Ever since the New Year had passed, the way Ning Yi and Su Tan’er interacted with one another had grown increasingly natural. Of course, this “natural” quality had nothing to do with the conventional model of “husband and wife” as understood in this era — it was simply the natural rhythm of two eccentrics finding their footing with each other.
After that conversation before the New Year, Su Tan’er had, for the first time, found a real sense of balance regarding her own position, and once her heart had settled, many things grew easier as a result. Where she had once worked hard to maintain the outward appearance of a proper “household,” she no longer felt the need to be so deliberate about it; where she had once always searched for something to say at the dinner table, carefully weighing what could be said, what might interest him, what needed to be avoided to keep from upsetting him — much like conducting a business negotiation — none of that deliberate effort was necessary anymore. And yet, ironically, they now had more to talk about than ever, since there was no longer any need to search for topics at all — whatever came to mind felt worth saying, and interesting besides.
Although Ning Yi went out for his run every morning, the two of them still usually ate breakfast together at home before heading their separate ways — Su Tan’er by carriage, Ning Yi on foot, traveling light. Xiao Chan typically faced a choice at this point: follow the young mistress, or follow the young master. Of course, she could also simply stay home, but the other two options were clearly more useful. Following the young master meant there wasn’t much for her to actually do, but she got to listen to his lessons, hear his stories — and every time she listened to him ramble on so engagingly, she’d find herself thinking what a truly learned man her young master was…
Of course, these days Su Tan’er had been fairly busy, as was typical at the start of spring, so Xiao Chan usually chose to follow the young mistress instead. As mentioned before, though she remained simple and sincere in how she treated Ning Yi and Su Tan’er personally, she was actually quite capable when it came to getting things done — her responsibilities extended well beyond simply attending to people thoughtfully. Ning Yi once caught her scolding some servants, brow furrowed in complete seriousness, downright fierce about it, all while pointing out exactly how a few of them had been scheming against each other and dragging their feet: “Don’t think I haven’t noticed!” She laid out how the problem should be fixed, said a few more words, waving a small ruler around as though ready to strike someone with it — then suddenly froze, staring at the ruler in her hand, scratching her head. “Oh no, the young mistress’s ruler—” She spun around. “Well, go on, hurry up!” Having dismissed the group, she immediately spun back around and dashed off in a flurry, with Ning Yi laughing behind her the whole way. She was clearly being groomed as household management material — though of course, this hardly conflicted with her other qualities; both were simply part of who she was.
Ning Yi usually returned home around noon or in the afternoon, sometimes with Xiao Chan in tow, since she’d often come find him before her midday lessons ended; if she didn’t show up, he simply came back alone. Su Tan’er, by contrast, was usually already back by early afternoon — sometimes in her room, sometimes in the sitting room, sometimes seated in the pavilion in the courtyard. Juan’er and Xing’er would sometimes accompany her, sometimes not, since they also had various household matters to attend to among the main branch’s servants.
When lost in thought, Su Tan’er had a habit of biting herself — sometimes her knuckles, sometimes gently nibbling at her fingertips — an expression that usually only surfaced when she thought no one was watching. One evening, as Ning Yi returned home in the fading light of dusk, he found Su Tan’er sitting in the pavilion in a pale yellow dress, reading through a ledger, her white teeth gently nibbling at the tip of her thumb, occasionally turning a page. He walked over and stood there for a moment, about to greet her, when Su Tan’er suddenly turned her head — still biting her fingertip — her wide eyes meeting his for a moment with a look of dazed, unguarded innocence, before she turned back and quietly returned to her ledger.
Seeing that she wasn’t paying him any attention, Ning Yi shrugged, mildly amused, and walked off, thinking to himself what a composed woman she really was. He hadn’t gone far when Su Tan’er suddenly called out from behind him: “Husband! You nearly frightened me to death!” Turning around, he found her looking thoroughly indignant, lightly patting her chest with one hand. After a moment, Ning Yi silently spread his hands in a shrug, and Su Tan’er broke into an exasperated laugh despite herself.
From the moment he returned home, through dinner, the evening’s leisure activities, and finally bedtime, the two of them generally stayed together, talking about this and that. Sometimes Ning Yi felt that Su Tan’er reminded him somewhat of his own former self — though of course, the specific problems they faced, their moods, their confusions, were all quite different. At times he thought that the challenges facing Su Tan’er might actually be even harsher than his own had been. She was, after all, a woman — if the Su family had a more capable, more intelligent man in line to take over, things would be simple enough; and if she herself were less capable, things would be simple too. But caught precisely in that gap between the two, she had no choice but to keep pushing forward, all while repeatedly confronting the additional obstacles that came from simply being a woman.
Sometimes the two of them would happen to “run into” each other by that pillar on the second floor. Roughly every few days, they’d stand there together, taking in the view of the whole Su estate. Su Tan’er would talk about all sorts of things — some of it things she couldn’t say in front of others, things that wouldn’t even make sense to share with Chan’er or Juan’er and the others, either because there was no point, or because it involved her business plans, some clever little scheme she was particularly pleased with, or simply household gossip. One time, a cousin had swindled several hundred taels of silver out of her, claiming he’d seen a fine piece of porcelain whose price was sure to rise. Su Tan’er had handed over the money with a pleasant smile, then turned around and told Ning Yi that the man was keeping a mistress somewhere, biting her finger as she said, “I could threaten him with this later, or else tell his wife and let her deal with him…”
Su Tan’er was clever, and genuinely gifted when it came to business, but she was still only nineteen, and the pressures she faced often had nowhere else to go. Ning Yi was, perhaps, the only person who could offer her any real relief from that pressure. As she saw it, this husband of hers understood part of what she told him, though certainly not all of it; and Ning Yi, for his part, would sometimes say things she didn’t understand either, which she simply took in stride — no matter how strange his choice of words, no matter how incomprehensible the subject matter, she never found it particularly odd coming from him.
There was one rather peculiar thing between them. Perhaps because he’d given her a preserved egg the very first time they’d talked together like this, by their second conversation Su Tan’er seemed to hesitate before finally asking, “Didn’t my husband bring anything to eat today?” Then she added, “Bring some food next time.”
After that, he made a habit of bringing along little snacks for her — a small packet of sugar, peanuts, candied dates, that sort of thing. The Su family certainly wasn’t short on money, so providing such things was never a burden, and sometimes he’d even bring pears, which were already becoming hard to find this late in the season. Once, he’d grabbed a large flatbread on the way, which by late winter, early spring, in the cold weather, had turned as tough and chewy as beef jerky. Su Tan’er hadn’t minded at all, tearing off small pieces with her mouth and eating it slowly, looking thoroughly satisfied once she’d finished. Only afterward did she remark, “My husband did that on purpose, didn’t he.”
By the second month, their conversations had grown even more relaxed. The two of them seemed, in many ways, like a rather unusual pair of friends for this era — one running a business, the other tinkering with strange, unorthodox little inventions. Once, Su Tan’er asked Ning Yi, “Why does my husband never go to the pleasure houses, to accept the invitations of all those talented scholars?”
Ning Yi shrugged. “I only know a couple of poems — not exactly enough to win anyone over…”
Su Tan’er thought about this for a good while before finally grasping his meaning, and burst out laughing. “You could simply throw money at them. Those cousins of mine, every time they swindle a few dozen taels out of Tan’er, they always spend it visiting the most famous ones. If my husband brought a few hundred taels, along with his own literary reputation, seeing the likes of Qilan or Lu Caicai a few times shouldn’t be any trouble at all… oh, that reminds me — after the Lantern Festival, I heard that this Qilan girl has become quite taken with my husband. Apparently she’s spent several nights singing your Green Jade Cup, her zither playing said to be achingly beautiful… who knows, husband, perhaps the two of you could become quite the celebrated pair…”
She rolled her eyes at him playfully. Ning Yi thought about it, then nodded. “Is that so? Then maybe I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow evening… it can’t be easy for her, after all…”
Su Tan’er was eating broad beans that evening, and she shot him a cold glance, chewing away crunchily for a good while before finally letting out a short laugh. “In that case, husband, you’d best take Xiao Chan along with you.”
Ning Yi never lacked for money, mostly because he could always simply ask Xiao Chan for it, and since he never spent much anyway, Su Tan’er never had any complaints on that front. But however obedient Xiao Chan normally was, if Ning Yi actually went off to visit a courtesan, it was obvious enough which side she’d take — even if she said nothing outwardly, she’d surely find some sly way to sabotage the plan. He let out a sigh. “‘Women and petty men are the hardest to deal with’… you’re a honey-tongued schemer of a woman, not the least bit sincere. Give those beans back — you’re not allowed to eat them anymore!”
Su Tan’er snatched up the little bag and stepped back sharply, grinning like a fox. “Tan’er has been in business for years now — never once have I heard of a truly sincere merchant. My husband will simply have to make do.”
The second month passed in this way — utterly unremarkable days, as far as Ning Yi was concerned — filled with students, Nie Yunzhu, Xiao Chan, Su Tan’er, chemistry, the occasional visit with Old Qin and Old Kang, a bit of idle chat, and now and then some news gathered through other channels about Song Xian and the Wulie Army. He thought back on that woman’s martial skill from time to time, though the female assassin herself had vanished without a trace since the Lantern Festival.
In early spring, though the Su family’s business kept everyone busy, Su Tan’er still managed to set aside a full day to go on an outing outside the city walls of Jiangning with Ning Yi and the three maids. That afternoon, on their way back, they stopped at a teahouse, and happened to overhear a group of men dressed as scholars at the next table discussing the preserved eggs — saying that the woman now running that business was a beauty of exceptional talent and artistry, who wished only to support herself with her own two hands, and had developed the method for making these preserved eggs herself; that a certain talented scholar, having admired her character and pursued her for years, had now, with a clever little scheme, managed to open up a market for this novel delicacy in under half a month, and so on.
In truth, though Nie Yunzhu had certainly been busy lately, there was no way the fame of the preserved eggs could have spread this far on its own. What these men were now calling a “clever little scheme” was, of course, the very same arrangement he’d made with Li Pin, asking his friends to help talk up the eggs. Ning Yi found it rather amusing, wondering how on earth Li Pin had gotten tangled up in a story like this — pursuing her for years, no less. Careless of him, if so — he’d really gone and brought trouble down on himself this time. But listening a bit longer, he realized the story wasn’t quite what he’d assumed.
“This Gu Hong, styled Yanzhen, made a name for himself in Jiangning years ago already. His return from the Eastern Capital, they say, was entirely for this woman’s sake — and though he now holds an official post, his devotion to her remains as deep as ever. Truly admirable…”
“And the method he used was quite clever too — within just a few days, he’d already solved the problem entirely… a talented scholar and a beauty, given time, will surely become the stuff of legend.”
“I disagree, myself. A woman putting herself out in public like that, running a business of this sort — hardly seems a fitting match…”
Listening a while longer, he realized these men were discussing none other than a man named Gu Hong, styled Yanzhen. Recalling the oddly loaded question Nie Yunzhu had asked him a few days earlier, certain things began to click into place, and he found himself shaking his head with a rueful smile.
The next morning, before dawn, when he arrived at the small building, Nie Yunzhu was sitting on the steps as usual, waiting for him. Seeing him approach, she gave him her usual smile, no different from any other day. Ning Yi looked at her for a moment, then rubbed his forehead lightly. “Been tired lately?”
“Huh?” Nie Yunzhu blinked, then shook her head, looking a little confused.
Ning Yi sat down beside her, choosing his words carefully. “Why haven’t you… told this Gu Yanzhen clearly, to have him… put a stop to all this?”
The morning wind carried a chill through the darkness, and silence fell over the front of the small building. After a moment, Nie Yunzhu’s voice came from beside him. “Liheng… how could you… Liheng… why are you… asking this…”
“Ah, I just happened to hear about it… this Gu Yanzhen…” Ning Yi spread his hands, unsure quite how to put it.
“I… I have no relationship with that Gu Yanzhen at all… they’re talking nonsense… Liheng… um… I…”
Something seemed off in Nie Yunzhu’s voice. Ning Yi turned to look at her; in the darkness, only a sliver of light spilled out from one side of the building, and within that faint glow, her expression seemed to carry a kind of indignation, as though she were struggling to make some point and couldn’t quite find the words for it. Ning Yi studied her for a long moment, finding it hard to make sense of, and finally said slowly, “All right, I understand…”
Nie Yunzhu glanced at him, brow furrowed, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment — but then she took a deep breath, fixed her gaze on him with sudden seriousness, and spoke, each word deliberate and clear.
“I have no relationship with that Gu Yanzhen at all.”