Chapter Fifteen: Realization in Hindsight

The carriage entered the Su residence through the side gate, just as it happened to cross paths with the second uncle and his companions, who were returning home slightly tipsy from drinking. They exchanged a few words about Su Tan’er’s experiences that night, asking whether she had enjoyed the poetry gathering. Su Tan’er answered calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened.

At that time, many poems were still being recited and passed around the city. Though “Prelude to the Water Melody” was undoubtedly an outstanding piece, it was not likely to cause a sensation or be crowned as the night’s absolute best—at least, not yet. The rebuke from Kang Xian at the Still Water Poetry Gathering had not yet spread, and to the common folk, all top-tier poems seemed more or less alike. While this poem was certainly fine, compared to works by celebrated talents like Cao Guan and Li Pin, some might consider it only on par—or perhaps even slightly inferior, given the others’ established reputations. Only those truly learned could discern the poem’s profound simplicity and lasting elegance, sensing the distance between it and the rest.

Su Zhongkan had spent the evening conducting business, drinking with courtesans, and took little interest in poetry. He hadn’t heard anything about Ning Liheng or the events of the night. After exchanging a few polite words, uncle and niece parted ways on the road. Su Tan’er and her three maids returned to their small courtyard residence. Aside from the large lantern still glowing at the gate, the courtyard was quiet, washed in the silvery moonlight from above.

Su Tan’er glanced toward the darkened window on the second floor. Xiaochan asked, “Miss, should I go wake the young master?”

“No need, he’s already asleep. Don’t disturb him. Chan’er, bring up some warm water. Xing’er, Juan’er, you two should go to bed early… Chan’er, if you’re not too tired, could you tell me one of the stories the young master shared with you?”

Chan’er smiled and nodded. Juan’er and Xing’er quickly raised their hands.

“Miss, we’re not sleepy!”

“Yes, we want to listen too!”

She gave her two maids a mock-annoyed look, then smiled, “Fine, you can join us. Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since we’ve listened to stories together.”

“I remember when Miss used to read to us when we were little…”

“Yes, yes, I remember too…”

The girls chattered away, and soon Su Tan’er headed upstairs, with Juan’er and Xing’er helping Chan’er to heat water and bring up a basin and towels.

In the distance, the city’s lights gradually faded into quiet. In the tranquil courtyard, the warm glow from a second-floor window cast silhouettes of mistress and maids talking and laughing together.

No one knew how long the night stretched on, but it grew much deeper before the three maids finally left the room, closed the door, and went downstairs. Back in her own room, Chan’er shut the door, leaned against it, clasped her hands over her heart, and took a deep breath. Her innocent upturned face was marked by a complex blend of emotions: joy, confusion, fear, and anticipation.

Su Tan’er had taught her much over the years, so she was not entirely naïve; she had her own small thoughts, but they were always for the sake of those she cared about—her mistress, the Su family, and now, perhaps, Ning Liheng as well.

She’d once argued on behalf of the Su family at the chess stall with Old Qin. During her recent time with Ning Yi, she’d found him to be gentle and humorous despite his reserved nature. He never seemed burdened by anything, and he always treated her kindly. Naturally, she liked him.

For her mistress, her feelings were not just fondness, but gratitude and devotion—a very deep affection, in short. She understood Miss’s past troubles and knew what she liked. Now that she’d discovered the young master was not the bookish recluse everyone said he was, she couldn’t help but consider the marriage between him and her mistress. If they truly liked each other and naturally grew closer, that would be for the best. All she needed to do was let Miss see her husband’s merits, and let the young master appreciate Miss’s goodness—this, after all, was a maid’s duty.

She knew her mistress loved poetry, but the young master’s earlier attempts had been nothing to brag about—sometimes she wondered if he’d written them as a joke. Tonight, when she saw him compose “Prelude to the Water Melody,” she wasn’t very knowledgeable, but she could tell how remarkable it was. She’d found a treasure, and brought the poem to the poetry gathering at Puyuan, planning to show it to Miss at the right moment. When she saw Xue Jin, she knew what might happen and went with the flow, bringing out the poem. No matter what, the poem was excellent—at least it wouldn’t embarrass anyone.

She just hadn’t expected the poem to impress so many people to such an extent.

If she’d realized beforehand just how extraordinary it was, she would never have brought it out so recklessly. Now it seemed her attempt to surprise Miss with the young master’s talent had backfired—Miss herself seemed shocked and unprepared when they were on the boat, which made Chan’er anxious. She’d only wanted to arrange a small surprise, but it had turned out to be overwhelming—even for herself.

How could things end up like this…?

The lamp flickered gently. Chan’er, not very sleepy, sat at the table, cradling her chin and worrying. In her hands was the original draft of “Prelude to the Water Melody” written by Ning Yi. She read it over again and again.

Young master, it’s fine to be talented, but must you be this gifted? How am I supposed to explain all this to you tomorrow…?

Clearly, it was the young master’s fault.

She pouted, poking the rice paper twice with her finger. When she read the final line, her cheeks grew rosy. Then she carefully folded the sheet and tucked it back into the bottom of her drawer.

Blowing out the oil lamp, her face burning, the little maid groped her way to bed in the dark…

“Though miles apart, we share this moonlight… Hee…”

*****************

At dawn, a white mist blanketed Jiangning once more, but the sunlight soon rose above the fog, spilling forth a magnificent morning.

After a good night’s sleep, Ning Yi felt refreshed and greatly recovered. With another day of rest, he would be ready for classes tomorrow. For today, he thought, perhaps he could procure some wooden dummies or sandbags from the guards to begin training. This body had long been frail, and it would not do to neglect proper exercise.

The steward overseeing the guards was surnamed Zhang, if he remembered correctly. The atmosphere in the Su household was generally supportive, thanks to Old Master Su’s care. Still, he wondered if bringing training equipment into the courtyard would shock Su Tan’er and the others too much. A frail scholar going for a run was one thing, but if he suddenly announced he was practicing martial arts, they might well think he’d gone mad.

He needed them to accept his uniqueness, but slowly—not all at once. He weighed these thoughts idly in his mind. At breakfast, as they sat together sipping meat porridge, Ning Yi noticed Su Tan’er seemed to be watching him with an odd look.

He glanced at her, puzzled. After a moment he put down his bowl and chopsticks, meeting his wife’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Su Tan’er replied with a slight smile, shaking her head. “You just seem very energetic this morning.”

“Oh, my illness is almost gone. My throat is still a little dry, but after today I’ll be fine and ready for the academy.”

“As long as you’re well. In the days ahead, Husband, you may find yourself quite busy,” she said.

“Busy?”

She nodded, offering no further explanation, and began to sip her porridge daintily. Puzzled, Ning Yi thought to himself that her smile resembled the Mona Lisa’s…

What could she mean? Would the academy assign him more work? He mulled over her words all the way back to his room. Only when Xiaochan timidly came to report what had happened the previous night did he finally understand the emotion in Su Tan’er’s eyes.

“I’m very sorry, young master. I just wanted Miss to see the poem… But that Xue Jin was simply too much…”

Ning Yi listened in disbelief, but soon his expression calmed. After a moment’s thought, he chuckled.

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not a big problem.”

Seeing he wasn’t angry, Chan’er nodded happily. “That’s right, young master’s talent is—” She was cut off as Ning Yi flicked her forehead.

“Who says I’m talented? Don’t tell people things like that again.”

“…Alright.” The little maid hesitated, then nodded.

“In that case, I’m not going out today.” Ning Yi considered, then smiled. “Looks like I’ll have to be ‘sick’ a few more days…”

Sunlight streamed through the window as Ning Yi picked up a popular novel and headed back to bed, preparing to feign illness and rest. After a moment, he waved Xiaochan over. Relieved, she fetched the chess set and the little table for playing Gomoku from the corner, and hurried over joyfully.

The previous night was Mid-Autumn Festival, so many people had stayed up late; as a result, most in Jiangning rose late that morning, and the city returned to its usual bustle only half an hour later than normal. By midday, the events of the Still Water Poetry Gathering and other poetic news began to spread widely, and in the days that followed, the influence of “Prelude to the Water Melody” set off waves that rippled through Jiangning, growing ever deeper and broader as time went on…