Chapter Sixty-Four: Until Tomorrow, Little Bell

Chapter Sixty-Four: See You Tomorrow, Little Bell

The tinkling of bells echoed in the early morning as Chan’er and Juan’er set the bowls and chopsticks on the table, served the porridge, and, at Tan’er’s instruction, sat down beside her. In the gentle glow of dawn, the five members of the household gathered around the table for breakfast.

Last night, Su Tan’er and Juan’er, as well as Xing’er, had returned late. After Chan’er’s tears, she lingered with Ning Yi in the pavilion, confiding her worries while wiping her eyes and rambling on. The girl was pitiable: first fretting that Ning Yi would abandon her to meet some seductive woman, then worrying when she saw the clamor outside, fearing her master might encounter trouble, and finally, if he did go to see such a woman and didn’t take her, he’d have no money…

“If Master goes and has no money, those people will look down on him. Honestly, those women who claim to be so wonderful—it’s all an act. They’re the most snobbish…”

She sat in the pavilion, wiping away tears, sincerely concerned that he’d lose face for lack of funds. Ning Yi felt warmth in his heart, comforted her, and, under the starlit pavilion, they exchanged a few words. Little Chan finally let go of some of her worries.

Su Tan’er, having returned late, hadn’t slept much. Though such events were not uncommon, she looked somewhat weary at breakfast, having washed her face and forced herself to be spirited. Juan’er and Xing’er were much the same.

“We were stopped when we returned to the city last night. The checks for leaving the city were strict. They said a high-ranking official had been attacked. The courtesan competition today probably can’t be held at Egret Isle. The arrangements are uncertain… And the dragon boat races this morning—”

Su Tan’er spoke as she drank her porridge, discussing the day’s matters out of habit. Ning Yi shook his head. “Sleep in this morning.”

“Huh?” Su Tan’er looked up.

“You, and Juan’er, Xing’er too. Sleep in. Let Chan’er handle the courtyard matters. We’ll talk about the rest at noon.”

“Mm-hmm.” Chan’er straightened up eagerly, nodding hard. “Leave it to me, Miss. You should rest more.”

“We’ll listen to you, husband.” Su Tan’er smiled, and Juan’er and Xing’er grinned happily. “Thank you, Master.”

“But then you’ll have to watch the dragon boat races alone this morning…”

“I’m not going to the races. I’ll head to the academy for a bit.”

“Aren’t there no classes today?” Su Tan’er asked.

“I have nothing else to do. I had some ideas last night—today, I want to try some experiments. I’ll be back by noon.”

They chatted idly, Su Tan’er asked about yesterday’s competition and about what had happened in the city before her return. In truth, besides the fatigue from lack of sleep, Su Tan’er, Juan’er, and Xing’er were all somewhat low-spirited, likely due to another failed technical breakthrough. Still, such failures were the norm—nine out of ten attempts fail, and one waits for that final success. It wasn’t enough to be truly discouraged.

After breakfast, Su Tan’er, Juan’er, and Xing’er went back to bed. Ning Yi bade Chan’er farewell and left, driving the carriage from the Prince Consort’s residence to the marketplace. It was the Dragon Boat Festival, and the streets were lively and festive. Many flocked to the Qinhuai River to watch the dragon boat races, and the scent of rice dumplings wafted from both sides of the streets. There were more soldiers patrolling, likely causing headaches for the Jiangning Prefecture—it was hard to enforce strict measures on such a festive day, so they heightened vigilance and checks, strictly controlling city entry and exit to trap the assassin inside.

Taking the road toward the academy, the crowd thinned, though the sounds of firecrackers and gongs still drifted through the air. Ning Yi greeted a familiar neighbor along the way. Arriving at the rented courtyard, he took a bundle from the carriage and headed inside, passing through the yard and rooms. Opening the inner door, he found it empty. He looked around, noting small clues—the window closed last night was now open. He shut the door and left.

Up on the beam, three or four meters above the ground, a woman in a long robe sat, watching Ning Yi close the door before turning and leaping down. The robe, clearly cut for a man, billowed as she landed, bandages wrapped around her slender legs, which stretched out in the air before touching down. She pulled the robe tighter around herself, revealing pale calves and bare feet. She tapped her sword against a rack nearby.

Hearing the sound, Ning Yi waited a few seconds before reopening the door. With a clang, the sword hilt blocked the door from inside. He passed the bundle through the opening, and as he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of her delicate wrist and a side profile cold as frost.

“Clothes to wear, food for lunch and dinner—they’re already prepared. It’s not very nutritious, I’ll try to get something better. You’re injured now—if you need medicine, let me know. Don’t worry, I’ll buy them separately, so it won’t arouse suspicion. You can give me your bloodstained clothes and anything else troublesome, I’ll take care of it.”

A pause inside. “You know how to handle it?”

“I know a bit.”

He picked up some tools—a chisel and hammer—and knocked at the bricks where the sword had made a gap last night. There was an immediate reaction inside, likely as she changed clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“This is too obvious—it’s clearly a weapon’s mark. I’ll make it less conspicuous.”

He chipped away, distorting the hole, then charred it with kerosene, polished, and charred again. After several rounds, he knocked on the door and then went inside, treating a similar spot on the other side. The room was empty; the bloodied cloth strips torn off last night were packed in the bundle on the table.

On the beam, the woman, now dressed in pale green, watched as he finished and checked the bloodstained items on the table. Some were outer garments, some intimate. She felt a flash of annoyance, but then heard him say below, “Sorry, I forgot to buy you shoes. I’ll bring them tomorrow.” He picked up the bundle and left.

The annoyance faded. She shrank her legs on the beam—her trousers barely reached her ankles, and her feet remained bare. She instinctively covered them, then released, curling up on the beam.

Outside, Ning Yi’s experiments continued—he had built a furnace with strong heat, burning coal. He threw the bloodstained cloth and other scraps in; they burned cleanly. He muttered about the soldiers’ checks, then fell silent.

He went about his experiments quietly—mixing solutions, scribbling strange symbols on the blackboard. A porcelain bottle exploded once, so he hurried to clean up. The sunlight streamed in, not too hot, and wild flowers swayed in the breeze in the courtyard. The distant festival sounds never stopped, but the calm in the little yard grew even deeper. Lu Hongti sat on the bed, holding her sword and eating the meat buns Ning Yi brought, occasionally peeking through the widened gap, curious about his odd experiments. He was focused, sometimes jotting notes with a brush.

After a while, someone pushed open the courtyard gate—light, quick footsteps, not an adult. She tidied her things and leaped onto the beam, holding her breath to listen. A young maid’s voice came from outside: “Master, I’ve come!”

A cheerful little maid.

“Be careful over there—there may be broken porcelain. Don’t touch the water on the table.”

“Mm, got it…”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“Sister Xing’er is awake, so she let me come find you. Oh, right, Master, I bought two little bells on the way. Look, can I hang them outside?”

“Go hang them.”

“Okay.”

The clear, pleasant sound of bells rang out as the girl seemed to carry a chair outside to hang them under the eaves.

“Master, I saw lots of soldiers in the streets when I came. Everyone’s talking about yesterday’s assassin—they say she’s amazing. Did you hear?”

“I heard.”

“Hm? What did Master hear? They say it was a woman—just like Yuan Xi, that female thief!”

“Indeed, I heard it was a female assassin. On the way, I heard someone claim to have seen her with their own eyes last night, describing it vividly…” Ning Yi spoke offhandedly. “They said the assassin was skilled, eight feet tall, eight feet around the waist, wielding a golden ring-saber, cutting her way from Zhuque Street to Changye Street, turning heaven and earth, darkening the sun and moon. Commander Song Xian used Buddhist martial arts—the Buddha’s Palm—which was already perfected, but the woman’s earth-shattering strike was even more formidable. They exchanged a hundred and twenty blows, neither winning nor losing…”

The maid giggled. “Not true! Master, you’re making it up again. Eight feet tall and eight feet around the waist—that’s a cube!”

“The waist means a circle. So she’d be pillar-shaped—a pillar-shaped assassin wielding a golden ring-saber, how fierce.”

“What’s a golden ring-saber?”

“Well, maybe it’s like the one Tang the bodyguard uses—has a few rings, makes a jingling sound…”

“Master, tell a story.”

“I can’t tell stories all day.”

“Oh…”

“All right… Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a scholar named Ning Caichen. He failed his exams, returned home, and took a job collecting debts for others…”

Beams of light streamed through the tiled roof. The woman, clutching her sword, sat on the beam, watching the light, listening to the voices outside. The little maid busied herself among the flowers, picking wild blooms. The man conducted his strange experiments while spinning bizarre stories. The morning was unusually tranquil.

By noon, the two were preparing to leave, talking about going to see the dragon boat races and attending the courtesan competition with family. The flames outside died down, things packed away one by one, doors opened and closed.

“The bells are so pretty.”

“I bought them.”

“All right, all right…”

Their voices faded into the distance, then the man called out, “See you tomorrow, little bell.”

The maid replied, “Little bell, see you tomorrow.”

The courtyard gate finally closed, the carriage departed. The woman stepped out quietly, gazed at the pair of wind chimes hanging under the eaves. The festive sounds of the Dragon Boat Festival drifted from afar. She thought of the fantastical story called “The Enchanting Ghost,” so much better than those told by storytellers.

The ending wasn’t finished yet…

At noon on the fifth day of the fifth month, Lu Hongti stood under the eaves, eating a cold meat bun, listening to the sound of the wind chimes, thinking quietly…

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