Chapter Thirty: Conversation and Laughter

The carriage departed from the Su residence. Song Mao lifted the curtain to glance at the snowstorm outside, then turned to Song Kai to confirm the gifts they had prepared.

“The ginseng we purchased last time... and the calligraphy we requested from Lin Fu and Master Lin... Yes, place the ginseng in the middle, make it less conspicuous. Master Qin prefers calligraphy and paintings above all, I imagine he’ll like this one...”

Song Kai had served by Song Mao’s side for many years, cautious and reliable. Everything had been arranged well in advance, and there was no way anything would go wrong. Song Mao’s reason for confirming was simply to occupy himself. As for the conversation he’d just had with Su Wenxing, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of regret—his nephew’s lack of ability and narrow perspective truly made him sigh, though at present, there was little to be done.

Of course, when it came to familial affection, although Song Mao was close with the Su family, there was never the kind of deep kinship one might expect between siblings and nephews. Back in their hometown, he’d had little contact with his cousin, now the second wife of the Su family. When he began to make his way in the world, the Su family had invested heavily in him, a kindness he remembered and repaid, but mainly toward Old Master Su and the family as a whole.

Time had passed, and now that he was a prefect, the Su household, once a major support, was now merely a decorative flourish. If the second branch of the Su family eventually gained control of the whole family, he would benefit, but the connection was not vital. Su Wenxing was indeed a closer relative, and if he could take charge, their interests would be more closely linked. But given his nephew’s abilities, it was uncertain whether he could manage the Su family at all—perhaps he might even become a liability.

If it were Su Tan’er who took charge, that girl certainly had ability and a keen sense of timing. With his status as a prefect, she would certainly seek his favor, and the support would not diminish. Because of his presence, even if his sister and nephew failed to gain real power, they would retain their status as members of the Su family, with some measure of authority and a comfortable life. In this way, they would remain a link between him and the Su family, and for Wenxing, who lacked ability, this might not be a bad thing.

He hesitated over whether he should make such a choice. For now, with Old Master Su still alive, he was mindful of family ties and treated his sister and nephew with due closeness. He’d heard of the reputation of “Shui Diao Ge Tou,” but recent inquiries had turned up some oddities. If it turned out to be the work of someone seeking fame through false means, he would expose it for his nephew’s sake. That, however, was an issue for the evening. He glanced over the gifts, shook his head, and set the matter aside.

Seeing his expression, the steward Song Kai handed over the list of gifts and offered a smile. “Master, Lord Qin has been retired for years, but word has it the situation in the north is complicated. With the frequent conflicts between the Jin and Liao, there are calls at court for Lord Qin’s return. Do you think he will come out of retirement?”

Song Mao shook his head and, after a pause, replied, “It will be difficult. When Master Qin left, the circumstances were complex. He bore all the blame for the Heishui Alliance, taking the fall for others. If it were a lesser matter, perhaps it could be overlooked, but with the current state of affairs, I fear his return is unlikely.”

For nearly a century, the military strength of the Wu dynasty had waned, and the Liao people had repeatedly encroached on its borders. Wu had twice sued for peace, each time signing treaties that were the subject of public reproach. Sixty-five years ago, the Treaty of Tanyuan had been a national humiliation, extinguishing almost all hope of recovering the sixteen prefectures of You and Yun. Six years ago, at the Heishui Alliance, the annual tribute demanded was nearly doubled, a deep wound for all patriots.

At the time, when the Liao army marched south, Qin Siyuan, then Minister of Personnel, advocated resistance and personally went to the front lines to supervise the defense. However, after several defeats and with the peace faction in the ascendancy, he returned from the front, reportedly disheartened, and took on the mission of negotiating peace.

It was said that when he strode into the Golden Luan Hall, he was still in his battle attire, disheveled and wounded, his armor torn and scorched. Many thought he had come to remonstrate with his life, and the emperor, newly enthroned for just a year, ordered his retainers to hold him back. To their surprise, he did not oppose the peace, but instead volunteered to bear the thankless burden of the negotiations.

Naturally, there were voices of opposition at court, blaming him for the defeats and questioning how he could be entrusted with the peace negotiations, suggesting he was bent on sabotaging them. Yet those with some understanding knew the defeats could not be laid at the feet of a civil minister. After two days of debate, the responsibility was handed to him.

The Heishui Alliance was concluded, and though the tribute nearly doubled, given Wu’s circumstances, the Liao accepted payment in ceramics, curios, and other goods to make up what could not be paid in gold and silk. Sixty years after Tanyuan, the Liao were prosperous and eager for such items. After the peace was made, the emperor did not punish him, but Qin Siyuan, despondent, took all the blame for the defeats and the unfavorable treaty upon himself. After a month in the imperial prison, he was released but resigned his post in silence. He did not return to his hometown, saying only, “This is an infamy for the ages. I have no face to see my kin,” and went into seclusion in Jiangning, where he remains to this day.

“…Even if the court truly wished him to return, I fear Master Qin’s temperament would not permit it, at least not for several years yet,” Song Mao mused, shaking his head. The carriage fell silent for a moment before Song Kai, recalling something, lowered his voice.

“Master, it is said that Lord Qin was exceptionally capable in his day. Though he seemed unconcerned with the small details, none ever dared question his decisions. In recent years, with the constant conflicts between Jin and Liao, I have heard it said that the Heishui Alliance was orchestrated with the rise of Jin in mind. Jin had repeatedly sought trade rights from Liao and been rebuffed. So, the story goes, the court used lavish goods as bait to stir up disputes between the two. In the years preceding the alliance, there was black market trade between Song and Jin. After the treaty was signed, the court not only paid tribute to Liao but secretly shipped large quantities of porcelain, curios, even cosmetics to Jin. Some say the emperor selected items from the palace for delivery. The following year, half of—”

Song Mao frowned. “Where did you hear this?”

“The fourth young master discussed it with others—it seems to be his own speculation…”

“The fourth,” Song Mao sighed. “To imagine such schemes, manipulating nations as one would chess pieces, is sheer fantasy. Ah Hui wastes his days on idle thoughts. Real or not, do not discuss this with anyone.”

“I understand, sir.”

As they spoke, the carriage arrived at its destination. In truth, Song Mao and Qin Siyuan were not formally master and disciple. Qin Siyuan had managed the Ministry of Personnel while Song Mao was making connections; after the Heishui Alliance, many distanced themselves from Qin, but Song Mao, ever the diplomat, would always pay his respects when in Jiangning.

To him, lending a hand in times of need was more meaningful than embellishing success. Both of Qin Siyuan’s sons held official posts, though presently below the fourth rank. Qin had taken the blame for many—should he regain favor, his influence would again be immense. Especially in light of recent events, it was not impossible that he might be recalled.

Qin Siyuan’s residence in Jiangning was modest, a simple scholar’s courtyard. Song Mao sent in his card, and was soon invited inside, where he found another guest. The elegantly dressed old man was unfamiliar to Song Mao, but clearly of high status. After Qin’s introduction, Song Mao understood: this was Kang Xian, son-in-law to the Princess of Chengguo and uncle by marriage to the emperor. Though uninvolved in court politics, Kang was renowned in literary circles. To be introduced to him was a boon, and Song Mao quickly paid his respects.

Qin Siyuan did not have much contact with this former disciple, but as Song Mao visited annually, he greeted him warmly. He and Kang Xian had been admiring some calligraphy and brought Song Mao to join them. Song Mao, though talented, felt himself distinctly inferior to these two and did not dare interrupt, answering only when addressed, all the while planning to pay his respects at the Princess of Chengguo’s residence in the coming days.

In this congenial atmosphere, footsteps approached from outside, followed by the voice of Qin’s concubine, Yun Niang: “They’re viewing paintings in the study, young master. You may go in... Ah, who is this…” As Qin and Kang Xian studied a long scroll, Kang remarked with a smile, “So you’ve come after all. I wonder what marvel you’ve brought to astonish me…” Qin Siyuan laughed. Just then, someone pushed open the study door and entered.

The newcomer was evidently well acquainted with both Kang Xian and Qin Siyuan. He wore a blue robe and carried a jar. What surprised Song Mao was that the man looked barely over twenty. Entering with a smile, he paused briefly at the sight of Song Mao. Song Mao guessed him to be a junior relative of Kang or Qin and was about to introduce himself when Qin spoke up.

“Ha, Liheng, you’ve come! Let me introduce you—this is my former disciple, Song Mao, Song Yufan…”

The young man greeted him with a cupped fist, smiling. “Brother Song, a pleasure to meet you.”

Then Song Mao heard Qin say, “Yufan, this is a friend of Lord Kang and myself…” He continued, “Ning Yi, courtesy name Liheng.”

Song Mao’s eyes widened momentarily before he broke into a sincere smile. “Young Master Ning… could you be Ning Yi, the author of ‘When Will the Bright Moon Appear’? I’ve long admired your reputation.”

After a few words of greeting, Kang Xian turned to Ning Yi and asked casually, “Weren’t you going to show us something interesting? Is it in that jar?”

“Of course,” Ning Yi replied, placing the jar on the table. “Since Brother Song is here as well, let’s all try some pine blossom eggs today…”

Kang Xian looked momentarily perplexed, then shook his head with a wry smile. “To think I was expecting something novel, but it’s just some food. Ning Yi, not to boast, but in all the realm, there are few dishes or delicacies I haven’t tasted or seen. You may be setting yourself up for embarrassment today… Ah, these look like salted duck eggs, though the appearance is different. However they’re cured, they’re still just eggs. Unless you’ve managed to pickle a flower inside…”

Ning Yi laughed. “I have, in fact, pickled a flower for you to see…”

Song Mao had little interest in sweet or salted eggs. As a prefect, he remained reserved before these two. Watching the banter, he noticed Yun Niang bring in a basin of clean water and several sets of bowls and chopsticks, clearly familiar with Ning Yi. Recalling what he’d seen that day in the library, he was deeply shaken…

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