After the Mid-Autumn Festival the weather in Jiangning stayed clear for about two days, and then the sky turned overcast. Walking the streets, the faintly cold autumn wind swirled up the fallen leaves and lent the once-noisy city a touch of bleakness.
To most people, of course, the city still looked just as it always did — autumn was supposed to look like this.
On the river the water lay clear and green, the painted boats were out as ever, their oars stirring the water as they slid lightly between the drooping willows; the wind lifted the fallen leaves nearby, sent them spinning down onto the water, and they drifted away on the glinting ripples.
Along the streets were pedestrians and carriages, blue-curtained sedan chairs, peddlers and porters, every sort of person; wide streets and narrow lanes, long flights of bluestone steps, wooden bridges spanning the narrower channels; wherever the current slowed you could see women washing clothes on the stone steps, chatting and laughing, and farther off, teahouses serving food and wine shops breathing out their fragrance.
Most people were still busy rushing about making a living, and once you were used to it, that was simply a part of life.
If they found a moment to rest — sitting a while in a teahouse, or pausing by the roadside — and the talk turned to the amusing rumors of late, it usually came back to the doings of Mid-Autumn night a few days before.
What came up most often was the appearance of that Shui Diao Ge Tou, and the business at the Zhishui poetry gathering, where the great School of Principle scholar Kang Xian had berated the whole crowd.
Cause, course, and outcome; coincidence, suspense, climax. That is what it takes to be dramatic. If it were merely some talented scholar composing a poem that stunned the room with its brilliance and elegance, people would have heard enough of that long ago; add a talented beauty's favor and the drama gains a few notches.
In that respect the Shui Diao Ge Tou had done rather more. People love fine verse, and they love a story like this one.
In the past few days, if you sat a while in one of the pleasure houses, the girls who came out to perform would invariably sing that tune, "When Will the Bright Moon Appear," and offer their judgments on its finer points.
As for news of the ci's author, there was still nothing but speculation; no reliable word had come out.
The Su residence, Ning Yi, Liheng. A live-in son-in-law of the Su family.
At the Zhishui poetry gathering, a few rebukes from Kang Xian had settled the Shui Diao Ge Tou's standing as a masterpiece, but they could not smooth away the doubts in people's minds. Why had he been unknown before? A man of such talent — why marry into a merchant household as a live-in son-in-law? And most important of all, was his ci bought, or plagiarized? That was what nearly every person talking about it cared about most.
Scandal is usually more dramatic than praise, and people's hearts lean toward accepting that sort of thing. There was nothing unheard-of about a man of letters buying a poem to fish for reputation; when people talked it over, most leaned toward that guess. A live-in son-in-law's standing was low, after all; some even said such men had no backbone at all and had forgotten their ancestors. Anyone with a shred of pride would never do such a thing.
Still, over these few days there was another version going around: that the Su family's second young miss, Tan'er, was a beauty beyond compare, gentle and generous, and that Ning Yi had fallen for her at first sight; to stay forever at her side, he had willingly entered her family as a live-in son-in-law.
But in this age, where men came first, very few believed such a story. Brothel-going was the fashion and a woman's place was that of goods; who would believe a man would go that far for one woman?
And even if one did believe it — if the man had no talent, well and good; but if he truly had learning and still married into a woman's family, that was an outrage that would anger heaven and man alike, a disgrace to manhood, a waste of the sages' books, a waste of being alive at all.
In this era, what people preferred was still the fairy tale of a man coming back to wed his beloved after his name topped the imperial examination rolls; a man throwing away everything for one woman — that they could not stomach.
So after several days, the speculation about Ning Yi ran mostly negative; being a live-in son-in-law was an original sin. Of course no conclusion had appeared yet, and while they guessed, people waited with curiosity for more reliable news.
On the other hand, as for the quality of the Shui Diao Ge Tou itself and the talent of its author, people remained in awe, and the warmth of that awe was still rising; over these days the praises heaped upon it had only kept growing.
In this Mid-Autumn contest of poems and verse, its reputation and its glory would likely far outstrip every other piece — a thing that had not happened in several years.
The busiest stretch of the Qinhuai River was the area around the Confucius Temple and the Examination Hall, and across the river from it lay the quarter where the many pleasure houses stood. It was just past noon now; those places had not yet opened, though those who ought to be up were already up. Passing along the street below, one could see women sitting alone leaning on the balconies, or chatting and playing, and from within the courtyard walls the faint strains of strings and flutes drifted out.
Some of that music came from women already established in the trade, practicing in their rooms, and some from young girls learning qin pieces from teachers the house arranged. In the inner court of Jinfeng Tower at this moment, a class in qin music was nearing its end. Several of the younger girls were still diligently playing the piece they had been taught, while the plainly dressed woman teacher — cloth skirt, plain wooden hairpin — sat at a small table in front, chin propped on her hand, listening.
The woman was only in her twenties. Her dress was plain, far outshone by the bright colors of the house, but her looks were remarkable: a clear, elegant melon-seed face, fine dark eyebrows, and a presence that stood out all the more. Sitting there quietly listening to the qin, she gave off a faint impression of an ink-and-wash painting. Compared with the girls learning below her, she was in truth far more striking.
By the usual routine, once the pieces were finished and the woman had given her pointers, the day's lesson would end there. But just as she began packing up her things, several of the girls below exchanged glances, and one of them said with a smile, "Sister Yunzhu, Sister Yunzhu, could you teach us to sing the Shui Diao Ge Tou?"
"Hm? The Shui Diao Ge Tou..." The woman they called Yunzhu blinked at them, evidently not understanding why they wanted to learn it, while the girls below had already started talking.
"The customers who've come these past days all love to hear it..."
"The one from Mid-Autumn night..."
"We like it too."
Hearing this, the woman understood. "Mid-Autumn? A fine piece that came out this Mid-Autumn?"
"Ah? Sister Yunzhu, you didn't know?"
"I've had things to see to these past days, so I haven't had the chance to pay attention to Mid-Autumn doings..." The woman showed a smile, but beneath it lay a certain weariness that the girls before her most likely could not see.
Then the girls chattered and produced a little booklet with the Shui Diao Ge Tou copied into it. The woman sat there reading it word by word, lips moving slightly; she was one who could truly appreciate what was fine in verse, and in a moment her expression grew serious. In that atmosphere the girls below told her where the poem had come from on Mid-Autumn night.
"...What a pity, that man married into someone else's family."
"That's right, he's a live-in son-in-law..."
"Now everyone says the ci was bought..."
"But the ci really is wonderful... When will the bright moon appear? I raise my cup and ask the blue sky..."
Chatter, chatter, chatter — the girls below told the story of the poem's origin, one adding a line and another another, and then they sang it out. They were still learning the rules of music, but the sisters of Jinfeng Tower sang it every day, so singing it themselves was no trouble. In fact the house even had the score for the Shui Diao Ge Tou tune; they had learned all the fingerings and could play it on their own, but it was always better to have someone teach them.
"A live-in son-in-law..." Yunzhu looked at the ci, and after hearing them all out she smiled. "In that case, you girls must know the tune of the Shui Diao Ge Tou more or less by now?"
"We've played it from the score, but there are places we can't play well..."
"Mm, learning the tune is enough. The Shui Diao Ge Tou has a few places where the fingering is a little unusual, and the sung words can really be varied a little in a few spots as well. I'll play it through once with you girls, and then explain it to you..."
So saying, the girls went back to their qins and sat down. Yunzhu's gaze swept over them; she set her fingers to the strings, gave a light, gentle smile like smoke-washed ink, and plucked.
"When will the bright moon appear..."
The qin music rose, curling through the room. With so many playing, most of them still unfamiliar with the piece, it should have been a little muddled; yet amid it all the clearest, loveliest strand of qin held the melody steady. The volume was all the same, but in spirit that one voice wholly absorbed the rest.
Then a soft, beautiful voice rose, leading their singing. Had a connoisseur come by just then, he might have found that this music and this singing were in fact far finer than what most of the women of Jinfeng Tower could manage — not a shade inferior even to Yuan Jin'er, the tower's present top girl.
Yuan Jin'er's voice ran lively and airy; this voice was like flowing water, like a bell, quieting the heart and setting it at ease. As the music sounded, some of the girls nearby drifted over to listen from a distance. Only when the Shui Diao Ge Tou had been sung through did someone say, "That's Sister Yunzhu..."
"Sister Yunzhu's singing is as fine as ever..."
Admiration for some, envy for others. Before long the lesson inside finally ended, and what remained was the girls' own practice. The woman in the cloth skirt and simple hairpin came out with a small bundle in her hands, walked down the long corridor, greeted a few women she knew, and then went to the madam's room to collect her teaching fee. On her way out, she ran into Yuan Jin'er in the corridor outside.
"Sister Yunzhu."
"Sister Jin'er."
"I heard Sister Yunzhu singing upstairs just now. This Shui Diao Ge Tou really is best sung by Sister Yunzhu; Jin'er always feels she can't find that frame of mind, and it doesn't sound good when she sings it."
Yuan Jin'er was seventeen this year, of a livelier temperament. After a few pleasantries, her brilliant smile faded and she asked softly, "Sister Yunzhu, how is Hutao doing?"
"She's been well these past days; in a few more days her illness should be cured."
"That's good..." Yuan Jin'er nodded. After a moment, seeing no one about, she took a small packet from her person. "Sister Yunzhu, I know your temperament, but since Hutao is ill, you must need something to tide you over. There's some money here; I hope you'll accept it, sister. I've never forgotten how you looked after me back then..."
She tried to press the little bag of silver into the other woman's hand, but Yunzhu declined, back and forth; deeply moved as she was, in the end she would not take it.
"Hutao truly is getting better — if she weren't, I would never use her illness to put on a brave front. Jin'er, you should keep your money saved; one day, if you can buy your own freedom, then you'll be able to live as you please..."
"I don't have your kind of character, sister." The two had just exchanged some intimate words, and both their eyes were a little red. Yuan Jin'er wiped the corner of her eye with a finger and laughed. "The way Jin'er is now, she means to pick a man and marry him in the end anyway. Keeping money by her side is really no great use — and besides, this isn't much; I have more..."
"If you could meet a talented scholar you took a fancy to..."
"Jin'er won't marry some man with nothing to his name but a glib tongue — fine words don't fill a belly. Born to be a concubine or a maid, she'll have to find someone with money and standing to marry in the end; luckily she has some reputation now, so marrying won't be hard..."
That was, perhaps, a case of each having her own ambition. The two walked out together, exchanging intimate words, but in the end they parted at the side gate of Jinfeng Tower. Yuan Jin'er waved with a smile, and only when the other's figure had vanished from sight did she lower her hand.
There was some envy in her, and some sighing too — a feeling she could not quite understand herself.
The woman she called Sister Yunzhu was named Nie Yunzhu.
She too had been one of Jinfeng Tower's most sought-after women a few years back, unsurpassed in qin, in singing, in poetry and letters and painting; but her nature was detached and she had never been the most famous of them, having in past years refused to enter the Qinhuai Flower Queen contest, so her name had never quite reached the very top.
Two years ago she had saved enough silver to buy freedom for herself and her maid Hutao, and found a place to live. Even now, people at Jinfeng Tower still sometimes asked after her.
Other women of the pleasure houses, even those who had bought their freedom, usually kept up ties with many of their patrons and joined scholars and the like at poetry and literary gatherings. Sister Yunzhu was different: she had cut herself off from almost all of those people. Life in a pleasure house is nothing but welcomes and farewells; two years absent, she had faded from that world, though she still took on work teaching qin, which counted as earning a little for daily expenses.
But teaching qin and song never brought in much money; even without her, the tower had plenty who could fill the role. When she bought her freedom two years before, she had still had some silver left, but by now word had it that things were going none too well.
Mistress and maid had only ever known the pleasure-house way of life; Hutao knew how to wait on people, but the business of ordinary living was perhaps beyond her. Over two years the money had mostly run out, and they could only take work from the pleasure houses again.
Recently Hutao had fallen ill, and the two of them seemed to be doing poorly. Yuan Jin'er was grateful for the care she had once received and wanted to offer money to help; what she was giving was not much, but who would have thought the other would refuse it in the end?
Women — where in this world is there any such thing as freedom for them? A pleasure house looks glamorous; the young gallants of Wuling fight over whose tip she'll take, and a single song brings in red silk beyond counting. But in the end it's still a concubine's fate, a maid's fate. Who would ever take a woman of the pleasure houses as a proper wife? Sister Yunzhu has a tough spirit, but if I bought my own freedom and went out there — a weak woman with no one to lean on, how long could I hold out? In the end I'd probably come crawling back to this place.
She gave a soft sigh and turned back the way she had come...
Coming out of the medicine shop, Nie Yunzhu counted the money she had left and tucked it into the pocket closest to her body.
With the money from pawning her hairpin added in, it would last a while longer. What reassured her most was that Hutao's illness was finally about to be cured; that was the best of it.
When they left the pleasure house two years ago, the two of them had little experience of living on their own. Hutao had known hard times as a child, but the years in the pleasure house meant that was only a childhood memory; being able to cook a meal or two was already very good.
With no plan at all, mistress and maid had lived quite freely for a good while; they did take some work — like her teaching qin at Jinfeng Tower — but they had always spent more than they earned.
By now, though there was little silver left, as long as Hutao recovered, the two of them could do a bit of work and still make ends meet.
Taking up the small cloth bundle holding her few things in one hand and lifting the wrapped medicine with the other, she set off toward home, head lowered, half her attention fixed on the little pocket against her body — since she and Hutao had come out to live on their own, she had had her purse stolen twice in crowded places, and even now the memory of it galled her.
Once she left Zhuque Avenue the crowds thinned, and only then did that wariness ease. Shops selling this and that still lined the way; just as she was about to turn the corner of the street, a figure suddenly flickered across her vision.
Hm?
She lifted her head and looked over in puzzlement; the figure had already disappeared around the corner not far ahead. With that thought in her heart she hurried a few steps, and when she reached the corner she finally made out the figure on the other side.
It really is him...
At the side of the street not far off, a slight, scholarly-looking man stood before several shops, a large wooden board in his hands. He looked over the goods in the shops, idly swinging the board back and forth as he did, then nodded and went in through one shop's door.
It looked as though he meant to buy charcoal.
Nie Yunzhu thought for a moment, then followed him...