Chapter Fifty-Two: The Beginning

Spring faded into summer, and as the warmth of April deepened, the fields outside Jiangning entered the busy agricultural season. Immersed in this landscape, the world seemed alive with vibrant energy. For people of this age, summer and autumn were perhaps the best times of the year—neither the gentle softness of spring nor the biting chill of winter, just radiant sunshine and fluff-like clouds, the brightness of which could clear the mind and lift the heart.

The Su family was busy too. The first batch of spring silkworms had produced their silk, the most substantial yield of the year, and Su’s workshops scattered across the region were running at full capacity. Though common folk paid little attention to the details, the business of stocking new goods and clearing out the old still had to be done. Su Tan’er continued her springtime labors, often working late into the night. Every few evenings, when she found herself with a rare moment of leisure and spotted Ning Yi upstairs across the courtyard, she would quietly slip over for a chat, perhaps nibbling on some fruit or snacks—things she usually avoided. Sometimes she wished to speak with him, only to find his absence, and a subtle disappointment would linger in her heart.

Since the turn of the year, she had noticed certain things. Sometimes she pondered the next step based on news from various places, or sorted through accounts and handled local issues, working late into the night. Xing’er would bring her tea, Chan’er and Juan’er played Five-in-a-Row outside, sometimes dozing off. Yet even as her bedroom and sitting room glowed late into the night, across the way, a window in the upper story was always lit as well—Li Heng would read or write there. If her side quieted and Xiao Chan went to bed, only then would the light from that window extinguish in silent accord.

At first, she thought it a coincidence. Later, she paid closer attention and found it deliberate. On several occasions, she finished her work and stayed up intentionally late, then put out her lamp, and soon after, the silhouette across the way would appear by the window and blow out his own light.

She never spoke of this discovery, nor pondered his motives. Some things need neither words nor questions. Thereafter, whenever preparing for sleep, she would glance across the courtyard, and only when the opposite light was extinguished in the dark would she retire, feeling warmed inside.

For Ning Yi, perhaps it was just a casual gesture. He no longer sought out troubles or harbored grand ambitions—apart from, of course, his aspiration to become the greatest martial artist. Yet, given his temperament, sharing a household with others, seeing a girl who faintly mirrored his former self labor late each night, while he slept in ease, would trouble him. Watching the light across the way go out before his own rest was merely his way of quietly acknowledging this; whatever happened on Su Tan’er’s side was her own business, and he never intended to interfere.

With the arrival of summer, Old Qin began setting up his chess stall, playing games with various people, all older than Ning Yi’s current twenty-one years. Some were well-known, though ordinary enthusiasts were even more numerous; Ning Yi had already met several last year. This year, people came asking if he was the talented scholar who wrote “Song of the Water Melody” and “Jade Table,” and Ning Yi would simply smile and nod.

His relationship with Li Pin had grown closer. After classes at noon, they would sometimes dine at a restaurant together, mainly because Ning Yi still owed him a favor regarding the pine-flower egg incident—even though Gu Yanzhen’s matter came later, it wasn’t Li Pin’s fault.

Li Pin was a man of great discernment. Over the past months, Ning Yi had come to understand his character and background. He had gone to the capital for the imperial examination a few years earlier and became a successful candidate, but his radical essays offended a high-ranking official, and he failed to secure a post, thus returning to Jiangning. Though outwardly courteous, in another millennium he would likely be considered a hot-blooded youth. In casual conversation, he could hide his ideas, but when discussing scholarship, his convictions were obvious.

Simply put, Li Pin came from a prosperous family, was well-versed in Confucianism and mathematics, skilled in archery and horsemanship, and knowledgeable in all six classical arts—a remarkable achievement in this era. He was adept at social interaction and conduct, but because he thought deeply, he despised pedantic scholars and preferred practical men who never strayed from the proper path. He wished to establish virtue for the world, secure life for the people, continue the teachings of ancient sages, and bring peace for generations. Yet, having lost his way for a time, and having offended a major official, he had once been depressed. Now, he had rallied himself, contemplating Confucianism, the Wu Dynasty, and his future path; he was someone who could let go when necessary. After all, he was still young.

Perhaps, in decades to come, he might become another Qin Siyuan. Ning Yi admired clever people, disliked mingling with frivolous scholars, but could converse with Li Pin. Of course, one should not speak too deeply with acquaintances; Li Pin understood this, and the two were good colleagues at the academy, though not yet close friends or confidants.

In fact, among the younger teachers at Yushan Academy, only they two stood out, and Li Pin’s arrival, though not widely publicized, had led to the enrollment of over a dozen new students in the first half of the year—a digression.

Time flowed on, and Ning Yi had now spent a full year in Jiangning. Reflecting on it, little had truly happened: he had written two poems and gained some fame, met a few people, grown familiar with them, and adapted to this era. Life remained leisurely. Occasionally he heard discussions of friction between the Jin and Liao kingdoms in the north, or merchants and escorts speaking of unrest on distant roads, bandits ruling the hills, and news of major groups being suppressed by the court. Yet, rebellion was not widely spoken of, and in prosperous Jiangning, such talk felt remote.

By late April, with the seedlings planted, a festive atmosphere quietly arose in and around Jiangning—not quite like the New Year, but mainly because the Dragon Boat Festival was approaching. Besides the dragon boat races on the fifth day of the fifth month along the Qinhuai, another grand event would unfold over six days, riding on the festival's momentum: the courtesan competition.

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

If the annual poetry gatherings of Jiangning, such as Mid-Autumn or Lantern Festival, were the revels of scholars, then the courtesan contest of early May belonged to the beauties. Most noble ladies or married women were not particularly pleased during these days—a reflection worth pondering, perhaps. Yet there was no need for reproach; in this era, such customs were considered refined, not vulgar, and tales of the demimonde were viewed as elegant rather than sordid.

As one of the most refined affairs of the year, much like the poetic revels of Mid-Autumn and Lantern Festival, these events always had the support of the authorities. Talent was not ranked, and rivalry among scholars was mild, more a matter of personal judgement. Thus, the officials merely maintained order. However, this event had the nature of a real competition: four leading performers would be chosen, and from them, the Flower Queen selected. For fairness, a judge with a neutral position was needed, and this role was filled by the authorities, preventing cheating and disputes.

The rules of the competition were simple: the Flower Queen was, after all, earning money. Whoever could attract patrons to spend the most would win. Yet, in detail, it was more complex. Over six days, the city's courtesan houses opened their doors, waiving many drink fees, or hosting performances on prepared terraces. Patrons would buy flowers for their favorite performers, and these bouquets were proof of popularity. There were many ways to stir up fervor: how to excite the audience, how to enhance the festive atmosphere, how to add cultured touches—like having scholars write poems for the girls—all depended on the skills of each establishment.

Along the ten-mile Qinhuai, the city boasted sixty to seventy courtesan houses. The first three days merely served to warm up the crowd, with every house promoting enthusiastically. The busiest performers were those with little fame, some selling only their artistry, others both art and companionship. Regardless of their background, these days allowed them to gain much popularity. They remembered the patrons who supported them, and those who lacked talent or funds, unable to win the favor of famed beauties, would naturally choose these lesser-known girls. For instance, the Su family's cousins, though professing themselves dashing and poetic, often recited the names of Lu Caicai and Yuan Jin'er, but their actual favorites in the houses were always the less famous. Lately, they had been pestering Su Tan’er for money, all for the purpose of showing support and helping their chosen ones shine.

The real contest began in the last three days. Though daytime activities were similar to the first three, each evening saw grand gatherings near Egret Island, attended by the magistrate and many local celebrities. Based on the results of the first three days, each house would send one or two candidates. On the third night, over a hundred girls would perform, from whom sixteen would be selected. On the fourth night, four leaders would be chosen from the sixteen, and on the fifth night, the Flower Queen would be crowned. Those attending these nights were mostly wealthy patrons, and the Flower Queen was decided by their support.

“…The Flower Queen contest is organized annually by the Jiangning authorities. The bouquets are all prepared by the officials; the so-called gifting of flowers is just a show. In previous years, someone claimed to send ten thousand bouquets—ha, there aren’t even ten thousand available… Yet, the event is well done. The courtesan houses alone couldn’t manage it. With official involvement, it becomes lively. Two-tenths of the money spent on flowers goes to the authorities, while monthly taxes remain unchanged. Those two-tenths are pure profit, and this sum each year is considerable…”

By the Qinhuai River, at midday, Ning Yi and Li Pin descended from a restaurant, and Li Pin, smiling, discussed the much-hyped courtesan contest. Today was April thirtieth, the first day of the event, and the city’s courtesan houses were putting on a grand show. The sound of music drifted from afar. A decorated barge glided on the river, banners fluttering, and a small boat moved along the shore. Besides the boatman, a beautifully dressed woman called out, “Master Li, Master Li…” recognizing Li Pin.

“The weather is hot at noon. If you gentlemen have no pressing matters, would you care to join us for tea on the barge, and rest awhile?”

Ning Yi looked at Li Pin in surprise; Li Pin, seeing his expression, smiled and politely declined the invitation. The woman said a few more words but did not press the matter. As they walked on, Ning Yi laughed, “Li, you have wide connections.”

“I’ve visited before, so she remembers me.” Li Pin grinned with some pride. “Had you wished it, Li Heng, we could have gone aboard, and they would have treated us with utmost respect. No need to spend a penny—if you composed a poem praising one of the girls, they’d even reward you for your pen. For more renowned scholars, the girls themselves would willingly offer their company…”

“With your talent, I’m sure many would offer themselves.”

“There have been a few. But if you, Li Heng, revealed your name, entering the halls would be simple enough—few girls could refuse you. Since the Lantern Festival, I’ve met with Qilan a few times; she’s quite attached to you. If you wrote a poem for her, even a kiss might not be impossible, ha ha.”

Normally Li Pin and Ning Yi did not discuss such matters, but now that the topic was open, they continued in good humor. The fame of scholars grew with the beauties, and beauties needed the endorsement of scholars. Each year’s Flower Queen contest was accompanied by many poems, and for someone of Li Pin’s standing, a poem could instantly raise a girl’s value. Last year’s four leaders were Qilan, Lu Caicai, Yuan Jin’er, and Feng Xiaojing, the eventual Flower Queen. Li Pin had been among those cheering for Feng Xiaojing.

“In the end, it’s a contest of pride,” Li Pin laughed. “The year before last, at Lantern Festival, the Shishui and Lichuan poetry gatherings were closely matched. There was some rivalry; at the time, Cao Guan stood out among the Shishui scholars, composing two poems for Yuan Jin’er, with the rest supporting her. So… the Lichuan group chose Feng Xiaojing. Qilan, backed by the Wu family, was actually the strongest, but the Wu family, being merchants, preferred a low profile, so they didn’t spend lavishly, and Xiaojing unexpectedly prevailed. This year will be different, since Li Heng appeared out of nowhere, leaving everyone unsure, with little rivalry. Yet, who knows—if you favor a girl, perhaps everyone will unite against you…”

Ning Yi was not a frequent visitor to the courtesan houses, and Li Pin knew this well. He smiled, “Any plans for these days, Li Heng?”

“I’ll go to Egret Island and watch the performances on the third night.”

“Will your wife allow it? You’d best plan carefully…” Li Pin said slyly. Now teaching at Yushan Academy, he was almost a guest of the Su family, having dined with them several times and met Old Master Su and Su Tan’er. Su Tan’er sometimes visited the academy, and Li Pin knew she was not a jealous woman. Still, at times, a woman is a woman. The planning he referred to was for the post-performance banquet—usually, if you supported a girl, there would be a celebration in her honor, with extra performances and poems boosting her reputation and your own.

After hearing this, Ning Yi simply smiled and shook his head, “I’m going with Tan’er.”

Li Pin was momentarily surprised, then understood: “That makes sense. These performances will be spectacular, worth seeing even just for enjoyment.”

This would be Jiangning’s highest-level artistic showcase. A few days earlier, chatting with Su Tan’er by the second-floor railing, she had mentioned wanting to make time to attend with Ning Yi, knowing he enjoyed such festivities. Li Pin was a bit regretful, as he had wives at home and did not plan to bring them—the banquets were not just for mingling with beauties, but for networking and raising one’s own reputation.

The two parted ways at a crossroads. Ning Yi, with nothing pressing, returned home. Su Tan’er and her maids had already arrived; Chan’er and Juan’er chattered about the performances they’d seen and the stories they’d heard, eagerly looking forward to the spectacles on the third, fourth, and fifth days. But by evening, a letter arrived, followed by two stewards rushing into the house. They consulted with Su Tan’er in the neighboring courtyard for a long time. At dinner, Su Tan’er apologized, saying she could not accompany Ning Yi to the event.

“Something urgent has come up. I’m afraid I won’t be able to go with you, husband. Please take Xiao Chan with you.” She soon added, in her usual gentle voice, “Wending and Wenfang have dozens or even hundreds of taels. I’ll give Xiao Chan my private savings—if you see a performance you like, buy flowers for the girl. If you buy plenty, there will be a banquet of thanks in the evening… If you win a girl’s favor, you mustn’t say I’m stingy…”

“Clever merchant…” Sensing her little scheme, Ning Yi sighed and laughed.

Su Tan’er scrunched her nose with a smile, “Hmph!”

She showed confidence before Ning Yi, but some matters could not be ignored. On this final night of April, returning to her room, Su Tan’er felt a touch of melancholy. She gazed at the lit window across the courtyard, pondering quietly. Though still in the body and face of a young girl, she possessed a unique maturity when thinking, her brows often set with a calm strength cultivated over years. Yet tonight was different. Though she thought and considered, her expression lacked its usual gravity, resembling that of a young maiden reflecting on her own girlhood worries—sometimes sitting by the desk, chin in hand, idly flipping through book pages, the lamplight illuminating nothing but a maiden’s troubles.

Later, she called Xiao Chan in, smiled as usual, and told her about attending the performance on the third day, laying out some banknotes. Juan’er and Xing’er, unable to attend, were disappointed; though Xiao Chan could go, she was happy, but after much hesitation said, “Miss, let me… let Juan’er accompany the master. Xing’er and I can go with you to handle the workshop business… Juan’er has wanted to see it for so long…”

“Once we finish things on the fourth, we can all go together on the fifth,” Su Tan’er smiled, gently touching Xiao Chan’s cheek, admiring her pretty face, then turned to gaze at the window across the courtyard once more, thought for a while, and finally took a deep breath, making a certain decision.

“Xiao Chan, you actually like the master, don’t you?”

There was no answer from the other side. Xiao Chan froze, her eyes darting nervously and adorably, her whole face reddening…

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

The main plot is about to unfold—votes requested ^_^