Amid the noise and bustle of voices, torchlight lit up the Su residence after nightfall — dark-tiled roofs with upturned eaves, carved beams and painted galleries, snow falling only to be pushed back by the surrounding warmth, or to melt away entirely.

Tonight’s banquet had only just begun, extending outward from a side hall near the edge of the Su residence — twenty-six tables in all, some round, some square, with a total of just over two hundred guests. This was, in fact, nothing more than an ordinary winter banquet for the Su household. Such gatherings were less frequent in other seasons, but as the New Year approached, they grew increasingly common.

The three main branches of the Su family, numerous relatives by marriage, veteran retainers who had long served the household, along with various shop managers gathered in from different regions for this occasion, had all taken their seats. At the very center, naturally, sat old Patriarch Su, Song Mao, and a few elders of the Patriarch’s own generation, along with the household heads Su Boyong and Su Zhongkan. The seating at the surrounding tables followed a clear logic — only those who had made genuine contributions to the Su family earned a place there. Men such as Su Chonghua, headmaster of Yushan Academy, Su Yunsong, the senior manager overseeing regional operations, and a few other managers — even those from the direct line of the third branch had to hold real, substantive responsibilities to merit such standing. Had Xi Junyu been invited along, he too would likely have earned a seat nearby.

As for Su Tan’er, although she now managed a great deal of the main branch’s affairs, being a woman meant her position still lacked formal recognition, and she was seated a full table further from Ning Yi. The two exchanged little conversation, though both appeared outwardly composed — what each was actually thinking, however, was difficult to say.

From this table onward, the seating arrangements grew considerably more relaxed. At a square table slightly further along, Su Wenxing and Su Wengui sat together, occasionally casting furtive glances in that direction.

At this moment, neither Su Tan’er nor Ning Yi could possibly have guessed that at this seemingly ordinary banquet, several people’s moods would swing wildly up and down while watching the two of them, without any of that tension finding release by the evening’s end.

“Prefect Song and the others are sure to come over soon, and then he’ll praise Ning Yi. The moment Prefect Song brings it up, everyone needs to pay close attention — the show is about to begin.”

Su Wengui considered himself to have seen through the whole affair by now, especially after Song Mao had mentioned Ning Yi once already in an earlier conversation, praising his teaching ability — which only strengthened his conviction. About a quarter of an hour after the banquet began, movement started up between the various tables, and another quarter hour after that, Song Mao finally picked up his wine cup and made a small round with Su Zhongkan nearby.

Given Song Mao’s status as prefect, he could easily have remained seated at the head table the entire evening without any objection, but he had always been thorough and considerate in such matters — this round of visits wasn’t about flaunting his official rank, but rather about placing himself, as he always did, among the Su family’s circle of relatives and friends. Having made his rounds and greeted the nearby tables, he had already shown considerable respect, but then, as expected, he casually made his way toward Su Tan’er and Ning Yi’s table and, in full view of onlookers, spoke a few words: “The Su family is fortunate to have both Tan’er and Liheng…”

“I’ll go over…” Su Wenxing grabbed a wine cup and moved closer, but just as he approached, Song Mao and Su Zhongkan had already turned and walked away. He paused, startled, then turned back.

“What happened…?”

“I’m not sure — Uncle just said a few casual words…”

“Given his position as prefect, it wouldn’t do for him to say too much anyway — perhaps he felt the timing still wasn’t quite right.” Su Wengui thought it over, his face darkening. “He’s probably waiting until second cousin and Ning Yi come over to offer a toast — that would be the natural moment to raise the questions.”

Amid the swirling torchlight, the banquet carried on in its noisy fashion — figures moving about, children playing and squabbling, wine cups and dishes clinking on the tables. The group of young men, preoccupied with their scheme, had little appetite for the festivities. Before long, Su Tan’er and Ning Yi rose from their seats, and the group grabbed their own cups and mingled into the crowd, making their way toward the head table as well. Su Tan’er and Ning Yi finished offering their toast and returned to their seats, and Su Wenxing and Su Wengui came back looking equally puzzled, glancing back and forth between Ning Yi and Song Mao, blinking in confusion. After conferring once more, not long after, the couple rose again, exchanging a few words with Song Mao a short distance away. Su Wengui nudged Su Wenxing, who hurried over… and returned once more with nothing but his wine cup…

The banquet gradually began to wind down.

Under strict etiquette, no one else should leave until the old Patriarch had departed, but the old man rather enjoyed lingering here to chat with his old friends, and the atmosphere remained lively. Sensing the time was right, he waved his hand with a smile. “Those with matters to attend to, and those who’ve eaten and drunk their fill, feel free to head off, head off, ha ha…”

Some of the children, having worn themselves out with play, had already begun to doze off, while others, having drunk too much, lay slumped over the tables. With the old Patriarch’s words, the atmosphere loosened considerably — some guests began to leave, while others came over to this table to pay their respects to the old Patriarch and chat about various amusing matters. Su Wengui and the others wore expressions of thorough gloom; Su Wenxing, having boasted for days that his uncle would surely expose Ning Yi tonight, now felt as though his pride had been dashed to pieces beyond any hope of repair.

“What was that all about — nothing happened at all…”

“Your uncle never had any intention of testing him from the very start…”

“If you couldn’t get your uncle on board, you should have just said so — why go around saying he’d definitely do it tonight…”

Across the hall, Song Mao had already risen to his feet, apparently saying something with a smile — “I’m afraid I can’t hold my liquor any further…” — evidently preparing to take his leave as well, and Su Tan’er and Ning Yi had already gone to pay their respects to the old Patriarch. As Song Mao neared the door, Su Tan’er and Ning Yi also turned to go. Su Wenxing, his face dark with frustration, suddenly shot to his feet. “Wait!”

The noise of the hall dipped for an instant at his words, then resumed as before. A good number of people did notice him, though none assumed the outburst had anything to do with them. Near the door, Song Mao glanced over in that direction; Su Tan’er and Ning Yi looked over in confusion as well, glanced around, then simply turned and continued on their way. The old Patriarch tilted his head, looking at Su Wenxing, blinking a few times. “Oh, Wenxing — what’s all this talk over there? Something the matter?”

“I… I… um… n-no, nothing’s the matter…”

Having said this, he sat back down, thoroughly deflated.

A moment later, he rose to his feet once more and hurried after the direction Song Mao had gone.

…

Having left the banquet and returned to his room, Song Mao took a sip of the sobering tea Song Kai had already prepared for him, then washed his face.

He hadn’t drunk much — for him, it had amounted to little more than rinsing his mouth. His mind remained perfectly clear. He sat down at the table, set out a booklet of calligraphy models beside him, ground some ink, drew out a few sheets of fine paper and arranged them, prepared his brush, and settled into a writing posture, turning matters over in his mind.

Today had proven quite fruitful.

His original visit to Master Qin had been little more than a routine courtesy call, and he hadn’t expected much from it. This was simply the nature of his approach to officialdom — important figures needed to be visited regularly, since one never knew when such connections might prove useful, and maintaining good relations never hurt. As for the bond of teacher and student between himself and Qin Siyuan, he had never harbored great expectations there either — it was simply a card kept in reserve, useful should Qin Siyuan ever be recalled to office, in which case he might be remembered kindly; and even if that recall never came, he could at least maintain some connection with Qin Siyuan’s two sons. The relationship had never run especially deep, and even he himself hadn’t expected it to advance any further today, yet it had, at least to some degree.

At the Qin residence today, the easy familiarity that Ning Liheng had shown toward the two elderly men had genuinely startled him — it seemed entirely natural, and yet not at all like the relationship between an elder and some younger relative, which explained why Old Qin had introduced him as a young friend of “Mingyuan and myself.” Startling as it was, the whole affair had turned out well — once he had openly revealed his family connection to the Su household, Master Qin’s manner toward him had visibly shifted, no longer the mere polite formality typically shown between an ordinary student and teacher. That the relationship had deepened even this much left him quite satisfied.

On top of that, he had also made the acquaintance of Kang Xian, styled Mingyuan.

Turning these matters over in his mind, Song Mao began writing a few characters on the fine paper: “Respectfully presented to Lord Kang Mingyuan.” He then paused. In a few days he would be paying Lord Kang a visit, and he was carefully weighing the wording of his card. After a moment he drew a line beneath one character in the honorific and wrote another beside it instead — a more fitting form of address, one suited for addressing a man of moral standing and great scholarly reputation.

Such details were minor matters, but they genuinely occupied his thoughts at the moment. As for the business of testing whether Ning Yi was a fraud chasing false fame — that idea had been entirely dispelled from his mind the moment he’d exchanged greetings with Ning Yi at the Qin residence. In all honesty, given his current standing, he had no reason to fear either Qin Siyuan or Kang Mingyuan, and certainly he had even less reason to fear or be wary of Ning Yi, a man of no official rank who merely happened to associate with these two elders. If he truly wished to do something about it, Ning Yi would be nothing more than a minor figure to him.

But why bother?

Whether it was the second branch that eventually inherited the Su family, or that young woman Su Tan’er, made no real difference to what he himself stood to gain either way — so why bother at all? From that point on, the decision had become perfectly clear to him. Whether or not Ning Yi was truly a fraud building a false reputation no longer mattered; there was simply no need for him to expose the man, and therefore no need to test him in the first place.

As for his nephew, so intent on humiliating the man — that was a minor matter in itself. Now that the decision had been made, he put it out of his mind entirely.

A moment later, Song Kai came in to report: “Young Master Wenxing requests an audience.” He nodded. “Show him in.” His gaze remained fixed on the paper before him as he continued writing…

…

The snow-laden wind blew past; beneath the snow-covered night sky there hung a certain solitary, forlorn quality. In the distance, the sound of a temple bell drifted over.

The banquet in the distance had largely dispersed by now. Looking out from the second-floor railing, the torchlight seemed considerably dimmer already. Ning Yi leaned idly against the railing, gazing out over the flickering lights of the Su family’s grand estate — amid the curtain of falling snow, the lit windows of room after room, tower after tower, shimmered with a certain evocative charm.

Footsteps sounded from the direction of the staircase. He didn’t need to look to know who it was — these footsteps were nothing like Xiao Chan’s, who so often came up to drag him back down. Xiao Chan’s steps were far more lively; these were graceful and quiet — or perhaps composed and unhurried would be the better way to describe them.

Tilting his head, he saw that silvery-white figure approaching from across the way. He could only make out a corner of her fox-fur cloak, since a pillar stood between them; the figure walked to the far side of the pillar and stopped there as well, leaning against the railing to gaze out over the courtyards below, just as he was doing.

The two of them stood in silence for a while, gazing out together. Had he turned his head, he would have seen the woman’s lovely profile, still tinged with a certain youthful innocence. After a while, Su Tan’er finally spoke. “My husband seems to enjoy the view from up here quite a lot.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ning Yi smiled faintly. He knew that for both of them, the moment to lay their cards on the table had arrived.