Chapter Forty-One: A Night of Dancing Shadows and Whirling Dreams (VII)

Behind Golden Wind Pavilion, in Yuan Jin’er’s chamber, Kou’er was animatedly recounting the recent happenings at Old Rain Pavilion:

“…Then, when Young Master Ning wrote that poem, everyone was dumbfounded. That Xue Jin, who originally wanted to give him trouble, even asked, ‘Didn't you say that the Song of the Water Melody was written by some Taoist?’ And Young Master Ning told him…hahaha…he said that Taoist, on that day…huhu…composed two poems…hahahahaha…”

As she finished, Yuan Jin’er, who lay listening on the bed, burst into laughter, rocking back and forth. “Yun…Sister Yunzhu, this man is truly witty…”

Yunzhu held the slip of paper, reading it. She knew Ning Yi, and the scene Kou’er described played out in her mind. Recalling Ning Yi’s unconventional nature, she felt he really could have done such a thing, and couldn’t help but smile.

Kou’er had always somewhat supported Young Master Cao Guan. Now she was happily telling her story, but after a moment grew a little anxious. “Miss, Sister Nie, is this poem really so good? Young Master Cao and the others looked so strange earlier. Miss, you’ve said before there’s no fixed rule in poetry contests, and Young Master Cao is always the best. Could he really be outmatched…”

Yuan Jin’er smiled, glanced at the poem, exchanged a look with Nie Yunzhu, and then shook her head slightly. “If things went as Kou’er described, after tonight, the title of Jiangning’s foremost scholar may well be given to Young Master Ning. Pity…he is a merchant’s son-in-law.” She frowned, “Why would such a person become a son-in-law? Was he forced by the Su family…”

Previously, doubts about Ning Yi’s poetry being plagiarized had arisen because of his status. But after tonight, few would dare question him again. The playful remark about the Taoist composing two poems would not be believed by anyone. Yuan Jin’er pondered, and beside her, Hu Tao, who had hesitated for a long time, tugged at Nie Yunzhu’s sleeve and whispered, “Miss, could this Young Master Ning really be that Young Master Ning?”

Her voice was soft, but both Yuan Jin’er and Kou’er heard clearly, their eyes widening: “Sister Yunzhu…do you know Ning Yi?”

Yunzhu thought for a moment, plucked the strings of the guqin nearby, letting a few notes dance forth, and after a pause said, “If I told you he was the author of that song just now, what would you think, Jin’er?”

“Ah…” Yuan Jin’er was stunned for a while, thinking of that strange yet pleasant melody, unable to settle her thoughts. Looking at the Green Jade Table in front of her, it was upright and grand to the extreme, yet the other piece was unconventional and unruly. “If it’s really as Sister Yunzhu says, then it truly is…a bit odd…”

“Sister Nie, you really know Young Master Ning? What kind of person is he? Tell us…”

Kou’er moved closer to Nie Yunzhu, who glanced at the poem in her hand, thought briefly, then lifted her head and looked toward the corner of the room.

Yes, what kind of person is he…

Thinking back, she found it hard to describe. The first time they met, she had fallen into the river and dragged him in with her, and after saving her, he was slapped, yet never explained himself. Later, he was so easygoing, always running about in the mornings, occasionally stopping to chat. Despite his reputation as a scholar, he never acted like one; every day, his interests were peculiar.

“Just killed a chicken, no need to thank me.”

“Charcoal pencil…for writing…”

“Exercising…scholars are useless.”

“If I could learn some martial arts…become one of those formidable wanderers…”

“Kalan Rain…not fit for elegant halls, but I like it.”

“Preserved eggs…call them ‘rich eggs,’ ‘jade eggs,’ whatever you like…”

If she told others of these things, they might think him arrogant, but with him, she simply felt relaxed—so different from all the refined scholars. Arrogance always stems from pride in something; yet she could sense he truly wasn’t smug or disdainful about anything, just indifferent. He didn’t dislike what others liked, but neither did he enjoy it. Over several months of acquaintance, he never showed his literary talents before her, nor did she bring it up, but she couldn’t deny that, deep down, she had expectations.

How gifted must one be to craft such verses—“When will the bright moon appear, I raise my cup and ask the sky…” Nie Yunzhu herself harbored a quiet anticipation. Though she enjoyed the carefree side of Ning Yi, she believed that perhaps that was his truest self, yet she still hoped one day to see his scholarly side.

Now, seeing the Green Jade Table, picturing him composing it amidst ridicule and obstruction, his easy smile in response—how she wished she had been there…

Listening to Kou’er’s questions and looking at the poem, an intense longing arose in her heart. Outside, lanterns lit the night bright as day. He had said there was urgent business at the restaurant; she didn’t know what it was or where he was now. Suddenly, she wanted to know all these things…

After a moment, Nie Yunzhu suppressed her emotions.

After the midnight bell, Ning Yi walked home with Xiaochan, who kept reciting the Green Jade Table, occasionally asking, “Master, master, what was that ‘golden thread’ thing?” Ning Yi would answer each time.

He felt bored, for after composing the poem, he had lost track of his quarry.

He had thought the poem fit the occasion, especially since he had been tailing the female assassin. But perhaps because it was too apt—maybe that last line, “Suddenly, I turn, and that person is there where the lanterns are dim,” had caught the assassin’s attention; when he and Xiaochan followed, circling several times, he realized the assassin had vanished from his watch.

Perhaps the poem’s very appropriateness betrayed his presence—he hadn’t expected that. He wondered if changing it to “Suddenly, I turn, and that person is not there where the lanterns are dim” might have worked better…he mused wryly.

If the assassin had truly grown wary of him, it would do more harm than good to persist. With things not working out, he simply let it go. After strolling a while with Xiaochan, who was still excited about the earlier events, constantly talking about Xue Jin’s bewildered expression, hands on hips, laughing, “Hmph, now no one dares speak ill of the young master!”

Ning Yi chuckled, “Ah, it’s no use if they do…”

“Why?”

“Because the Taoist only composed two poems.”

“Hehe…” Xiaochan giggled.

In any case, the plagiarism accusation was now settled.

Some things—like tonight’s events—seemed accidental, but were not without calculation. From the start, Ning Yi felt the ideal resolution was something like this. He wasn’t fussy; the poems he knew here were strategic resources. If needed, he could use them. But there was no pressing need now, so using them for vanity meant nothing. Since Xiaochan had revealed the truth, he saw no reason to deny it; there was no point in carrying a bad name when he could solve the issue.

He had never considered mingling with the scholars for fame. Since it was done on a whim, it should be simple. He had kept quiet for five months, knowing he couldn’t avoid it forever, and now it was settled. Today, he truly wanted to pursue the female assassin; to him, the title of scholar was dispensable—a prize taken if it came to him, unlike martial arts, which were different. Yet, unexpected things happened; since Xue Jin and Su Chonghua pushed the matter, he went along with it.

He hadn’t planned so specifically, but past habits had taken root. When playing or relaxing, he let loose, chatting freely with people like Elder Qin, Elder Kang, Nie Yunzhu. But whenever he sensed even the slightest threat, these seemingly casual responses were, perhaps, subconsciously rehearsed many times over. He could only joke to himself that he was forever trapped in calculations.

Martial arts still seemed out of reach for now. Solving the poem issue was at least some gain. After walking a while, Xiaochan suddenly said, “Master, Xiaochan doesn’t like this poem…”

“Hm?”

‘Still searching a thousand times among the crowd… Master, you were just chasing that female thief.”

Ning Yi paused, then laughed. Xiaochan pursed her lips, “Master, if I tell Miss later, you’ll be in trouble…”

“Mm, I know.” Ning Yi nodded, smiling as he walked on. Xiaochan followed behind, calling, “Master, I really will tell Miss…”

“I know…”

Xiaochan liked Ning Yi, but there was no way she would hide this from Su Tan’er for his sake, nor did she want any discord between Ning Yi and Su Tan’er. She wavered between “loyalty to Miss” and “keeping quiet for harmony’s sake,” seeing Ning Yi’s unconcerned attitude, feeling her own worries were unnecessary, wanting to bite him in frustration.

“Ma~ster…”

“I know, I know… The poem is written this way, but it’s not about searching for her. Besides, in the end, I didn’t find her… Come on, let’s hurry…”

As the master and servant chased and teased in the street, in the small teahouse, Su Tan’er, who had finished her business negotiations, received the Green Jade Table poem and learned what had happened at the poetry gathering in Puyuan. She sat quietly, chin propped on her hand, gazing into the air, lost in thought. At the table, Xi Junyu lightly tapped his fingers, glanced at the poem, his gaze calm; only those very familiar with him might notice a hint of gloom in his eyes.

The business was settled, and Su Tan’er was waiting for Ning Yi and Xiaochan to return. Xi Junyu could have discussed the next business plans with her, and, being the Lantern Festival night, mentioned other trivialities. No matter Ning Yi’s character, he and Su Tan’er had cooperated for years; some things couldn’t be diluted, and he felt the atmosphere was pleasant. But once the poem arrived and Xiaojun repeated the rumors she’d heard, when Su Tan’er fell silent, he knew everything had been thrown into disarray. Even if he tried to speak, Su Tan’er would listen and smile in response, but it was meaningless now.

Soon after, Ning Yi and Xiaochan came upstairs. Su Tan’er smiled and nodded to him, “Husband is here. If there’s nothing urgent, Manager Xi, you may leave. Thank you for today’s work.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.” Xi Junyu smiled, bowed, and, as he prepared to descend, glanced back. Su Tan’er was pursing her lips, pointing emphatically at the slip of paper in front of Ning Yi, her eyes bright with laughter—a gesture of intimacy among close friends. He and Su Tan’er had a rapport, but only in business. Su Tan’er, gentle and elegant on the surface, was, in truth, frighteningly earnest. Their cooperation brought a sense of accomplishment, but he had never seen her smile like this.

Ning Yi picked up the slip and smiled, explaining something. Noticing her clothes slightly askew, Su Tan’er laughed, reached out, and straightened the collar of his robe…

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