Summer remained scorching, and time marched forward in its usual unremarkable way. It was already the fifth lunar month, and the city of Bianliang bustled with its own rhythm, running along the same track it always had. As the capital, all manner of affairs and information from across the realm converged here in clusters — talented scholars from the northern and southern provinces, the finest among them; martial heroes and outlaws from every corner of the martial world; officials coming and going; nobility residing in various places; peddlers and errand-runners crossing the streets. Each had their own path through life, converging here for different purposes, where desire, goodwill, and malice all intertwined.
Amid all this, Ning Yi was not much affected by any extraneous complications. The courtyard house he had bought was not yet furnished, so everyone still lived at Wenhui Tower. He had found a blacksmith to forge a few barely usable pen nibs, and had also gathered some feathers, degreasing and roasting them to make quills. Since the quality of paper at this time was not very good, and the iron nibs weren’t very practical, he could only wrap the quill tips in layers of paper, dip them in ink, and write — a bit faster than before, though still not very smooth, and the resulting characters came out crooked.
The whole plan concerning the Bamboo Registry proceeded step by step. During the day he went out to restaurants and teahouses, and in the evenings visited a brothel. Qin Shaoyu acted as his guide, and often Wenren Bu’er, Yao Zunian, Ji Kun, and Cheng Zhouhai would come along as well. Ning Yi would ask each of them why they thought a particular establishment was popular, then record and summarize their answers.
Yao Zunian and the others hadn’t necessarily come along just to visit brothels or teahouses — their seemingly casual chatting was also a way of quietly sizing up who Ning Yi was. As for Ning Yi conducting such thorough investigations purely to open a shop for his own woman, they might privately have found it a bit much, but they never raised any clear objection. This wasn’t because they were being careful to maintain proper distance in their dealings — it was because Ning Yi had already slipped into the working mindset of his previous life. Though he still had the appearance and body of a young man in his early twenties, the bearing he displayed while organizing such a massive plan in his mind was different from before.
It was the air of someone in a position of authority, a meticulous strategist — none of the nervous self-doubt typical of a young man in his twenties, the kind of caution that persists no matter how much one has studied, simply because one hasn’t yet put it into practice. But the things in Ning Yi’s hands had already been practiced countless times; even though ancient living habits differed, human nature itself hadn’t changed much.
He had already adopted a serious demeanor, and even in moments of calm there was an intimidating quality about him. That air of someone in a position of power might once have been glimpsed in the look that had frightened Xiao Chan when he first arrived in the Wu dynasty, though he had reined it in since. Now, even when he turned serious, of course it wouldn’t frighten Xiao Chan or Yun Zhu, who were close to him — but to Yao Zunian and the others watching, observing this earnestness and methodical manner, they naturally wouldn’t speak carelessly. This was also because they already knew full well what Ning Yi had done before.
A young man who could accomplish what he had in a situation like Hangzhou’s, and who had later handed the people of Mount Liang such a heavy loss — when he truly turned serious, what he might do, or what he might ultimately achieve, was hard to imagine.
Neither Hangzhou nor the later affair with Mount Liang had really been properly prepared for. But this time was different. Immersed in this serious attitude, time passed quickly enough; within a few days he had written a great pile of material. Occasionally he would sit quietly and think — opening the window at dawn to look at the mist drifting through the courtyard, listening to the cicadas, sitting in the yard watching the peeling red paint under the eaves. Over these few days, though he still went out from time to time, the true clamor of the outside world had for now nothing to do with him.
As for the matter of Zhou Pei choosing a husband, he took no part in it. He heard that the poetry gathering held in the timber garden that day had been quite lively, with several talented young men making a big show of themselves — a grand event of the capital’s literary circles, or so every such gathering always styled itself. Ning Yi paid it no mind, only occasionally catching mention of it in others’ conversation.
He went once to Fan Tower, mainly to keep an appointment previously arranged with Li Shishi. When he arrived, Li Shishi was said to be entertaining guests in a side courtyard — likely also men of considerable standing among the literati — so he had a maid pass in a note explaining that he was currently staying at Wenhui Tower, and asked that Li Shishi arrange a time with him and Yu Hezhong whenever she had a moment free. It wasn’t a matter of great importance; he had no particular eagerness to see childhood playmates, but since Li Shishi had brought it up so many times already, it seemed unkind to keep putting it off entirely.
At the time, he had only meant to pass the note in and leave, but Shishi seemed to think rather highly of him — she made time to come out and see him briefly. Dressed in her finest, with a large white flower in her hair, she looked every bit the celestial beauty of legend. She exchanged a few words with Ning Yi, promised that within the next few days she would arrange a time with Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng and send word, and then hurried back inside. The day after his visit to Fan Tower was the second day of the fifth month, and Li Shishi sent a letter saying that on the fourth day of the fifth month — the day before the Dragon Boat Festival — a few friends could meet up; she asked whether Ning Yi was free, and he agreed.
Meanwhile, with help from Madam Qin and others, a small courtyard not far from the Right Chancellor’s residence had been found for Yun Zhu and Jin’er; once Ning Yi left, Yun Zhu could move in there. The surroundings were quiet, and many of the Right Chancellor’s guards and servants lived nearby, so with the chancellery’s protection, the two women could be assured of safety from bullying in the capital.
These were all trivial matters. The only thing that left Ning Yi feeling somewhat troubled and helpless was Jin’er. Lately the two of them hadn’t been entirely without conversation, but what they said carried no real substance. This was something he couldn’t discuss with Yun Zhu either. Jin’er’s attitude toward him was either stubborn confrontation — the day before, the two had happened to meet right at the courtyard gate, one coming in and one going out, and no matter which way Ning Yi moved, she moved the same way. At first it might have been unintentional, both trying to give way, but after a few rounds of this Jin’er seemed to take an interest in blocking his path, and the two of them childishly faced off for a minute or two, until, just as Ning Yi was starting to find himself ridiculous, Jin’er struck a triumphant “I won” pose and strutted past him — or else she would simply turn and walk away the moment she saw him, apparently choosing whichever response suited her mood.
As the Dragon Boat Festival drew near, Bianliang had already taken on a festive air — rice dumplings, dragon boat races, mugwort, calamus… in this era, the fifth day of the fifth month was after all a major festival. It was just a pity that Tan’er couldn’t come up for now; he himself might have to set off eastward in a few days, so there would be no family reunion this time.
On the afternoon of the third day of the fifth month, when Ning Yi returned from outside, he saw Yuan Jin’er sitting by the railing outside the courtyard, looking rather like she was guarding the path. When he approached, she stood up and said, “Your girl disciple came looking for you. She’s been waiting a long while.”
“Zhou Pei?”
“Mm. Xiao Chan went to tidy up your new courtyard. Sister Yun Zhu is entertaining her inside.”
She was, of course, referring to the courtyard Ning Yi had newly purchased. Having delivered the message in a strictly businesslike manner, she gave a small “hmph” and walked past him. Ning Yi thought for a moment — this couldn’t go on forever — and turned back: “Hey, Yuan Jin—er—” Before he’d even finished, Jin’er suddenly clapped both hands over her ears and bolted away.
“…Ha.” Ning Yi laughed helplessly and went back to his room, where he found Yun Zhu sitting with the little princess, chatting over tea. Sunlight filtered in through the lattice window; the two women sitting across from each other both carried the graceful bearing of gentlewomen, pleasing to watch in every gesture. Seeing Ning Yi return, Yun Zhu exchanged a few more words with him, smiling, before taking her leave.
“How has it been staying at Prince Chong’s mansion?”
“It’s been good. Seventh Imperial Uncle has taken very good care of me, and my cousins have been kind too. Lately they’ve been taking me around to see a lot of things.”
After Zhou Pei paid her respects, Ning Yi casually asked how things were going, and she answered in a rather modest, proper manner. As they talked, Ning Yi walked over to the desk and began tidying up the papers there — he’d written a great deal over the past couple of days, some already sorted and some not. Before going out he’d told Xiao Chan not to disturb anything, only to weigh things down with paperweights or books if needed. Now he pulled out a few sheets, tore them up, and tossed them into the wastebasket. Zhou Pei sat holding her teacup, sneaking glances this way — she’d been there a while, and though she hadn’t touched anything on the desk, she’d probably already seen some of it. Ning Yi didn’t mind; it was only that the characters written with the quill pen were a bit ugly, that was all.
“You’ve always been clever, and you learn well too — I heard some great scholar or other has taken quite a shine to you, hasn’t he? Ha, I imagine those cousins of yours in the capital have started admiring you as well…”
“That’s not really true…” Zhou Pei muttered under her breath. Ning Yi, sitting by the desk, didn’t quite catch it: “What?”
“Nothing.” Zhou Pei said with a smile.
“Ha, how was the poetry gathering at the timber garden?”
“Why didn’t Teacher go?”
“Hm?” Ning Yi blinked. “I’ve been a bit busy lately, and besides, I’m not really that interested in poetry gatherings myself.”
“Grandfather Qin said Teacher might be interested…”
“Oh? Did he say that?” Ning Yi thought for a moment. “He did urge me to go take a look, but… in the end there wasn’t really time.”
As he spoke, he turned back to sorting his papers. Zhou Pei gave a small “oh,” and when Ning Yi glanced back at her, he saw the girl sitting with her head down, hands folded in her lap, light falling through the doorway onto her face — her eyes seemed a little wistful, as if lost in thought. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah… n-nothing.” Zhou Pei laughed. “I just… thought Teacher wasn’t very interested in poetry gatherings anyway…”
She said it a bit stiffly, and Ning Yi couldn’t quite tell why, but a young girl’s thoughts were never easy to guess. He changed the subject, asking with a smile, “What I want to ask is, at the timber garden gathering, did you see any promising young men?”
“There were a lot.” Zhou Pei smiled. “They were all decent.”
“I mean ones you liked.”
“Ah, that…” The girl’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she reached up to smooth her hair. “No, no… I didn’t really get to know any of them…”
“You’d better hurry up.” Ning Yi laughed. “The talented young men of the realm are pretty much all gathered here in the capital. However this visit of yours goes, you’ll have to pick someone in the end — no need to rush it, you can meet with a few more of them. With your talent and intelligence, whoever you choose shouldn’t be a problem.”
“But Teacher, what if…” Zhou Pei looked up, gazing over with some hesitation, “what if… there isn’t anyone I like…”
“Not many women in this world get to choose their own husbands.” With his back to her, Ning Yi shook his head. “Little Pei, you’re a smart girl. If you still don’t nod your head this time, what happens next might be hard to say. Prince Chong’s mansion, your Grandfather Qin, and Prince Consort Kang have all already put in a word for you. The reason I brought you up here is because I think this is really your only chance to look in the capital. You’re already fifteen — if you don’t marry, what else is there to do?” He thought for a moment, then smiled again. “If you were a man, you wouldn’t have to worry about all this — though who’s to say the wife your parents arranged for you through a matchmaker wouldn’t turn out to be a shrew. Ha, try to look on the bright side.”
“If only I were a man…” Zhou Pei murmured, head bowed. “Teacher, what do you think… how should I choose? What kind of person should I choose?”
“How would I know.” Ning Yi couldn’t help but laugh. “I only recently found out that I’m actually no good at wooing women myself.”
“Wo-wooing? What’s that…”
“It’s just… things between men and women, you know… As for what kind of person to pick, you’ll have to decide that yourself.” Ning Yi finished tidying his things, moved his chair, and turned to face the little princess. “But since you call me Teacher, let me tell you what I think anyway. Zhou Pei, your standards are very high, but really, most people in this world are more or less the same. Aside from a few notorious ones — spoiled second-generation wastrels ruined by their own families beyond saving — most people fall within a normal range. They’re not too bad-tempered, and they’re willing to cherish their wives, hoping everything at home goes well.”
He picked up a finished draft and smiled. “As for relationships between men and women, generally speaking, whoever has more charm changes the one with less. Little Pei, you’re of imperial blood, beautiful, and both clever and sensible. Whoever you end up with will surely respect and love you. In a marriage, as long as you have some skill, treat him gently, treat him as an equal — generally speaking, men aren’t all ungrateful wretches. He might have married someone else and ended up desperately keeping mistresses and visiting brothels, but marrying you would be different. Look at Prince Consort Kang — aren’t they living happily? Half of that is because the prince consort himself isn’t bad, but the other half is because Princess Chengguo worked at it. So… you don’t need to be too picky. That’s about all I can say — just try to relax. There will be more gatherings ahead; you can take your time looking.”
When Ning Yi finished, Zhou Pei asked, “Will Teacher go look in on the poetry gatherings?”
“Ha, picking out a husband for you — that’s not something I can do.”
“But Teacher…” Zhou Pei thought for a moment. “Could you help test them? Like, their poetry, their knowledge…”
“Don’t use that to pick a husband!” Ning Yi waved his hand, shaking his head firmly. “That kind of thing just needs to be passable. To pick a husband, of course you want to find someone kind, someone good-hearted, someone who’ll treat you well once you’re married. A man good at poetry doesn’t necessarily have a good heart — men like that tend to be arrogant and proud; when they’re frustrated and unrecognized they’re often bitter and resentful, and if things go smoothly for them, they easily develop an insufferably haughty temperament! Marriages formed because both parties are exceptional are usually tragedies… What you should look for is a good man, not an impressive one.”
Ning Yi wasn’t exactly an expert on marriage, but from what he’d seen in his previous life, when both husband and wife were exceptional, or when a marriage was formed precisely because of such excellence, it often didn’t end well. Living together meant someone always had to yield on this or that, and in this era, it was usually the woman who yielded, while the man could do as he pleased. But Zhou Pei was of imperial blood — even if she were willing to yield, there wouldn’t be much room to do so. Marrying some impressive, presentable man would essentially mean setting herself up for an unhappy second half of life.
Having said this much, he felt he’d said enough. Zhou Pei, on the other hand, furrowed her brow, her emotions growing somewhat muddled, and Ning Yi could only let her digest it slowly. The two of them, teacher and student, went on to talk of other trivial matters. Zhou Pei was interested in the things Ning Yi had written, so he handed them over for her to look at, and they also discussed a few matters about managing accounts and household staff at the princely mansion. Normally Zhou Pei would have chatted about this with great enthusiasm, but her mood wasn’t good just then. She picked up the quill pen to examine it, thinking that writing with such a thing was really ugly, yet Ning Yi wrote with such enthusiasm that she found it a little hard to understand.
She stayed for dinner before finally leaving Wenhui Tower, knowing too that Ning Yi would likely leave Bianliang for Shandong before the tenth of the month. This trip of his was to confront the forces of Mount Liang, and might not yield results for months. She herself, after the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, would probably have to settle on a husband — by the time Teacher returned from Shandong, she would likely have already left the capital, married off to become someone else’s wife. Thinking of this coming and going gave her a rather complicated feeling.
She hadn’t come today merely to talk about such trivial matters, but what exactly she wanted to say, she herself couldn’t quite put into words.
Back in Jiangning, she had felt some anxiety over the matter of marriage, but it hadn’t been severe. When she’d hidden in that trunk hoping to travel north by boat, she had actually felt rather excited, as if a new hope were unfolding before her. Along the journey, accompanying her teacher and the others, with the Mount Liang bandits coming to their doom, it had all been thrilling, and she hadn’t felt the slightest bit troubled. But in these past few days since truly entering the capital, something had finally weighed down on her. Even though Seventh Imperial Uncle was quite affectionate toward her, and Qin Siyuan had told her to make the most of her time and enjoy the capital, she had suddenly realized in her heart that this matter could no longer be avoided.
She had come to find Ning Yi today originally wanting to ask him why he hadn’t gone to the poetry gathering. Ning Yi had no idea that after arriving in the capital, although a group of young ladies from Prince Chong’s mansion had been assigned to entertain her, the atmosphere among that large group was hardly harmonious. At first, they had treated her as a country bumpkin, but Zhou Pei’s talent and bearing were both outstanding, and she quickly changed everyone’s view of her — though this change didn’t necessarily win her admirers; instead, it brought quite a bit of jealousy and hostility. Among her male cousins there might have been some who looked at her with admiration, but among the young women, they either looked down on her, gossiped behind her back, or schemed to make her look foolish — all manner of things.
None of this had spread outside; born into the imperial family, she had seen plenty of such scheming even in Jiangning, and naturally knew how to handle it. As long as she remained graceful and ignored others, they would naturally lose the upper hand. It was only when talk turned to poetry that Zhou Pei, with some pride, had mentioned Ning Yi’s ci poems, saying he was her teacher and had also come to Bianliang — and this gave people something to seize on.
Some didn’t believe her teacher could be that impressive; many others, out of simple parochial spite, felt that of course Jiangning’s “First Talent” couldn’t compare to Bianliang’s talents. Furthermore, Ning Yi had once said that his ci poems were “chanted by a Daoist priest” — in Jiangning, everyone was already familiar with this and knew it was a joke, but in Bianliang, people would say things like “I heard those poems were plagiarized.” All manner of things like this were said. The rest simply clamored for this Ning Yi to come to a poetry gathering and produce some poems for them to see.
In her heart, Zhou Pei admired Ning Yi, but she also hoped he could step forward and thoroughly humiliate this crowd. Amid all the mutual sneering, she hadn’t directly agreed to any contest on Ning Yi’s behalf, but she had made a few implications, such as saying “if Teacher were to make a move, you’d see.” She hoped Ning Yi would attend the timber garden gathering, and had asked Qin Siyuan to extend the invitation. But Qin Siyuan naturally couldn’t tell Ning Yi “you absolutely must go” — he had simply thought that since Ning Yi had just arrived in Bianliang, he might want to join in for the fun, and had mentioned it to him, also hoping Juemin could take Ning Yi around to see the sights. Had it not been for the matter with Jin’er, with Ning Yi so absorbed in his work, he might well have gone to the timber garden to see what a Bianliang poetry gathering was really like.
The day before the gathering, someone named Ruan Weitong had sent an invitation — one of the wealthy young men opposed to Zhou Pei’s circle. They largely assumed that anyone calling himself “First Talent” must be hoping to advance through literary skill, and since the timber garden gathering was the premier event of Bianliang, everyone flocked to it. They invited him over, planning to beat him at the gathering and thereby humiliate Zhou Pei — but Ning Yi hadn’t given either side any face at all. In the end, both sides could only trade insults verbally.
As for Zhou Pei’s side, she was, of course, mocked all the more harshly, and could only meet it with pride and silence. It couldn’t be called a defeat, but in the end, few stood on her side.
Ning Yi could have had no idea of these convoluted goings-on. Meanwhile, when the vexation of the poetry gathering and the pressure of marriage truly pressed down on her together, Zhou Pei suddenly recalled something — something she could no longer avoid thinking about. At the gathering, she had indeed been evaluating the various young talents, but she also had to admit that the standard by which she judged them was this teacher of hers, only a few years her senior.
In another life, this might have been something like a young girl in the first bloom of love, infatuated with a handsome homeroom teacher — something she’d remember fondly even as an adult, but which would never come to anything. But Zhou Pei couldn’t follow that kind of trajectory available to girls of another era. This falling for her teacher had actually begun to sprout earlier, but back then she’d been able to avoid thinking about it, able to deny it — now she could no longer do so. Layered together with the grievances of the poetry gathering, this feeling left her… wanting to cry.
She had come bearing this emotion, but upon seeing Ning Yi, she suddenly understood — Teacher had come to the capital carrying the blood feud of over a hundred lives. He had never promised her he would attend any poetry gathering. If she felt wronged over this, it would be like a child who understood nothing at all. And on the other hand, regarding her feelings, of course she could say nothing.
She could never marry her teacher — it was all plain to see. No matter how recklessly she threw herself at it, it could never happen. She was a clever girl; there was no need to even voice such things — it would only bring tangled distress and awkwardness to others.
So in the end, nothing could be said at all.
The carriage pulled away from Wenhui Tower, and lanterns were beginning to light up the evening. She looked back at the inn receding into the distance, the lights along the street casting flickering brightness and shadow across her young face. Bianliang was so much larger, so much more magnificent, so much more spectacular than Jiangning where she had grown up. When she’d come here, she had thought she would see so many different sights. Indeed she had — but suddenly, all of it seemed to have lost its meaning. She didn’t know which way to go, didn’t know what she could do next, where to go, who would accept her, what decisions she could make…
The night wind blew, stirring the hair at her temples. She sat back in the carriage, the space around her empty, containing nothing, that emptiness stretching on and on, carrying her as she rode through the crowds and streets of Bianliang. It was the first time in her life that growing up had brought her…
Overwhelming bewilderment.