Xiao Chan’s hometown, Nanting Village, was a mountain village near Runzhou, not far from Jiangning as such distances would later be measured, but with the mountain roads as difficult as they were now, the journey from Jiangning to the village took roughly four or five double-hours — eight to ten hours, essentially a full day’s travel.

Attending a funeral was supposed to be a solemn affair, but in practice, all sorts of mundane concerns inevitably crept in. Xiao Chan was genuinely saddened by her father’s death, but the truth was she’d been sold into the Su household at age four and had only returned home once every year or two, so her sense of her father was never especially clear to begin with.

Part of her grief was, in a sense, grief for grief’s own sake. As for the practical matters — this trip required bringing along a great deal of supplies, paying visits to various households, observing all the proper etiquette, covering the various customary expenses of a funeral, and so on. And with the young master accompanying her home, showing how much the Su family valued her, there were even more things to consider — this wasn’t simply a matter of returning, kneeling and bowing, and burying the dead.

In a sense, this homecoming also carried something of a “triumphant return” quality to it, though that sat a little oddly alongside a funeral. When an elder passes away and the daughter — who now holds a certain standing working for a great household no one in the village could ever hope to match — comes home, and the son-in-law of that great household comes along too, or the household steward, or Su Tan’er herself, it serves as thanks for the girl’s service, and also as a matter of face. People would say of the deceased that he’d raised such a fine daughter, that his funeral, whatever else, was held with proper splendor — and if the deceased were still alive, this was likely the sort of thing he’d have wanted too. Of course, most of the time there’s no need to be so cynical or lay it out so bluntly.

Such is the way of human affairs — a lifetime of living, and these things are simply human nature.

After breakfast, they left the Su household, with the young man named Dongzhu driving at the front.

Guard Geng, accompanying them, was already past forty, but looked steady and dependable, wielding a nine-ringed broadsword, now one of the head guards of the Su household. He’d grown up following Su Boyong since childhood, raised within the Su household, working under Su Boyong’s service; the Su family had later arranged his marriage as well, to a maidservant of fairly high standing within the household. He now had two sons and was thoroughly loyal to the Su family.

At this point, Guard Geng’s attitude toward Ning Yi was quite respectful, since his younger son was currently studying at Yushan Academy, where Ning Yi was precisely that boy’s teacher. After boarding the carriage, he greeted Ning Yi and sat outside, only coming in to chat for a while after Ning Yi invited him in, then going back out again to leave the space inside for Ning Yi and Xiao Chan.

Though she’d had a sleepless night, Xiao Chan still seemed fairly lively, occasionally lifting the curtain to look outside and chatting with Ning Yi. Ning Yi, for his part, asked her in detail about her family situation — who her relatives were, who the neighbors were, what elders there were and so on.

Xiao Chan was accustomed to handling such matters and had already worked out the social calculations the night before; in her mind, the young master could simply sit back without worrying too much and let her handle it all herself. But Ning Yi was no fool either — after an hour or so of conversation, he’d sketched out a rough picture in his mind of who to thank over the coming days, what to say, what gifts to bring, and so on. He’d come along, after all, not merely to serve as decoration.

As they left Jiangning, the main road showed many people traveling this way, most in ragged clothes with malnourished faces — much like what Ning Yi had seen when he’d come down from the mountain back into the city, though not to any particularly alarming degree. This early wave was still relatively fortunate, mostly people with relatives to turn to; it was said that later waves, driven by flooding or epidemic, would be truly frightening. Xiao Chan understood these things and spoke to Ning Yi quietly about them.

Once they left the main road, the traces of these refugees gradually thinned out, and the road grew bumpy and uneven. At noon they stopped briefly by the roadside, mainly to rest the horses. They took out some pastries and snacks they’d brought along to share — thousand-layer cakes and the like, good quality food that could keep for several days; Xiao Chan had thoughtfully packed plenty, mainly worried Ning Yi wouldn’t be used to rural food.

In the morning, Xiao Chan and Ning Yi had sat facing each other; when they set off again after the stop, the carriage jolted and some gift boxes tumbled down from the corner. After they’d sorted things out and settled back down, they ended up sitting side by side. Xiao Chan sat next to Ning Yi with her head lowered, hands resting together on her knees, rather quiet. In truth she was wondering whether she should move closer, but there were still boxes in the way… Ning Yi, for his part, didn’t mind either way, and lifted the curtain to look outside — green hills, clear waters, a small village in the distance, sparse fields — overall the scene still looked rather desolate.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, Xiao Chan, and there’ll probably be a lot to deal with once we arrive tonight. Why don’t you get some sleep in the carriage — it’s a bit bumpy, though…”

Ning Yi said this, and Xiao Chan nodded with a soft “mm,” closing her eyes and trying to sleep, being tired after all. After some restless thoughts, before long her head tilted over and came to rest gently against Ning Yi’s arm.

The mountain road was rough, and with the jolting getting worse, bumping into each other wasn’t ideal, so Ning Yi shifted his body slightly, supporting her shoulder so she could lie down with her head on his lap instead, patting her shoulder lightly. Where Ning Yi couldn’t see, Xiao Chan’s eyes opened, blinking with a touch of bashfulness, and only after feeling his two pats did she slowly close them again. She lay on her side on the carriage seat, her head pillowed on Ning Yi’s leg; after a while, her legs curled up onto the seat as well. It being high summer, the girl wore thin white clothing, and she slept there quietly like that, her figure soft, slender, and pure.

She slept quietly the whole way, only waking as they neared Nanting Village, blushing as she fixed her hair, mussed from sleep, while Ning Yi rubbed his leg, which had gone numb. Seeing this, Xiao Chan quietly leaned over and knelt beside him to massage it for him.

Before long they reached the village, and the group climbed down from the carriage, followed by all the customary greetings and courtesies.

The funeral for Xiao Chan’s father had actually already reached its third day by now — being summer, the burial couldn’t be delayed. Technically, Xiao Chan was already a girl sold away from her family; had her employer not granted leave, the funeral wouldn’t have waited for her return. Entering the village, they could already see the canopy set up by the main hall ahead, with several of Xiao Chan’s relatives and her older brother and sister-in-law already coming out to greet them.

Ning Yi had heard bits and pieces about her family before — her father and mother, her father now deceased, her brother married to the prettiest girl from the neighboring village, a younger brother who’d starved to death as a child, and herself sold into the Su household, and so on. Xiao Chan’s father’s surname was Xu, but since she’d entered the Su household at age four, she had no formal name of her own and didn’t go by the surname Xu now; her brother could be called Xu the Elder.

Thanks to Xiao Chan’s position in the Su household, the Xu family was now reasonably well-off, fairly prosperous by village standards, and the funeral itself was correspondingly grand. Musicians, chanting, monks and Daoist priests — nothing was lacking, and many people had come, which by rural standards counted as quite dignified. Xiao Chan was the source of this dignity, and the moment she returned, many people came over to exchange pleasantries — aunts, great-aunts, villagers and neighbors of all sorts.

It wasn’t mere snobbery — in this simple, honest countryside, people were genuinely curious about Xiao Chan, who worked for a household in the city said to be “richer than a kingdom.” Xiao Chan greeted them all, introduced Ning Yi, and Ning Yi in turn went over to make polite conversation, thanking them for looking after Xiao Chan’s family, mentioning how much responsibility she carried in the household, how important she was, and so on. On hearing he was the Su family’s son-in-law, everyone was suitably astonished, remarking on how fortunate Xiao Chan had been in her employer, or how the Xu family’s fortunes had turned — comments along those lines, in various forms. After all, for a wealthy family to send their son-in-law along to accompany a servant home for a funeral carried real weight; some even said Xiao Chan had become a bedchamber maid, essentially a concubine to Ning Yi, destined to become a young mistress someday — in short, all part of what counted as good fortune…

Xiao Chan looked young and unassuming, but had in fact seen a great deal of the world, and was quite skilled at managing a room and smoothing over the atmosphere. What she hadn’t expected was how well Ning Yi handled all the greetings and small talk. Even if Ning Yi had come along and said not a single word the whole trip, it would already have brought plenty of face to the family — in this era, rural folk simply assumed such things of the wealthy or well-positioned, taking it for granted. But his manner here was so fitting, his words so gracious, that people were quite flattered, praising over and over what a fine household the girl had ended up serving.

Afterward came the meeting with Xiao Chan’s mother, then the ongoing funeral proceedings, then the evening meal — overall not too many social obligations. That night, Xiao Chan, in mourning garb, knelt with her mother in the memorial hall. Ning Yi wasn’t required to be present the whole time; though there was an opera troupe performing in the hall, it held little interest for him, and Xiao Chan’s brother and sister-in-law had already arranged a room for him to stay in. Still, he came out and spent some time talking with a few village elders and prominent local figures, taking some of the social burden off Xiao Chan.

There wasn’t much entertainment in the countryside — performances in the memorial hall, idle chatter, some people staying up the entire night — but the necessary socializing tapered off after a certain point. Around the hour of the pig (roughly nine o’clock), Ning Yi returned to his room, intending to change his bandages, wash up, and sleep. Not long after he got back, though, Xiao Chan arrived carrying a washbasin and cloth. The noise from the memorial hall carried over faintly, though the courtyard here was quiet. Xiao Chan had changed into pale moon-white nightclothes, her hair still a little damp, carrying a faint fragrance, coming to change Ning Yi’s bandages just as she used to back in Jiangning.

“Is it alright for you to slip out at a time like this?”

“It’s fine. Mother and my brother and sister-in-law are over there — no one’s really expected to keep vigil the whole night… Mother told me to come, actually…” She kept her head down, unwinding Ning Yi’s bandages with practiced ease, her voice gradually growing softer, though her hands never stopped moving.

“The village folk seem quite nice.”

“They were just saying how good you are, young master…”

She spoke lightly, easily, changing Ning Yi’s bandages just as she had back in Jiangning, washing his face and hands and so on. After several trips in and out, once everything was done, she carried the basin out. From the courtyard outside came the sound of Xiao Chan pouring out water, distant laughter drifting over. Ning Yi walked to the window and opened it, feeling the cool night breeze, then sat back down on the edge of the bed — and the door opened again.

Xiao Chan came in with her head lowered, quietly closing the door behind her, glancing once at Ning Yi before slowly walking toward the bed. Beneath her pale moon-white nightclothes, her chest rose and fell faintly; her fingers twisted at the hem of her garment, and she bit her lip hesitantly.

“Young… young master, could Xiao Chan… sleep here tonight?”

Her voice was so faint it was barely audible…