Chapter Nine: The Shape of the Future

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At dusk, the setting sun painted the sky red, bathing half of Jiangning City in warm, rosy clouds. Returning from outside, Su Tan’er encountered Xiao Chan and soon learned that Ning Yi had caught a chill. As she questioned Xiao Chan about the physician’s opinion, she led her three maids toward her grandfather, Old Master Su Yu’s, courtyard.

There was a matter she wished to consult her grandfather about today; since she knew now that Ning Yi was not seriously ill, there was no need to rush to his side. Upon entering the courtyard, she discovered that her third uncle, Su Yunfang, and his wife were also present, along with their second daughter—whom everyone currently called Little Seventh. This little girl was in front of their grandfather, telling a story. Several maids waited on the group.

“…And then, Zhou Yu beat Huang Gai…” Little Seventh was midway through her tale.

Su Tan’er found a stool and sat down, listening with her grandfather, third uncle, and aunt to the girl’s story. She was recounting an episode from the Three Kingdoms—quite entertaining. After the story ended, the girl stood up. “Second sister.”

“Little Seventh, you know how to tell stories now? That’s wonderful. Did you go to the restaurant with Father to hear the storytellers?”

“No, our teacher told us at school.”

“Oh?” Su Tan’er hesitated. “Which teacher?”

“Brother Yi. He knows a lot.”

Although the label “live-in son-in-law” was somewhat unseemly and implied a low status, in the Su household, such a man was generally treated as a brother, hence Little Seventh addressed Ning Yi as “Brother” rather than “brother-in-law.” Su Tan’er smiled at this, though inwardly she pondered the implications. Her third uncle, Su Yunfang, remarked, “He’s teaching the Analects lately, isn’t he?”

Little Seventh nodded, “Yes, the Analects. We’re up to ‘Li Ren’…” Her expression tensed, as questions about lessons often led to demands for recitation.

But this time her father did not ask her to recite. Instead, Su Yunfang turned to Su Tan’er. “He digresses to the Three Kingdoms in an Analects class. Children might enjoy stories, but a teacher should earn students’ respect through scholarship. Drawing connections is well and good, but there should be limits. Tan’er, you should remind Liheng about this.”

This was a rather stern admonition. Su Tan’er could only nod in agreement. Old Master Su, however, chuckled. “No need to make it sound so grave. If in just a few days he’s won their affection, he may also teach them to love learning. Once the children are entrusted to him, it is his business. Old Third, you don’t know the full story—how can you say the Analects and the Three Kingdoms are unrelated, or that Liheng has no deeper intention? You all were taught long ago not to meddle in affairs that aren’t yours; don’t interfere here.”

In truth, Su Tan’er herself felt that telling Three Kingdoms stories in an Analects class was rather unorthodox, but Old Master Su was pleased. He cared little for Ning Yi’s scholarship—he had known from the start that Ning Yi was not highly learned—but saw the matter from a different perspective.

The Su family’s situation was complex. The three branches, led by Su Boyong (the eldest), Su Zhongkan (second), and Su Yunfang (third), each managed different businesses. Yet in both ability and influence, Su Boyong held the advantage. With Old Master Su Yu still presiding, the brothers maintained a facade of harmony, but the third generation was mostly useless—except for Su Boyong’s only daughter, Su Tan’er, who stood out. After years of consideration, Old Master Su had decided to pass the family’s business to her, though this was no small undertaking.

A hen crowing at dawn—having a woman in charge—would encounter far more resistance than a normal succession. If any of the Su sons had been even passably capable, it might have been different, but there was none. Su Tan’er’s demeanor was calm and measured, yet her skills were formidable, displaying the qualities of a true leader. She had the ability and the ambition. Old Master Su had already assigned her some businesses managed by Su Boyong as a formal trial, not to test her ability, but to see if she could use her father’s resources to subdue and unite the other two branches.

The pressure on Su Tan’er was one thing. Ning Yi’s original purpose as a son-in-law was to allow her to remain in the Su household. Old Master Su valued the ancestral ties with the Ning family, and thus looked after Ning Yi. The current divisions in the family had not yet intensified; for now, as long as Old Master Su lived, Su Tan’er could suppress opposition. No one would dare act rashly.

But if conflict truly broke out in the future, or if Old Master Su were no longer around, and others sought to target Su Tan’er, her live-in husband, already looked down upon, would naturally become the easiest target—slandering him or using him as a pretext for trouble would be simple. Old Master Su saw this clearly, and so sent Ning Yi to teach at Yushan Academy, where most of the students were Su family juniors. If Ning Yi taught well and won their respect, his status in the family’s power struggles would rise; he would be protected by the aura of a teacher, making it harder for others to harm him.

Therefore, Ning Yi’s popularity with the children was the best outcome. Old Master Su proceeded to ask about his teaching. The little girl, delighted, turned to Su Tan’er, “Second sister, do you know what teacher will talk about tomorrow?”

Su Tan’er smiled, “I’m afraid there won’t be a class tomorrow. He’s caught a chill and began resting at home today. I doubt he’ll be able to go tomorrow.”

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“Oh?” Old Master Su asked, puzzled. Su Tan’er repeated what Xiao Chan had told her, and the little girl asked, “Can I go visit Brother Yi?” Su Tan’er shook her head. “Colds are contagious; better to wait until he’s well before visiting.”

When her third uncle, aunt, and the little girl had left, Su Tan’er chatted with her grandfather for a while before returning to her own quarters. When she went to see Ning Yi, he was in bed drinking medicine, looking displeased. She greeted him a few times and had intended to mention the storytelling incident, but seeing him ill, she let it be.

Su Tan’er was capable and harbored ambitions to distinguish herself as a woman, but at the same time, she was very traditional; though she did not like her marriage, she accepted her fate and tried to get along with Ning Yi. She had spirit, but her mindset remained within the conventional bounds.

She hoped Ning Yi, as a teacher, would command respect through authority, not by using tricks to amuse the students. Rather than being clever or cunning, she preferred him to be a proper—even pedantic—scholar. Even if he lacked great learning, she wished he would at least adhere more closely to the “right path.” Of course, for now, this was a process of mutual understanding; she would not jump to conclusions, but she did gradually try to form an image of her husband in her mind.

In truth, that image was already clear. He was an ordinary scholar, not particularly learned or broad-minded, but kind-hearted and with a temper neither good nor bad. This was the man to whom she would entrust her life.

At present, she could afford a little whimsy, but time was finite; sooner or later, they would have to live together and have children. As long as he was no villain, such things were inevitable. The future… would probably be just so; unlikely to change. She might still hold some small hopes in her heart, but what exactly those hopes were, she herself did not know. As they continued to interact, she might come to know her husband better, but any grand surprises or dramatic differences were unlikely.

It was the end of autumn in the seventh year of Jinghan under the Wu Dynasty. In the Su family’s residence in Jiangning, a graceful young woman stepped out from beneath the eaves, looking up at the sky. She gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her delicate face was serene, with a hint of helplessness, but more of tranquil composure. As the wind swept through the courtyard, her pale blue dress fluttered lightly. Though she had only recently become a wife in name, this was how the accomplished Miss Tan’er viewed her marriage.

But for now, this was not the all-consuming matter of her life. She still had other things to contemplate and to do. Ordinary life, even when it occasionally occupied her mind, would continue steadily along its course. If everything followed its natural path, decades later, when she once again stepped out beneath the eaves and looked up, she might suddenly recall the wind she had seen on this day years ago, carrying her, like the passage of time, to some distant place. But for now, time was abundant and there was no need to fret over much.

It was in this nearly imperceptible abundance of days that the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived.

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Illness comes like a mountain, but recedes like drawing silk. In these times, with no real medicine, this body—already frail and untrained—succumbed to a cold again after only a short period of exercise. Thus, on the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Ning Yi was still confined to his room, idly passing the time with an old vernacular novel.

From past experience, Ning Yi knew that in his current condition, he could at least walk around the courtyard. But this was the ancient world. Medical care was poor, and everyone’s health was fragile. As long as someone was caring for him, the family took illness seriously; late autumn had brought a chill, and Xiao Chan guarded the door, refusing to let her restless patient out. Ning Yi understood the little maid’s intentions.

So be it—he was not an especially active person anyway. Every so often, he would open the window to air out the room, though even this made Xiao Chan puff her cheeks in disapproval. Bored, Ning Yi would waste time explaining the benefits of fresh air to her.

By evening, Ning Yi donned another layer and, with Su Tan’er and the others, went out to attend the family banquet. After all, it was only a cold, and the Mid-Autumn Festival’s grand family feast was an event not to be missed. The Su family, from masters to stewards, servants, maids, and guards, numbered in the hundreds. In the main hall and several large courtyards, tables were set up everywhere, making for a lively scene.

Ning Yi had attended large banquets before—annual company parties, for instance—but the more modern the setting, the more distant people seemed from one another. Here, in the atmosphere of ancient times, even though few in the Su family were truly warm to their live-in son-in-law, he could still feel a kind of intimate bustle. Outside, firecrackers popped, children ran about, voices called, greeted, gossiped—a din of sound. He and Su Tan’er exchanged greetings with others—he genuinely enjoyed such moments.

Before the sun had fully set, the feast began. Amid the lively atmosphere, torches and lanterns were lit, night slowly fell, and the sounds mingled together—people playing drinking games, some getting rowdy, others coming to flatter Old Master Su and the family heads. A few children even recited poems they had composed. The three maids—Chan, Juan, and Xing—were happy, seated not far away at the maids’ table, running over now and then to chat with Su Tan’er and report the latest, sometimes also speaking to Ning Yi: “Master, they’re repeating your stories…” Ning Yi had only casually told a few tales in class, but they were already spreading among the younger generation, and even among the servants.

Ah, such is life in an age starved of entertainment…

The banquet started early, and not long after nightfall, it gradually drew to a close. But of course, the tradition of moon-gazing was still observed. Old Master Su, accompanied by Su Boyong, would say a few words to the family before retiring to his own courtyard, where everyone else would follow to pay their respects. Even the younger generation, if they wished to leave, had to go through the proper formalities. Su Boyong and his two brothers, meanwhile, attended to the staff in charge, distributing red envelopes and taking turns exchanging kind words.

Old Master Su was over seventy but still healthy and vigorous. Ning Yi and Su Tan’er had already greeted him at dinner; when they went again, the old master offered the customary words—“You two must support each other”—before urging the convalescent Ning Yi to return and rest, even though he looked perfectly fine, his voice only a little hoarse.

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If it were the modern day, a twenty-year-old could shrug off a cold with or without medicine, no problem. Now, though, a seventy-year-old elder was admonishing him to take care. Ning Yi felt helpless. There was little he could do; his exercise in recent months had only been light, more out of habit than for real training, and had hardly improved his scholar’s physique. He resolved to begin a more systematic regimen soon.

Returning to his small building, Su Tan’er followed Ning Yi into his room. After a moment’s silence, she urged him to rest well that night and, somewhat awkwardly, hinted that she would be going out—she had already told him days ago she would attend the Puyuan Poetry Gathering.

Regardless of whether Ning Yi was ill, Su Tan’er would certainly go to the poetry gathering, for her main purpose was to cultivate relationships and discuss business. On this matter, even if Ning Yi were upset or quarreled, it would make no difference. Still, as a wife, explaining this to her ailing husband felt a little strange.

But Ning Yi understood. He found her efforts amusing—how his little wife, though unwilling to give up Su family business, also wanted to do her best by their marriage, even if, for now, it was a marriage in name only, with her firmly in control. Ancient women! He found her earnestness endearing.

After quietly appreciating Su Tan’er’s careful, thoughtful expression, Ning Yi smiled and told her to return early. As she was leaving, instructing Chan to take good care of him, he remembered, “Oh, no need—let Xiao Chan go enjoy herself too. I’ll be fine, just reading a bit before bed.”

The Puyuan Poetry Gathering, with its six moored boats, would feature performances and the full spectacle of lanterns along the Qinhuai River—a true feast for anyone. For days, Xiao Chan had been bubbling about how much fun the poetry gathering was, since Su Tan’er usually took all three maids. Ning Yi liked Chan and didn’t want to spoil her mood, but before he could say more, Chan was already shaking her head with a smile. “I won’t go. I’ll stay home and read with Master.”

In terms of feelings, Su Tan’er’s bond with the three maids—like sisters—was surely deeper than with Ning Yi, but after all, maids were still servants, and Chan’s understanding made further words unnecessary. Ning Yi tried to persuade her, but seeing she couldn’t be moved, he gave up.

The two of them watched as the others departed from the second-floor corridor. From there, the Su family estate spread wide, extending to distant streets, with all of Jiangning aglow with lights—a magnificent night scene. If only they could find a high vantage point to take it all in; but tonight, that was not to be.

“Master, let’s go inside,” Chan said with a smile. “Will you tell me a story?”

“Bring out a stool, I’ll tell it right here…”

“Then I don’t want to listen.” Chan pouted, then hesitated, “It’s windy here, let’s go inside…”

“It’s nothing, really—it’s not even windy, and I’m dressed warmly… I could put on a hat, too… It’s interesting to watch from here. All right, it’s settled—bring out the stools, and I’ll tell you… Journey to the West… or maybe The Western Chamber.”

Since he insisted, Chan gave in, and the two of them sat together on the small terrace. By now, the Su family’s courtyard had quieted, with only the occasional person heading out. Distant firecrackers, gongs, and shouts drifted in. Though the Mid-Autumn Festival was meant to be spent with family, there were many social obligations—like Su Tan’er, many would attend gatherings: lantern festivals, wine parties, poetry gatherings, and more. Even ordinary families didn’t always stay home; going out to the market, watching dragon or lion dances, and guessing lantern riddles were all popular.

Meanwhile, throughout the city, the main events were about to begin. Some poetry gatherings had already posted their first poems, and certain brothels would soon select and sing these verses. At the largest gatherings, guests were still arriving. When Su Tan’er left, the Pan residence, host of the Zhishui Poetry Gathering, was already bustling with famous figures. Old Qin, who usually played chess with Ning Yi by the riverside, was dressed more formally tonight and accompanied by his concubine, Yun Niang. As soon as he alighted from his carriage, a crowd of attendants came to greet him: “Master Qin, your presence brings glory to the Pan household…”

This was Pan Guangyan, head of the Pan family, and elder brother to Pan Mingchen, Vice Minister of Rites and Hanlin Academician, renowned for his talent—especially his paintings of cranes, which earned him the respectful title “Crane Elder.” Yet even he showed great respect to Old Qin, who, being of similar age, quickly returned the courtesy: “You flatter me, Crane Elder. If you’re always so polite, I’ll be afraid to come next time…”

“Haha, Master Qin, you are as witty as ever… By the way, Lord Ming is already here…” After an exchange of pleasantries, the two entered together.

Soon after, the Zhishui Poetry Gathering began. The six large, decorated boats moored along the busiest section of the Qinhuai River slowly left the shore. One after another, poems were recited at the gatherings, their verses spreading throughout the city. Amid lantern lights and music, a sense of refined elegance grew ever stronger. On this lively Mid-Autumn night, the city’s true festivities had just begun.