, mainly, was accompanying her on visits to various unfamiliar merchant houses—Hangzhou’s local cloth merchants, silk merchants, cotton merchants, dye merchants, and so on—an enormous web of connections to navigate.

Back in Jiangning, when Su Tan’er occasionally paid such visits, it was mostly to local merchants she already had longstanding ties with, and with Su Boyong holding things down, she had a solid enough foundation to visit as a junior family member without facing much difficulty. But around the new year, when everyone made their rounds of visits, it was still best to have Ning Yi accompany her. Here in Hangzhou, where everyone was a stranger, this held even more true—not just for company and protection, but as a mark of trustworthiness too.

“But those matters…” Of course, as a man, accompanying his wife on visits to one unfamiliar merchant house after another, in his capacity as a man who’d married into her family, wasn’t exactly the most flattering role in any sense. But Su Tan’er’s mind wasn’t really on that point at the moment—her body felt pleasantly hazy and numb, and her train of thought slipped away before she could remember what she’d meant to say.

“Hm?”

“But… but those things… are actually kind of boring, too…”

“Don’t want me coming along?”

“No! No, that’s not it…”

Her body shifted slightly, an instinctive movement that pressed her lower body even closer against him—which, incidentally, helped dispel some of the awkwardness of the moment. The hand at her hip gave a light pat, then returned to her waist—still ticklish—but it didn’t move further. She could bear it.

“Actually, going around meeting all kinds of different people—I find it quite interesting.”

“Mm.”

“If anyone gives you trouble, well, I don’t have much else going on right now, so I can help you think it through together.”

“Sounds good.”

The words came out, and she felt she’d sounded a bit too eager, tucking her head down further against her husband’s neck. She knew he was formidable, capable of being her support, and that made her happy—but at the same time, she also felt he shouldn’t be getting tangled up in the scheming and rivalry of the marketplace. He was meant for greater things. And thinking of greater things brought to mind how old Qin had apparently sought him out to serve as an official in the capital, and how he’d declined—she felt that some part of that decision was because of her, and it left her with a twinge of guilt.

There was guilt, but also selfishness. She was just a merchant woman who’d fallen for her husband, thinking everything about him was wonderful; sometimes she also felt he shouldn’t have to hold the status of a man who’d married into another family. If she were an outside observer, she might well think, as others surely did, what had this woman named Su Tan’er done to deserve having Ning Yi marry into her family. But she wasn’t an outside observer—doubts stirred in her heart too, but she could only turn a blind eye, hoping no one ever brought it up. Best if… he could put his talents to use, achieve whatever ambitions he wished, while still remaining married into the Su family, still staying by her side, and she, in turn, could make sure he never felt the weight of that status, so that the two of them could simply be like any ordinary loving couple…

She knew she couldn’t have everything at once. There was nothing to be done about it, so she chose, in this regard, to be something of a coward, burying her head in the sand and refusing to think about it further.

“The shop… it’s actually already been chosen, and we’ve picked out a spot for the warehouse too, just waiting to finalize things these next couple of days. Wending, Wenfang, Mister Chen, and the others have all been assigned their tasks…” Slowly, she gathered her scattered thoughts and said softly, “The day after tomorrow… no, the day after that, we’ll start making our rounds visiting everyone we need to see…”

“Mm, the day after tomorrow, then… sounds good.” Ning Yi nodded, then remembered something. “I need to go deliver a letter tomorrow, though.”

“Huh? A letter?”

“When I left Jiangning, old Qin knew I was coming to Hangzhou and asked me to visit a friend of his surnamed Qian once I arrived, to deliver a letter. When we first got here, I asked around a bit, and someone said the old gentleman was away giving lectures in the countryside, so I didn’t go by his place. He should be back by now, these past couple of days—I’ll go check tomorrow. Whether he’s home or not, I’ll just hand the letter to his family.”

He thought for a moment, then added, “And starting off by looking for someone surnamed Qian—feels like a good omen, don’t you think?”

“Another… formidable great scholar?”

“Probably.” Ning Yi smiled. “Though I don’t exactly get along with every old gentleman I meet. It’s just a letter to deliver, nothing more. And after that, the next two months are all yours…”

Su Tan’er was quiet for a moment, then bumped her head lightly against his. “You mean, you’ll be accompanying me.”

“Oh.” Ning Yi nodded with a soft laugh. “Right. Accompanying you.”