The carriage entered through the Su residence's side gate, and happened to run into Second Uncle and his party, who were coming home seven parts drunk. They asked a few questions about what Su Tan'er had seen that night, whether she had enjoyed the poetry gathering and the like, and Su Tan'er answered them a few words with her usual composure.
The poems were still being passed around the city. The Shui Diao Ge Tou was certainly a superb piece, but for it to stir a real sensation, or win the name of best of the night, was for the moment still out of the question.
Word of Kang Xian's scolding at the Zhishui poetry gathering had not yet gotten out; in ordinary people's eyes the finest poems were all much the same.
To the average man this ci was good, but set beside Cao Guan's and Li Pin's it might look merely comparable — or, given those talents' established fame, they might even rank it a little lower.
Only those of truly deep learning could clearly sense the depth and lingering savor of these lines, their return to plain simplicity, and feel the gulf between them and the rest.
Su Zhongkan had spent the night only discussing business and drinking with courtesans; he cared little for poetry, and word of anything to do with a Ning Liheng had naturally not reached his ears. Uncle and niece exchanged a few pleasantries and parted on the road. Su Tan'er and her three maids went all the way back to the small courtyard where they lived; apart from the big lanterns still burning outside the gate, the yard was perfectly quiet, with only the moon's watery light spilling down from the sky.
Su Tan'er glanced a few times at the darkness of the second-floor room over there. Xiao Chan asked, "Miss, shall I go call the son-in-law...?"
"No need. He's already asleep; don't wake him. Chan'er, bring up some warm water. Xing'er, Juan'er, you two go to bed early... Chan'er, if you still have the energy, would you tell me the story the son-in-law told you?"
Chan'er nodded with a smile, and Juan'er and Xing'er beside her hurriedly raised their hands too.
"Miss, Miss, we're not sleepy at all."
"We want to hear it too."
She gave the two girls a look of mock exasperation, then laughed. "Then come along, all of you. Come to think of it, it's been ages since I've heard a story."
"I remember when we were little, Miss used to hold a book and tell us stories..."
"That's right, that's right, I remember too..."
The girls chattered away. Then Su Tan'er went upstairs, while Juan'er and Xing'er helped Chan'er heat water, and together they carried up a wooden basin and towels.
The lights of the city in the distance slowly quieted. In the still little courtyard, warm yellow lamplight floated in the second-floor window, casting the silhouettes of mistress and maids talking and laughing softly.
How long it was, no one could say, but the night had deepened a great deal by the time the three maids came out of the room, shut the door, and went downstairs. Back in their own room, Chan'er closed the door and leaned lightly against it, both hands pressed to her chest; she lifted her head and drew a deep breath. Her upturned, innocent little face wore a complicated expression — happy, puzzled, frightened, yearning, all of it and more.
Su Tan'er had taught her a great many things, so her heart was naturally not purely simple; she had her own little schemes too. But those little schemes were always made for the sake of the people and things she loved around her — her young mistress, say, or the Su family, or now perhaps a certain Ning Liheng as well.
She had once dared argue with Old Qin at the chess stall for the Su family's sake; and after this stretch of time with Ning Yi, who was detached by nature yet had a humorous side, who went about things — never anything proper, true — with such effortless ease, as though nothing in the world could weigh on him, and who was so kind to her, she naturally liked him too.
On the other hand, what she felt for her young mistress was not only liking but gratitude, a wish to repay her kindness, and all sorts of other things besides. In short, she liked her very, very much.
She understood her mistress's old troubles, and roughly knew what things she was fond of; now that she had found the son-in-law was not the bookworm she had heard about, she naturally gave thought to the match between him and her mistress.
If the two of them came to like each other and drifted together of their own accord, that of course would be best.
There was not much she had to do: let her mistress see and know about the son-in-law, and let the son-in-law know how good her mistress was — that was itself the work of a personal maid like her.
She knew her mistress loved poetry; only, the things the son-in-law had written before were naturally nothing presentable, and sometimes she even thought he wrote that sort of thing on purpose, for a joke.
Tonight, when she watched the son-in-law compose the Shui Diao Ge Tou, she might not be learned, but she could still sense how fine those lines were — it was like finding a treasure.
So she took the verses to the Puyuan poetry gathering, meaning to find a moment to show them to her mistress; then Xue Jin came over, and since she had some idea of what would happen there, she naturally went along with it and brought the verses out. Whatever else, the ci had to be good; it mustn't lose face.
She just hadn't expected that, in those people's eyes, it would be good to that degree.
If she had had any accurate notion beforehand, she would never have brought it out so rashly. As it looked now, her wish to let her mistress see the son-in-law's talent had backfired — even her mistress seemed shaken, looking rather unprepared there on the boat — and so she felt guilty. She had only meant to prepare a small surprise; who knew the surprise would be so big it frightened her too...
Ugh, how did it turn out like this...
The lamplight flickered like a bean. Xiao Chan, nowhere near sleepy, sat at the table with her chin propped in both hands, brooding over her troubles. Under her hands lay the original manuscript of the Shui Diao Ge Tou that Ning Yi had written out for her, and she read it over several more times.
Son-in-law, it's fine to have talent, but there's no need to have this much... how am I supposed to tell you about any of this tomorrow...
It's definitely the son-in-law's fault.
She pouted and reached out a finger to poke the xuan paper twice, lightly. When she reached that last line, her face slowly turned red. Only then did she carefully fold the sheet again and put it back at the bottom of the drawer.
She blew out the oil lamp; her face growing hotter and hotter, the little maid felt her way through the dark and slowly climbed into bed...
"A thousand li apart, we share the same 'Chan'..." Her own name, sitting right there in the verse. "Hee..."
In the early morning, white mist again filled Jiangning, and the bright morning sun was already climbing above the mist, spilling out a magnificent dawn.
When Ning Yi woke, he felt refreshed, his strength mostly recovered. One more day of rest to consolidate it and he could go back to his lessons tomorrow; as for today, he could get a few wooden dummies and sandbags over from the house guards. This body had been weak for years — there was no getting around giving it a proper workout.
The steward in charge of the guards seemed to be surnamed Zhang. Judging by the atmosphere he had felt in the Su household of late, Old Master Su was still fairly considerate toward him; he only had to weigh whether hauling wooden dummies and sandbags into the courtyard would be too much of a shock to Su Tan'er and the others. A frail scholar going out for a run was one thing, but if he suddenly announced he meant to practice martial arts, they would likely take him for a fool.
Getting them to accept that he was a little out of the ordinary would have to be done gradually — this might be a bit fast. He weighed these things idly in his mind. Then, sitting together over bowls of meat porridge at breakfast, he felt that Su Tan'er seemed to have been watching him all along, with something strange in her eyes.
He glanced at her off and on; after a while, Ning Yi set down his bowl and chopsticks and looked at his wife in puzzlement. "What is it?"
"Nothing." Su Tan'er smiled faintly and shook her head. "I just think Husband looks very well this morning."
"Oh, the illness is more or less gone now. Cough... my throat still feels a bit dry, but after today I'll be fine for certain. I can go to the academy."
"As long as you're well. Though these next few days, Husband may find himself very busy."
"Busy?"
"Mm." Su Tan'er nodded, offered no explanation, and began taking her porridge in small sips, very much the lady. Puzzled, Ning Yi thought the smile at the corner of her mouth was rather like the Mona Lisa's...
What does she mean by that? Is the academy going to pile more work on me? Ning Yi turned over the possible meanings of her words in his mind. It was only after he finished the porridge and went back to his room, and Xiao Chan came over timidly to confess what had happened the night before, that he finally grasped exactly what emotion had been in her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, Son-in-law, I only meant... I only wanted to let the young mistress see it, but that Xue Jin is really too hateful..."
Ning Yi listened to her out with his mouth slightly agape, and then his expression settled. After thinking it over, he actually laughed, amused.
"Oh, it's fine. Not a big problem."
Seeing that he wasn't angry, Chan'er nodded happily. "That's right, the son-in-law's talent—" Thwack. Ning Yi's finger flicked her on the forehead.
"Who says I have talent? Don't go telling people that from now on."
"...Oh." The girl hesitated, then nodded.
"In that case, I won't be going out today." Ning Yi thought a moment and smiled. "Looks like I'd better stay sick a few more days..."
Sunlight shone in through the window. Ning Yi picked up a vernacular storybook and walked back to the bed, making ready to feign illness and lie abed. A moment later he waved Xiao Chan over; only then did she set aside her unease, drag the Go bowls and the little table they used for gomoku out of the corner of the room, and come running over happily...
Last night had been Mid-Autumn, and some people had gone to bed late, so most of Jiangning rose rather late this morning; the city took about an hour longer than usual to return to its everyday bustle. It was not until after noon that day that news of the previous night's Zhishui poetry gathering, mixed in with other tidings of poems and verse, began to spread widely — and the influence of the Shui Diao Ge Tou began, over the days that followed, to set off continuing tremors and waves throughout Jiangning, ever widening as time went deeper...