Toward evening, the setting sun dyed the sky red, steeping half the city of Jiangning in a warm crimson glow. Returning from outside, Su Tan’er ran into Xiao Chan and learned that Ning Yi had caught a chill. After asking Xiao Chan what the doctor had said, she led her three maids toward the courtyard of her grandfather, Elder Su Yu.
She had something to consult her grandfather about that day; now that she knew Ning Yi’s condition wasn’t serious, there was no need to rush over to see him. Once inside the courtyard, she found her third uncle, Su Yunfang, and his wife already there, along with their second daughter—known to everyone at present as Xiao Qi, “Little Seven”—who was currently telling a story in front of their grandfather. Several maids attended everyone nearby.
“…and then, that Zhou Yu, he gave Huang Gai a good beating…”
Su Tan’er pulled up a stool and sat down, joining her grandfather, third uncle, and aunt in listening to the girl’s story—something about the Three Kingdoms, quite entertaining. Before long the girl finished her story and stood up. “Second Sister.”
“Little Qi already knows how to tell stories—well done. Did you go with father to a restaurant to listen to a storyteller?”
“No, it was our teacher, telling us at school.”
“Oh?” Su Tan’er hesitated a moment. “Which teacher?”
“Brother Yi! Brother Yi knows so many things.”
Though the term “live-in son-in-law” carried unpleasant connotations, low status, and a sense of living under someone else’s roof, within the wife’s family such a man was generally addressed as a brother rather than anything more formal, which was why Xiao Qi simply called Ning Yi “brother” rather than “brother-in-law.” Hearing this, Su Tan’er smiled faintly, her mind already turning over the significance of it all. Beside her, Third Uncle Su Yunfang spoke up. “He’s been teaching the Analects lately, hasn’t he?”
Xiao Qi nodded. “Mm, the Analects—we’re on the chapter about benevolence…” Her expression grew a little tense, since being asked about her studies usually meant she’d be asked to recite something next.
But this time her father didn’t ask her to recite. Instead, Su Yunfang addressed Su Tan’er. “In his Analects class he’s been telling stories about the Three Kingdoms. Children naturally enjoy stories, but a teacher ought to earn his students’ respect through genuine learning. Drawing broadly on outside references is fine in principle, but it should be kept within limits. Tan’er, you ought to have a word with Liheng about this.”
This was a fairly stern reprimand, and Su Tan’er could only nod in agreement for the moment. But the old patriarch beside them merely smiled. “No need to make such a fuss over it. In just a few days he’s managed to win the children’s affection—which means he can just as easily win their affection for their studies. Once these children are put in his charge, that becomes his business to manage. You don’t know the full picture, Third Son—how can you be sure the Analects and the Three Kingdoms have nothing to do with each other, or that Liheng doesn’t have some deeper purpose in this? ‘One who does not hold the office does not concern himself with its affairs’—I taught you boys that principle long ago. There’s no need to keep meddling in this matter.”
In truth, Su Tan’er herself had also felt that bringing up the Three Kingdoms during an Analects lesson seemed a bit unreliable, but Old Master Su seemed pleased by it regardless. He didn’t much care about Ning Yi’s actual scholarship—in fact, he already had a fairly clear sense that the man’s learning wasn’t especially deep—he was looking at the matter from an entirely different angle.
The Su family’s situation at present was complicated. The three branches of the family—headed respectively by the eldest, Su Boyong, the second, Su Zhongkan, and the third, Su Yunfang—each controlled their own line of business, but in terms of both skill and ability, Su Boyong still held a slight edge over the others. For now, with the old patriarch Su Yu still alive, the picture still looked like one of brotherly harmony. But looking further down the line, the entire third generation was made up of mediocrities—except for Su Boyong’s only daughter, Su Tan’er, who stood out head and shoulders above the rest. After years of consideration, Su Yu had decided to place the family’s fortunes in Su Tan’er’s hands—which was, of course, also bound to be a considerable source of trouble.
A hen crowing at dawn, as the old saying went, met with resistance many times greater than an ordinary succession. If there had been even one halfway capable male heir among the Su family’s younger generation, that would have been one thing—but there simply wasn’t. Su Tan’er, for her part, handled matters with a calm, measured hand, and her methods were genuinely outstanding, carrying something of a commanding presence; she had both the ability and the ambition for the role. The old patriarch had now formally handed over a portion of the businesses under Su Boyong’s management to her, as a kind of official trial—not to test her competence exactly, but to have her use her father’s resources directly to suppress and integrate the other two branches, and see just how far she could get.
Setting aside for now the pressure Su Tan’er faced, the original purpose of taking in Ning Yi as a live-in son-in-law had simply been to allow Su Tan’er to remain within the Su family. The old patriarch placed great weight on the family’s old ties with the Ning family’s ancestors, which was why he treated Ning Yi with some consideration as well. For now, the tensions within the Su family hadn’t yet come to a head; as for Su Tan’er wanting to override and integrate the others, well, so long as no one gave ground, and with the old patriarch still alive, no one would dare force the issue.
But should tensions ever truly come to a head in the future—should the old patriarch himself no longer be around—and should these people wish to move against Su Tan’er, then her live-in husband, the widely looked-down-upon Ning Yi, would naturally make the easiest point of attack: pin something on him, find some pretext, stir up trouble—simple enough. It was precisely because he saw this that Old Master Su had sent Ning Yi off to teach. Yushan Academy was full of Su family juniors; if Ning Yi taught well and earned the respect of these younger relatives, his standing would rise above the fray in any future conflict—at the very least carrying the aura of a respected teacher, which would make anyone think twice before moving against him.
For this reason, the fact that Ning Yi could win the children’s affection was, in the old patriarch’s eyes, exactly what was wanted. He asked further about how Ning Yi’s teaching was going. The little girl, delighted, turned to Su Tan’er. “Second Sister, do you know what our teacher will talk about tomorrow?”
Su Tan’er smiled. “There probably won’t be class tomorrow. He’s caught a chill and started resting at home today—he probably won’t be able to teach tomorrow.”
“Oh?” The old patriarch asked, puzzled, about the details, and Su Tan’er relayed everything Xiao Chan had told her, word for word. The little girl said, “Then can I go see Brother Yi?” Su Tan’er shook her head. “A chill might be contagious—better for Little Qi to wait and visit Brother Yi once he’s better.”
Once Third Uncle, his wife, and the little girl had left, Su Tan’er chatted with her grandfather a while longer before finally heading back to her own courtyard. When she went to check on Ning Yi, he was in bed drinking medicine, looking rather put out. Su Tan’er asked after him briefly; she’d meant to mention the whole storytelling business, but seeing him unwell, she decided to let it go.
Su Tan’er had real ability, and in her heart she wanted to make something of herself despite being born a woman—but at the same time, she was also a deeply traditional, conventional girl at heart, which showed clearly in the way she’d resigned herself to marriage despite disliking the idea, choosing to try to make things work with Ning Yi. She had her own personality, certainly, but it still fit within a familiar frame.
She hoped Ning Yi, as a teacher, could carry real authority rather than win the students over with cheap tricks. Given the choice between a bit of cleverness or scheming and a properly conventional—even pedantic—scholar, she’d have preferred the latter, even without any truly profound learning, so long as he stayed closer to the “proper path.” Of course, for the time being, this was still a process of getting to know one another; she wasn’t about to draw hasty conclusions, but she was indeed, little by little, trying to sketch out some kind of shape in her mind for what her husband was really like.
In truth, that shape was already fairly clear to her: an ordinary scholar, not especially learned, not especially worldly, decent-hearted enough, with an even enough temper. This, then, was the man she was to entrust with the rest of her life.
For now she could still afford a bit of willfulness, but time, after all, was limited—one day the two of them would live together properly, and she would bear his children. So long as he wasn’t some thoroughly wicked man, these things would eventually come to pass regardless. The future… would most likely be just that, with nothing much to change about it. Some small hope might still linger in her heart, though even she couldn’t quite say what exactly that hope was. As they continued to spend time together, she might come to understand her husband in finer detail, but as for any major surprises or departures from what she expected—those, most likely, simply wouldn’t come.
In the seventh year of the Jinghan era of the Wu Dynasty, in late autumn, within the Su family’s estate in Jiangning, a graceful young woman stepped out from beneath the eaves and glanced upward, lightly brushing back a strand of hair by her ear. Her lovely face still held clear, bright eyes, tinged with a touch of helplessness, but far more so with a calm, quiet acceptance. As the wind swept through the courtyard, the pale blue-green dress she wore stirred gently in the breeze. This young lady, Tan’er, only recently and in name become a married woman, was, in this moment, how she viewed the state of her own marriage…
But for now, this marriage had not truly come to weigh heavily in her life. She still had other matters to think about and attend to; ordinary life, even when given the occasional thought, would carry on quietly along its own course all the same. If everything continued on as expected, then perhaps decades from now, on some day when she once again stepped out beneath the eaves and looked up, she might suddenly recall the wind she’d felt on this particular day so many years before—carried off somewhere, as the years themselves carry us. But for now, everything remained ample, unhurried, with no need to dwell on much of anything.
And it was in this quiet abundance, so unremarkable it went almost unnoticed, that the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived.
…
Illness comes crashing down like a landslide and leaves like the slow unwinding of silk thread. In this era there were no miracle cures, and this body had already been frail to begin with—having only just begun exercising when the cold struck. So by the time Mid-Autumn arrived, Ning Yi was still confined to his room, passing the time with an old vernacular novel.
Based on Ning Yi’s past experience, in his current condition he could probably manage a stroll around the courtyard, but this was ancient times, medical conditions were poor, and everyone’s general health tended to be weak—so as long as someone was there to look after him, real care was taken over guarding against illness. With late autumn setting in and the weather turning cooler, Xiao Chan planted herself at the door and absolutely refused to let this restless patient outside. Ning Yi understood well enough the girl’s good intentions.
Well, so be it—he wasn’t the type who needed to be constantly active anyway. He’d only open the window from time to time to air out the room, and even that made Xiao Chan puff out her cheeks in displeasure. Bored, Ning Yi passed the time explaining to her the benefits of fresh air for the human body, and so on.
Toward evening, Ning Yi added an extra layer of clothing and went out with the returning Su Tan’er and the others to attend the banquet. Chill or no chill, the great Mid-Autumn family feast was something he had to attend regardless. The Su household, from the masters down to the stewards, servants, maids, and guards, numbered several hundred people in all—an enormous affair, with rows upon rows of octagonal tables set up in the main hall and across several courtyards, the whole scene bustling with noise and life.
Ning Yi had certainly attended large-scale banquets before in his previous life—the annual company year-end dinner, for one, was always a grand affair—but there was no denying that the more modernized a society became, the greater the sense of distance between people. Here, in this ancient setting, even though there were few in this household who truly felt warmly toward him as a live-in son-in-law, simply sitting among them gave him a genuine sense of lively warmth. Outside, firecrackers went off in a constant bustle, children ran back and forth, and the crowd rang with shouts, greetings, and idle chatter. He went along with Su Tan’er greeting people—and found, in truth, that he rather liked this feeling.
The sun hadn’t yet set when the dishes began coming out. Amid all this liveliness, torches and lanterns were lit as night gradually fell, and every kind of noise mixed together—people playing finger-guessing drinking games, others growing loudly drunk, still others coming over to pay their respects to the Su patriarch and his household. A few children came up to recite poems they’d composed themselves. Xiao Chan, Juan’er, and Xing’er, the three maids, were delighted too, seated not far off at the servants’ table, laughing as they ran back and forth chattering with Su Tan’er, reporting this and that, and occasionally telling Ning Yi things too—”Young master, young master, they’re all repeating the stories you told…” Ning Yi had only told a few offhand stories in class, and already they’d spread among the younger generation, apparently even starting to spread among the maids and manservants as well.
Tsk. That’s what you get in an age starved for entertainment…
The evening banquet had started early, and not long after nightfall it was already winding down—but of course, since it was Mid-Autumn, moon-viewing together as a family remained an essential part of the evening. The old patriarch had Su Boyong say a few words to everyone, then retired to his own courtyard, with the whole Su family following along to chat and pass the time—more or less everyone needed to exchange a few words with the old patriarch before the night was through, and even the younger relatives who wanted to slip away had to go through this ritual first. Meanwhile, the three brothers led by Su Boyong took charge of the household stewards and staff, handing out the red envelopes that had already been prepared, and doing their best to say a few warm words to each in turn.
The old patriarch was already past seventy this year, but still in good health and sound spirit. Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had already greeted him during dinner; going over again now, the old man offered a few words along the lines of “you two must support each other going forward,” then urged the sick Ning Yi to hurry back and rest, even though Ning Yi looked more or less normal at the moment, only his voice slightly hoarse.
Back in his previous life, a twenty-year-old body could shrug off a cold with or without medicine, no trouble at all. Now here he was, being fussed over by a seventy-year-old man about taking care of himself—Ning Yi couldn’t help feeling a bit helpless about it. But since that was how things stood, there wasn’t much to be done. His training over the past few months hadn’t been especially intense, done mostly out of habit for the sake of fitness, so it hadn’t done much to fundamentally toughen up this scholar’s physique. Stepping up to a proper, systematic training regimen was clearly something to put on the agenda going forward.
Back at the small building, Su Tan’er followed Ning Yi into his room. After a brief silence, she told him to rest well tonight, then, somewhat awkwardly, hinted that she still needed to go out that evening—since she’d mentioned to him a few days earlier that she’d be attending the Pu Garden poetry gathering.
Whether Ning Yi was sick or not, Su Tan’er was always going to attend the Pu Garden gathering, since for her the main purpose was to build connections and discuss business with certain people. On that point, even if Ning Yi were displeased—even if he threw a fit about it—it likely wouldn’t have made any difference. It was only that, as his wife, bringing this up while her husband was down with a cold felt a bit strange.
Ning Yi, though, understood the situation well enough. In his mind he simply found it rather amusing—on the one hand, his young wife clearly had no intention of giving up the Su family’s business dealings, and on the other, she still wanted to make some effort to hold this marriage together, even though at present it remained a marriage in name only, one in which she still held the dominant position. Women of this era, honestly—he found this kind of striving rather endearing.
After enjoying, for a moment, Su Tan’er’s careful, deliberate expression as she tried her best not to give him the wrong idea, Ning Yi smiled and told her to go early and come back early. As Su Tan’er was preparing to leave, telling Xiao Chan to take good care of him, he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, no need—let Xiao Chan go along and have some fun too. I’m fine now, I’ll read a bit and go to sleep at most.”
The Pu Garden gathering’s six connected boats offered all sorts of performances, and along the way one could take in the whole nighttime lantern-lit spectacle of the Qin Huai River—a feast for the senses for anyone in this era. For the past few days, Xiao Chan had been chattering excitedly in front of him about how fun the gathering was, since Su Tan’er always used to bring the three of them along. Ning Yi was quite fond of Xiao Chan and didn’t want his own condition to spoil the girl’s fun. But before Su Tan’er could even say anything, Xiao Chan had already shaken her head with a smile. “I won’t go. I’ll stay home and read with the young master.”
Purely in terms of affection, Su Tan’er treated the three maids like younger sisters, feeling far closer to them, without question, than she currently did toward Ning Yi. But regardless, maids were still servants after all, and since Xiao Chan was being sensible about it, there was no need for Su Tan’er to press the point. Ning Yi tried a few more words to talk her out of it, but once it was clear Xiao Chan couldn’t be persuaded, he let it go.
The two of them saw the three women off from the second-floor corridor. From there, the sweep of the Su estate spread out before them, stretching all the way to the distant streets, the whole city of Jiangning laid out in a dense, glittering blaze of light—had there been some high vantage point to look down from, this ancient nighttime splendor would surely have offered quite a sight, though unfortunately there was no chance to enjoy that view tonight.
“Young master, let’s go in,” Xiao Chan said with a smile. “Won’t you tell me a story too?”
“I could just have a stool brought out and tell it right here…”
“Then I won’t listen.” Xiao Chan pursed her lips, then hesitated, looking torn. “It’s windy out here—let’s go inside…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, look, there’s hardly any wind, and I’ve got so many layers on… though maybe I should add a hat too… it’s actually rather nice looking out from here, don’t you think? All right, settled then—bring the stools out, and I’ll tell you a story about… Journey to the West… or the Romance of the West Chamber would work too.”
Since he’d said as much, Xiao Chan gave up her position, and the two of them had stools brought out to sit on this little platform. By now the Su courtyard had lost most of the earlier bustle; only occasionally could one spot someone preparing to head out, while distant firecrackers, gongs, drums, and hawkers’ calls drifted over from far away. Mid-Autumn night was, in theory, a holiday meant for spending with family, but in practice there were plenty of social obligations to attend to as well—people like Su Tan’er, heading off to gatherings, were far from unusual. Lantern festivals, wine parties, poetry gatherings, all sorts of things; even ordinary households didn’t necessarily stay home the whole night, often going out instead to watch the dragon and lion dances or guess lantern riddles, which was part of what made the night feel so lively.
Across the city, meanwhile, the main events of the night were already getting underway in various places. Some poetry gatherings had already hung out their very first poem of the evening, after which certain fixed establishments among the pleasure houses would perform these verses in song. As for the largest gatherings, people were still arriving. Around the time Su Tan’er left, in front of the Pan family mansion hosting the Zhishui poetry gathering, all manner of notable figures had already gathered. Old Qin, who usually spent his days playing chess with Ning Yi and the others by the riverbank, had also dressed in somewhat more formal attire that night, and, accompanied by his concubine Yunniang, stepped down from his carriage, whereupon a crowd of attendants rushed forward to greet him. “Master Qin has arrived—the whole Pan household is honored by your presence…”
The man greeting him was none other than the current head of the Pan family, Pan Guangyan, elder brother of Pan Mingchen, who served as Vice Minister of Rites and Hanlin academician. Pan Guangyan himself possessed no small talent, most famous for his paintings, especially his crane paintings, considered without equal, which was why people commonly addressed him as Old Crane. Even so, he remained quite deferential toward Old Qin. The two men, close in age, exchanged bows, with Old Qin quickly waving off the formality with a laugh. “You flatter me, you flatter me—if you keep up with such ceremony, Old Crane, I won’t dare come back next time…”
“Ha ha, still as sharp-witted as ever, Master Qin… Ah, by the way, Mingchen has already arrived as well…” The two exchanged further pleasantries and walked inside together.
Before long, the Zhishui poetry gathering got underway, and the six connected pleasure boats, originally moored along the busiest stretch of the Qin Huai River, slowly cast off from the shore. Poem after poem drifted out from one gathering after another, spreading across the city. Amid the lanterns and music filling every corner of town, the air of refined elegance grew thicker and thicker—the city’s lively Mid-Autumn night was only now truly beginning to reach its peak.