Even though Nie Yunzhu had, upon learning Ning Yi’s identity that day, thought that without the connection of repaying a debt of gratitude, the two of them — mere acquaintances by name in this vast city of Jiangning — might never cross paths again, a few days later she found that this assumption hadn’t quite held up.

That morning, waking to hear the faint sound of running footsteps on the road outside, she’d opened the window just in time to see Ning Yi’s figure dash past her field of view. Only then did she recall that even without the business of her having dragged him into the river, this Young Master Ning ran up and down this road every morning regardless.

In an age that prized letters over martial pursuits — especially among scholars — few people exercised their bodies this way. At first glance she’d thought he was being chased, but soon confirmed that this Young Master Ning, unusual in so many respects, really was out for his morning training, and what’s more, the distance he ran seemed to keep increasing over these days. She felt a measure of puzzlement about it, but more than that, admiration.

Being early morning, it was of course impossible to catch sight of him every single day, but the occasions were frequent enough. Nie Yunzhu found herself weighing whether she ought to go out and greet him, then realized she was being overly precious about it. Everyone she’d known and encountered before had approached her with some ulterior motive, and she’d grown wary because of it — but this Young Master Ning had not only saved her life, he’d made it clear that day that he wanted nothing from her. Some manner of ordinary acquaintance ought to have followed naturally; it occurred to her now that she’d simply been overthinking things.

Having laughed at and scolded herself a little in her heart, the next morning when she saw him run past again, she came out naturally to greet him — only to have him simply wave a hand and keep running without stopping. She stood there stunned for a good while. Behind her, her maid Hutao, now fully recovered from her illness, came out after her. “Who was that? Does the young miss know him?” Then, pursing her lips, “So rude…” But Nie Yunzhu had already broken into quiet laughter.

Heh — the friendship of gentlemen, the friendship of gentlemen. An attitude like that — could it be that he actually regarded her as a friend?

Cold Dew, then Frost’s Descent. After the Start of Winter, under the intensified training regimen — combined with what she’d built up over the preceding months — her physical condition had seen some initial improvement. Nothing showed on the surface, but at least on the inside she now had a body as healthy as an ordinary person’s.

In this era, scholars concerned themselves only with their books, and nutrition rarely kept pace either; most of them were in worse shape than a modern shut-in. The “six arts” of the gentleman did technically include archery and charioteering, but within those six arts this was really just a slogan, no different from something like “well-rounded moral, intellectual, physical, aesthetic, and practical education” back home. Ning Yi’s body had once been of that same frail sort — twenty years of weakness recovered in half a year was already quite an achievement.

Each morning, running past along the bank of the Qinhuai River, he’d occasionally exchange a greeting with this Nie Yunzhu — no more than a nodding acquaintance, really. Though her earlier fumbling — killing a chicken, falling into the river, and so on — had seemed clumsy, seeing her a few more times made it clear she was no natural airhead — something already evident, in fact, from their conversation on the walk back after buying charcoal that time. Her clothes were always plain, but she herself was strikingly beautiful, with a graceful, tall figure. Sometimes they’d cross paths at her door and she’d wave and call out “Young Master Ning” with a smile; sometimes he’d see her in the kitchen on the side of the little building, its window propped open toward the street, lighting the stove or cutting vegetables, looking up to flash a smile; sometimes he’d see her carrying a wooden basin out to the riverside terrace to empty water, and on spotting him running this way she’d wave hello — the morning wind strong up there on the terrace, catching at her skirts, the dawn light rising behind her from the horizon, like some river goddess gliding over the waves.

A maid lived with her in that building, not particularly pretty and rather short in stature — Ning Yi could more or less guess that the girl had been ill for some time not long ago.

It was only in October that he and Nie Yunzhu really had their first proper conversation. That morning he’d gone out without drinking any water and had extended his running route besides, so on the way back he was drenched in sweat, gasping for air, his throat parched to death — he stopped to ask her for a cup of water, and they exchanged a few words. The next day when he came back she was there again, and it would have felt rude to just run past, so he stopped to rest a while. After that, it gradually became a habit.

“Young Master Ning really is an odd sort, running for so long every single day. Doesn’t it tire you out?”

“It’s tiring precisely because it works. What’s odd about a bit of running?”

“In my earlier years at the Jinfeng Pavilion… I met a good many scholars and talented men, but I truly never met anyone like Young Master Ning.” As she said this, her eyes stayed on him — though Ning Yi had already guessed at her past, he found it a little unexpected that she’d speak of it so openly, though not so much that it showed on his face. After a moment, Nie Yunzhu asked, puzzled, “Could it be that you intend to enlist in the army?”

“Heh, with a body like this at present, how could I make it onto a battlefield. It’s just that a scholar is good for nothing — a bit of training never hurts.”

“‘A scholar is good for nothing’… if others heard you say such a thing, I fear it would stir up talk against you.”

Their conversations at these brief stops never amounted to much, only a few sentences each time, but over a stretch of time the outline of her identity gradually came into focus. She had spent some years working in the pleasure quarters, then bought her own and her maid’s freedom, and purchased this rather pretty little riverside building. Given her limited understanding of ordinary life, she’d made no small number of mistakes along the way.

Nie Yunzhu might have found his character odd, but to Ning Yi’s eye, hers was rather peculiar too. He guessed she’d likely been born into an official’s household as a child, then sold into the pleasure quarters, and after buying her own freedom she’d refused to walk that road again — which was precisely why her life now was somewhat strained. There must be a stubborn streak running through this woman’s character. One day at the end of October, passing through the East Market with Xiao Chan, Ning Yi had spotted her from a distance.

The market had been crowded that day, and he and Xiao Chan had gone up to the floor of a restaurant. Looking down from afar, he could see Nie Yunzhu and her maid Hutao among the crowd, several meters apart from him — it looked as though she’d come to buy groceries, or perhaps knew one of the vendors there. She was still dressed plainly, a rather unflattering headscarf wrapped around her hair. She was crouched behind a stall that sold chickens and also offered slaughtering services, one hand gripping a hen, the other holding a kitchen knife, slitting the hen’s throat to let the blood drain into a bowl on the ground. Apparently finding it revolting, she’d drawn her head back as far as possible, though her hands never once let go. Once the blood had drained, she tossed the hen into a nearby pot of hot water and stood up, satisfied, and then — seemingly by chance — glanced this way, though there was no telling whether she’d noticed him at all.

“Young Master, what is it?”

Noticing Ning Yi standing by the stairs, staring off toward the market, Xiao Chan asked, puzzled. Ning Yi shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go in.” He turned away, smiling.

In this era, people rarely got to eat chicken, and even when they bought one, they’d usually take it home to raise for a few days before slaughtering it themselves; a business that both sold and slaughtered on the spot was probably only to be found in a market in a major city like Jiangning, and even then, only with a stallkeeper inventive enough to think of it.

The next day, sitting on the steps of the little riverside building resting, Nie Yunzhu asked, “You saw me at the East Market yesterday, didn’t you, sir?”

“Mm. What were you doing over there killing chickens?”

“Er Niu from the Zhao family who lives over there is sweet on Hutao.” Nie Yunzhu smiled and pointed toward a house in the distance. “His family sells vegetables at the East Market. Hutao and I go over there, so we’ve come to know some of the people in the market. Yesterday when we went to buy something, Aunt Liu who sells chickens was too swamped to keep up, so I went over and said, ‘Let me lend a hand.’ And I really did end up killing the chicken…”

She laughed happily about it. Ning Yi blinked, then shook his head with a smile after a moment. “There was no need for that.”

This Nie Yunzhu, having once been in the pleasure quarters, had managed to buy her own freedom at such a young age — which meant she must have been sought after in her time. A woman of that sort, one whose hands had never touched dishwater, would in many ways have outdone even a proper young lady from a good family. Since buying her freedom, even though her life had clearly had its share of bumps, it was still considerably better than an ordinary household’s. Not knowing how to kill a chicken was hardly anything worth mentioning — he hadn’t expected her to be so stubborn about it, insisting on learning it the moment the opportunity arose.

“Being able to learn more things is always a happy thing,” Nie Yunzhu said, gazing off into the distance with a smile, before turning back toward him after a moment. “By the way, Young Master Ning, will you stop here again tomorrow?”

Resting here had already become a habit, something that wouldn’t normally need saying — so if she was bringing it up, she must have something in mind. Ning Yi asked, “What’s the matter?” Nie Yunzhu shook her head, smiling. “You’ll find out when you come tomorrow.”

The next day, when Ning Yi arrived, Nie Yunzhu brought out a bowl from inside the house, containing a few freshly made pancakes.

“You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you, sir? Perhaps you could try a couple of these.”

Ning Yi usually ate breakfast only after he’d finished running and resting, so he eyed her curiously for a moment, then, sitting down on the steps to rest, went ahead and ate one. “What’s this about?”

Seeing him eat, Nie Yunzhu’s smile brightened, and she sat down beside him. “What do you think of the taste, Young Master Ning?”

“Not bad at all.” Ning Yi nodded.

“Then… do you think, if I sold these…”

“Mm, you’re thinking of selling pancakes…”

Nie Yunzhu smiled. “Aside from the original path of entertaining men with my looks, or doing needlework and embroidery, this is really the only thing Hutao and I can make that doesn’t fall too far short of what others sell. Hutao learned a bit of this back at Jinfeng Pavilion — she can make several different flavors, and it should be edible… so we’re thinking of getting a little handcart, and selling some tea alongside it as well…”

Ning Yi had lost all interest in matters of business by this point. Of course, Nie Yunzhu wasn’t really asking for his opinion in the first place — this woman had a tenacious streak beneath her beautiful, delicate appearance; she was in fact extremely decisive. Since leaving the pleasure quarters she’d cut ties completely with every one of her former patrons, and on realizing that ordinary life might require killing a chicken, she’d swallowed her disgust and learned to do something she’d once avoided entirely. And now here she was, wanting to take up a trade that seemed rather out of keeping with her air and manner — which Ning Yi found rather amusing.

In early November, in the courtyard of the Su household, Ning Yi moved rooms — he and Su Tan’er both relocated from the upstairs, which had begun growing cold, down to the ground floor. By now the chill of winter had deepened; in the evenings everyone gathered in the sitting room on Su Tan’er’s side, a charcoal fire lit in the room, warm and cozy. Because of this, contact between Ning Yi and Su Tan’er grew more frequent…