For Zhou Pei, this would, in some sense, likely be the memory she would least wish to bring up or recall in all her life to come. At fifteen, she had fled her own arranged marriage to head to the capital, hoping to make of it a tale worthy of any hero, unbowed by her sex—it had all sounded fine in her head, only she hadn’t anticipated encountering such a devastating setback right at the very outset. Hidden away in that crate, she had been weighing whether to cry out, and by the time she’d made up her mind, it had already been too late.

From the moment the ship left Jiangning’s docks and out onto the Yangtze, the river rocked the vessel the whole way, and Zhou Pei, shut inside that large crate with not a sliver of light, felt a terror beyond anything she had ever known—she who had always lived a life of comfort and privilege. Though she pounded desperately against the walls of the crate, the sound that carried out was negligible at best. The crate beside hers held something heavy, and with the ship’s constant rocking, it had gradually pressed up against her own. Realizing that calling for help was futile, she remembered she still had a dagger on her, and began cutting at the crate’s wall while sobbing, but after a long while of cutting, she’d only managed to open a small slit. In truth, if that small slit hadn’t slightly sped up the flow of air, she might well have suffocated inside the crate before long.

From that point on, the time that followed was nothing short of a nightmare. Darkness, hunger, panic, exhaustion—for Zhou Pei, it was a torment beyond anything she could ever have imagined. The crate, though sizable enough, still left little room for a fifteen-year-old girl to fully stretch out inside. Sweat soaked through her clothes, the knife had cut a gash into her own hand, and at one point she was certain she was going to die—only to be struck, immediately after, by the most humiliating of urges…

She had no idea how long she had spent inside that large crate. Whenever consciousness returned, she would pound against the walls, sometimes kicking with her legs, sometimes clawing and scratching with her fingers. At times she thought, “I’m going to die, I’m going to die”; at other times she felt she might as well just die and be done with it. The air and the sense of time inside the crate had gradually taken on a strange quality. In her dazed, half-conscious state, she thought of herself as something like the demon her tutor had once described, trapped inside a bottle—wondering how she would eventually be found.

At times she thought, if someone were to rescue her from this, she would love him for the rest of her life, devote herself entirely to repaying him, and let him do whatever he wished with her. At the shameful thought, her body curled in on itself, and she felt warmth flowing out from between her legs, and she wept in misery, leaning against the crate wall.

At other times, she remembered the teachings of her upbringing—that she was a county princess, carrying imperial blood in her veins, bearing the dignity of the royal house. Though she couldn’t see herself in the darkness, she could well imagine what a wretched sight she must have become by now, and if someone did find her, her first thought was that they would surely kill her to silence her.

Her mind swung back and forth between offering herself in gratitude and being killed to keep her silent, and in her hazy half-sleep she dreamed all manner of things—dreaming she had married, only to later kill her own husband, sometimes by imperial decree, sometimes by her own hand, and whichever version it was, she wept each time. At times she thought of her tutor—she had always admired his poetry and his talent, though he probably had no idea of it. She had, in truth, tried several times to bring it up, had always wanted him to see how remarkable she was—she was, after all, the young county princess so many people praised, sought after, courted by many suitors. She’d wanted to show him her noble, elegant side, but her tutor never seemed the least bit impressed—when in her own circle, so many people had admired her so much…

They simply weren’t of the same world, after all—Ning Liheng was too strange, he didn’t belong to any circle at all—and then, in her dream, the husband’s face became her tutor’s, and she thought… after he died, how heartbroken she was…

Amid such chaotic fantasies and dreams, time seemed to stretch on for what felt like several days, her consciousness growing ever hazier, difficult to hold onto any coherent thread. When the first ray of light finally appeared before her, and she saw Ning Yi’s face, she still thought it must be a dream—but between reality and dream, that familiar figure brought her some measure of peace, and she finally, exhaustedly, fell asleep…

…

The ship sailed on smoothly now, cutting through the water without much of a rock.

Ning Yi stood at the stern railing of the large ship, watching the scenery. It was a summer evening, the riverbanks sliding past as the ship moved on, with the occasional figure of a passerby crossing through the view. It was now the third day since setting out, and they had entered the Grand Canal’s shipping lane heading north; the weather was clear, the sunset lovely, and several large ships cut through the water together, a scene that left one feeling quite at ease.

Meanwhile, the room Ning Yi had originally occupied was now taken up by Zhou Pei. The young county princess, only fifteen, was, by later terms, going through something of a rebellious phase, and Ning Yi had no wish to get entangled in her strange, tangled state of mind. Though they nominally shared a teacher-student bond, in Ning Yi’s own view, there was no particular closeness between them, and he saw no reason to go out of his way to be especially attentive to a young girl like her.

When he’d first pulled the young princess out of that crate, having been shut inside for a full day and night, she had truly been in a pitiable state—one might even say near death. Being confined alone in such conditions for that long would have broken many grown adults, let alone a young girl. After waking yesterday afternoon, she had simply curled up on the bed in silence ever since, looking far more fragile than her once-spirited self—clearly some psychological shadow had settled over her, one she couldn’t easily shake off for the time being.

As a responsible guardian, the proper course at this point would likely have been to send her back to Jiangning, but Ning Yi chose to stay uninvolved with either side of the matter. He sent a letter back to Kang Xian by carrier pigeon, and simply gave over his own room to the traumatized girl, who was reluctant to be moved elsewhere, so as not to become, in her eyes, some kind of villain.

For now, only a handful of people knew the young county princess was aboard—himself, the steward who’d stood guard outside her door the day before, and Xiao Chan. Xiao Chan, though perfectly capable of caring for someone, was powerless to do anything about the psychological trauma the girl had suffered, and when it came time for meals, it still fell to Ning Yi to bring the hot porridge in himself. Perhaps because she’d been shut in the dark for so long, even at the sight of Ning Yi, the girl, sitting on the bed clutching her blanket, still wore a complicated expression—something like fear or apprehension—but with Xiao Chan, even approaching her drew no positive reaction at all, or she would simply curl up further into the corner of the bed, blanket and all.

After rescuing her from the crate, Ning Yi had first had Xiao Chan bathe Zhou Pei, change her clothes, and bandage her wounds. At the time, she had still been unconscious, and simply let Xiao Chan handle everything. Once she woke, that was no longer really an option. She now sat on the bed wearing a plain garment Xiao Chan had brought along for the journey—even though it was Xiao Chan’s finest outfit, it still looked rather shabby on Zhou Pei. Her fingers were wrapped in bandages over her wounds, her once meticulously kept long hair now hanging loose and disheveled, and sitting there on the bed, she looked especially thin and small, rather pitiable.

Ning Yi sat down at the edge of the bed and spooned porridge into her mouth.

“…The ship’s already past Yangzhou, off the Yangtze now, so it won’t be nearly so rough going forward. It’s getting late in the day, and we’ll probably dock near Huai’an tonight—a lot of people on the ship will go ashore to stay in the city, you might want to think about it. Word of you being aboard hasn’t gotten out yet, but it’s not really such a big deal—if you’re feeling better, you could go out for a walk. The scenery on the ship is quite nice.”

As he spoke, he held the spoon out to her, and Zhou Pei took small bites for a while before shrinking back slightly, hugging her blanket and lowering her head. Ning Yi said, “Word’s already been sent back to your grandfather Kang by carrier pigeon, though. As for what happens next, you should think it over yourself. Going back is probably still your best option—you’re of the imperial family, and it’s fortunate nothing’s happened to you yet. If this blows up any further, there’s no one who’d really be able to shoulder the consequences—Steward Liu traveling with the ship is already scared half to death over you.”

After Ning Yi said this, Zhou Pei stirred slightly, and in a small, aggrieved voice, said, “Teacher… do you think I’m being a bother?”

Had it been anyone else, they might have simply said no, of course not—but Ning Yi nodded instead. “Honestly, it is a bit of a bother. But for now, just focus on recovering… give me your hand.”

After feeding her the porridge, Ning Yi changed the medicine and bandages on her fingers. Zhou Pei’s fingers were slender and fair, and as he held them, they trembled faintly whenever he touched a tender spot, perhaps still sore at the fingertips.

“Xiao Chan will handle this from now on—you’ve met her before. She’s my wife now, so I suppose that makes her something of a teacher’s wife to you too. Given how high your standing is, she feels a bit of pressure around you—try not to frighten her.”

In truth, it was Zhou Pei who was the one carrying psychological trauma at the moment, but she’d been raised with good manners, and after Ning Yi said this, however much she might resist warming to others, she felt obliged to at least show some friendliness toward Xiao Chan. But what she said, quietly, was: “Isn’t Xiao Chan your concubine, though…”

“A concubine is a wife too.” Ning Yi replied.

“I… I haven’t heard anyone put it that way before…”

“That’s just how things are done in my household.” Ning Yi smiled, and seeing that she’d begun to open up and talk, added, “By the way, that Zhuo Yunfeng—what’s your relationship with him?”

“Zhuo… Zhuo Yunfeng?” Zhou Pei seemed to need a good while to place the name. “He… there’s no relationship…” She didn’t understand why Ning Yi was suddenly asking about this.

“He seemed quite eloquent when I met him, and clearly well-read. From how he spoke, it sounded like the two of you know each other fairly well…”

“Teacher, you… you’ve met him?” Zhou Pei lifted her head slightly, then lowered it again, saying softly, “Oh… did he… did he have someone find you on his behalf?”

“He’s right here on the ship.”

“What?” This genuinely startled Zhou Pei. She lowered her head, seemingly lost in thought, until Ning Yi spoke again: “He seems to have quite a bit of affection for you—I’d guess his family’s already put in a proposal with yours, haven’t they…”

Zhou Pei shook her head quickly, then said, “He… he’s Consort Zhaoyang’s son. Aunt Zhaoyang originally married a military commander, but that Commander Zhuo later got himself into some trouble, and the family’s fortunes declined after that. Because of Aunt Zhaoyang’s standing, the punishment handed down wasn’t too severe. Zhuo Yunfeng… he’s genuinely quite clever. When he was young, Aunt Zhaoyang sent him to study under the same tutor as me, so we’re… acquainted, in that sense…”

There was a good deal weighing on her mind about this that she left unsaid. Among the various young people around Zhou Pei, Zhuo Yunfeng was certainly one of the most outstanding, and the two of them did have a certain rapport—though it had never crossed over into anything romantic. Though both families were of imperial lineage, the bloodline had already grown distant over several generations, and when word had spread of Zhou Pei’s search for a husband, the Zhuo family had sent someone to propose a match, which Zhou Pei had, as a matter of course, politely declined. Zhuo Yunfeng, being a proud sort himself, had never brought the matter up again either before or after.

Since Zhou Pei did genuinely admire his talent, the two of them naturally stood somewhat closer than most, and her admiration for Ning Yi’s learning had, at times, inevitably shown itself in her words and manner—Zhuo Yunfeng would surely have noticed, though she had no idea how much of it he might have said to her tutor.

She had often shown a defiant attitude toward Ning Yi in the past, and if he were to find out about this now, it would naturally be deeply embarrassing for her. Though, as far as she was concerned, being carried out of that crate the day before had already been mortifying enough—she’d spent that entire day lying in bed replaying, over and over, exactly how she must have looked being carried out like that. In her imagination, it had become something even more humiliating than being carried out stripped bare, to the point that she’d alternated between wanting to cry and wanting to hide from everyone entirely—but even so, she couldn’t help feeling anxious now. Fortunately, hearing her say this, Ning Yi simply nodded and asked no further questions.

Having chatted with Zhou Pei for a while and seeing her condition improving, Ning Yi felt reassured. As he carried the bowl and spoon out, he ran into Zhuo Yunfeng and a few others coming from the other side of the cabin area. They exchanged greetings, and Zhuo Yunfeng, glancing at the tray in Ning Yi’s hands, said, “Mr. Ning, do you clean up after yourself even after eating?” Ning Yi smiled. “Just happened to be convenient.”

Those accompanying Zhuo Yunfeng were mostly young sons of powerful families around Jiangning, none of whom Ning Yi knew, so he didn’t greet them. Once he’d walked off, Zhuo Yunfeng glanced back thoughtfully toward that room a few times, then walked away while chatting with the others—the topic of their conversation, in fact, was Ning Yi’s identity. Someone said, “Staying back there like that, could he be some kind of accountant?”

“Judging by Yunfeng’s manner, he seems more like someone’s personal advisor—probably accompanying someone up to the capital.”

Zhuo Yunfeng said, “That’s Ning Liheng.”

The others had all heard the name before: “Oh, so he’s our top talent?” Their tone wasn’t especially surprised, and someone added, “The county princess’s tutor, right?”

Among them was someone fairly close to Zhuo Yunfeng, who, once they’d turned a corner further ahead, asked quietly, “Weren’t you supposed to be courting the young county princess, Yunfeng? Why the sudden trip to the capital now…” Zhuo Yunfeng glanced back, only frowning and shaking his head without answering.

As they moved further off, their voices grew indistinct. Among them, besides Zhuo Yunfeng, there were others who knew Zhou Pei as well. But even as they passed by, Zhou Pei lay in the inner room, gently biting her finger, lost in her own small, tangled thoughts, paying little attention to the faint commotion outside.

Not far from there, Su Wenyu, who had come along on the trip, lay pale-faced in bed, having suffered miserably from seasickness these past few days. Out on the outer deck, Ning Yi exchanged a greeting with Wenren Buer as he approached. On another large ship further back, Yun Zhu and Jin’er sat by the window, watching the scenery outside and murmuring to each other. With the ship full of strangers, the two of them, mindful of their status as women, hadn’t gone out much since settling in. The setting sun burned red, casting its light over the rolling waters below, carrying the weight of everyone’s private thoughts, and that night, they arrived at Xuyi, a county town near Huai’an.

Huai’an sat at the junction of the Huai River and the Grand Canal; Xuyi, though not nearly as prosperous as Huai’an, still saw a good number of passengers go ashore that evening in search of entertainment. But deep into the night, several servants came rushing back in a state of panic, reporting that a young lord had gotten into a dispute with someone at a brothel in the county town and had been carried off by force…