Chapter 28: The Monastery's Rain (Part One)

Parking the handcart in the low shed by the side of the small building, he then helped carry some things inside. As he stepped into the main hall, Ning Yi couldn’t help but recall a phrase: “stepping into the inner sanctum.” The thought struck him as vaguely mischievous, drawing a wry smile to his lips.

Though the two of them chatted for a while every morning, this was Ning Yi’s first time actually entering this little house. The building was set by the riverside, surrounded by a few trees—quiet and elegant, with few other structures around. In summer, it might be pleasantly cool, but in winter it felt somewhat chilly. Even though thick drapes had been hung and the outside walls insulated against the cold, the owner had been away for more than half a day and, upon entering, the place felt colder than the world outside. The parlor was sparsely furnished but tasteful. Nie Yunzhu seemed a bit flustered at having a guest, scurrying about in search of something to offer, but the tea was cold and there was nothing to eat. In the end, she simply invited Ning Yi to sit and went outside to bring in a small brazier, transferring the embers from the hearth in the handcart.

She placed the little brazier in the center of the room, not far from Ning Yi, then set a teapot atop it. “Um… it’ll be ready in a moment.”

Ning Yi laughed in amusement, and his smile left Nie Yunzhu a touch embarrassed. Then she remembered something. “Those salted duck eggs…” She ran into the inner room and lugged out two jars, placing them on the table before him. “Anyway… I made them just as you described, Young Master Ning. I’m not sure if they’re edible, though.”

When she’d been preparing to sell pancakes, she’d thought of offering tea eggs and salted eggs as well. Upon mentioning this to Ning Yi, he’d recalled some things and asked her to try making the items now before him. He’d provided the money, and the preparation was similar to regular salted eggs, except they used limewater and camphor ash, with less salt than usual. It was an experiment, and he’d asked her to follow the proportions strictly. Now, more than twenty days had passed, and it was time to see the results.

Nie Yunzhu was quite interested in these oddly-cured salted duck eggs, but at this moment she was even more curious about the melodies Ning Yi had mentioned on the way. She loathed being made to entertain with her appearance, but not the art itself. A man who could compose the likes of “Prelude to the Water Melody”—what sorts of songs did he hum in his leisure? She never asked, but the curiosity lingered. Now she brought over a basin of clean water and a porcelain bowl for him, then fetched her guqin and set out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, sitting across the round table in silence.

Ning Yi took a duck egg from the jar, dropped it into the water to wash, then, catching her expectant expression, chuckled. He nodded, “Alright, I’ll sing it for you. You write down the lyrics. But if I sing badly, you’re not allowed to laugh. This song is called ‘Temple Rain’… Yes, that kind of temple…”

Snowflakes drifted down outside, and from the little house came the faint strains of song:

“The noise of splendor, fleeing into emptiness, bewildering the world,
Dreams turn cold, a lifetime twists and turns, how many debts of love remain?
If you tacitly consent, waiting through life and death,
Waiting and waiting, year after year, as the rings grow…
Buddha’s tower, broken at how many levels, whose soul has been lost?
Pain rushes forth, a solitary lamp remains, the mountain gate collapses.
Let me wait again, until history turns,
Until the wine grows mellow, until you play, a song on the guzheng…”

A string sounded softly, echoing through the room…

At the Su residence, the examination at the library had ended, and Ning Yi had not appeared. After a brief conversation with Old Master Su and the others, Song Mao returned to the courtyard prepared for him, instructing his steward, Song Kai, to prepare necessities and gifts for his departure.

For him, this trip to Jiangning was a bit rushed—especially the first few days, when the order of visits was important. As he was pondering these matters, Song Kai entered again. “Master, Young Master Wenxing wishes to see you.”

Song Mao nodded. “Let him in.”

Su Wenxing was the son of Su Zhongkan, fifth among the third generation of Su sons—this ranking included not just the three main branches but also many cousins. Still, Su Wenxing was the legitimate son of Su Zhongkan’s wife, and Song Mao was his maternal uncle, who had doted on him since childhood. His visit was expected.

It was widely said that the third generation of the Su family lacked talent, but judging by appearance alone, the twenty-three-year-old Su Wenxing was quite presentable—he entered, paid his respects, and Song Mao, smiling, spoke first: “Wenxing, this morning you spoke of that fame-seeking impostor. Is it really this Ning Yi, Ning Liheng?”

“Uncle, it’s truly him. We already investigated his background. For twenty years he’s been a nameless bookworm, ignorant of much. If not for his destitution, he’d never have become a son-in-law in our family…”

Song Mao smiled. “I don’t think he seems that way.”

“At Mid-Autumn, that poem ‘Prelude to the Water Melody’—in front of Grandfather and Father, he claimed it was written by a wandering Taoist. Grandfather was strict, forbidding anyone from spreading the story, so we couldn’t say anything…”

Su Wenxing, feeling aggrieved, poured out his thoughts to his beloved uncle. Song Mao raised a calming hand and said, “Whether it’s credible remains to be seen. If he truly seeks empty fame or plagiarizes others’ works, I’ll test him myself…”

“But, Uncle, you praised him so highly in the library today—if…”

Su Wenxing had told Song Mao about Ning Yi that morning, and in the library just now, once Song Mao realized Ning Yi was the children’s teacher, he praised him all the more, leaving Su Wenxing frustrated—afraid it would only add to Ning Yi’s reputation. Though Ning Yi was only a son-in-law, his growing fame would become a bargaining chip for Su Tan’er.

Seeing his nephew’s reaction, Song Mao shook his head inwardly and patted him on the shoulder. “Wenxing, you’re taking over your father’s business. I’ve always told you, look further ahead—don’t be unsettled by someone’s fleeting reputation. In the Su family, though Tan’er’s husband is merely a son-in-law, your grandfather will not let harm befall him. If he truly has talent, you may not be able to deal with him for now; why not befriend him, and perhaps discover his weaknesses? If he is indeed seeking empty fame, he’ll fall eventually. The higher you lift him up, the harder he’ll fall. So, before that happens, shouldn’t you praise him yourself?”

Song Mao, with his square face and honest appearance, spoke earnestly, then paused. “I have matters to attend to outside. Think on what I said. This evening, go see your parents… I’m off.”

“Yes, I understand…” Su Wenxing bowed respectfully. “It was my own mistake just now…”

Song Mao smiled and went out the door.

As Song Mao left the courtyard, another figure was making his way along a path toward the side gate from the far end of the Su residence. Xie Junyu, who had come with Manager Luo, had not left with him. After the news from the library, he’d lingered to chat with a few people before taking his leave alone. The Su family estate was vast, and he was familiar with the grounds. Circling around, he found himself with a view of the two small buildings where Su Tan’er and Ning Yi lived.

In the swirling snow, he stood for a moment, his expression grave, before turning to leave. He traversed several snowy courtyards, nearly at the side gate when a voice called out nearby, “Manager Xie, what a coincidence!”

Such “chance encounters” had happened more than once. Xie Junyu, feeling irritable today, frowned slightly but returned the greeting with a cupped fist. “Seventh Young Master, indeed—a coincidence.”

Approaching was a young man in fine clothes, holding a folded fan, his face fresh and charming. Su Wenji, seventh among the third generation of the third branch, smiled as he came over. “Manager Xie, you work hard. Since we’ve met, my father is holding a banquet at Yinchun Tower today. Would you care to join us?”

“Heh, thank you, Seventh Young Master, and Third Master for the invitation, but I have matters to attend to and must decline.”

“Manager Xie, you always say that…”

“And you always invite me, Seventh Young Master.”

“Well, in that case…” Su Wenji straightened his expression. “Manager Xie, I know you like my second sister.”

Xie Junyu paused, then smiled faintly. “That’s a novel accusation.”

“Manager Xie, there’s no need to deny it. Anyone with sense in the family can see it. Honestly, we all thought my second sister would choose you. My father even said, ‘If she picks Xie Junyu, things will get complicated.’ There’s no need to hide it now. Everyone knows your abilities—half of my sister’s business is propped up by you. Yet in the end, neither my sister, nor Uncle, nor Grandfather chose you.”

Now that the topic was broached, Su Wenji waved his unopened fan, speaking openly. “No one knows why they picked that Ning Yi. Don’t say I’m stirring the pot—it’s only natural to think so. And just now, that Ning Yi made quite a splash even in his absence. Don’t you know? Grandfather is coming to value him more and more. He’s just a son-in-law…”

Listening to all this, Xie Junyu finally smiled. “Seventh Young Master, I know they haven’t consummated their marriage yet—they still sleep in separate rooms. Outwardly husband and wife, but in truth, strangers. As long as that remains, he’s nothing but a joke.”

“But they will, eventually! You and I both know my second sister’s character. Now that she’s started to get along with Ning Yi, she’ll consummate the marriage sooner or later. She’s been well brought up since childhood—she’d never do anything improper. Now that she’s accepted…”

“Oh, Seventh Young Master, is this how you speak so freely of your own sister?”

Xie Junyu shook his head and strode forward. Behind him, Su Wenji bit his lip. “Why is every conversation like this! Xie Junyu, you know full well my sister will accept him in the end. You haven’t a chance…”

Before he could finish, Xie Junyu suddenly turned, striding over, tall and imposing from years in business. Snow swirling about him, his presence was intimidating. He stared at Su Wenji for a moment, then gave a cold laugh and shook his head. “Seventh Young Master, don’t be naïve…”

Xie Junyu often came to the residence on business, and Su Wenji would wait, leading to many such “coincidences” where they exchanged pleasantries. Never before had Su Wenji seen the usually composed and confident Xie Junyu so cold.

He hesitated, then blurted out, “Manager Xie, if you come to our side, you’ll immediately be the chief manager of Su’s third branch, with all resources at your disposal. Whatever demands you have, so long as we can meet them, we’ll agree. If you manage those resources well, and second sister fails to take over the main house, you’ll have plenty of ways to win her. My father says you’re a clever man—everyone knows it. We’re sincere, so there’s no need for empty words. Just think about it…”

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