A boom sounded, and fireworks lit up the sky near Egret Islet. Amid the crowd gathered below, Xiao Chan tugged at the hem of Ning Yi’s robe as they walked forward, her head tipped back to watch, occasionally stumbling over a loose stone and bumping her head against his back.

The venue for the beauty contest, though called Egret Islet, was actually located near a relay station between the islet and Jiangning proper — backed by hills, facing water, with broad stretches of green lawn. The massive gathering ground had already been enclosed, and the nearby river surface was crowded solid with pleasure boats and painted barges. As the flower carts arrived one after another, crowds had already gathered on the open lawn outside, with all manner of snacks and street performances set up across the grass, the clamor of drums and torchlight stretching on in every direction, lively beyond measure.

Getting into the venue to watch the performances was simple enough — the price of admission was a single flower. Once inside, if you spotted a girl you liked, you could send it up to her; a single flower cost one tael of silver, recorded as a thousand coins. Even in prosperous Jiangning, this was no small sum for an ordinary household. Close to ten thousand people had come out tonight, with roughly three thousand able to get inside; the rest would mostly amuse themselves outside the venue, waiting for the contest to end, or head home to sleep partway through.

Looked at through Ning Yi’s eyes, this was a society with an enormous gap between rich and poor — far greater, in fact, than a thousand years later. Yet despite the grumbling and dissatisfaction some felt, people had already grown accustomed to a great many things; in their minds, such disparity was simply taken as a matter of course. Some families, children in tow, spent the evening relaxing together out on the lively lawns and riverbanks, splurging tens or a hundred coins as something of an indulgence; others, without money to spare, simply came to watch the street performances, listening to the music drifting from the venue, joining in the celebration whenever some girl was crowned Reigning Beauty.

Of the three thousand who made it inside, most weren’t wealthy either — poorer scholars hoping to affect a bit of refined culture, make a few connections; and plenty who gritted their teeth and paid up, unwilling to miss out on such an event. The truly wealthy amounted to no more than a few hundred at the very top, and it was estimated that within less than a day, they alone would account for over ninety percent of the event’s total revenue — sums ranging from tens of taels, to hundreds, to over a thousand, with even the occasional ten-thousand-tael spender, a name that would set tongues wagging for a good while afterward. In Yangzhou and the Eastern Capital, word had it, the spectacle at each beauty contest was even grander still, surpassing even Jiangning’s.

By the time they arrived, the flower carts had already gone in, and the entrance was checking tickets amid a dense, jostling crowd. Ning Yi and Xiao Chan headed off to a slightly less crowded spot on the grass instead, finding a small stall to get a bowl of tofu pudding while watching the spectacle unfold from a distance. Amid the packed crowds, familiar voices called out greetings here and there, and occasionally someone trying to sneak in without a ticket would get thrown out, the two sides trading curses. Getting inside would clearly still take a while yet. Xiao Chan sat by the little table, bought her bowl of tofu pudding, but didn’t eat it right away — instead she took out a few preserved plums and other dried fruits from inside her robe and arranged them decoratively on top. Ning Yi watched, at a loss.

“Can you actually eat it like that?”

“It looks nice.” Xiao Chan said this while scooping up a spoonful of the tofu pudding with a plum on it, savoring it slowly in her mouth for a long while, looking thoroughly absorbed. Ning Yi found himself admiring the sheer amount of time she could stretch a single spoonful out for, and it brought to mind, unbidden, some distant memory of a time when a single stick of cotton candy could apparently be licked at for a whole hour. He couldn’t help smiling at her expression, setting down his own spoon and looking around leisurely as they waited.

To him, leisure was, in most cases, really just a form of patience. Ever since arriving in the Wu Dynasty, that had mostly held true — more a habit cultivated through patience, a years-honed composure that let mountains crumble before him without flinching. But right now, sitting here amid this bustling crowd with Xiao Chan, what he felt might genuinely count as true leisure. After a moment, Xiao Chan pointed toward the crowd. “Oh, Young Master, look — it’s Young Master Wending and Young Master Wenfang!”

Sure enough, among the crowd over there were Su Wending, Su Wenfang, and the rest of the Su clan, along with a few of their friends, who Ning Yi had heard mentioned before — apparently minor talents of some small reputation. As he looked over, they’d already noticed him too, and on spotting Ning Yi and Xiao Chan, looked a touch awkward.

These cousins had never had much to talk about with Ning Yi, exchanging only the occasional pleasantry at the Su household. Whenever they came to wheedle money out of Su Tan’er lately — always with some excuse about business ventures, various stories of ambition — Ning Yi happened to be present each time, listening as Su Tan’er lectured them at length, throwing in bits of business advice and pointers along the way. Even if they probably understood their cousin saw through their excuses perfectly well, running into Ning Yi now still left them feeling a bit awkward.

To Su Wending and Su Wenfang and the rest, Ning Yi was, on one hand, a man who’d married in as a matrilocal son-in-law, but on the other, genuinely talented — word had already spread through the Su household, and no one dared look down on him openly anymore. And even setting that aside, they still had to save face for Su Tan’er. They hesitated a moment now, weighing whether to come over and greet him, but Ning Yi simply nodded and smiled at them, sparing them the trouble of deciding, and they didn’t approach further.

Not long after, they spotted Kang Xian’s honor guard passing by as well, and after a while longer, the crowd at the entrance finally began to ease. Ning Yi and the unhurried Xiao Chan, having finished their tofu pudding, made their way over. There, they ran into Li Pin, accompanied by two other talented scholars; the two groups exchanged introductions, and Xiao Chan gave the newcomers a well-mannered greeting before everyone went in together.

…

The venue on the third was fairly expansive, given that with over a hundred women set to perform, having them all take turns on a single stage would have run well past dawn the next day.

Coming in through the gated entrance, the first things visitors would see were newly refurbished inns and restaurants, most of the structures having stood there already. Food, drink, and tea were all provided inside, along with various spots to rest; the arrangement of nearby rocks, sandbanks, and the round stage each had its own distinct setting, making the whole place feel almost like a theme park.

Five stages had been set up in total: on a pleasure barge and waterside pavilion, in a teahouse dance hall, at a riverside cottage, at a small pavilion against the hillside, and on the great round drum stage at the center. There was a set schedule for roughly when each woman would perform where. The order was generally drawn by lot, though with some deliberate adjustments made — the Four Ranking Beauties, or those women generally acknowledged as especially popular, had their performance times staggered, so as to avoid a situation where all four were performing at once and people didn’t know where to look.

The pleasure barges above and below served, naturally, as resting places for the women; scattered around the grounds were tents of various sizes, likewise belonging to the different pleasure houses — one needed an invitation to go in and meet a performer. The nearby restaurants, meanwhile, were thick with literary atmosphere, the better poems posted up as a show of support for one girl or another. Flowers weren’t simply tossed up onto the stage on the spot either — there were people stationed nearby to formally record each offering.

“For Brother Gu to have taken such a liking to her, Miss Miaomiao is surely bound for the Four Ranking Beauties. That poem Brother Gu wrote for her the other day — Lament in Seclusion — was like the finest delicacy; the flavor lingers for days after reading it. Brother Gu’s talent for verse is truly admirable — come, a toast to Brother Gu.”

Night had fallen, the fireworks had already gone off, and performances on the various stages had already begun; the crowds gathered and dispersed across the grounds, moving toward whichever stage caught their fancy. Up in the nearby Wenmo Tower, Gu Yanzhen was taking a brief rest with a few companions. Chief among them, Gu Yanzhen mainly favored a woman named Luo Miaomiao — newly emerged in the scene but already carrying a considerable reputation, with no shortage of admirers. In this contest, her spot among the top sixteen seemed all but certain, and she was among the leading contenders for the Four Ranking Beauties as well; Gu Yanzhen had written her several poems these past few days to help build her momentum.

Just then, as the group traded a few words of mutual flattery, a beautiful woman came over to greet them. Gu Yanzhen had written her a poem before too; her own performance now finished, she’d come over to offer thanks, sharing a couple of drinks with them. She clearly had some feelings for Gu Yanzhen too, but knowing he was currently pursuing Luo Miaomiao, and sensing little hope for herself after a while, along with other matters to attend to, she soon took her leave.

Up in Wenmo Tower, the madams would occasionally bring girls up to offer their thanks in person, making for a fairly lively scene. After that first wave of pleasantries had passed, his friend Shen Miao came over with a fresh cup of wine. “It’s enviable, really — Yanzhen, wherever you go, the beauties take a liking to you.”

Gu Yanzhen laughed. “What good is being liked by beauties, when the one I fancy hasn’t taken a liking to me?”

Those nearby assumed he meant Luo Miaomiao and asked with interest, but Gu Yanzhen, ever open about it, spoke candidly of how he’d pursued a certain woman some time back, intending to take her as a concubine and bring her along to Leping, only to be slapped across the face for it instead. He told the story so casually that the others expressed admiration all around, praising him for being able to pick things up and set them down so readily. Shen Miao, however, knew his character well enough, and after a moment leaned in with a smile. “That’s not how you really feel about it in your heart, though.”

“What else can I do but say it that way?” Gu Yanzhen said flatly, clinking cups with him and downing the drink in one go.

“Do you know yet who this Miss Nie actually favors?”

“Probably no way to find out.”

“Maybe Miss Nie genuinely has no interest in such things, doesn’t want to marry at all?”

“How could that possibly be?” Gu Yanzhen frowned slightly, lowering his voice and speeding up. “That business with the preserved eggs — there must have been someone behind it, pulling the strings! Infuriating… A pity that when I pressed Dexin about it that day, he shielded the man, gave nothing away. Hmph, I only wanted to know who this person really was — if he truly is a talent of exceptional brilliance, I, Gu Yanzhen, would gladly bow to it…”

“Could no one else tell you anything?”

“As far as anyone knows, this man simply made a wager with a friend as a joke, and went through Dexin to find someone to act as a shill, insisting his own name not be used to help promote it. This person might well be some noted talent himself… Ah, given Yunzhu’s temperament, whoever she favors would naturally be that sort of man too. That day, Yunzhu’s maid Hutao once hinted that I ought to pursue her mistress, letting slip that her mistress seemed to already have someone in mind — but at the time nothing between us had gone very deep yet, and besides, whoever it was, was clearly no match for her mistress. Later, after that whole business, she realized there was probably no hope left for me, and so of course she’s protected her mistress since, given nothing more away about who the man is…” Gu Yanzhen shook his head. “If I had to guess, I’d wager Yunzhu has fallen for some seventy- or eighty-year-old venerable scholar, dazzled by his learning and insight, quite swept off her feet by it… Yunzhu isn’t a materialistic sort of woman — given how indifferent she is to worldly things, it’s not out of the question at all.”

Around Jiangning, there was no shortage of famous men — and if Nie Yunzhu truly had fallen for some renowned old scholar, then even with all his money and his new official post, Gu Yanzhen figured he’d stand no chance whatsoever. That sort of old man tended to have a wide circle of connections; if Yunzhu had genuinely given her heart to one, there’d be nothing a young talent like himself could possibly do about it. As the two of them were discussing this, a commotion drifted over faintly from the other side of the tavern — something was clearly happening.

Looking that way, it seemed like two groups of scholars were mocking and arguing with each other; a woman who’d come up to offer her thanks looked somewhat flustered, trying to mediate without much success. One of the young men in particular looked flushed with embarrassment, apparently having taken quite a mocking.

Then someone from their own group came over laughing, a sheet of paper in hand, explaining the situation. “Ha, that girl’s Tang Jing from Willow Leaf Pavilion — her singing and dancing are done for the night, and she’s earned herself a fair bit of a name. This gentleman here offered a hundred flowers, so she came up to thank him — then he composed a poem, and made quite a fool of himself, ha ha. Everyone, take a look — what do you even call this poem?”

Gu Yanzhen’s companions were mostly renowned talents themselves, their learning far beyond the ordinary; taking the poem in hand, they burst out laughing at once — the poem really was dreadful, barely managing the correct tonal pattern, the effort behind it far too heavy-handed. Any worse and it would have counted as doggerel, yet here the man had produced it and still fancied himself a talent. Gu Yanzhen glanced at it and smiled. “A poem like this… heh, this fellow’s probably from a merchant family.”

Plenty of people wrote poor poetry these days while affecting refinement — it depended on the setting. Merchants might write a bit of doggerel, and in the right company, someone would flatter them for it. But if you lacked any self-awareness and went barging into a gathering of venerable scholars with something like this, you had only yourself to blame for the mockery. The man was now taking quite a beating for it. One of Gu Yanzhen’s companions laughed too. “Yanzhen’s got sharp eyes as always — this fellow runs a cloth shop, his name’s Su Wending. No real learning to speak of. Whoever’s over there probably has an old grudge with him, and this is just an excuse to embarrass him publicly.”

“Heh, poor Wending.” Gu Yanzhen shook his head, watching the spectacle with a smile. “Never mind them, let them be.”

The ones being mocked were, indeed, Su Wenfang and Su Wending and their friends. Su Wenfang currently favored this Tang Jing, and had scraped together money to support her this time, even writing her a poem — a genuine gesture from the heart, but unfortunately his literary talent simply wasn’t up to it. He was now being seized upon and mocked without pause, though one of his companions had somewhat higher learning than him and spoke up immediately: “No one’s truly first in poetry, no one truly last in swordsmanship — do you really think what you’ve written is so much better?”

The other side laughed. “Better than what you’ve managed, obviously.”

The two sides then launched into a poetry duel, but after only two exchanges, Su Wenfang’s side was already floundering; on the other side, a man of genuine poetic skill wrote just one poem in praise of Tang Jing that instantly overshadowed everyone else. Tang Jing, though she had some performing skill, didn’t carry much of a reputation ordinarily, and found herself at a loss for how to handle this sort of rivalry. Someone then came over, laughing, to relay Gu Yanzhen’s group’s assessment to Su Wenfang and the others, gesturing pointedly toward where Gu Yanzhen sat.

Gu Yanzhen had no wish to get involved, but their remarks had inevitably made their way over regardless — an ordinary enough occurrence, and he simply watched the show unfold from where he sat. Su Wenfang and Su Wending were left even more mortified — the other party was essentially courting Tang Jing openly through verse right there on the spot, and though they fancied themselves talents, they had no way to strike back.

The other side laughed. “Brother Jiwen’s poetic talent — as if the likes of you could ever match it. Even at the Zhishui or Lichuan poetry gatherings, everyone there would have to admit it’s excellent. And you didn’t even want to compete in verse just now — daring to embarrass yourselves like this with poetry this poor. Let me teach you how to write, then.”

So saying, he wrote out a poem — perfectly competent, nothing more — and then someone else wrote one too, the enthusiasm building all around. This Chen Jiwen truly did have real poetic talent; Gu Yanzhen had heard his name before. Watching the commotion, he idly wondered whether things might come to blows before long — if a fight broke out here, both sides would likely be dragged out by the guards. He turned his gaze downstairs instead.

A familiar face was approaching the tavern.

It was Li Pin — Li Dexin. The two of them had once been close, but ever since that slap Nie Yunzhu had delivered, Gu Yanzhen had gone to Li Pin again to press for information about the man behind Nie Yunzhu. Though he’d brushed it off lightly at the time, Li Pin had refused to reveal the man’s identity, even saying: “I know your character. Let’s not speak of this further.” In a sense, the two of them had already parted ways over it.

So Gu Yanzhen’s brow furrowed slightly now.

Walking alongside Li Pin was a young man Gu Yanzhen had never seen before, the two of them apparently discussing something. Behind them followed a fair, delicate maid in a flower-print white dress, who seemed to have come along with the unfamiliar man…