Jiangning, the ninth month.
The weather had already begun turning cool. In the morning, there were plenty of pedestrians along the road by the Qinhuai River, but since the many pleasure houses lining both sides of the water were still quiet at this hour, to anyone familiar with the local rhythm, the scene before them looked rather bleak.
Zhou Junwu sat in a tavern room across the street, meeting with Puyang Yi, who had come to see him, and the two discussed business matters.
In the autumn of the twelfth year of Jinghan, Zhou Junwu had already turned sixteen. As the young lord of the Prince Kang household, he now counted among the most talked-about young men in Jiangning. Part of this attention naturally came from his status, and part from his handsome looks and a bearing quite different from his peers. Beyond these two things came a whole string of eccentricities and oddities that people often gossiped about.
As heir to the Prince Kang household, though his status as a member of the imperial clan barred him from politics, there was still plenty he could involve himself in if he set his mind to it. Especially at a young age, most members of the imperial family with any sense and refinement liked to cultivate a scholarly air — composing poetry, hosting banquets for men of letters to earn a good name, and so on — for this era, that was considered the best path to take.
Of course, the imperial clan had no shortage of ne’er-do-wells too; if this young lord had been domineering and tyrannical, bullying commoners on the streets for sport, no one would have found it particularly strange, since his father, Zhou Yong, had once been rather fond of such things himself. But the contradiction here was that this young lord was handsome and gentle in appearance, cultivated and refined in his dealings with others — and yet, when it came to what he actually liked doing, he was interested only in craftsman’s work, which people found genuinely puzzling.
He had gathered together a great many craftsmen of every sort and spent his days studying all manner of ingenious contraptions. If he heard that some craftsman somewhere possessed some special skill, he would rack his brains to have the man brought to him; he himself liked to do carpentry and handiwork with his own two hands. He had also gathered a group of dissolute young “second generation” sons from prominent Jiangning families around him, forming something called the “Investigation of Things Faction.”
A young lord of such great promise, fond of such unpromising pursuits — and worse still, “a gentleman associates without forming factions.” The scholars found it a pity, and came many times to admonish him. Prince Kang, Zhou Yong himself, was an indifferent sort of prince, but even he liked hearing that his son was making something of himself, and so he had these scholars go and admonish Zhou Junwu personally. After they had made a fuss about it for some time, the gentle, refined young lord finally lost his temper and chased several of the scholars down an entire street with a chair, and the matter died down after that.
Just as Ning Yi had once said — once people decide someone is a good person, they tend to want to “change” him, “correct” him a little; and once that person actually shows a fierce side, no one feels sorry for him anymore — everyone just gets out of the way as best they can.
In truth, whether it was the gossip stirred up, or the scholars’ wish to change Junwu, the reasons behind it were naturally not so simple. Traced back far enough, it was also because, at the age of fifteen or sixteen, the young lord had already, with the strength of the princely household behind him, built up a considerable operation — purchasing all kinds of goods, feeding hundreds of craftsmen and workers under his employ, spending money like water. For all of this to actually run, even with the princely household’s backing, simply eating for free would not have been possible — first and foremost, this was because the young lord himself was no incompetent.
A sixteen-year-old young lord, even with some help or aides behind him — whatever he was doing, to achieve this scale and momentum, once he grew a little older and inherited the princedom, he would certainly become the most pivotal force in all of Jiangning. By comparison, he would surely be far more formidable than some prince who spent his days smashing people’s heads with a golden melon hammer on the streets.
No small number of people had approached him, tried to curry favor — but the young lord himself remained level-headed, extremely cautious in choosing those he worked with. He had no wish, either, to gather too large a body of vested interests around himself and risk crossing the line of “the imperial clan does not meddle in politics” — though the mere existence of the imperial clan was itself, in a sense, an influence on politics, there was, after all, always a limit.
After their meeting, the young man — his hair already bound up, his features still somewhat delicate and youthful — finished discussing business with Puyang Yi. Though in certain respects the marks of youthful immaturity were still there, given his noble status, this young man, who unconsciously imitated the bearing of a certain teacher of his in his every gesture, already carried something of a young lord’s presence about him.
Zhou Junwu stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “While my teacher was still in Jiangning, Brother Puyang, you had some dealings with him, I believe. I’ll be heading to the capital soon myself — is there anything, Brother Puyang, you’d like me to pass along?”
“The young lord is most considerate. The Puyang family has business dealings with Bamboo House and the Su family these days as well — I wouldn’t want to sully the young lord’s ears with talk of money — it’s only that I’ve come across a few paintings and pieces of calligraphy recently, worth a look, and I’d like to ask the young lord to pass them along as a gift to Liheng. It would be a fitting home for them, given that he was once known as the First Talent of Jiangning.”
“Ha ha, Brother Puyang’s kindness — I’ll certainly pass it along.”
The two of them had known each other for some time now, and Puyang Yi understood well enough that the young lord before him held his “teacher,” now gone off to the capital, in the utmost regard — to the point that his speech and manner deliberately imitated the man. Since the Puyang family also had business dealings with Bamboo House, and now with the Su family, it wouldn’t hurt to curry a little favor with Ning Yi through this occasion, and win himself some goodwill with Zhou Junwu in the process. Still, as heir of the Puyang family, his words carried neither excessive humility nor arrogance.
As the two of them stood talking by the window, something happening down below suddenly caught their eye — it was the back door of a pleasure house below, where an overnight guest was just leaving, and the face of one of the men flickered briefly into view.
Zhou Junwu, hands still clasped behind his back, paused for a moment in the midst of his idle chatter, then went on as if nothing had happened. But Puyang Yi was no fool — the moment that figure appeared below, he too had already recognized who it was. Beside him, the young lord’s gaze had suddenly turned sharp, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
Though it was the kind of sharpness that belonged to a sixteen-year-old, appearing on the face of someone with the status of a young lord, it was usually the sort of look that could mean many deaths. But fortunately, after that instant, Zhou Junwu simply carried on chatting, as though nothing at all had happened. Puyang Yi, for his part, pretended not to have seen it either, and picked the conversation back up.
The man who had just appeared at that pleasure house’s back door was none other than the young lord’s brother-in-law — Qu Zonghui, the consort married to Zhou Pei.
Puyang Yi had heard a thing or two about this couple, more or less, but even so, he dared not say anything about it now. After a while, the two of them took their leave of each other and went their separate ways, out of the tavern. Zhou Junwu asked those nearby a few questions, then took a carriage out to an imperial granary outside the city. Deep autumn had arrived, winter was on its way, and a great deal of goods and grain were being stockpiled there. Not long after entering, he found his elder sister, who was there overseeing matters of storage.
Amid the fallen leaves piled deep in autumn colors, Zhou Pei, now a married woman, wore a warm yellow long robe, her bearing composed and dignified. The sixteen-year-old boy still carried some youthful innocence in his face, but his sister, only two years his senior, had shed her own girlish air remarkably quickly over the past year or two — so quickly that even he could not quite understand how it had happened. Seeing Junwu approach, the woman’s face broke into a smile, and she dismissed those around her.
“Junwu, what brings you here today? Is something the matter?”
“Sister.” Junwu called out to her, then said, “Nothing’s the matter.”
“Come here.” Zhou Pei smiled, waving him over. “Let me take you up to see the view.”
The “view” Zhou Pei spoke of was the main building on one side of the granary complex, from which one could look out over the surrounding area. The two of them walked over together, maids and attendants following behind.
“Who knows when the weather will turn cold — the grain boats from south of the Huai River are still on their way. Last year’s famine doubled the number of beggars around Jiangning, all of them left without house or land because of the famine — begging isn’t something one gets used to easily… a good many will starve to death again this year too. But their numbers won’t keep rising — they’ll drop, year by year… Look at you, your clothes are all wrinkled…”
As Zhou Pei spoke, she straightened Junwu’s collar. By now the two of them had reached the top floor of the main building. Junwu looked at his sister, who now stood a touch shorter than himself, and hesitated for a moment.
“Sister. Have you been well lately?”
“I’m a bit tired, but nothing’s wrong with me.” Zhou Pei tilted her head, giving him a teasing look. “Short on money?”
“No. In a few days I’m heading to the capital… does Sister have anything, or anything to say, you’d like me to pass along to Master?”
“I know about that. You’re a member of the royal family — mind your standing while you’re in the capital. Even if you’re short on funds, don’t act like you’re there to lobby on someone’s behalf for them — remember that clearly.” Zhou Pei straightened his collar. “As for Master — I’ll have some things prepared for you to bring along… and I’ll write a letter too, for you to carry.”
Zhou Junwu stood up straight, looking at his sister. “I already know all that. The business is my own, it’s not as if I’m lobbying for anyone else — I remember my place. I’ll also go pay a visit to Grandfather Qin and Master — they’ll give me some advice. And this trip to the capital, I’ll also be meeting some young ladies from prominent families — Father says it’s time for me to marry too.”
Zhou Pei’s hands paused for a moment, then she broke into a mischievous smile. “Oh, speaking of marriage — I thought you’d be shy about it. Of the girls the family already picked out for you, you’ve seen them all — and there’s Yumei too, who grew up with you since childhood. Don’t you fancy any of them, or is it…”
Junwu’s face reddened slightly at that, as he followed his sister toward the window. “It’s not that. They… including Yumei, are all fine by me. Marrying any of them would be fine. It’s just because I’m going to the capital that Father wants me to go meet some people — though really, Grandfather Qin and Master will help me decide too.”
Zhou Pei turned to look at him. “How can marrying just be… fine with anyone?”
Junwu looked out at the bustling activity among the various granaries below, frowning slightly. “It’s all more or less the same. Women… Sister, after you married out, I… I came to know about those things. It’s interesting enough, but…”
Zhou Pei’s expression turned serious. “After I married, what became of the household?”
“Nothing too chaotic.” Junwu tried to keep his gaze as clear as he could as he looked at his sister. “Sister, you had me learn to manage the household staff. After I went to the pleasure houses and had a taste of those things, I also became involved with Sister Luan Hong — but that’s all it is… Once I marry, I’ll take Luan Hong as a concubine.”
“Did Luan Hong seduce you?”
“No. After I tried those things, I found them interesting, and I also felt that I should have a woman by my side — otherwise I’d always end up going to the pleasure houses, and that’s not good.”
Saying all this, Junwu’s expression carried a certain restraint, but deep in his eyes there was also a calm as if there were nothing he could not say to another person. Zhou Pei frowned, at a loss for a moment for what to say.
“Before you marry, have Luan Hong come see me once — I want to have a word with her. But don’t worry, I won’t be too harsh.”
“All right.” Junwu nodded.
After a moment, the woman, seemingly unable to let it go, asked once more, “…Do you really think it doesn’t matter?”
“I’m a man. I have a great many things to do. Besides, once I’m married, I’ll still be able to have concubines — why should I trouble my mind so much over this? Master once said, a person’s mental energy is limited, and things that don’t matter should be set aside.”
“You don’t need to take it quite that far…” Zhou Pei said softly. “Your master and his wives… are very close to one another.”
“Mm.” Junwu nodded. “I envy Master and his wives their bond too…” Having said this, he fell silent a moment, then went on, “Sister, then… is that how it is between you and your husband, too?”
Zhou Pei’s eyes blinked, her gaze dimming, and she sighed. “What have you heard now?”
“I… it’s nothing…”
“Never mind.” Zhou Pei said, “It was my own fault, after all.”
“How could it be your fault, Sister!”
“Of course it’s my fault.” Zhou Pei laughed, a touch of mockery in the smile. “What your brother-in-law has done — isn’t that only human nature? I have only one husband, but a man… can have many women.”
“I…” Junwu raised a hand, then finally brought his fist down on the windowsill in frustration. He didn’t quite know what to say.
As for the truth behind his sister’s and brother-in-law’s affairs, he in fact already knew it — Zhou Pei had told him the truth of it privately after things had come to light. Before the two of them had married, Zhou Pei had once spoken to Qu Zonghui, hinting that they should not consummate the marriage right away, that there should be some feeling between them first before she would accept him. At first, Qu Zonghui had likely taken this for a young woman’s shyness, and had also thought that this little princess was, indeed, somewhat different from others — and so he had agreed.
Once they were married, he had, at first, tried to approach the young princess gently, maintaining what looked to outsiders like a mutually respectful marriage while also trying to build up their feelings for one another. But before long, such closeness gradually cooled. Perhaps Qu Zonghui felt that in a marriage, this kind of dynamic made the man seem too weak; or perhaps he himself had simply grown bored, tired of it. Either way, after this, his attendance at literary gatherings among scholars grew more frequent, and on several occasions he stayed overnight at pleasure houses.
It could not be called a quarrel exactly, nor could it be called an outburst. At the time, Zhou Pei, who was then studying the management of various affairs under Princess Chengguo, was left rather stunned once she learned what was happening — she did not even know whether to protest, or to have her husband kept under watch. Qu Zonghui’s manner, meanwhile, grew colder day by day, in silence. The matter simply slid apart between the two of them, quietly, this way. By the time Zhou Pei had managed to think things through clearly, Qu Zonghui had already spent who knew how many nights lodging at pleasure houses.
Even trying to salvage it now, there was nothing left to salvage.
All she could do was shoulder ever more practical duties and matters, and avoid too much further contact with Qu Zonghui.
As for this matter, Zhou Junwu did not quite know what to say either. In a sense, he understood why his sister had made that request of her husband in the first place, unreasonable as it may have been. And with things having come to this point, he could, of course, go and drag Qu Zonghui back by force, or simply kill him and throw him into the Qinhuai River — but he knew his sister would never allow such a thing to happen.
“Sister, why don’t you come with me to the capital to see Master?” Junwu looked at her, the words coming out of him without his quite knowing why, and then he added, “Master might have a way to help.”
The young noblewoman, only eighteen yet already carrying a certain mature elegance about her, turned her head to look at him, and after a long moment finally smiled faintly and shook her head. “I won’t go. There’s too much to do here…” She reached out again to straighten her brother’s collar. “As I said — don’t disgrace the family’s honor. You’re only there to give them a chance to meet you, not to act as anyone’s go-between.”
“I understand. Sister, take care of yourself too.”
“Of course.”
His sister lifted her chin, the light falling in silhouette, tracing out a smile on the young woman’s face — beautiful, proud, and touched with loneliness, maturity and girlishness mingled together in that complicated way…
…
Bian Liang.
Likewise in early ninth month, Ning Yi was at home, spending simple, quiet days with Tan’er, Yun Zhu, and the others, having by now shifted most of the work at hand to be dealt with from home. When the urgent dispatch arrived, he was playing a game of five-in-a-row with Xiao Chan under the eaves. Across from him, the young woman sat with her feet together, chin propped on both hands, humming a little tune as she watched the board, looking rather pleased with herself, since it seemed she was about to win.
Ning Yi glanced at the contents of the report and froze for a moment. The paper read: the twenty-eighth of the eighth month… Chen Fan and Ji Qian’er, at Qin Kou… had slain Sikong Nan.
He read the report over three times. Across from him, Xiao Chan, knowing better than to interrupt him, cupped her face in her hands and watched him with some concern.
“Excellent!”
Ning Yi slapped the report down on the game board with a loud smack, startling Xiao Chan, who blinked at the pieces bouncing every which way. Ning Yi waved off the servant who had brought the dispatch. “You may go.” Once the servant had left, Xiao Chan stood up, frowning, looking rather aggrieved. “You’re cheating, my husband — I was just about to win… mm…”
She was cut off as Ning Yi, leaping up, caught her face in both hands and kissed her on the mouth, so she couldn’t speak at all — by the end, he had even stolen the words right off her tongue.
“Mmph… you’re cheating, husband…”
Once released, Xiao Chan was still murmuring the complaint under her breath. Ning Yi snatched up the report and swept a hand out grandly. “Don’t sweat the small stuff… tonight, let’s grill something ourselves to celebrate! I’ll go find some meat in the kitchen!”
He turned and walked off. Xiao Chan pursed her lips.
“Hmph… I’m coming too, husband, wait for me…”
The autumn sunlight slanted down from one side of the eaves as Xiao Chan hurried after him — though she had no idea what exactly they were celebrating, as long as there was something to celebrate, everyone would surely be happy.
Much as in the old days back in Jiangning, whenever Ning Yi went out or went to do something, Xiao Chan would tag along at his side — only now, the two of them could hold hands or embrace one another as they went. And within the belly of the girl who had once been merely a young maid, a small new life, too, was quietly taking shape amid these happy days.