The sound of a zither drifted through the air, the rain falling like a forest draped over the city, swallowing Jiangning in its steady, ceaseless murmur. Yuan Jin’er leaned out to check the window, then withdrew the prop holding it open and closed it. Turning back, she found Ning Yi and Yun Zhu talking quietly on the other side of the room.
A small flicker of annoyance rose in her, but for the moment she had no desire to join in. It had been so many days apart—it was only right to let the two of them have some time to talk. That was Jin’er’s charitable way of putting it to herself, perhaps mixed with a touch of guilt over having hit him in the head with a stone the other day. At least, that was what she told herself; her actual feelings were, no doubt, considerably more complicated than that.
She and Ning Yi had known each other for a year or two now. Since redeeming herself from the brothel, he was the only man she could banter and laugh freely with. It wasn’t that Jin’er particularly missed the atmosphere of playing around with men at the pleasure house—the way she felt with Ning Yi and Yun Zhu together was something genuinely new to her. She believed, in her heart, that Yun Zhu deserved someone better, someone who would devote himself to her entirely; and having concluded that no such man was likely to appear, she’d made up her mind to focus her affection on Yun Zhu and resent Ning Yi instead. And yet, when Yun Zhu had fallen ill and injured, and word came that Ning Yi too had been gravely wounded, she found that she genuinely worried for him as well.
Once she recognized that in herself, all she could do was tell herself it was simply the bond of friendship. She was, after all, a kind and pure-hearted girl—wouldn’t even sweep the floor for fear of harming an ant—and besides, she’d had the good fortune of knowing this Ning Yi for so long now.
During the days Yun Zhu had lain sick and injured, Su Tan’er had dragged her weakened body over to visit once, and Jin’er, sensing she might still be harboring thoughts of reconciliation—or even a marriage proposal—had cursed her out behind Yun Zhu’s back and chased her off. Later, learning that Yun Zhu was worried about Ning Yi’s condition, she’d secretly gone to the Su estate to gather news, hiding by the roadside to peek. Seeing Ning Yi struggling even to walk properly had tugged at her heart a little too—but while others could go visit him, she couldn’t. A few more days passed, and hearing that his injuries were nearly healed yet he still hadn’t come to the pavilion, resentment welled up in her again; she’d thrown a stone to get his attention, and it had struck him right on the head—though afterward, she’d convinced herself he’d had it coming.
As for the relationship between Yun Zhu and him—she might have been able to deceive herself about it before, but after this, she could no longer avoid admitting that Yun Zhu probably couldn’t do without him anymore. That realization left her faintly melancholy. Watching Ning Yi over there, pointing at his forehead and laughing, glancing her way—probably tattling on her to Yun Zhu again—she felt a flash of irritation, jumped to her feet, and headed for the door. “You two talk—I’m going out to have some fun!” she said, shooting Ning Yi a vicious glare as she went.
“Don’t come back too early.” Ning Yi waved as she opened the door, joking as usual. She spun around, looked for something within reach, found nothing suitable, patted herself down, and pulled out a five-tael silver ingot, hurling it straight at him. Watching him catch it neatly, she turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. “I’m not coming back!”
“Ugh, I’ve offended her again…”
Faintly, Yun Zhu could hear Ning Yi talking to himself in the room.
…
Perhaps because ever since Jin’er had come into the picture, the two of them always seemed to have a third party wedged into their time together—now that she’d left, the room fell suddenly quiet. The sound of the rain outside, the strains of a stringed instrument, began to drift in. It wasn’t a busy hour for gatherings, and the pleasure house had few guests; from the courtyard beyond came the sound of a singing girl performing Li Shangyin’s “Ornate Zither”—the opening lines describing the melancholy of the instrument and its association with fleeting years. The song floated faintly through the rain. As the first pass of the song was nearing its end, Yun Zhu began softly humming along, singing the final couplet about how such feelings could only be recalled in memory, though even then they had already felt lost and bewildered.
Yun Zhu’s frame was slight, and in truth her illness and injuries hadn’t fully healed; her voice came out slightly hoarse, but her control over it was excellent, giving the performance the mellow, unhurried quality of fine wine sipped slowly. Still dissatisfied with herself, she finished the second pass and laughed. “I could only really sing before, and now I can’t even manage that properly…” In truth, the two of them understood each other so completely that even if she’d sung poorly, Ning Yi wouldn’t have minded in the slightest; he simply looked at her and smiled.
They talked for a while, asking after each other’s injuries. Yun Zhu had grown noticeably thinner, and when she sat on his lap and he held her, she felt lighter than before. With the bandage still wrapped around her head and the many bandages on his own body, the two of them simply sat quietly together for a while, listening to the singing from the courtyard beyond, punctuated by pauses, as a few young scholars composed clumsy verses, occasionally drawing a knowing smile.
It was still early afternoon, and the rain showed no sign of letting up. After sitting for a while, the two of them held hands and went for a walk outside. The pleasure house’s garden and covered walkways were cleverly designed; they walked for a time without running into many people. The rain occasionally blew in under the eaves along the corridor, and Yun Zhu, laughing, pulled him out of the way, clearly delighted. But after a while, one of the pleasure house’s stewardesses came looking for them. “Miss Yun Zhu, your medicine is ready.”
Herbal medicine was usually taken around mealtimes, and some time had already passed since then. Yun Zhu glanced at Ning Yi, then at the sky, saying hesitantly, “It’s already this late…”
“But Miss Jin’er specifically told us before she left—you came out without drinking your medicine at home, so we should… um, we should have it brewed and ready…”
It turned out she and Jin’er had heard, back at the house, that Ning Yi had come to the pleasure house, and had rushed over before Yun Zhu had even taken her medicine. Since the woman had already said as much, Yun Zhu said, “Then… bring it to the accounts room.” She lowered her head, not daring to look at Ning Yi, clearly a little embarrassed.
The “accounts room” she meant wasn’t the reception hall out front, but the small courtyard where she and Jin’er handled the books together each month. Before long the two of them made their way over, and the stewardess arrived with the brewed medicine. Ning Yi knew Yun Zhu wasn’t one to shy away from bitter medicine, but now, looking at the bowl, she seemed to hesitate, glancing at him now and then. Ning Yi asked, “What’s wrong—is it that bitter?”
Yun Zhu shook her head, then said after a pause, “If I drink it, I’ll get very sleepy.” Ning Yi laughed at that. “That’s fine—you sleep here, and I’ll stay by your side.”
“But…” Even after he said that, Yun Zhu still seemed to hesitate a little, but in the end she drank the medicine, then lingered a while longer talking with him before finally taking off her shoes and stockings to lie down on the bed. Bare feet were something considered improper for a woman in this era, and although Yun Zhu and Ning Yi had never yet been physically intimate, she no longer felt the need to be cautious about it—she simply curled up on her side and held his hand as he sat by the edge of the bed.
“Actually… I’m nearly recovered, my head doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s just this medicine… Liheng, I hardly ever get to see you…”
Perhaps troubled by something on her mind, Yun Zhu—normally so calm and composed—still seemed to hold a small grudge against the medicine. Ning Yi comforted her with a few words. Yun Zhu seemed to want to say something else, hesitating, before drifting back to an old memory. “…Back then, I couldn’t even kill a chicken, couldn’t swim. You saved me, and I slapped you across the face for it… Thinking back, all it took was you running past my door every day, and I fell for you. I always thought the talented scholars and beautiful ladies in old operas all had these grand, dramatic love stories, and we never had anything like that. This time, at the Su estate—well, now I’ve got a story dramatic enough to tell too… I’m happy about it, really, and I’m fine, so Liheng, you don’t need to feel like I was wronged…”
In truth, the two of them had already shared plenty of things worth telling—the time she’d stepped in during the Liao assassination attempt on Qin Siyuan, the performances she’d staged to help build Ning Yi’s reputation, the founding and growth of the Bamboo Ledger, and so much more. But what mattered most to Yun Zhu, in her heart, was still that simple thing: Ning Yi running past her little pavilion every day. As she spoke of these things, she gradually drifted off to sleep. Ning Yi sat by the bed for a while, then moved to sit elsewhere in the room, his mind turning to the question of formally marrying Yun Zhu into the household.
He had originally been reluctant to bring Yun Zhu in as his wife, mainly because of the hostile environment within the Su family—he could put up with the Su family’s harassment or veiled mockery himself, but he didn’t want Yun Zhu to have to endure the same, because he knew she was exactly the type who would swallow any grievance, however great, rather than let it show. But by now, the problems within the Su family had more or less been resolved. Since Tan’er already knew about the two of them, there was little sense in dragging things out any longer; in a few days he would be heading either to the capital or to Shandong, and this was a matter he was determined to settle before he left.
In truth, viewed through a modern lens, Yun Zhu—running the Bamboo Ledger on her own, with money and connections of her own—was arguably far better off than she would be married in as an equal wife or concubine. But Ning Yi also knew Yun Zhu’s temperament was traditional; even if she never said so aloud, she surely cared, in her heart, about having a proper status. And in truth, matters being what they now were, the issue with Tan’er’s side was no longer much of an obstacle. Having thought the matter through clearly, his mind felt suddenly light and clear.
Having mulled it over for a while, and seeing that Yun Zhu still hadn’t woken, he pushed the door open to check on the rain outside. He found himself wondering, too, where Jin’er had gotten to; when he asked around, he learned she’d already called for the pleasure house’s carriage driver and gone out, not yet back. Turning to head back to the room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar—Yun Zhu must have gotten up. He pushed it open and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, indeed already awake, but with an oddly dazed expression, and for some reason there were tears on her face. The moment she saw him step in, she reacted with a start, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes. “Liheng, you… you…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I… I thought you’d left…”
“Huh…” Hearing this, Ning Yi’s worry eased at once. He reached back and closed the door. “I just went out to check on things.”
Wiping her eyes, Yun Zhu seemed to realize how childish her reaction must have seemed and let out a small laugh, though her face still looked on the verge of tears; she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I… I got a little… I didn’t mean to think that way, I just thought you’d left… today, today I…” Her voice caught, and she trailed off, a little incoherent. Ning Yi frowned and moved to go to her, but she raised a hand, pointing. “Liheng… just… just stay there, don’t come closer. If you come closer, I’ll… I’ll…”
She never finished the thought of what she’d do if he came closer, but Ning Yi stayed where he was regardless. Then he heard her say, “Liheng… turn around, don’t look at me… then I won’t be too scared…”
Ning Yi turned around, tilting his head slightly, though in the end he couldn’t see anything behind him regardless. He only heard Yun Zhu stand up, her voice so faint it was barely audible. “Today… I’d already made up my mind about this… but then I saw you, Liheng, and…”
From behind came a soft rustling sound—fabric ties being undone, the whisper of robes falling to the floor, one garment after another… Yun Zhu said nothing more. When the sounds finally stopped, Ning Yi waited a few breaths before turning back around. In the dimly lit room, he saw robes, an undergarment, and underclothes all lying on the floor. What met his eyes was Yun Zhu’s bare, unclothed form. She stood not far in front of him, her head slightly lowered; though a bandage still wrapped around her forehead, her long hair still cascaded down, spilling over the enticing curve of her waist and hips. Below her faintly flushed neck, her shoulders were pale as snow; her hands, which had at first been shyly crossed over her chest, now slowly moved aside—her left hand gripping her right wrist—baring her breasts, which trembled faintly. The line of her body drew sharply inward at her waist, then curved gracefully outward again below, down to her long, slender legs pressed straight together, a faint patch of dark down between them, her pale, delicate feet resting in a pair of goose-yellow embroidered slippers. At that moment, aside from the bandage on her forehead, the only thing she wore was that pair of embroidered slippers beneath her—as though she stood there awaiting Ning Yi’s inspection.
“I… I didn’t have an easy life before, but even during the worst of those days, I always kept thinking, hoping, that one day I could stand like this before a man, willing to give him my body, still pure and untouched… If I hadn’t held onto that thought, I don’t think I could have made it through those years, Liheng… I’d meant to give myself to you on some better day than this—I probably don’t look my best right now—but no matter what, my body has stayed pure. Liheng, if… if you want me…”
Coming here today, she had likely already prepared herself for this. Back at the Golden Wind Pavilion, she’d naturally seen things of this nature before—perhaps even received some training in it. But deciding something in one’s heart was one thing, and actually going through with it was another entirely. Once she’d seen him, every bit of what she’d planned to do had proven nearly impossible to carry out. The original plan had been to lure Ning Yi here and seduce him, but when the moment actually arrived, the tender words she’d meant to say wouldn’t come out at all; in the end she’d simply taken the medicine and even fallen asleep, and upon waking to find him gone, she’d finally broken down in tears.
But even now, she had, in the end, finally presented what she herself considered an imperfect body, at what she considered an imperfect moment, before the man she held in her heart.
The rain drummed steadily against the window outside; from somewhere far off drifted the faint, indistinct sound of something impossible to make out. In the dim room, her body trembled slightly, whether from cold or from shyness, taking on a striking, breathtaking beauty…
Ning Yi let out a quiet sigh, went over, and gently wrapped his arms around her, then carefully lifted her up, carrying her toward the bed. Yun Zhu’s body burned with warmth; she closed her eyes lightly, yielding entirely to him. In a moment, her bare form was laid across the bed, her hair spilling out like clouds across the sheets.
Outside the window, the rain fell even harder…