“My husband is a strange man.”

“Hm?”

Snow drifted down as the two, now husband and wife, stood on either side of the pillar, looking out over the sprawling courtyards around them. Su Tan’er turned her head slightly, lowering it a touch, a faint smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

“Actually… it’s not that my husband is so strange. Even as a child, I liked to stand up here and look out at the view. Has my husband noticed? The view from this spot is the best.” She raised a hand and pointed off into the distance. “There, that’s the courtyard where Father and Mother live… that’s Second Aunt’s… Grandfather’s is partly blocked from here… Third Uncle’s is over there… that lantern — that should be Wenying and his group out walking…”

Under the night sky, the Su residence’s various sections were laid out clearly under Su Tan’er’s guidance, with the occasional figure moving between courtyards carrying a lantern, which Su Tan’er pointed out one by one with practiced ease. After a moment, she paused, thinking back.

“I didn’t live here as a child, but I often liked to come play here anyway, sitting up on this floor looking this way and that. Whenever my nursemaid couldn’t find me, she’d know to come looking here. I’d watch her approaching from up above and duck inside to hide — heh, I always hid in a different spot each time. My nursemaid was rather slow-witted; once I changed hiding places, she couldn’t find me at all, and called out for me outside for the longest time…”

“Every time my nursemaid finally found me, she’d always say it was too windy up here, or that it was time to eat. My husband probably wouldn’t guess this, but as a child I was actually quite hardy — a little wind never made me sick. I liked running around and chasing people the way boys do, but eventually they all stopped wanting to play with me. As for eating — why did I need to eat, anyway? Sometimes I simply didn’t feel hungry at all. I asked my nursemaid about it, and even she didn’t know why. Ha — when my mother gave birth to me, my father had been hoping for a son to inherit the family business, but instead a girl was born. My father said that was fine too — at least he’d have a proper young lady of good family. Though honestly, I never was much like a proper young lady…”

She tilted her chin up and laughed, though there was no shadow in that laughter at all. Even without any deep learning, there was certainly nothing lacking in her appearance or bearing when it came to “looking like a proper young lady of good family” — at least on that front, she had nothing to worry about.

“So later on… well, later, once I was allowed to choose my own courtyard, I moved here together with Xiao Chan and the others. My husband probably doesn’t know this, but when we first moved in, I actually lived in the room on this side, because the view was better from here. But… later I moved to that other room instead. Does my husband know why?”

“So you couldn’t see other people, and other people couldn’t see you either?”

Ning Yi answered offhandedly. Su Tan’er fell silent for a long moment. “Has my husband… ever had any particular dreams or ambitions?”

“Me…” Ning Yi thought back to something from long, long ago. “I wanted to build houses.”

“Eh?” This answer clearly caught Su Tan’er off guard. After a moment she said, “Build houses? Like… a bricklayer, you mean?”

“Ha ha.” Ning Yi looked up and laughed. “That’s right, a bricklayer, a carpenter, something like that… yeah, more or less.”

“I never would have guessed that…” Su Tan’er murmured. Ning Yi tapped his fingers lightly against the railing a few times, then took out a washed preserved egg and passed it across the wooden pillar to her. “Oh, here, try this.”

“A duck egg.”

Snow was falling, and though there was still a fair amount of light rising from below along this covered walkway, it wasn’t quite enough to make out the subtle mottled patterns on the eggshell. Su Tan’er didn’t seem to mind, taking the egg, tapping it gently against the railing a few times, and slowly beginning to peel it, stopping after removing a few pieces of shell.

“I… when I was young, I actually wanted to become a performer who does magic tricks. Ha, of course that was just a childish thought. Our family used to have opera troupes come perform every year, and as a child I thought it all seemed so magical — I kept thinking that if I learned it myself, maybe I’d be able to fly through the air and become some kind of immortal. Later I did pick up a bit of it, like what you taught Xiao Chan the other day. Watch, husband…”

She extended her left hand, her wrist pale and glimmering amid the falling snow, as though it might glow on its own. Between her slender, delicate fingers she held a few pieces of shell she’d just peeled off, and as she gently rubbed her fingers together, a fine shimmer of dust drifted down from her fingertips like thin threads of light — strange and beautiful. This was likely some trick secret she’d picked up from the performers. Once finished, she laughed softly, looking rather pleased with herself.

“Of course, Father and Mother would never have allowed me to actually become a performer. When I was very small, I couldn’t quite sense such things, but as I grew older, I began to notice that both my parents seemed unhappy about something. Father wanted a son, but even after marrying two concubines, he still never had another child, boy or girl. Sometimes, of course, Father would… of course he would feel…”

Perhaps because this part was harder to say aloud, Su Tan’er paused for a long while before finally taking a deep breath. “Anyway… from that point on, I started to find it strange… why couldn’t a daughter inherit the family business? They clearly weren’t any more capable than I was. Even when it came to going to the family school to study poetry and arithmetic, I dressed up as a boy just to attend… of course I was found out eventually, but no matter what, I refused to leave. Beatings didn’t drive me out, scoldings didn’t drive me out — I insisted on staying until I’d finished the lessons. Fortunately it was a school the family ran itself, and eventually Grandfather spoke up in my favor too… which is why now, girls like Xiao Qi and the others can attend classes at the school — that’s something I stubbornly fought for.”

As she spoke, she continued slowly peeling the shell, smiling faintly, then suddenly seemed to notice something and gave a little “oh” of surprise. She lifted the half-peeled preserved egg, its amber-colored white and the intricate pattern within catching the light from below and glowing faintly.

Ning Yi turned and leaned back against the railing. “It’s a preserved egg — a century egg. You can eat it.”

“Hm?”

Having never seen a duck egg quite like this before, Su Tan’er considered it a moment before finally bringing the preserved egg to her lips and taking a bite, then returned to the subject at hand.

“I know my husband might not want to hear all this — men never like hearing women go on about such things. I’ve never told anyone else any of this either, but I felt… I felt I really needed to say it to my husband, even if my husband doesn’t care for it… I wanted to say it, Tan’er. I’m not some overbearing, domineering woman. After half a year together, I feel that my husband’s temperament might actually be able to bear hearing these odd thoughts of mine. I do genuinely hope to manage the Su family well one day, but that’s really all there is to it. Tan’er and my husband are married, bound by a vow to grow old together, and Tan’er doesn’t want my husband to end up like them — holding some lingering resentment toward me… if… if…”

She struggled to choose her words carefully. Ning Yi smiled. “What if I really did go off and become a bricklayer?”

Su Tan’er thought about it, then smiled. “Then I suppose I’d become a street performer myself.”

“Ha, actually…” Ning Yi drew a folded sheet of fine paper from inside his robe, gave it a shake to unfold it in the air, and handed it to her. “Take a look at this.”

The light was dim, but the paper was covered in strange brush-drawn diagrams and various patterns, blurry and indistinct. Su Tan’er glanced at Ning Yi with faint confusion before taking the paper and examining it carefully in the dim light…

The objects sketched on the paper all had a strange, unfamiliar quality to them, and in many places there were lines and characters she couldn’t make sense of at all, bearing some resemblance to Persian or other foreign scripts from the west. After studying it for a good while, Su Tan’er finally admitted she couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and looked up. “Is this… some kind of natural inquiry, husband? Investigating the principles of things?” She might not have understood the diagrams themselves, but she could at least guess roughly what category they belonged to — her family’s fortune had been built on the silk-weaving trade, after all, and she had seen plenty of diagrams for looms and similar equipment; it would have been hard to say which was more complex.

In this era, Confucian scholarship valued the humanities and looked down on the investigation of physical things, and Su Tan’er could hardly have imagined that her husband — normally so detached and given to all sorts of puzzling behavior — was seriously studying matters like this. In truth, the Su family did employ specialists dedicated to improving their looms, but they were essentially treated as repairmen — artisans and craftsmen genuinely held low status in this society, and even dressing the work up with a grand name like “investigating the principles of things” wouldn’t have changed how others viewed it. Though in later centuries this phrase would come to be understood as encompassing something like the physical sciences within Confucian thought, in this era the concept had little real connection to such things — scholars who spoke of investigating the principles of things were exploring them as a branch of life philosophy. To push the inquiry toward anything resembling physics would have been dismissed as a clever but shameful trifling with mere technique, unworthy of a gentleman.

But as a merchant herself, one who understood the value of skilled craftsmen, Su Tan’er clearly held no such prejudice on the matter. Ning Yi smiled. “Just something to tinker with when I’m bored. No idea if it’ll amount to anything in two or three years…”

Su Tan’er said, “Actually, the family does have a few experienced old craftsmen who know a fair amount about matters like this, but…” She didn’t look down on such people, but given how low the status of craftsmen was, if her husband spent all his time going to chat with them, even though those old men were reasonably well respected within the Su household, Ning Yi would likely still face criticism for it. She trailed off, hesitating, but fortunately Ning Yi simply shook his head.

“There’s no urgency to it. I just enjoy thinking about it when I have nothing else to do.”

“I had no idea. What exactly are these drawings of yours meant to produce, anyway?”

Ning Yi paused. “Something to eat. Hard to say more than that for now.”

He glanced at the object in Su Tan’er’s hand, and she noticed the direction of his gaze, suddenly understanding, looking down at the half-eaten preserved egg still in her hand. “Don’t tell me… this too is something my husband…”

“Yes, more or less.”

Su Tan’er stood stunned for a long moment, then finally put the remaining half of the preserved egg into her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing it. Ning Yi turned his gaze toward the distant courtyard, while Su Tan’er rested both hands on the railing, head lowered, seemingly lost in thought. After a long while, a quiet smile crept across her face — a smile that seemed partly wistful, partly as though she felt she’d said more than she needed to.

“Actually, my husband already knew what Tan’er came here to say, didn’t you?”

After a moment, Ning Yi nodded. “I could more or less guess.”

“My husband is no bookish fool.”

“Ha…”

“My husband had a deeper purpose in telling those stories at the school.”

“That part really was just something I said on a whim.”

Su Tan’er paid this no mind, gazing off into the distance as she continued. “And that ‘Prelude to Water Melody’ wasn’t recited by any Daoist priest either.”

“…”

“My husband is a man of real talent and learning.”

“Ahem, that part really isn’t true…”

Su Tan’er had clearly already settled certain conclusions in her own mind and was now simply talking herself through them. After a moment she turned her head to look at him again, this time apparently with a genuine question in mind: “Still, that day at the He residence — did my husband truly see through the He family’s intentions, and guess at the Xue family’s affairs as well?”

Ning Yi met her gaze for a few seconds. “If I said yes, would you believe me?”

“Then my husband must simply be born knowing all things, and all of Tan’er’s years of experience count for nothing at all…”

Su Tan’er wrinkled her nose and broke into a radiant smile. She had clearly already found the answer she wanted, and on this particular point she remained quite confident — a confidence that, in fact, wasn’t entirely without basis. In truth, as far as Ning Yi himself was concerned, he hadn’t really guessed correctly at all — he had simply happened, through a few scattered fragments of information, to stumble upon conclusions that matched what the He family had actually been thinking. Since Su Tan’er had already arrived at her own interpretation, Ning Yi naturally saw no need to explain otherwise.

“My husband really is a strange man,” she concluded.

“So is my wife, isn’t she.”

“Hehe.” Su Tan’er laughed happily. “Tan’er feels at ease now.”

The snow fell silently, blanketing the entire city of Jiangning. Amid this vast, bustling world of mortal affairs, this small warmly-lit window, tucked away in some quiet corner amid the sound of laughter, was gently gathered in by the tenderness of heaven and earth.

In the seventh year of the Jinghan era of the Wu Dynasty, that winter unfolded like a timeless, elegant painting — amid the heavy snow, a scene of warmth and peace.

…

Meanwhile, in the courtyard where Song Mao was staying.

The lamplight in the room flickered faintly, shadows swaying gently against the window lattice. The young man had already entered and paid his respects. To one side of the room, the honest, upright middle-aged man sat at the table, writing while making idle small talk — though of whatever was said, likely not a single word actually registered in his mind.

Su Wenxing didn’t dare press his uncle for a direct answer, and so for now he simply continued the small talk, hoping only that his uncle would eventually give him some kind of resolution.

After some time, the distant toll of a bell sounded from outside. Song Mao set down his brush, looked up, and carefully weighted down the paper before him.

“This letter isn’t finished yet — I’ll return to it later.” He smiled and stood, turning to look at his visibly distracted nephew. He walked over and, after a long silence, spoke. “Wenxing, how difficult do you think it would be to defeat your cousin Tan’er and take control of the Su family?”

Su Wenxing’s mind had really been on the matter of Ning Yi, but hearing this question, he still gave it serious thought. “I won’t deceive you, Uncle — cousin Tan’er truly is exceptionally capable. If she really does take control of the main branch, I… I have no confidence at all…”

The words were difficult to say, but honesty clearly mattered most in front of his uncle. Once he’d finished speaking, Song Mao shook his head and patted his shoulder. “You’re overthinking this. There’s one thing you must never forget — your cousin Tan’er is, in the end, just a woman.”

“I… I understand, but the things she’s actually accomplished, they really are…”

“Why do you all keep trying so hard to defeat her?” Song Mao smiled. “The Su family is currently under the old Patriarch’s authority, and even after the old Patriarch passes, his brothers will remain, and even the side branches will retain some voice in matters. Think about it this way — if Su Tan’er truly does take control of the Su family and must stand fully on her own, the pressure she’ll face from the outside world, precisely because she’s a woman, will be far greater than anything she faces now. The old Patriarch has given her this opportunity, letting her manage affairs for the time being, but she still operates under your eldest uncle’s protection. Which do you think is greater — the pressure she faces within the Su family now, or the pressure she’d face from the outside world once she actually takes full control?”

Su Wenxing looked puzzled. “Uncle means…”

“Ha, none of you need to surpass her in ability, nor do you need to defeat her in business. All you need is for her to fail to take over the household peacefully — to fail to absorb your second and third branches, or to fail to overpower you outright. That alone would break her position. In the end, she is only a woman — her ability would need to be dozens of times greater than yours just to accomplish what you yourselves could accomplish. All you need to do is maintain the status quo. If her ability isn’t enough to bring the second and third branches under her control, and she can only manage to hold the main branch steady, then the old Patriarch will never hand the family over to her, because as a woman, that alone wouldn’t be enough to prove she could shoulder the responsibility of the entire Su family. Wenxing — do you truly believe your second and third branches would simply sit back and let her absorb you?”

Su Wenxing finally understood, and a flicker of excitement crossed his face. “How… how could that possibly happen? We would never simply sit and wait to be defeated!” This was practically a battle he could win just by doing nothing at all.

“Your father understands this principle, and so does your third uncle, but they won’t spell it out for you directly — they’re afraid that if you children understood it too clearly, you might lose your drive to fight. Now that you understand the reasoning behind it, don’t go spreading it around carelessly either. What needs to be done still needs to be done with full effort, understood?” Song Mao patted his shoulder. “Come now, accompany your uncle to catch up with your father and mother for a while.”

“Yes.” Su Wenxing nodded and was about to follow when he suddenly remembered something. “But Uncle, what about that Ning Yi… he’s cousin Tan’er’s husband — if we wanted to cause trouble for her, wouldn’t he be the perfect opening?”

“As for that…” Song Mao walked over and took a sip of the now-cooled sobering tea, choosing his words carefully in his mind. A man who could converse easily and warmly with men like Qin Siyuan and Kang Xian — talented or not, was he really someone a green youth like his nephew could handle so lightly? Years of experience in officialdom had trained him to filter out such careless impulses automatically, and he never cared to speak harshly. But looking at his nephew now, and remembering that genuine affection still bound them after all these years, he let out a sigh instead.

“As for that matter… whatever anyone else chooses to do about it is their own business, but I want you, Wenxing, to stay completely out of it. Whether or not that Ning Yi has any real talent, you must remember this above all.” He paused, then finally spoke the one sentence he had least wanted to say all evening. “…Lest you bring shame upon yourself.”