As the old saying goes: on the second day of the second lunar month, the dragon raises its head.

Once this day passed, the cold of winter gradually receded, all things stirred back to life, and the rains grew more frequent—it was now the season when farming households began preparing for spring planting, and both within and beyond the walls of Bianliang, one could clearly sense the warming air of spring returning to the rivers. Tender buds sprouted from the trees, flowers gradually bloomed, farmers and merchants entered the city to buy and sell goods for the spring planting season, and children from farming families followed their parents into town—all of it lent the arrival of spring a warmer, more grounded feeling.

Besides the great matter of spring planting, the biggest event stirring Bianliang in the second month was likely this year’s spring examinations. The capital examination, held to select talented men for the state, was said, by convention, to occur once every three years. But this rule wasn’t always strictly followed—sometimes, if the Emperor felt there was a shortage of capable men, or if the literary world was flourishing, the Martial Dynasty had been known to hold it every two years, or even every year. Especially after the decision to launch the northern campaign, regardless of whether it succeeded or failed, a great many capable talents would be needed going forward, and in recent years, the selection of scholars had grown correspondingly more frequent.

Although the Ministry of Personnel was already rather troubled by the glut of idle officials and redundant posts, as far as the Emperor was concerned, there could never be too many truly capable men.

With the spring examinations drawing near, candidates coming to the capital had, in fact, already begun gathering before the New Year. From the New Year up to now, all manner of literary gatherings had been taking place frequently, with scholars attending in hopes of making a name for themselves, or paying visits to various officials and literary figures to submit their writings, hoping to catch the eye of some influential patron—by now, this had become an established custom.

In truth, although in later ages various important examinations, in order to prevent favoritism and cheating, made it standard practice to conceal candidates’ names from examiners, before the Martial Dynasty, such examinations had not been conducted anonymously at all. Throughout the Tang dynasty, a candidate’s name was fully known to the examining officials, and the examination tested, to a great extent, whether a candidate had built a name for himself outside the examination hall, whether he possessed the skill to cultivate connections. In a sense, this also tested a candidate’s social standing and background—and selecting officials on this basis wasn’t entirely without its reasoning.

Since its founding, the Martial Dynasty had begun concealing candidates’ names in examinations. But the custom of candidates submitting their writings far and wide to various officials had remained largely unchanged, since cultivating the right connections well might mean access to exam questions, or guidance from senior figures—and even after passing the examination, these social connections carried tremendous value. All this activity, much talked about, only further fueled the already lively literary atmosphere throughout Bianliang. For those who genuinely enjoyed such pursuits, it was, indeed, something to take real pleasure in.

Around the start of spring, a number of scholars had also come to Ning Yi’s residence to submit their writings and pay their respects—though it wasn’t clear where they’d found the connections to do so.

Especially over these past few days in the second month, several groups of students had come by—some wanting to seek Ning Yi’s guidance on poetry, others coming specifically to criticize his conduct. One such visitor, a National Academy student named Chen Dong, quite a well-known talent in Bianliang, had come to his door and criticized Ning Yi for immersing himself in commerce, saying that a man of his ability, capable of serving the nation, was instead wasting the teachings of the sages he’d studied. Ning Yi, finding this rather tiresome, had simply shown him the door.

Fortunately, once the man had said his piece, he didn’t linger too long. This Chen Dong was a few years older than Ning Yi, quite hot-blooded by nature, and though not the most academically gifted among the students of the National Academy and Imperial College, he had always been a figure with considerable influence and following.

When Ning Yi mentioned this to Yao Zunian, it turned out the man had apparently written several essays openly denouncing the already-retired Grand Preceptor Cai Jing—a truly bold and fearless man. Of course, his luck in the examinations had been somewhat poor; he’d built himself a name, yet had never obtained an official post, likely due to Cai Jing’s quiet influence behind the scenes.

“Well, the fact that Chen Dong would come here specifically to scold you shows your name’s grown quite prominent in the capital lately. Still, going to such lengths just for the sake of two restaurants—I find myself somewhat exasperated with you over this…” Wenren Buer offered this assessment. “I can understand Chen Dong’s feelings quite well, actually.”

That things had come to this point was, in fact, in part something Ning Yi had deliberately orchestrated. Over these past few days, word had spread through Bianliang’s literary circles that the great talent Ning Liheng’s two new works would soon be unveiled at the city’s Zhu Ji establishments—and most notably, Miss Shishi had even turned down several important engagements specifically to perform these two new pieces, which, once word got out, had stirred up quite a stir.

The ninth of the second month marked the first session of that year’s spring examinations, and the first two months of the year were precisely the prime time for Bianliang’s scholars to cultivate their reputations. Ning Yi had let word of this slip out toward the end of the first month, which immediately brought to mind, for many, the numerous poems he had released the previous year around the Dragon Boat Festival—so while some eagerly awaited the content of these two new works, others were sharpening their own pens, hoping to outshine him with better work of their own on the very day the poems were revealed.

In any case, whatever the underlying motivation, both of Bianliang’s Zhu Ji establishments—named “Evening Glow” and “Swallow in Rain”—had drawn more than enough attention as a result. Within just a few days, both establishments had already become packed to capacity, with even the business of honeycomb briquettes and stoves expanding several times over as a side effect. During this period, naturally, those with better connections had begun probing for information and background on Ning Yi.

Even with both restaurants full to capacity, the number of guests they could accommodate was still limited after all—by later-era standards of scarcity marketing, there was far more potential to be mined here, whether from Li Shishi’s name or the poems already in his possession. When he returned home, for instance, Su Yanping and others had suggested he could stir up some romantic rumors involving Li Shishi, perhaps make more frequent visits to the Fan Tower—but Ning Yi understood well enough the wisdom of quitting while ahead, and turned down these suggestions.

“We’ve built up enough buzz for now—running a business is, after all, a long game, best played slowly. What I want is for each new establishment to come paired with a poem, so people follow the poem, not the other way around. If in the end everyone’s curiosity gets funneled entirely toward Li Shishi, all the business would just flow over to the Fan Tower instead—you lot keep coming up with terrible ideas…”

Business was business, after all.

After Tan’er, Xiao Chan, Yun Zhu, and Jin’er had each left in turn, Ning Yi, left holding down the fort for the whole household, found himself feeling somewhat lonely.

Of course, this feeling wasn’t exactly a source of dejection—more a mild sense of novelty. When the spring rains fell, Ning Yi would often handle household matters at home, bringing the child along, occasionally turning to speak to little Ning Xi, seated beside him in her small cart. “Once Daddy’s done with all this, want to go find your runaway mommy?”

The child in the little wooden cart would shake the toy in her hands and respond with an enthusiastic “Oh! Oh!”, nodding and clapping.

“We’ll spank her when we find her!”

“Ah, ah!”

“See, even you think I’m right.”

He’d chuckle, then pick up his brush and continue writing.

When Tan’er and Xiao Chan had left, Xing’er had gone along with them. The child’s daily care mostly fell to Juan’er, or else the wet nurse they’d hired. Ning Yi had no intention of letting this arrangement drag on too long, but aside from the slight quiet he noticed around him, the Ning household was, in truth, still lively enough.

After talking things over with Ning Yi, Su Wending and the others hadn’t taken the little rift between him and his wife seriously at all—if anything, they still treated it as further proof that Ning Yi simply had no idea how to court a woman. Zhu Biao had taken on the role of training the guards of the Ning residence, while also taking in, with a sense of novel wonder, everything about this great city of Bianliang.

Around the New Year period, the Ning residence had also received a visit from relatives of the Su family, one of whom stayed on—the second son of Prefect Song Mao, a relative of the Su family through marriage, named Song Yongping. Fourth in line among Song Mao’s children, the family called him Xiao Si; he was said to have been remarkably clever since childhood, earning himself a reputation as a child prodigy, and now, at just nineteen, had already passed the county-level examination to become a xiucai. This time, he too had come to the capital to sit for the spring examinations.

Song Yongping had previously accompanied his father to the capital before, and carried himself with considerable poise; he’d come with two household servants, making connections and submitting his writings in an orderly, well-organized manner. He appeared outwardly dignified and somewhat reserved, but in truth was quite a shrewd young man, with real talent to match. Having been born into an official family, his impressions of his Su family relatives by marriage were noticeably reserved—especially when it came to Ning Yi, toward whom his feelings were rather mixed.

A son-in-law who’d married into the Su family, yet also renowned as the foremost talent of Jiangning—the Su family had suffered a devastating massacre the previous year, and he had saved the entire clan, clearly a man of real capability, yet one who steered clear of officialdom entirely… Such things, Song Mao could certainly find out if he wished, but by the time the information reached Song Yongping himself, it was hard to say what shape it would take.

After arriving at the Ning residence, he got along reasonably well with Su Wending and the others, but as a young official’s son who had passed the xiucai exam at eighteen or nineteen, he naturally carried a certain sense of superiority when dealing with these merchant relatives. On one hand, he maintained his manners and courtesy; on the other, he found himself quietly observing this rather complicated figure that was Ning Yi.

As it happened, his visit to the capital this time coincided with Su Tan’er’s leaving home. A man who couldn’t even keep his own wife in check hardly seemed like someone of great ability—and although he got along amiably enough with Su Wending and the other brothers, and the household atmosphere was remarkably relaxed and lively, such easy-going liveliness, to Song Yongping’s mind, only meant a lack of proper authority. Coming from a strict, official household as he did, this was really the only way he could interpret it.

This brother-in-law was probably clever, he thought, and possessed the kind of shrewd cunning common to sharp businessmen—but it was merely the cunning of a merchant, hardly the sort of thing that could hold up in the greater halls of power. No airs about him at all, playing with the baby by himself at home—hardly commanding any real authority. As a relative, though, he was pleasant enough to spend idle time with. But since Song Yongping himself had important matters to attend to these days, he had little inclination to cultivate this relationship deliberately.

In early second month, this young scholar staying at the Ning household held more or less this opinion of his brother-in-law. Though he’d heard Ning Yi even had some connection to Li Shishi, and that this might be of some use to him, out of a scholar’s pride, he wasn’t yet inclined to make use of such a connection. As for Ning Yi’s relationship with the Right Chancellor—well, Song Mao and Qin Siyuan had already had dealings of their own in the past; before this trip, before even coming to the Ning residence, Song Yongping had already gone to pay his respects at the Chancellor’s residence, letter from his father in hand.

For someone as well-versed in official circles and deeply familiar with the workings of influence as Song Yongping, he understood perfectly well that connections between merchants and the upper class weren’t impossible to make—but even if made, such connections remained, at their core, business dealings; the other party might not necessarily take you seriously at all. He had ability of his own, after all, and had no need to go seeking help from anyone. And as far as he saw it, even in the Right Chancellor’s own estimation, his own father’s standing surely outweighed that of this brother-in-law.

Though after meeting the elderly Chancellor, the old man had actually mentioned his brother-in-law’s name twice, that, of course, was likely just a gesture of politeness…

As for his brother-in-law’s own thoughts on the matter, Ning Yi naturally had no interest in probing them. If it came down to something like exam cheating, Song Mao hadn’t even brought it up, and his own business hadn’t reached that point either. As for the closeness of the relationship, since the young man had come to stay, preparing him a sufficiently good environment for exam preparation was simply the proper thing to do. When he’d gone to the Qin residence, he’d mentioned the matter briefly to Yao Zunian and the others; Yao Zunian had given him a few likely exam topics to focus on, and on the fourth day of the month, Qin Siyuan himself had also brought up his brother-in-law with Ning Yi, handing him a few questions in passing: “Take these back for him to look over—I can’t say for certain whether they’ll actually come up on the exam, but have him review them thoroughly all the same…”

Having said this, he went on to chat with Ning Yi about the upcoming spring planting season.

Ning Yi knew Qin Siyuan’s character well enough to know he wouldn’t stoop to something as petty as helping rig an exam over a matter this trivial—it simply wasn’t significant enough to warrant his personal involvement. These likely exam topics were, for the most part, educated guesses drawn from conversations with other officials, but naturally far more reliable than anything circulating outside. That evening, upon returning home, he handed them over to Song Yongping. “Chancellor Qin asked me to pass these along to you—rest up well these next few days, and review these in the meantime. And this set here is from Master Yao Zunian at the Chancellor’s residence, based on his own guesses.”

Song Yongping, of course, already knew the name Yao Zunian—the elderly scholar had been present the day he’d paid his respects, and upon learning he was Song Mao’s son, had even offered him a few words of encouragement.

Thinking back on it, when Qin Siyuan had been removed from office, his own father had been among those who’d gone to visit him during that difficult time.

That evening, Song Yongping sat in the courtyard with a book in hand, and thinking of all this, shook his head with a faint smile.

Sending charcoal in the depths of winter was worth far more than adding flowers to brocade—his own father’s standing had clearly proven quite useful after all. His brother-in-law, in this particular matter, had likely benefited from the connection as well. After all, they were family—it was only natural that they should all share in a bit of good fortune together…

And so, the next morning, he chatted even more warmly and amiably with Su Wending, Su Wenfang, and the others.

After breakfast, Ning Yi exchanged greetings with Song Yongping and the others before heading out to the Fan Tower. The two Zhu Ji performances were scheduled for the sixth and seventh of the month respectively, and today he needed to meet with Miss Shishi, who would be handling the performances, to go over the details. After the Fan Tower, he still had to head to the Qin residence to check the latest updates from the Secret Investigation Bureau regarding the Fang Qifo affair in the south.

Although he’d decided that once the spring examinations were settled and Zhu Ji’s affairs were in order, he’d take the child and go find her mother—likely before Fang Qifo’s arrival in the capital—he still couldn’t help but feel some concern for how Chen Fan and the others were faring. The Ministry of Justice had already made its decision: escorting the prisoner to the capital along one route while using it as bait to draw out and gradually flush out the rebels along the way, aiming to sweep them all up in one net. They’d assigned two chief constables, said to be highly experienced and capable, to oversee the operation. Whatever else happened, he at least hoped Chen Fan wouldn’t get caught up in this affair and lose his life over it.

Of course, in the end, this wasn’t something within his power to influence. Beyond keeping an eye on how things developed, there was nothing more he could do about it…