Firecrackers rang out in succession, lanterns blazing like dragons. By the customs of the Wu Dynasty, the city would begin lighting lanterns on the thirteenth day of the first month and take them down on the seventeenth, five days of lantern-burning in all, with dragon and lion dances continuing through the nights without rest. Naturally, the fifteenth—the Lantern Festival proper—was the liveliest of all. The snow had not yet melted, yet the various lantern fairs and poetry gatherings had already begun their activities, on a scale that even surpassed the Mid-Autumn festivities.

The excitement of this particular night lacked the competitive, fiery atmosphere of the poetry contests held on the Mid-Autumn evening; it carried instead more of the lingering warmth of gatherings that had continued since the New Year. If people on Mid-Autumn night had preferred to admire the scholarly airs of talented literary men, delighting in watching various idols compete for glory, then on this night of the Lantern Festival people cared more about celebrating with their own families and friends—eating rice dumplings, guessing lantern riddles, strolling the night markets—and only afterward sparing a glance for the misty towers where the literary talents gathered.

The reasons behind this were complicated: heavy snow had blocked the roads, reducing the number of traveling merchants and visitors passing through; many students who had gone off to study elsewhere had already returned to their hometowns before the New Year… Various poetry gatherings still took place, but they lacked the clear-cut prominence they held every Mid-Autumn. The Pu Garden Poetry Gathering and the Stillwater Poetry Gathering were not formally held on this night; this evening was instead dominated mainly by performances from the students of Lichuan Academy. Lichuan was, in truth, simply the official academy of Jiangning—had it not been for the influence of the Pan family’s hosting of the Stillwater Poetry Gathering at Mid-Autumn, the students there would likely have been considered the finest in quality.

Of course, even though many of the more formal poetry gatherings were not being held, the literary talents still had no shortage of banquets to attend, where they could exchange their finest works from the New Year period. Some students from Lichuan would also scatter themselves among these banquets, using their own poems to compete for attention among their peers. In short, this evening was, above all, dominated by the joyous atmosphere that had persisted since the New Year.

After nightfall, the city was awash in splendor. When the bell tolled the Hour of the Boar (nine at night), Ning Yi was with Xiao Chan at a snack stall near Vermilion Bird Avenue, eating rice dumplings. Around them hung festival lanterns bearing all manner of riddles, illuminating the entire street as bright as day.

That evening, Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had accompanied Su Boyong to a banquet at the home of an old family friend of the Su household. Once the essential courtesies had been observed, Su Tan’er took her leave, saying that she and her husband would go stroll around Vermilion Bird Avenue—though naturally, that was not the whole reason.

Several of the managers under Su Tan’er were that evening negotiating business nearby at Mingxiu Tower. Su Tan’er, anxious about the outcome, wandered about a little along the way before settling into a small teahouse across from Mingxiu Tower, finding a table and sitting down, listening to the opera being performed inside while she waited for news. Ning Yi listened to the opera with her for a while, and when the young manager named Xi Junyu came to report the preliminary results, he rose to go take a walk around the area.

“Wander Vermilion Bird Avenue, see what good food there is, try a bit of everything.”

“Remember to bring some back for your concubine too.”

Su Tan’er smiled sweetly as she said this to him. Xiao Chan then followed along after him. Looking back as they descended the stairs, Su Tan’er had already settled into an air of calm indifference, speaking with the young manager.

Since around the New Year, Su Tan’er had also taken him around to visit the various shops belonging to the Su family, so Ning Yi had met this Manager Xi a few times before—ambitious and capable, though his sharpness still showed too openly, not yet restrained enough. Still, he was quite outstanding. This reminded Ning Yi of his own younger years, when he too had known many young men like this—friends and rivals alike. Only, in the end, the one who had surprised him most was the ever-indecisive Tang Mingyuan, who had always trailed behind him. Thinking of it now, there was something rather ironic about that.

Not long after, he and Xiao Chan made their way along the row of snack stalls near Vermilion Bird Avenue, sampling their way down the line. Unmelted snow still lingered along both sides of the road; a breeze blew in from the Qinhuai River, but it was not cold. The entire avenue was full of bustling warmth—dragon and lion dances, lantern fairs and acrobatics, the heat rising from the stoves of the various vendors. Xiao Chan couldn’t eat much, so she bought a small lantern instead and carried it in her hand—painted with the image of a cat, though with the character “King” drawn on its forehead, so one might as well consider it a tiger.

“Young Master, Young Master, what’s the answer to that riddle about preserved fruit and coptis root?”

“Could it be ‘sharing joys and hardships alike’?”

“Young Master, Young Master, yellow silk, young wife, grandson, mortar and pestle—what does that mean?”

“Ha, that one’s hard if you don’t know it already. It’s the riddle Cao Cao posed to Yang Xiu—the answer is ‘wondrously fine words.'”

“Young Master, here’s a really hard one. One shape, one body, four limbs, eight heads. One-eight-five-eight, a flying spring flowing upward… what on earth is this…”

“…How would I know.”

“So even the young master doesn’t know…”

“Did you go ask about whether you got the first two right?”

“The young master said it, so it must be right.”

“…Come eat your rice dumplings… once you’ve finished, I’ll tell you it’s the character for ‘well.'”

“Oh, so it’s the character for ‘well.'”

He couldn’t stay annoyed with Xiao Chan for long. She ate a few dumplings and then moved on to the next stall—the spiced beans at this one were among her favorites. She bought half a porcelain cup and ate them slowly, the little lantern swaying back and forth. After a while, she said, seemingly out of nowhere, “Miss is actually really tired, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Just now… just now at the teahouse, when the young master was about to leave—actually, the young master knows a lot of things, right?”

Her small face had turned rather serious. Ning Yi thought about it, then smiled and nodded. “If things don’t go well over there, in the end it’s still your miss who has to make the final call. Me being there doesn’t really help much—sometimes it might even backfire.”

“So the young master really does know…” Xiao Chan nodded, glancing at Ning Yi a few times, hesitating as if wanting to say something, before finally asking, “Why doesn’t the young master help Miss, then?”

“Your miss is quite formidable. There’s no need to worry about her.”

Xiao Chan thought about this, then smiled again. “Miss has been really happy lately.”

“Hm?”

“Because of the young master. Before, Miss rarely talked so much with anyone… well, she did talk sometimes, but not so happily about business matters and things like that. And the young master tells stories, plays chess with her… so Xiao Chan thinks, if the young master were willing to help Miss, Miss would definitely be even happier. The young master knows too, Miss… Miss is a girl just like Xiao Chan, and when a girl goes out to handle business, there’s always gossip. Miss doesn’t say anything about it, but she must carry a lot of worries in her heart…”

Xiao Chan genuinely meant this for Su Tan’er’s sake—she had worked up a great deal of courage to say it, all the while worried she might be overstepping her place as a maid and upsetting Ning Yi, glancing at him anxiously now and then. But the response she got was Ning Yi reaching out and squeezing her whole face into a flattened “mmph” shape.

“How old were you when you entered the Su household, Chan’er?”

“Foh,” Chan’er mumbled after a moment’s hesitation, gesturing with her hands. Once Ning Yi let go of her cheeks and turned to walk on, she trotted to catch up and added, “Chan’er was sold in at four years old.”

“Four… so young…”

“So was Juan’er. Xing’er is a year older than us—she was five at the time. Miss was eight then.” Xiao Chan didn’t shy away from the topic, her smile even turning rather sweet. “Actually, we were really too young back then—the child traffickers didn’t even want us, but it happened that the Su household needed a few young girls, so Xiao Chan was chosen. My family had originally planned to sell my older brother.”

“I’ve never heard you mention your family before.”

“Once Xiao Chan was sold to the Su household, she became part of the Su household—how could I keep bringing them up all the time?” Xiao Chan lowered her head, thinking for a moment. “Actually, Xiao Chan doesn’t remember much from childhood either—just that we were hungry. I heard I had a younger brother once, but he starved to death not long after he was born. Back then the family had wanted to sell my older brother instead, since he could already do some work, but in the end they sold me—for twenty-five years of service, the family got thirty-five taels of silver. Actually, following Miss around, being like a bed-servant girl in waiting, is considered a fortunate thing—however many years it takes, it doesn’t matter. Now Xiao Chan sends ten taels home every year. My brother got married last year, and he even wrote a letter to Xiao Chan saying he married the prettiest girl in the neighboring village—just that his handwriting is ugly… hm, Xiao Chan went back to visit two years ago, and this coming March I’ll be able to go home and see my sister-in-law too…”

Many of these things were simply commonplace in society as it was now, so Xiao Chan didn’t seem particularly sorrowful telling it—by the end she had grown cheerful again, before biting her lip with a flash of guilt. “Young Master…”

Ning Yi smiled. “So Tan’er is like an older sister to you, is that it?”

“Mn.” The young girl nodded quickly, then shook her head. “Xiao Chan is only a maid. I wouldn’t dare think of it that way.”

“But she often talks to you about business matters too, and often talks to those managers as well—if I helped her, why would it be any different with me added in?”

“But, but… the young master is just different…”

“Ha, don’t overthink it. The reason your miss can talk to me about those things is precisely because I don’t understand any of it—I don’t do business myself. If I really could help, then it truly would turn into talking business.” Though Ning Yi always presented himself as simple and unassuming in front of Su Tan’er, Xiao Chan was not foolish—quite the opposite, she was very clever. As for the little scheme in her words, born from her concern for Su Tan’er, Ning Yi didn’t mind at all; it was only natural. The two of them continued walking forward through the crowd, and Ning Yi smiled. “Your miss is far more formidable than you think. If she weren’t this capable, then it wouldn’t matter whether anyone helped her or not—she’d be better off stepping back sooner rather than later. Though I’m glad you think I’m so impressive, you shouldn’t… uh…”

Ning Yi’s voice trailed off. From behind him came Xiao Chan’s voice: “The young master really is impressive.” Under the bright lantern light, Ning Yi’s brow furrowed slightly as he stared, puzzled, at his own left hand—a smear of crimson along the outer edge of his thumb, still sticky and not yet dry. This was… blood.

Where had it come from…

Puzzled, he turned to glance behind him. The street was ablaze with lanterns, crowds coming and going, all manner of clamorous sounds unbroken. At the far end of Vermilion Bird Avenue, a yellow dragon danced and wove forward to the clanging rhythm of gongs and drums. Amid the lively scenery of the Lantern Festival, as usual, several constables mingled within the crowd, seeming to be searching for something.

In the next instant, a burst of blood-light abruptly bloomed into being…