As the woman stepped out through the courtyard door to pour out the water, the lanterns ahead lit up the splendor of Lantern Festival night before her. This courtyard behind Jinfeng Tower wasn’t large, but it was elegant enough—only a handful of Jinfeng Tower’s top courtesans could hope to live in a courtyard like this. Today, on the Lantern Festival, for such a courtyard to not be ablaze with lantern light was actually rather unusual.
In truth, most of the lanterns in this courtyard had only just been extinguished. It was nearly midnight, and few visitors were likely to come check on the patient now. Nie Yunzhu looked around, then turned back into the room. The courtyard’s mistress, Yuan Jin’er, lay in bed gazing blankly at the oil lamp, then turned and smiled at her. Nie Yunzhu smiled back, set down the washbasin, and sat down again at the bedside.
By rights, Nie Yunzhu shouldn’t have come tonight. Though she came by every few days to give a qin lesson, she’d already left Jinfeng Tower behind, and especially at night, especially on a festival, she wasn’t supposed to come near the place. But tonight had turned out to be an exception. She’d gone out with Hutao to view the lanterns that evening and happened to run into one of Jinfeng Tower’s women who studied qin with her—the woman had come out to fetch medicine for Yuan Jin’er, who’d caught a chill. Hearing this, Nie Yunzhu sent Hutao in to check on her, learned that Jin’er wanted to see her, and, judging the hour wasn’t too late, slipped in through Jinfeng Tower’s back gate.
Yuan Jin’er was currently Jinfeng Tower’s star attraction, and even though she’d simply happened to fall ill, closing her doors to visitors on a day like this proved difficult. People had been coming to check on her all evening; once they confirmed she really was sick, they’d exchange a few words and leave. Even Cao Guan, now hailed as Jiangning’s foremost talent, had come by twice already—he was currently outside drinking and composing poetry with a group of scholars. When Nie Yunzhu arrived, Jin’er’s maid Kou’er had just brought in a poem he’d sent along, one composed about a beautiful woman ill in bed. Jin’er could only smile and accept it, sending Kou’er back out to offer her thanks.
“Speaking of which, this Cao Guan really does have genuine literary talent… How are you feeling, sister?”
Once the sisters had sent Hutao away to have some private conversation, Jin’er handed the poem slip to Nie Yunzhu to look over. Nie Yunzhu read it through once and set it down. Both Jin’er and Nie Yunzhu had met plenty of talented scholars in their time; casual verses like this one, while showing some genuine talent, rarely managed to truly astonish. What she really cared about was Jin’er’s health. Jin’er smiled and shook her head.
“Actually, it’s nothing serious—a dose or two of medicine and I’ll likely be fine. It’s just that with this chill coinciding with my monthly courses, my whole body feels weak and achy, making it even harder to sing. At least Mother’s agreed to turn away some guests for me today—she’s probably run ragged dealing with it on her end.”
“Mother has a good heart, at least.” Nie Yunzhu nodded. With some order and generosity in how things were run, a person could hold onto some conscience—if she’d been somewhere else, she probably wouldn’t have been able to buy her own freedom back then. Then she smiled, moving to other topics. “How are things between you and Cao Guan?”
She knew Jin’er had been growing closer to Cao Guan recently.
“What can I say, just the usual talk of a scholar and a beauty. Sister, didn’t you say it yourself—he’s genuinely talented, after all. To Jin’er, what’s the real difference between Cao Guan and Li Pin? And to Cao Guan, whether it’s Jin’er or Lu Caicai probably makes no real difference either.”
Jin’er, being younger than Nie Yunzhu, was usually full of energy, her playful charm mixed with cheerfulness being the main reason people were drawn to her—but today she seemed unusually listless and dispirited. Nie Yunzhu wiped her face with a cloth. “Don’t say that. If he chose you over Lu Caicai, that only means he favors you more.”
“Jin’er’s said she wants to find someone with real family standing, someone who’d treat Jin’er like a prized pig, hehe. Cao Guan doesn’t have money, so he’s not that interested.”
“If he really did treat you like a prized pig, you’d probably get thrown out the door in no time.” Nie Yunzhu patted her cheek. “Cao Guan’s got real talent—there’s no reason he shouldn’t pass the exams with flying colors someday. And once he does, couldn’t he treat you like that prized pig then?”
“There are plenty of talented scholars in this world—even if people call him the foremost talent of Jiangning, is passing the exams really so easy? And even if he does, without money to grease the right palms, waiting for an actual official posting after passing the exam could take forever and ever…” Jin’er lay there talking, then pursed her lips, thinking. “Sister Yunzhu, what if Jin’er bought her own freedom too, and came to sell preserved eggs alongside you—how about that?”
Nie Yunzhu laughed. “Are you feverish and talking nonsense?” She visited occasionally and chatted with Jin’er now and then, so Jin’er knew she’d taken up some kind of flatbread cart business and had recently been tinkering with something called preserved eggs, though she’d never actually seen what they looked like.
Jin’er thought about it for a moment, then grinned foolishly. “No, really—Hutao’s getting married soon too, and once she does, won’t you feel lonely, sister? Jin’er could come keep you company instead. You always talk about how promising the preserved egg business is, so it must be a sure thing—Jin’er could have something to rely on too.”
“All day thinking about wanting someone to treat you like a prized pig, and now suddenly you want to go into business—you really must be feverish and confused.” Nie Yunzhu just laughed. She understood well enough that none of this was serious, just a passing fancy. “And there’s no such thing as a sure business anyway—I’m still feeling my way through it every day, losing money constantly at first. Besides, it’s not exactly a good look for marriage prospects, might end up an old maid—Jin’er, you’d do better finding some brilliant talent who’ll both treat you like a prized pig and actually cherish you…”
“Being a shopkeeper sounds pretty impressive too, though…” Jin’er mused, and the two of them went on to talk about Cao Guan, Li Pin, and other talented scholars—new ones appeared every year, plenty of them, and the two women knew quite a few. With Jin’er sick and on her period, her tongue was a little sharper than usual, which Nie Yunzhu found rather amusing. At some point the conversation turned to Ning Yi.
“That ‘Prelude to Water Melody’ really was wonderful. Pity a man like that ended up marrying into a merchant family as a live-in son-in-law—and I hear that poem was actually bought, too…”
Nie Yunzhu said quietly, “You’ve never even met this Ning Liheng—how would you know it was bought?”
Jin’er pursed her lips, smiling. “If you’re curious, sister Yunzhu, you could go listen at the door out front. Today being Lantern Festival, those scholars are sure to bring it up again, wondering if the poem was bought.”
The topic of Ning Yi didn’t go much further than that—Jin’er was just tossing out a passing remark, and Nie Yunzhu didn’t offer any opinion of her own. Before long, Jin’er grew tired, and Nie Yunzhu brought over a cup of water for her to drink. “Rest a while. Best if you can get some sleep.”
Jin’er hugged her blanket but wouldn’t sleep, the faint sounds of the lively banquet drifting in from outside. Nie Yunzhu sat by the bed keeping her company, then reached for the qin nearby and set it across her lap, idly plucking out a few notes. After a while, she began to hum softly: “Beyond the pavilion, along the ancient road, fragrant grass stretches to meet the sky…” Her voice was light and soft, simply humming along unhurriedly, yet it lent the whole space an ethereal quality, as though muffling the noise from outside. Jin’er looked over at her; Nie Yunzhu smiled back. “The evening breeze stirs the willows, the flute’s sound fading, the setting sun beyond the mountains.”
“What kind of tune is this, sister Yunzhu?”
The qin’s notes continued softly as Nie Yunzhu smiled without answering, and after a while continued singing: “At the edge of the sky, the corner of the earth, half my dear friends now scattered and gone…”
This was the second song Ning Yi had given her before the New Year—”Farewell.” Nie Yunzhu had been studying it carefully of late; by the time the song ended, the qin’s notes lingered on for a long while before finally falling silent.
Jin’er looked puzzled. “It sounds a bit like ‘Ruan Lang Returns,’ except the first line of the first stanza should be seven characters, and the second stanza’s different too—the level tone shifts to an oblique tone, how can that be done… though sister Yunzhu’s singing really is lovely…” She thought about it, then widened her eyes. “Could it be you’re working on some new style of singing, sister Yunzhu? Only… that seems a bit… er, must just be something you’re playing around with for fun.”
Most of the people Jin’er dealt with were mere singing craftsmen, while Nie Yunzhu had truly mastered the art—qualified to be called a master herself. If anyone had the standing to experiment with new singing styles, it was her—though of course, getting people to actually accept such changes was another matter, and this wasn’t meant for public performance anyway. Still, even to Jin’er’s ears, however pleasant it sounded, the style was clearly unusual. After a moment of surprise, she simply took it as something done for fun, then returned to savoring the mood of the lyrics.
“Simple as it is, the imagery in these lines is really wonderful—pity it’s not a proper ci poem, just short verses. Sister Yunzhu, I really do envy your talent.”
“Not something I wrote… Jin’er, stop fidgeting so much, get some proper rest.”
“Has sister Yunzhu found someone special?”
“Don’t go imagining things. There’s no marrying that one.”
“Oh, must be some young lady from a certain household then… hm, this kind of playful short verse, it’s also rather like…”
This “Farewell” did pay attention to rhyme, but it didn’t follow any established tune pattern, nor was it a formal poem—pleasant as the imagery was, it could only be called something composed in play. Thinking this, Nie Yunzhu didn’t bother explaining further, simply smiling and tucking her back under the blankets. Just then, footsteps sounded outside—it was Kou’er and Hutao. Kou’er’s expression looked anxious, a poem slip in her hand. “Miss, miss, something’s happened, something’s happened—looks like Young Master Cao’s going to lose again this time…”
Before Nie Yunzhu had arrived, Kou’er had been attending Jin’er at her bedside, and mistress and maid had been discussing the evening’s many poems together. In terms of sheer volume, the fine work coming from the Lichuan side was naturally the most abundant. But individually speaking, Cao Guan had been performing exceptionally well tonight, with several praised works to his name, while Li Pin, who’d gone to the Pu Garden banquet, had turned in only middling performances—so as far as Kou’er was concerned, tonight’s various gatherings were likely to cement Cao Guan’s reputation once more. But now, this breathless rush into the room clearly meant something had gone wrong again. Jin’er asked, puzzled, “What happened?”
“Another poem’s come in from the Pu Garden side, and this time everyone’s been completely stunned—the mood out there is so strange…” Though it wasn’t the linked-boats gathering this time, the Puyang family’s Lantern Festival event was still called the Pu Garden Poetry Gathering.
“The Puyang family… what happened now?” Though her stated future goal was to be treated like a prized pig, given how long she’d known him, Jin’er still hoped, in the end, for Cao Guan’s reputation to rise—she took the slip of paper, puzzled.
Beside her, Nie Yunzhu laughed. “Seems Li Pin finally couldn’t hold back after all…” The Puyang family pulling out a dark horse five months ago had already been astonishing enough—this time, it seemed, Li Pin, who’d been unremarkable all evening, had finally let loose and produced a masterwork to silence the room. That wouldn’t be too surprising—Li Pin’s style had always leaned toward the unconventional, and every so often he truly did astonish.
Hearing her mistress say this, Hutao’s expression turned somewhat complicated, as though there were something she wasn’t sure whether to say. Kou’er shook her head fiercely. “No, no, it’s not Li Pin—it’s that Ning Yi, Ning Liheng! He’s written another Lantern Festival poem…”
“What?”
Nie Yunzhu froze for a moment, then hurried to look at the paper slip herself. Beside her, Kou’er had already launched into an animated retelling. “It’s so interesting out there, everyone’s saying it—apparently this Ning Yi wasn’t even planning to attend the gathering tonight, just happened to be spotted while out strolling, and got dragged up there, with a whole crowd of people putting him on the spot…”
Nie Yunzhu, staring at the poem on the slip of paper, had already stopped hearing the background noise by the time she was halfway through.
She and Ning Yi had known each other for some time now—their acquaintance hadn’t come about because of his literary talent, but she had, all along, heard of his gifts. Between the two of them, they never spoke of talent or poetry; they simply carried on as ordinary friends. But to say Nie Yunzhu harbored no expectation, no curiosity in her heart, would hardly be true.
To her, what lay before her now was a side of Ning Yi she had never seen.
“The east wind, at night, blows open a thousand trees of blossoms. And blows down, like scattered stars, a rain…”
Jin’er read it out softly under her breath, all the way to the final signature at the end:
Su residence.
Ning Yi.
Ning Liheng.