"...If you come over to our side, you'd be chief steward over the whole Su establishment this very day. All the resources of the Su family's third branch would be yours to command. Whatever demands you have, so long as we can meet them, we'll agree to them all.
And if you can run those resources well—Second Sister is only a woman, after all; in the future she won't be able to take over the first branch. If you want to have her, there will be plenty of ways... My father says you're a smart man, and everyone knows you're a smart man.
We're sincere on our side, so there's no need for more words. Just think it over yourself..."
Su Wenji's voice rang out through the wind and snow. In truth, he had long since prepared everything he meant to say.
Among the stewards of the Su family's first branch, Xi Junyu was shrewd and capable, always the most dazzling of them all; in seniority he still could not match a few of the old hands, but few people doubted that one day he would hold up half the Su family's sky.
Most even said that Xi Junyu had the makings of a scholar who could sit for the top degree; the Wu family had offered him a heavy sum to come to them and he had never agreed. He stayed with the Su family, in truth, only for the Second Miss, Su Tan'er.
It was for this reason that, ever since Su Tan'er's marriage, Su Yunfang and Su Wenji had kept trying to get close to him and show him goodwill. Su Wenji knew his own abilities were lacking, but he liked to fancy himself the Su family's Su Wuji—honoring the worthy and treating men of talent with the greatest generosity. His whole creed was: "I may not have much ability myself; I need only put matters in the hands of those who do." That attitude had won him a fair amount of praise from outsiders.
But now, having heard him out, Xi Junyu simply looked at him for a moment. Then he brought his palm down hard on Su Wenji's shoulder, and while Su Wenji stood there puzzled, he shook his head with that cold smile again: "Seventh Young Master, don't be naive..."
"This is your best chance... You know whether what I'm saying is true."
Unable to read the man's thoughts, Su Wenji was thrown off by his manner. Xi Junyu's hand had landed heavy on his shoulder; he could only repeat those words. After a moment, he saw Xi Junyu sigh.
"Ha. Seventh Young Master, honoring the worthy and employing men generously—that's a good thing. I know Third Master taught you that: if you can't manage a thing yourself, don't go waving your hands at it. It's a clever shortcut, too. But you don't understand: the man who can truly use talent must also be able to hold talent down. If one day two of your people disagree and you have neither the judgment nor the standing to decide between them, how will you ever use anyone!"
Looking at the man before him, Xi Junyu still found it rather funny. Su Wenji thought for a long while: "At least... isn't this a good thing for you instead!"
Xi Junyu shook his head: "I, Xi Junyu, will not stand with a man who is bound to fail."
Having said that, he turned and left. Watching that figure stride away, Su Wenji hesitated for a good while, and at last realized something: "You're angry! You're angry!"
"That line shows at least some progress." Xi Junyu spoke mildly, then waved a hand without looking back, sending the snowflakes bursting apart in the air. "Wake up, Seventh Young Master. You people can't beat Su Tan'er. From the very beginning, she has never taken any of you seriously!"
Snow whirled on the wind. Su Wenji stared openmouthed as the figure in the black robe strode off. After a moment he scowled deeply and forced down his anger. He had thought that after all these encounters this seemed to be the first time he had made Xi Junyu lose control, made him angry—that ought to mean a turning point—but because of those few words of Xi Junyu's, his foul mood would not be pressed down. Then he swung his fist at a tree trunk beside him.
He was not strong to begin with; ordinarily a punch like that would only hurt. This time he had braced for the pain, gritting his teeth and shaking his hand in the air a few times—and then, whoosh, his whole neck went ice-cold, and his shoulders were covered in snow. He looked up furiously, and his expression went blank; his mouth fell open, and a look of terror was just about to spread across his face...
From a distance, the figure beneath the tree had punched it once; the tree rocked gently a few times, and then... crash—rustle—
White and green swallowed the figure whole; two hands and one foot flailed and struggled atop the snowdrift.
A moment later a maid's cry came from there: "Help! Somebody come quick! Seventh Young Master's buried in the snow—"
"...Hear how youth greets the laughter that others envy so; the histories, unwilling to be gentle, set down their strokes too cruel. Fireworks cool easily, people part easily, and you ask whether I am still in earnest... A thousand years hence, love deep through lifetimes, who is left still waiting; and how can the official record be false—the Book of Wei, the city of Luoyang. If you would follow, wed me as in a former life, dyed with the red dust, follow me and wander a lifetime..."
The qin strings sounded softly, note by note like water winding away; the woman's voice was light, and in her singing there was groping, pondering, doubt. She had blended into it some of the single-note manner she used when ordinarily singing lyrics and tunes, yet kept the turns and modulations Ning Yi had just taught her. The melody was not high; soft and drawn out, mellow as good wine.
Amid that singing, the man carefully flaked the shell from the duck egg in small pieces; as the shell fell away, an amber color gradually emerged into the air. In this age so like the Song dynasty, the century egg appeared before human eyes for the first time, to the sound of music, and then was set in the porcelain bowl before him, its patterns clear within the amber white. Listening to Nie Yunzhu sing "Jialan Rain," so different from the original, Ning Yi could faintly feel a trace of that old classical charm.
Even in this era, what he saw and heard most of the time was still simple life—simple and dull. Walking along the Qinhuai River day to day, the painted barges and buildings were not as pretty as they looked on television, and the roads were filthy and cluttered.
Classical charm was a particular state of mind: like the lamps he saw each night in the Su family courtyard, like the "When will the bright moon come" he had taught Xiao Chan to sing that day, like the ease inside and outside the little tower while the rain poured down—things that could carry his thoughts to a time many years away; only then did the classical charm rise from his heart.
He was a modern man, after all, and such a state of mind was what most held the breath of time, like poetry, like wine.
After listening to the song in silence, Nie Yunzhu seemed to have something she wanted to say and could not. She had never heard a folk tune like this, and yet among the pieces fit for the grand halls there was no such strange way of singing either.
For a thousand years the art of music had followed the path of single-voiced melody; even a thousand years on, every kind of regional opera sought its technique in momentum and spirit—its changes nowhere near as intricate as modern music, which fused every style.
Now that the song was done, with her skill Nie Yunzhu could naturally feel clearly the intricate changes the song sought. In a sense, this kind of simple, shallow music that on the other hand pursued technical variation to the extreme was close to a crooked path, and yet for her it truly brought much shock and much inspiration.
On the other hand, the lyrics were rather too plain, and in places looked patched together... She glanced at Ning Yi. Perhaps it had been casual—as if he had tossed off a line, idly chasing an amusing way of writing lyrics, and in the end pieced together a song like this.
Even so, it was astonishing; those scattered, plain lines did in fact hold a vague, elusive mood, plucked at random like the game of a cynic. Never before had Nie Yunzhu imagined that one day a piece of music could leave her at such a loss, her feelings in disorder.
"Did you just patch this way of singing together casually, young master?" Incredible as it seemed, it was the only explanation; anyone truly versed in music would never turn out even a folk ditty like this.
"Is it listenable?"
"Strange, but interesting." Nie Yunzhu thought it over, choosing her words carefully, then smiled. "Only... I'm afraid it's just for passing the time, for singing offhand when two or three friends get together, uh... I'm afraid..."
She found it awkward to say. Ning Yi laughed: "Not fit for refined ears, ha. But then, I only like it for myself—I listen and find it interesting."
Ning Yi had always been easygoing and casual in all he did, and Nie Yunzhu was long used to it. Seeing his attitude now, the doubts and confusion in her heart were gone; it was only an odd song, and any song that could be sung and heard was, on the whole, just something to gladden the heart.
She had delved deep into the way of music and had certain rules and bottom lines she felt bound to defend—and yet now she did not find the matter before her strange at all; she only felt that this was how he ought to be.
"Actually, it is beautiful," she said with a nod and a smile. "Only... I've never heard lyrics and music like this before. To make a whole new score of it, I'll need a few days of study..."
Ning Yi nodded with a smile: "Ha, of course. I'm in no hurry. Actually, hearing it through once is already wonderful—it sounded lovely just now."
"You flatter me, Master Ning. There are many places where I couldn't bring out my full skill..." Nie Yunzhu said, then looked at the egg in the bowl. "This salted duck egg—why has it turned out like this?"
"It's called a century egg. You could name it something else—Jade Egg, Agate Egg, Prosperity Egg, whatever you like... This jar is for you to try; I'll take this one. Sell them dearer from now on and you ought to get business. In all the world there should be this one shop and no branches anywhere else..."
Ning Yi introduced the century egg with a smile. He had originally asked Nie Yunzhu to cure two jars, fifty eggs in all, and now he meant to take only one. He had made them just because he wanted to eat them, after all; it made no difference who sold them. Nie Yunzhu understood music, and in the future he would still need her to set his songs—so he would count it as an investment.
After a token refusal, Nie Yunzhu had to accept them. They chatted a while longer; then she found a few straw ropes in the kitchen and tied them around the small jar. Ning Yi picked up the clay jar and took his leave; Nie Yunzhu saw him to the gate and only after a while turned back into the room.
"The rain falls thick and fast, the old hometown's grass and trees grow deep..."
Humming the tune softly to herself, trying to work out its feel, Nie Yunzhu went to the table and looked at the paper with the lyrics written on it. Then she picked up the century egg from the bowl, opened her lips, and took a bite; chewing slowly, she was still humming the words, one line at a time.
A strange song she had never heard, a duck-egg flavor she had never tasted—these things poured into her heart. Just now, while Ning Yi was here, her heart had been quiet; now, for some reason, it had grown a little disordered.
"The mottled city gate, the old tree roots coiled there, on the stone slabs the echo is: still waiting..."
"The rain falls thick and fast, the old hometown's grass and trees grow deep..."
"A shepherd's flute from the outskirts falls on that wild village, where fate lands and takes root..."
"I have heard that you have always been alone..."
"Dyed with the red dust, follow me and wander a lifetime..."
Her soft voice only hummed faintly, but her mind brought up many things—the scene of the two of them pushing the cart back together. She set down the century egg in her hand, walked to the door, and softly opened it. Wind and snow swirled in from outside; she stood there looking off down the distant road. The figure in the long dark-blue robe, holding an oil-paper umbrella, grew smaller and smaller in the wind and snow, until only a last blur of him remained.
"Dyed with the red dust..."
Her heart thumped. She felt as though she were standing at the gate of the red dust; her chest rose and fell slightly, her thoughts surging like the tide. At one moment the mood in those lyrics seemed beyond words, at the next there seemed to be something else besides; thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, it pounded desperately at her heart. Then she felt she was thinking too much.
"Master Ning is a gentleman; they must be only words written at random... Nie Yunzhu..."
"Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu..."
The distant figure had long since vanished into the wind and snow. She closed the door, pressed her lips together, and went back to sit by the round table. She really had been thinking too much.
She propped her face in one hand, tilted her head to look at the lyrics, sang a few lines softly, then leaned forward and lay down, her chin on her folded hands, gazing straight ahead.
The century egg with the bite out of it sat not far away; a thread of faint light came in through the door and fell on that amber color, where a glistening rosy glow rippled.
She lay there just so, staring blankly at that glistening color for a long while; in the dim room, she looked like a little girl again...