Waking in a hazy half-daze, the sky still dark, Xiao Chan lay sleeping beside her, clinging close like an octopus, her body soft and warm. Feeling this closeness, and recalling the sensation from the dream just moments before, her ears grew faintly hot — she’d almost mistaken her for her husband.

Since her marriage, though Xiao Chan had by now formally become a concubine of the household, propriety generally held that a concubine shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the principal wife. But away from home like this, such distinctions hardly mattered — after all, the two of them were as close as sisters, and back when they were younger, sharing a bed had hardly been unusual either.

By comparison, among the original three maidservants, Juan’er had always been the quietest in temperament, sleeping slightly turned to one side, like a girl in need of protection yet somewhat wary of strangers — her hands would never wander carelessly. Xing’er’s temperament was more like an elder sister’s — outwardly sharp-tongued, but remarkably gentle when sleeping close together, lying flat on her back with hands resting on her stomach, sometimes waking in the night to pull the covers up for the sisters beside her.

Only Xiao Chan was the most troublesome one — endearing by nature, but clingy, unconsciously seeking out whoever was nearest once asleep. When they were younger, she’d often cling so tightly it became unbearable — apparently she’d once made Juan’er cry from being held too tightly, waking up the next morning with swollen eyes and complaining bitterly at her, while Xiao Chan apologized over and over, wracked with guilt. That had been a matter between the younger sisters themselves, but she happened to have passed by at the time and witnessed it.

She herself hadn’t minded this particular habit much. Back when she was young, with a few little ones trailing after her, she’d just learned the term “managing one’s subordinates” from her father, and at that tender age had carefully weighed how best to treat those around her — feeling it wasn’t right to grow too close, yet unable to bear the thought of being too distant either. In the end, she never quite hardened her heart enough, and found the clingy yet endearing Xiao Chan easiest to warm to, more like an approachable little sister.

Now that they’d both grown up, even holding each other like this no longer felt as unguarded as it had in childhood — at times it even felt uncomfortable. Xiao Chan was of medium height, but once out of her clothes, her figure looked rather slender. Feeling the sister-like young woman beside her — the soft, warm body, the slender waist, the long legs beneath the silk trousers — she even mischievously slipped her hand inside Xiao Chan’s undergarment, feeling the smooth yet firm curve of her chest. Xiao Chan stirred slightly, smacking her lips and murmuring a soft “mm-mm” sound. Feeling all this, and thinking back to their childhood together, a warm, amused smile rose to the corners of her mouth.

Having grown up together from such a young age, into the women they were now, and then having married the same man, becoming sisters in this way — it was a thought that, upon reflection, brought a certain warmth. She tried to imagine what Ning Yi would do if he were here right now with Xiao Chan, what expression he’d wear when Xiao Chan clung to him like this, how the two of them would fall asleep together. Recalling, too, how she herself looked sleeping with him — mm, she did like resting in his arms…

And so she tried, gently, to wrap her arms around Xiao Chan, mimicking the way Ning Yi held her. As Xiao Chan pressed close, her thoughts drifted a hundred li away, to Bianliang.

On a night like this, how was he doing — sleeping alone in an empty room, or holding Juan’er close like this… Before leaving, she’d hinted to him that he might as well take Juan’er into his bed. She wondered if he’d actually done it.

The night still deep, before sleep settled over her again, Su Tan’er held Xiao Chan close and let out a soft sigh. She admitted to herself — she missed him. Missed the children too… She’d been missing them since the very first day she’d arrived.

…

In the early morning, the spring breeze carried pollen drifting across the sky, and the small county town called Muyuan had already woken for the day.

The little county town wasn’t large, situated along the bank of a small tributary near the canal. Though transportation was reasonably convenient, compared to other cities along the Grand Canal, it remained largely undeveloped — originally just a small town of a few streets and a thousand-odd households, only recently grown somewhat livelier due to the arrival of the Su family, building warehouses and workshops.

Once dawn broke, a simple courtyard on one side of Muyuan County stirred with a bit of morning bustle — this was the temporary lodging where the Su household had settled, and those living here now were, for the most part, women. Besides Su Tan’er, Xiao Chan, and Xing’er, there were several female managers Tan’er had grown accustomed to working with, headed by a middle-aged woman named Feng Qiuhua, along with a scattering of other female household members — cooks, accountants’ wives, and the like. In the early morning hours, they busied themselves with washing up, eating breakfast, and reporting to Su Tan’er about the day’s work ahead.

Once the morning had passed, these women gradually headed out to their various tasks, and as the sun rose, the courtyard would fall into a period of quiet. The compound wasn’t large — a few rooms of mud brick, surrounded by a wall likewise built of earth, with no ornamentation to speak of. Outside the courtyard wall ran one of the town’s main thoroughfares, though foot traffic was sparse; on rainy days the road turned to thick mud, dirty water flowing freely, and on clear days, any carriage passing by would stir up billowing clouds of dust. Only on market days, held once every three days, did the morning traffic pick up noticeably, as people from the surrounding countryside for ten li and more converged on the county town carrying their goods — some passing along the roadside here, others setting up to sell their wares right along the road — before dispersing again by midday.

Beneath the eaves of the courtyard sat an unremarkable earthenware basin, from which two tender sprouts had just begun to unfurl in the soil — seeds Xing’er had planted the very day they’d arrived in Muyuan.

Amid the courtyard’s quiet, people occasionally came and went. As the head of the household, Su Tan’er didn’t often go out herself; if there were errands to run, Xing’er usually handled them, while Xiao Chan sorted through the newly arrived raw silk or fabric samples in the room next door, carefully cataloguing them. The cook would go out to buy a few days’ worth of ingredients, and call on the maids to help prepare lunch in the kitchen. Every day or two, in the morning, someone would come by secretly delivering documents, which Su Tan’er would read in her room; when Xiao Chan came by, she’d often hear news from Bianliang from her mistress’s own mouth.

“…That Sunset Glow Pavilion at Bamboo Records has become quite famous — Li Shishi performed there… sounds like it went off wonderfully, quite the spectacle. My husband’s new lyrics came out, and it must have startled all of Bianliang all over again, I bet…”

Su Tan’er would sometimes smile as she read, and sometimes frown. “…Offending that Young Master Gao is no small matter, though. This trouble will probably need the Chancellor’s residence to step in and help my husband out.”

Xiao Chan sat off to the side, watching Su Tan’er’s expression and pursing her lips slightly. “Why is Miss so happy about the Bamboo Records affair…”

“Though it’s called Bamboo Records, that Miss Nie isn’t involved in managing it anymore. Whatever it’s called, in the end it’ll all belong to our own Ning family — if it does well, why should I mind?” Tan’er shook her head, unconcerned, a complicated yet composed smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Besides, Miss Nie will eventually be brought into the household properly anyway. Her temperament is gentle and quiet — getting along well with her won’t be difficult.”

The room’s doors and windows stood open, spring sunlight and a gentle breeze drifting in, casting a glow over the wisps of hair at Tan’er’s forehead and her calm smile. Though she’d struggled with certain matters before, discovering that her own husband was, if anything, even more troubled by it than she was had gradually let the last traces of resentment in her heart fade away. She’d already let out her anger, already left home — leaving that man of hers to sulk alone back in the capital — and now it was time for her to show a bit of the composure befitting the mistress of the household…

Of course, as a woman, no one truly wants to share their man with another — that’s simply human nature, and in her heart, if she were to claim any real sense of contentment or magnanimity about it, that would be untrue. But calling it jealousy wouldn’t quite be accurate either. If she had to sum up this complicated feeling, it probably came down to a rueful laugh, followed by a sigh, and then a smile as she said, “Well, there’s really nothing to be done about it.”

From a merchant’s perspective, given how things had unfolded, there weren’t many ways left to resolve the matter — fortunately, she didn’t dislike this Miss Nie’s temperament. In truth, over the years she’d witnessed plenty of ways husbands and wives got along with each other; according to her original expectations, even if this husband of hers had turned out to be entirely useless, spending her own money to go get acquainted with a few kindred spirits at the pleasure houses, she would still have been able to handle it with far more composure. It was only the events that had actually unfolded afterward that had proven genuinely unfamiliar territory for her.

From the initial spark of attraction, to gradually falling for him, and then to everything that followed — the deepening bond of heart and body alike. This husband of hers, in both his actions and his thinking, was simply too strange and unconventional, leaving her uncertain how best to respond to it all. But regardless, she’d already had her outburst of anger — now it was time to steer things back onto the proper course.

Which was precisely why, during her time in Muyuan, Xiao Chan had noticed that her mistress’s mood, having just cried and raged not long before, had settled back down remarkably quickly. Occasionally she’d catch her sitting by the window, chin resting in her hands, presumably missing her family back in Bianliang, her expression peaceful and wistful; whenever the subject of things back home came up, she could still laugh and tease a little about it, as though nothing at all had happened between her and Ning Yi.

Even with how well Xiao Chan knew Su Tan’er, she couldn’t quite tell whether her mistress had genuinely stopped being angry, or was simply brewing some other storm beneath the surface. But regardless, it was clear she had no real wish to be apart from her husband — and being certain of that much was enough to set Xiao Chan’s mind at ease.

“…As for the performance at Yanyan Pavilion the other day, hmm, this new lyric seems even better than before — caused quite a stir… After the dream, the tower’s balcony stands locked high above; waking from wine, the curtains hang low. Spring’s old sorrow comes again this year — fallen blossoms, a figure standing alone; in fine drizzle, swallows fly in pairs. I remember when I first met Xiaopin, in her double-layered gauze robe with the heart-shaped pattern; on the pipa strings, she spoke of longing. That moon which shone then, once lit her colored clouds home… mm, that moon which shone then, once lit her colored clouds home…”

Su Tan’er’s grasp of poetry wasn’t especially deep, but even she could tell this lyric had real merit. In her mind, she weighed it against “Meeting a beauty once in a thousand years” — the poem Ning Yi had used to win her over the previous year, which had delighted her to no end — and concluded that “a thousand years” was probably the more impressive line after all. Xiao Chan, looking at the line “fallen blossoms, a figure standing alone; in fine drizzle, swallows fly in pairs,” said, “Is this about Miss leaving home?”

“Of course not — there’s a line further on about ‘remembering when I first met Xiaopin’… Hmph, who’s Xiaopin…”

“But ‘fallen blossoms, a figure standing alone; in fine drizzle, swallows fly in pairs’… ‘on the pipa strings, she spoke of longing, that moon which shone then, once lit her colored clouds home’ — it all sounds so much like it’s about Miss running off. A figure standing alone, swallows flying in pairs — that means Miss ran off and left the master all by himself, and now he’s longing for Miss to come home…” Xiao Chan said earnestly.

Su Tan’er laughed, then quickly composed herself again. “Even if that’s true, he shouldn’t be writing it for someone else…”

“It’s precisely because it’s meant for someone else to perform up in the pavilion that they’d naturally put someone else’s name on it — or maybe it just happened to suit the occasion at the time… Hmm, the master wrote it, and Li Shishi performed it — maybe it was actually written for Miss Li on the spot…” Xiao Chan tilted her head up, tapping a finger against her chin as she reasoned it out. “Hmm, could it be that Miss Li has a childhood nickname, Xiaopin?”

“Shishi is probably a stage name,” Su Tan’er interjected.

“Then Li Shishi’s real name would be Li Pin… Li Pin… this name, uh…”

As though suddenly recalling something, Xiao Chan’s face abruptly turned pale. Su Tan’er froze for a moment, her lips twitching a couple of times, but no words came out. Xiao Chan thought it over for a moment. “It, it could be that some other girl is named Xiaopin — ah, I remember now, back in Jiangning, there was a rather famous girl at Jincui Pavilion named Zhao Xiaopin.”

“Ah…” Su Tan’er tapped her fingers together. “I remember her too — Zhao Xiaopin… did my husband ever meet her back then?”

“Though the master rarely mingled with them, he must have seen her at least once, or else there’d have to be some other Xiaopin — Bianliang, maybe, uh…”

Xiao Chan racked her brain for a good while longer. Su Tan’er finally laughed. “That’s enough of this topic…” The two of them, after all, were sisters who’d married the same man, and discussing this particular aspect of Ning Yi’s affairs left them both with a fairly clear sense of how things stood. But regardless, having suddenly gone down this chaotic chain of associations, their mood had been affected all the same — and even the poem itself, on rereading, seemed to have lost quite a bit of its quality in their eyes.

First met Xiaopin… heart-shaped pattern gauze robe… unbearable…

After the initial wave of exasperation passed, the two of them couldn’t help thinking back on it throughout the rest of the day. Whenever she found herself alone, Xiao Chan would blush at the thought of it, and the moment she caught sight of her mistress, she’d want to laugh — so much so that by lunchtime, sitting at the table with Su Tan’er, Xing’er, Feng Qiuhua, and the others, her little face had turned the color of a ripe persimmon, lips pressed tight to hold back laughter.

Su Tan’er, naturally, understood exactly why, and seeing her like that, felt the urge to laugh herself — but being accustomed to her role as mistress of the household, she still managed a measure of self-control. Xing’er and the others were utterly baffled. Halfway through the meal, Xiao Chan couldn’t hold it in any longer and collapsed forward onto the table laughing, then, after a few muffled snorts, lifted her head trying to look serious again — only to catch everyone’s puzzled expressions and burst out laughing all over again… Xiao Chan, though normally endearing, still maintained something of the bearing befitting a former chamber-maid-turned-concubine when in front of managers like Feng Qiuhua or the servants, which left everyone all the more confused by this display. Su Tan’er herself could barely hold back either, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other swatting at the back of Xiao Chan’s hand a few times before reaching over to pinch her cheek. This whole scene left Xing’er, sitting nearby, thoroughly baffled: “Wha— what’s going on?” In the end, Xiao Chan collapsed against her shoulder laughing for a good while before finally settling down.

Aside from this sudden bout of amusement, there really wasn’t much in the way of entertainment to be had in Muyuan. In the afternoons, once she’d finished handling various matters, Su Tan’er would sometimes go out for a walk near the nearby construction site, or check on the progress of recruiting female workers at the workshop.

This was a remote, out-of-the-way little town, with nothing much to see or do. As for scenic green hills and clear waters, one could find them everywhere at a glance, but it was hard to work up much enthusiasm for sightseeing here. Along the roads near the town, one was liable to encounter dog droppings, cow dung, chicken droppings scattered about anywhere; passersby wore threadbare clothing, houses stood low and shabby, and occasionally one might spot a vacant-eyed or leering local ruffian crouched by the roadside, eyeing the women who’d come from the big city with furtive glances — to Ning Yi’s way of thinking, these were simply the ordinary sights of the old rural society, observations made without judgment rather than condescension. But even though Su Tan’er was a woman of this era, well accustomed to such sights, that didn’t mean she particularly enjoyed looking at them — living here for an extended stretch, life would inevitably grow rather tedious.

There was, however, a small patch of green land by the little river at the edge of town, from which one could look out toward the old dock in the distance, and Su Tan’er would sometimes go there for a walk. This little river saw no boat traffic to speak of at present; the Su family had bought up several plots of land nearby, and from here Su Tan’er could take in a view of half the little town. With few people passing through this particular spot, she could sit here and imagine what the town might become in the future — though more often, her thoughts would drift to Ning Yi, to Jiangning, to Bianliang. She remembered how, back when she’d fled her own arranged marriage, she’d passed a small river much like this one; she thought back on how she’d felt at the time, and then found herself wondering what things might have turned out like between them, had she never fled that marriage to begin with.

As for the future, she didn’t hold any particularly concrete confidence about it. Having split off from the main family, the business would need to be built up gradually — though she was confident she could manage that part well enough. As for Ning Yi’s side of things, she didn’t fully understand what he was actually up to. He’d spent a considerable sum of money, laid out an elaborate scheme of some kind, but for the time being, there was still no visible result or clear prospect to show for it. But regardless, she thought to herself, she supported him.

Only, with the two Bamboo Records shops having just opened, and that Young Master Gao stirring up trouble on top of it, he’d likely need a good while yet to sort everything out. Though she’d stopped being angry, having told him she needed time to think things through, she couldn’t simply turn around and go straight back now. Really… she missed Xi’er so much.

If only he could come a little sooner…

Having lingered here for a while, thinking these thoughts, she noticed off in the distance a line of carriages and horses crossing the bridge, entering the small county town, which seemed to stir up a bit of commotion. Su Tan’er wondered if perhaps some prominent family in the county was welcoming home a relative visiting for the occasion. She didn’t dwell on it much, but found herself rising almost involuntarily and heading back.

Entering the town, walking through the streets, Tan’er tried to keep her mind on the day’s construction progress. Walking beside her were the martial artists Ning Yi had assigned to protect her safety, including two women among them. Passing by the gates of two prominent households within the county, she cast a couple of seemingly casual glances their way, but saw no sign of any carriage having stopped there. She continued on this way, past the rundown county government office, and in the distance ahead, her own construction site and courtyard came into view around the corner.

A certain thought rose faintly in her mind, but she pushed it back down immediately: of course it couldn’t be that — it had only been a short while, there was no reason to think of such things. Better to instruct Xing’er tonight to have the corner of the warehouse built up a bit higher… higher would probably be better, and then… She heard the faint sound of voices ahead; someone down the road was looking in the direction of the courtyard, and something seemed to seize hold of her heart, but surely it couldn’t be… perhaps another shipment of goods had arrived early — was that one due already? She quickly calculated it in her head, picking up her pace.

The sunlight had already begun slanting toward evening. Su Tan’er crossed the street corner with steady steps and a calm expression, and then, faintly, what seemed to be a child’s voice reached her. She turned her gaze that way — six or seven carriages stood parked along the street, with many people unloading things and carrying them into the courtyard… Sure enough, a shipment had arrived. She took a couple more steps forward, her right hand unconsciously grasping the fabric of her own left sleeve.

Taking a few more steps, a figure came into view through a gap in the crowd not far ahead. It was a familiar figure, sitting on a large bluestone slab by the gate, holding someone in his arms… A man’s figure, and a child’s, briefly obscured again by the crowd — but in that instant, Su Tan’er saw him lift his head and look her way.

She quickened her pace, and then the sound of the baby’s babbling reached her ears. Ning Yi and the child’s figures came into view ahead; Ning Xi, in his father’s arms, waved his little hands, blowing bubbles with his mouth. Ning Yi pinched his cheek. “There, that’s your runaway mother.”

Su Tan’er rushed forward, scooping the baby up right in front of Ning Yi, kissing him twice, pressing her cheek against his, not minding at all when Ning Xi smeared drool all over her face.

After a moment of nuzzling the baby like this: “How did you get here so fast?” Head still bowed, only after saying this did she finally look up at the husband before her, her eyes carrying a faint warmth, a smile surely on her face.

“When a man’s wife runs off, he’s generally going to hurry a bit… Why are you looking at me like that? What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking, if only I hadn’t run away from our wedding back then.”

“Eh…” Caught off guard by this sudden yet perfectly natural remark, Ning Yi froze for a moment, then reached out and gathered both mother and child into his arms.

Su Tan’er felt her forehead pressed against his chest, her face growing warm. “Stop it, people are watching…”

Sure enough, over at the street corner, a few people had indeed gathered to watch — some neighboring households come to see the commotion, some passersby, now pointing and whispering at this shameless young couple from the big city. But Ning Yi didn’t mind in the least. “Let them watch.” He waved a hand toward them as he spoke. “What are you all looking at? Go home and hug your own wives.”

Wealthy men from the big cities were generally quite domineering, but this remark of Ning Yi’s got everyone laughing regardless — some village wives pulled their husbands away with a chuckle, while others still lingered to watch. Ning Yi paid them no more mind either way.