Aboard the main boat, in the great hall, Su Tan’er’s voice — gentle yet resolute — was the only sound that echoed through the space.

The two of them stood together at the front of the hall, hands quietly clasped, like a pair of matched jade figures. A faint, contented smile touched the corners of Su Tan’er’s mouth, her eyes still slightly red; Ning Yi looked at her and smiled faintly in return.

Su Tan’er paused in her speech, and a certain silence fell over the hall, most of those present still caught up in a somewhat confused sense of being moved. But the moment didn’t last long before it was broken. Lou Shuweng, half his face swollen, suddenly shot to his feet: “You… you would go this far, for a man like that?”

Beside him, Lou Jinlin’s brow furrowed, and he too spoke, slowly: “Niece Tan’er, the Su family’s Boyong has only one line to carry the family name — you, taking up the family business, had no choice but to bring in a son-in-law. I know a single night as husband and wife carries a hundred days of gratitude, and Niece Tan’er, you’ve always been softhearted. But this matter today touches on so much — however well-intentioned your words, with all these officials present, they do rather go… too far…”

Lou Jinlin’s tone was heavy and deliberate. As he finished, the beaten scholars nearby also came to themselves and spoke up one after another: “This woman must be lying…”

“To save that heartless philanderer of a husband — it’s simply not worth it…”

“Who would believe such a thing…”

They went on for a while, but this time far fewer voices rose to echo them than before. Instead, several of the young Qian family men who’d spoken up earlier stood and argued back loudly, while the officials and elders at the front offered no reaction whatsoever, leaving the situation hanging in an odd, delicate balance.

Even to Lou Shuweng, Lou Jinlin, and Lu Tuizhi, this turn of events came as something entirely unexpected.

In truth, it wasn’t that no one had anticipated Su Tan’er might sacrifice the lesser piece to save the greater — setting aside personal feeling, prioritizing the bigger picture, to save Ning Liheng. Because the matter, at its core, was disarmingly simple: a matrilocal son-in-law carrying on with a maidservant, the crowd’s righteous fury, the resulting violence. In this era, when it came to matters of public morality, even if the two offenders were privately drowned in a pig cage and it resulted in death, so long as the deed was already done, the authorities generally wouldn’t intervene.

In fact, even between a legitimately married couple, holding hands in public was often considered improper — though this wasn’t strictly enforced; a husband and wife touching briefly out in public was hardly unusual, and unless one ran into a hopelessly rigid old pedant, no one paid much mind to such small displays of affection between a young couple in the street.

But applied to Ning Yi, his hand-holding with Xiao Chan had, in effect, already all but confirmed the charge of illicit affair. Lu Tuizhi’s scattered line of questioning hadn’t anticipated Ning Yi answering so bluntly and directly. Under these circumstances, the only possible way to break the deadlock lay in Su Tan’er’s own stance.

Since Ning Yi had, after all, married into the Su family, if she claimed she had knowingly arranged for Xiao Chan to attend him at night, this would indeed offer an opening to break the impasse — even if most people wouldn’t readily believe it. And in the eyes of the Lou family, even with Su Tan’er taking such a stance, she must surely be suffering inside; all that remained was to insist stubbornly that she was lying to protect her husband, at which point the matter would come down to a question of “reason and sentiment.”

Legal proceedings in this era were far less rigorous than in later ages, and in many cases, sentiment carried more weight than strict law. As far as Lu Tuizhi was concerned, once the affair between the son-in-law and the maid was established as fact, even if Su Tan’er came forward to testify that she had known and approved, he need only sigh gently and say, “I know your heart is soft” — and with the crowd’s momentum pushing things along, that alone would be enough to make everyone disregard her testimony entirely. Ning Yi and the maid might then escape execution, but some lesser punishment would be unavoidable, and under such overwhelming public pressure, Qian Xiwen would have no choice but to compromise — Lu Tuizhi would spare Ning Yi’s life, and everyone would come away satisfied. But now, with the Lou father and son speaking as they just had, he found, with a sharp pang of recognition, that he could no longer bring himself to agree with them.

No one had anticipated that Su Tan’er, silent until now, would suddenly speak up in exactly this way.

Profound or saccharine, whichever one called it, this was, after all, a reserved and understated age. Between talented scholars and beautiful women, feelings were traditionally conveyed through poetry and song, veiled and implicit — such subtle exchanges were often celebrated as romantic tales. When people spoke of such things, it was usually in hushed, private terms. Even a couple universally acknowledged as a perfectly matched pair would, at most, exchange the occasional smile or meaningful glance — and even that much, in the eyes of onlookers, was already enough to be called a match made in heaven. No one present had ever witnessed a well-bred young lady declare her feelings for her husband so openly, in front of such a crowd.

And in this particular instance, that husband was, of all things, a matrilocal son-in-law. And yet, remarkably, when Su Tan’er spoke as she did, there wasn’t the faintest trace of strain or forced sentiment in it — even those who might mutter “shameless” under their breath found themselves, deep down, quietly inclined to believe her.

A simple declaration would have been challenged instantly. But delivered to this degree — so far beyond anything anyone could have anticipated — it amounted, in effect, to overpowering subtlety with sheer force. Her gentle, tender expression of feeling for Ning Yi, from the standpoint of strategy and counterplay against the Lou father and son, was in fact devastatingly, brutally direct. She had simply seized upon what looked, on the surface, like an inherent weakness — one others had already noticed — and thrown tenfold the force behind it, sweeping the entire situation aside in one stroke. This was no longer a contest of subtlety at all; it was closer to overturning the whole board.

Even Ning Yi himself was, perhaps, somewhat taken aback by it. He could easily have responded with a few words of his own, but for now he said nothing, simply holding his wife’s soft hand and quietly counting her fingers. Once the Lou father and son had finished speaking, Su Tan’er turned her head to look at them, still smiling faintly, and spoke again. This time she had already shifted from calling him “Master Ning” to “husband.”

“The feelings between my husband and Xiao Chan are not easily understood by others, and it’s not truly anyone’s fault. My husband said just now that this was all a misunderstanding, and I think that’s so as well. Elder Brother Lou acted far too rashly, striking without asking a single question first — however sincere his intentions, however righteous everyone’s anger, no one gave anyone a chance to explain themselves, and my husband, in turn, struck back. I honestly don’t know who should be blamed for any of this…”

Su Tan’er paused. “But as for myself, having just witnessed what my husband did, I find I can only feel moved by it. In others’ eyes, Xiao Chan is only a maidservant, but to me she’s like a sister. My husband stood there alone, and yet he shielded her at the cost of his own safety, never once retreating even when surrounded by so many. It only convinces me all the more that giving Xiao Chan in marriage to my husband was the most correct decision I could ever have made. If I were in Xiao Chan’s place, who else would I possibly want to marry?”

Su Tan’er glanced toward Xiao Chan, who, though bashful, hurriedly nodded, her face flushing red under her mistress’s gaze. Su Tan’er smiled, then lifted her chin, her eyes reddening as she recalled the past.

“Last year in Jiangning, the Su family met with great misfortune — my father was attacked and gravely wounded, I myself was bedridden, and the family business was collapsing, teetering on the edge of ruin. It was my husband who stepped in and held the household together. Perhaps no one would believe it, but within a few months, once he’d resolved everything, he said not a word about it and simply went back to teaching at the academy. He only ever steps forward for the family when there’s real need — that was true then, and it’s true now. Some people assume my husband married into our family for what he could gain from it — but how could they know that his talent and learning surpass others’ a hundredfold? The pieces he wrote in Jiangning — the ‘Prelude to Water Melody,’ the ‘Green Jade Cup’ — since coming to Hangzhou, I’ve heard people singing them everywhere, time and again…”

A wave of murmurs swept through the hall. Had these works been mentioned earlier, they likely would only have reinforced the image of the arrogant, self-satisfied First Talent of Jiangning — but raised at this precise moment, though such comparisons would inevitably surface sooner or later, their meaning here was entirely transformed. Lou Shuweng had called Ning Yi a lowly scoundrel; Lou Jinlin had called her actions well-intentioned but misguided — both implying, to everyone present, that Ning Yi was nothing more than a matrilocal son-in-law, and that no one would truly go to such lengths for one. But by now, Su Tan’er’s layered, carefully woven testimony was more than enough to sweep away that sense of incongruity entirely.

“As for what should be done about today’s matter, I know it places all of you in a difficult position. I am only a woman, and I know little of great affairs, but I swear that nothing I have said here is false. My husband stands accused, and it is only right that I stand or fall together with him. I ask that Your Excellencies see clearly the truth of this matter.”

Having said this, she knelt down. Ning Yi’s brow furrowed, and he reached out at once to take hold of her arm — Su Tan’er, only halfway to the floor, was caught by his hand, glanced sideways at him, then lowered her head and knelt gracefully regardless, her skirts pooling around her on the floor like a white lotus blossom. Ning Yi’s smile faded now; he glanced once toward Lou Jinlin, then, lifting the hem of his own robe, knelt down beside her as well. He had never much cared for the act of kneeling, but this was simply standing by his wife, and he thought nothing further of it.

From the moment the standoff had begun, both sides had traded blow for blow, each with hidden moves of their own, and Su Tan’er’s series of calculated strikes and parries — this final kneeling included — was, in its way, all part of a deliberate strategy. And yet she herself, a woman raised in this era, had always regarded kneeling before a room of officials as simply the natural, expected thing to do. Had it been Ning Yi in her place, understanding perfectly well the effect it would produce, he still would never have gone so far as to actually do it.

As Ning Yi knelt as well, Qian Xiwen — who had remained silent all this while at the front, eyes closed most of the time — gently steadied his cane, and with a soft tap against the floor, murmured with quiet feeling: “Such devotion between husband and wife — there could be none deeper than this.”

Lou Jinlin, perhaps about to speak again, found himself silenced entirely by that single sigh. Lou Shuweng sat there, the veins on his forehead standing out, muttering under his breath: “That vile woman, that vile woman…”

Lu Tuizhi hardly hesitated: “Please, both of you, rise…” He had meant to rise and help them up himself, but before he could finish speaking, Ning Yi had already pulled Su Tan’er to her feet. She glanced at him, thinking her husband perhaps a bit too hasty — she would have liked to remain kneeling a little longer, for the effect would only have been the greater for it — but since Ning Yi had already made his decision, she had no choice but to accept it, gently smoothing her knees: “My thanks to Your Excellency…”

To one side, Mu Bochang tapped the table lightly, frowning: “So this is how matters truly stood… A group of men, full of hot blood but blind to the truth of things — and to think they’ve spent all these years reading the sages’ teachings in vain.” Among the elders present, Mu Bochang was known for his sharp temper and rigorous scholarly standards; though his words now sounded almost like he were merely muttering to himself, not one of the scholars who’d still wanted to protest dared say another word.

Under ordinary circumstances, on Hangzhou’s home turf, even with the local scholars clearly in the wrong, an outcome like this would have been nearly impossible. But between Qian Xiwen’s weighty stance on one hand, and the sheer force of Su Tan’er’s declaration on the other, even Qian Xiwen himself must, in some sense, have been marveling at just how valuable a good ally could be. He had originally been mulling over just how much effort it would take to salvage the situation somewhat — only to find, in the end, that it had taken nothing more than a single sentence. That perfect moment had arrived as though Ning Yi and his wife had built the whole thing, piece by piece, and delivered it directly into his hands; faced with such a masterstroke, he could hardly have refrained from speaking up even if he’d wanted to.

This had, of course, been an unexpected turn of events from the start. He had come today mainly out of curiosity — to see for himself just what sort of situation this matrilocal son-in-law that Qin Siyuan had asked him to look after was really in. Even now, moved as he was by the couple’s evident devotion to one another, he narrowed his eyes and studied the two of them nearby with quiet appraisal, while beside him, Lu Tuizhi, after a moment of silence and a subtle exchange of glances, hurried to smooth things over.

Lou Jinlin sat there, having fallen silent from the moment Ning Yi had first looked his way, and had said nothing since…