"…If you come to our side, you'll immediately be the Chief Manager of Su Manor here, with all resources of the Third Household at your disposal. Whatever demands you have, as long as they're within our power, will be met. If you can manage these resources well, then considering that Second Sister is merely a woman, she may not successfully take over the First Household. There will naturally be ways for you to win her over… My father says you're a smart man, and everyone knows it. We're sincere; there's no need to say more—think it over yourself…"
Su Wenji's voice carried through the snowy wind, clearly well-prepared and practiced for this moment. In the First Household, among the several managers, Xi Junyu was known for his shrewd competence and was widely acknowledged as the most capable, despite his relatively young experience. Many believed he was destined to support the Su family's legacy. In fact, it was said that he could have easily pursued the Imperial Examinations and was once offered a substantial sum by the Wu family. Yet, he had stayed with the Su family—all, it was rumored, for the sake of Su Tan'er.
Since Tan'er's marriage, Su Yunfang and Su Wenji had been trying to build rapport with Xi Junyu, expressing goodwill. Su Wenji, while lacking skill, prided himself on surrounding himself with talented people, adopting the attitude that even if he couldn't personally manage affairs, he could delegate tasks to capable people. This practice had won him some approval outside the family.
However, after listening to Su Wenji's words, Xi Junyu's response was to look at him for a moment, then give him a solid pat on the shoulder and a faint, cold smile before shaking his head, "Young Master Su, stop being naive…"
"This is your best chance… You know I'm telling the truth."
Su Wenji, caught off guard, was puzzled by his attitude. Feeling the weight of Xi Junyu's hand on his shoulder, he repeated, "Think it over; you know it's true." Xi Junyu sighed deeply in response.
"Ah, Young Master Su, recognizing talent and showing generosity is all very well. I know the Third Master taught you this approach: if you can't manage something, just let others handle it. It's a clever workaround. But you don't understand—anyone who can truly use talent must also have the authority to command respect. If your subordinates can't agree, and you lack the decisiveness or authority to make a call, how exactly can you 'use' people?"
Xi Junyu found Su Wenji's stance almost amusing. Su Wenji, after a pause, retorted, "But wouldn't this actually be to your advantage?"
Xi Junyu simply shook his head. "I, Xi Junyu, do not stand with those fated to fail."
With that, he turned and walked away. Seeing Xi's figure stride through the snow, Su Wenji was left speechless for a moment before the realization struck him, and he shouted, "You're angry! You're actually angry!"
At this, Xi Junyu looked back slightly, then said with a faint tone of amusement, "At least you're starting to notice some things."
"Wake up, Young Master Su. You will never beat Su Tan'er. From the beginning, she never saw you as competition!"
Snow whirled around as Xi Junyu walked off, leaving Su Wenji frustrated and visibly shaken. After a moment, anger finally surged up, and he swung his fist at a nearby tree. Though his strength wasn't much, he braced for the sting, his teeth gritted. As snow slid down onto his neck and shoulders, he raised his head, only to be greeted by—
From afar, his figure could be seen under the tree as it swayed in response to his punch. Then… CRASH—
The tree's white and green limbs came down, burying him under a mound of snow as two hands and a foot flailed in futile resistance.
After a moment, the maid's cry came from outside: "Help! Somebody, come quickly! Seventh Young Master is buried in the snow!"
"...Listening to youth, laughter arrives, envied by many,
History's gentle hand, reluctant to write, harsh in every stroke.
Fireworks cool, people drift apart,
And you ask if I am still sincere...
Centuries later, across lifetimes of love, who's left waiting?
History won't lie—The Wei records, Luoyang city.
If you follow, like a bride from a past life,
Marked by worldly dust, you journey with me, wandering through life…"
The notes of the zither drifted softly, echoing like a flowing stream. The woman's voice, soft and contemplative, carried hints of curiosity, hesitation, and subtle grace. In her singing, she blended a traditional melody with a single-note style, preserving the turns and subtleties Ning Yi had just taught her. The tune was gentle, flowing like aged wine.
As he peeled the century egg, its amber hues gradually revealed themselves, each shell fragment falling as Ning Yi listened to Nie Yunzhu's rendition of "Garan Rain," feeling a hint of ancient charm in her voice.
Despite living in this era, Ning Yi often saw a simple, unpolished life around him. The buildings by the Qinhuai River were not as grand as in modern depictions, and the streets were often messy. Yet this simplicity evoked a sense of old-world charm, similar to the glow of the Su family's courtyard lights each night or the peaceful solitude he felt while teaching Xiao Chan to sing under the pouring rain. Such nostalgia could only emerge from deep within him, like poetry or aged wine.
When the song ended, Nie Yunzhu seemed hesitant, unaccustomed to such an unusual blend of folk melody. Traditional music pursued depth and grandeur, whereas modern music allowed for more intricate fusions of styles. This composition, with its complex blend of simplicity and technique, felt almost audacious to her but was undeniably inspiring.
However, the lyrics felt a bit overly simple, almost as if they were pieced together randomly. She glanced at Ning Yi. Perhaps it was just his playful attempt at weaving a tune, casually piecing together phrases, yet somehow achieving a touch of charm. Never had she imagined a song like this could unsettle her so deeply.
"Master Ning, did you piece this song together on a whim?" she asked, as if that was the only explanation.
"Could you still listen?"
"Strange but interesting," she replied, smiling cautiously. "But... it might only suit casual gatherings among friends, for light-hearted moments…"
Ning Yi chuckled, pausing briefly. "Not exactly meant for grandeur, after all," he said. "It's just something I enjoy, for my own amusement."
Ning Yi's easygoing nature had long been familiar to Nie Yunzhu, and seeing his calm demeanor now put her own worries at ease. After all, it was merely an unconventional song, something pleasant to sing. Despite her deep study and the traditional rules she upheld, this no longer seemed strange—his approach felt natural.
"It actually sounds quite nice," she admitted with a smile. "But… I've never heard lyrics like these before. It'll take a few days to set the right melody."
Ning Yi nodded. "Of course, I'm in no rush; it already sounded wonderful just now."
"You're too kind, sir. My singing still lacks in places…" she replied, glancing at the eggs. "Why do these salted duck eggs look like this?"
"These are century eggs. You could call them Jade Eggs, Agate Eggs—something luxurious," he joked. "Try one. I'll take this jar; you keep the other. If you sell them at a high price, they might become popular—they're one of a kind!"
After a little polite refusal, Nie Yunzhu accepted the jar. They chatted a while longer, and then she found some straw twine to tie up the small jar, which Ning Yi took as he left. Nie Yunzhu watched him go, then returned to her room.
"Rain falls gently; my hometown is overgrown…"
Humming softly as she considered the song, she gazed at the lyrics on the table, took a bite of the century egg, and savored it, her thoughts drifting to the song's melody.
She had never encountered such unusual lyrics or this strange-tasting egg. While Ning Yi's presence had kept her grounded, she now felt oddly unsettled.
"Cracked old gates, roots coil underfoot, echoes of waiting linger on stone…"
"Rain falls gently; my hometown is overgrown…"
"A shepherd's flute sounds by the wild village…"
"I've heard… you've always been alone…"
"Marked by worldly dust, you journey with me, wandering through life…"
A soft voice merely hummed, yet many thoughts flooded her mind, recalling the scene when they had pushed the cart back together. She set down the century egg in her hand and walked to the door, gently opening it. The wind and snow swirled in from outside as she stood there, gazing down the distant road. A figure in a blue robe held an oiled paper umbrella, gradually moving further away in the storm until only a final blurred image remained.
"Marked by worldly dust…"
Her heart thumped loudly, feeling as if she stood at the threshold of the mundane world, her chest rising and falling slightly, her thoughts like waves. Sometimes she found the essence of those lyrics indescribable; at other times, she sensed something else stirring inside her—a persistent thumping against her heart—until she decided she was overthinking.
"Ning Gongzi is a true gentleman; those must have just been casual lyrics… Nie Yunzhu…"
"Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu…"
The figure in the distance had already vanished into the wind and snow. She closed the door, pursed her lips, and walked back to the round table, realizing she had indeed overthought it all. She propped her hands against her face, tilted her head to read the lyrics, and softly sang a few lines. Then she lay down, resting her chin on her crossed hands. Looking ahead, the century egg she had taken a bite from sat not far away, illuminated by a beam of faint light from outside, casting a shimmering glow on its amber color.
She lay there, staring at the crystalline colors for a while, and in the dim room, the little girl seemed…
*Author's Note: It seems some people believe that ancient people were steeped in classical culture, that every gesture exuded the essence of classical Chinese. They think modern songs would never be accepted and would always be viewed as heretical. However, in the pre-Qin period, people spoke in classical Chinese, but by the Tang Dynasty, it had largely transitioned to vernacular. These vernacular forms are quite similar to what we use today; works like Water Margin are representative. Regardless of whether they are in the vernacular, written forms are often more formal than actual speech. During the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing Dynasties, especially by the Ming Dynasty, official notices were required to be in vernacular, and during the Guangxu era of the Qing Dynasty, official documents even addressed how officials should behave.
So, don't truly believe that ancient people differed that much from us. Of course, modern songs wouldn't grace grand occasions in ancient times, but to say I want to portray this as elegant would be impossible. However, for private entertainment among two or three people, it wouldn't be a big deal. Moreover, the lyrical and musical styles of modern songs differ from those of ancient times; comparing different operas like Peking Opera or Yue Opera shows their distinct directions. Thus, while they might not be used to more complex or quirky singing methods, finding them interesting and novel privately shouldn't be hard to understand—especially since the girl had a prior affection…
This is the Wu Dynasty.*