Chapter 30: Jialan Rain (Part 2)
"...If you come to our side, you'll immediately be the Su family's chief manager for this region. All resources of the Su family's third branch will be at your disposal. Whatever requirements you have, as long as we can fulfill them, we'll naturally agree. If you can manage these resources well, Second Sister is after all just a woman. In the future when she can't inherit the first branch, if you want to obtain her, there will naturally be many methods... Father says you're a smart person. Everyone knows you're a smart person. We have sincerity here. No need for excess words—just think about it yourself..."
Su Wenji's voice carried through the wind and snow—in fact, he'd already been prepared to say these things to him. Among the Su family first branch's several managers, Xi Junyu was shrewd and capable, always one of the most outstanding. Though his seniority couldn't yet compare to several old-timers, few doubted he could support half the Su family in the future—many even said Xi Junyu was material for the imperial examinations, and the Wu family had offered heavy gold to hire him but he'd refused. He stayed at the Su family only for Second Miss Su Tan'er.
Because of this, ever since Su Tan'er married, Su Yunfang and Su Wenji had continuously tried to approach him and show goodwill. Su Wenji knew his own abilities weren't great, but he'd always prided himself on being like Su Wuji1, treating worthy men with courtesy and being extremely generous to capable people. His philosophy was "I may lack ability, but I just need to delegate matters to capable people," and this attitude had earned considerable praise from outsiders.
However, after Xi Junyu heard him finish speaking, he just looked at him for a moment, then after a pause, his hand pressed down hard on Su Wenji's shoulder. Amid Su Wenji's confusion, he still shook his head with a cold smile: "Seventh Young Master, don't be naive..."
"This is your best opportunity... You know what I'm saying is true."
Unable to grasp the other's thoughts, Su Wenji was also confused by his attitude, and Xi Junyu's hand pressed quite heavily on his shoulder, so he could only repeat these words. After a moment, Xi Junyu sighed.
"Heh, Seventh Young Master, treating worthy men with courtesy, being generous in employing people—these are good things, and I know Third Master taught you this. If you can't manage, then don't micromanage—it's indeed a clever method, but you don't understand: someone who can truly employ people must also be able to suppress them. If one day two of your subordinates disagree and you lack both the ability and prestige to make decisions, how will you employ people?"
Looking at the man before him, Xi Junyu still found it amusing. Su Wenji thought for a long while: "At least... wouldn't this be good for you?"
Xi Junyu shook his head: "I, Xi Junyu, won't stand with someone destined to fail."
After saying this, he turned and left, and watching that figure stride away, Su Wenji hesitated for quite a while before finally realizing: "You're angry! You're angry!"
"At least that statement shows some progress," Xi Junyu spoke indifferently, then waved without turning back as snowflakes seemed to suddenly explode in the air. "Wake up, Seventh Young Master. You can't beat Su Tan'er. From the beginning, she never took you seriously!"
Wind and snow swirled as Su Wenji watched that ink-robed figure stride away in stunned silence, then after a moment, he frowned hard, suppressing his anger. Though he thought this was the first time in their many encounters that Xi Junyu had lost control and gotten angry—which should be a turning point—Xi Junyu's words still left him unable to suppress his displeasure, so he punched a nearby tree trunk.
He didn't have much strength, and normally such a punch would just hurt—he'd already prepared for the pain, gritting his teeth as his hand shook in the air. With a whoosh, his entire neck suddenly felt ice cold, his shoulders covered in snow, and he looked up angrily, his expression immediately turning stunned, mouth opening as a horrified look was about to emerge...
From afar, the figure under the tree punched it once, and the tree swayed gently a few times, then... boom—crash—
White and green colors engulfed the figure, and two hands and one foot flailed and struggled on the snow pile.
After a moment, a maid's cry came from there: "Someone come—someone come—Seventh Young Master is buried in snow—"
"...Listen to youth welcoming laughter, envied by so many,
Those histories, too gentle to be willing, their pens all too cruel.
Fireworks cool easily, people part easily,
And you're asking if I'm still sincere...
A thousand years later, deep feelings accumulated through lifetimes, who's still waiting,
And can history not be true, the Wei book2 of Luoyang city.
If you're following, passing through previous lives' doors,
Stained with red dust3, following me, wandering through life..."
The qin strings rang softly, each note flowing like water, and the woman's voice was gentle, her singing exploring, contemplating, questioning. She combined some single-note techniques from her usual songs and tunes while preserving the transitions Ning Yi had just taught her—the melody wasn't high, soft and lingering like aged wine.
The man carefully peeled eggshells to the accompaniment of this singing, and amber colors gradually appeared in the air as shells fell away. In this era similar to the Song Dynasty, century eggs4 appeared before human eyes for the first time amid the music, then were placed in the porcelain bowl before him. In the amber-colored egg white, patterns emerged elegantly. Ning Yi listened to Nie Yunzhu's rendition of "Jialan Rain," quite different from the original, vaguely sensing an ancient charm.
Even living in this era, what he saw and heard most of the time was still simple life—simple and monotonous—and walking along Qinhuai River on ordinary days, those painted boats and buildings weren't as beautiful as on television, the roads variously dirty and chaotic. Ancient charm was a specific state of mind. Like when he looked at the lights in the Su family courtyard each night, like that day teaching Xiao Chan to sing "When Will the Bright Moon Appear," like the comfort inside and outside the small building during torrential rain—only when he could imagine many years later would ancient charm emerge from his heart. He was after all a modern person. Such a state of mind best precipitated the essence of time, like poetry, like wine.
He quietly listened to the song finish, and Nie Yunzhu also seemed to have words unspoken—she'd never heard such folk songs before, and among music that could grace elegant halls, none had such strange singing methods. Through a thousand years, music had always followed the path of monophonic music, and even a thousand years later, each regional opera pursued singing techniques that worked on momentum and charm—speaking of variation, it was far less complex than modern music combining various styles. After finishing this song, with Nie Yunzhu's skill she could naturally feel clearly the complex variations the song pursued—in a sense, this simple and shallow yet technically extremely complex music was almost heretical, but for her, it indeed brought much shock and inspiration.
On the other hand, the lyrics seemed overly plain, with some parts seemingly cobbled together... She looked at Ning Yi—perhaps casual, it seemed like he'd casually spoken some words, inadvertently pursuing interesting lyrical methods, finally piecing together such a song. Even so, it was still too astonishing. Those scattered plain lyrics actually had some elusive artistic conception, picked up casually like a cynical game. Before this, Nie Yunzhu had never imagined being somewhat at a loss from such a song, her heart in turmoil.
"Master Ning, is this singing method something you casually put together normally?" Though hard to believe, it seemed this was the only explanation. If someone truly familiar with music had composed a folk song or ditty, it absolutely wouldn't have turned out like this.
"Is it listenable?"
"Strange, but interesting," Nie Yunzhu thought carefully, choosing her words cautiously, then smiled. "Just... I'm afraid it can only be for casual entertainment, or singing casually when two or three close friends gather. Um... I'm afraid..."
She found it somewhat hard to say, and Ning Yi smiled: "Can't grace elegant halls, hehe." He paused slightly. "But originally I just liked it myself, listening to it myself, finding it interesting."
Ning Yi's actions had always been easygoing and casual, and Nie Yunzhu had long grown accustomed to this—seeing his attitude now, those doubts and confusion in her heart had already left. It was just a somewhat strange song after all. As long as it could be sung and listened to, it mostly just made people happy. She had researched the way of music extremely deeply and had developed some rules and principles that needed defending. But now she didn't find the matter before her strange, only feeling this was how he should be.
"It's actually nice to listen to," she smiled and nodded. "Just... I've never heard such lyrics and music before. To use entirely new notation would take several days of research..."
Ning Yi smiled and nodded: "Heh, of course. I'm not in a rush—actually, being able to hear it once already feels very good. Just now was already very nice."
"Master Ning flatters me. Actually many places couldn't showcase the singing technique..." Nie Yunzhu said, then looked at the duck eggs in the bowl. "These salted duck eggs, why did they turn out like this?"
"These are called century eggs. You can name them jade eggs, agate eggs, fortune eggs, whatever you like... I'll leave this jar for you to taste. I'll take this jar. Sell them expensive later—there should be business. In the whole world, this should be the only shop, no other branches..."
Ning Yi smiled as he introduced the century eggs—he'd originally asked Nie Yunzhu to pickle two jars totaling fifty eggs, but now only planned to take one jar. After all, he'd made these just because he wanted to eat them, and it was all the same whoever sold them. Nie Yunzhu understood music—he'd have to ask her to compose music in the future. Consider it an investment.
After some token refusal, Nie Yunzhu still had to accept, and after chatting a while more, Nie Yunzhu found some straw rope from the kitchen to tie up the small jar. Ning Yi lifted the clay jar to take his leave, and Nie Yunzhu saw him to the door, returning to her room shortly after.
"Rain falls one by one, the old homeland's grass and trees grow deep..."
Softly exploring and humming that music, Nie Yunzhu walked to the table, looking at the paper with the written lyrics, then she picked up a century egg from the bowl, parted her pearly teeth, took a bite, and carefully chewed while still humming those lyrics word by word.
Strange lyrics and music she'd never heard before, duck egg flavors she'd never tasted—these things flooded into her heart, and when Ning Yi was here just now, her heart had been calm, but now for some reason it became somewhat chaotic.
"The mottled city gates occupied by old tree roots, echoes on the stone slabs still waiting..."
"Rain falls one by one, the old homeland's grass and trees grow deep..."
"Shepherd's flute sounds at the city outskirts, falling on that wild village, fate taking root..."
"I heard you've always been alone..."
"Stained with red dust, following me, wandering through life..."
Her soft voice just hummed lightly, but many things came to mind—she thought of when they'd pushed the cart back together just now, and she put down the century egg in her hand, walked to the door, and gently opened it. Wind and snow blew in from outside, and she stood there looking toward the distant road where that green-robed figure holding an oil-paper umbrella gradually faded in the wind and snow, leaving only a final blurred image.
"Stained with red dust..."
Her heart pounded, and she felt like she stood at the threshold of the mortal world—her chest rose and fell slightly, thoughts surging like tide. Sometimes she felt the lyrics held ineffable meaning, sometimes she felt there was something else, thump thump thump, thump thump thump, pounding desperately at her heart—then she felt she was overthinking.
"Master Ning is a gentleman, these must just be casually written lyrics... Nie Yunzhu..."
"Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu, Nie Yunzhu..."
The distant figure had long disappeared in the wind and snow, and she closed the door, pursed her lips, walked back to sit at the round table—indeed she was overthinking. She propped her hands on her face, tilting her head to look at those lyrics, softly singing a few lines, then she lay down, chin resting on her folded hands. Looking straight ahead, that bitten century egg sat not far away, and a beam of faint light from outside the door shone through, falling on that amber color, shimmering with crystalline splendor.
She just lay there like that, staring blankly at that crystalline color for quite a while. In the dimly lit room, like a little girl...
PS: Some people seem to think ancient people were always overflowing with ancient charm, as if their every gesture radiated classical Chinese elegance, so modern songs would never be appreciated and would be treated as heretical under any circumstances. Let me explain: in ancient times, during the pre-Qin period, people's daily conversation followed classical Chinese formats. But starting from the Tang Dynasty, it basically became vernacular. Classical Chinese was just a written form. This vernacular actually wasn't much different from ours now. Vernacular novels like Water Margin can represent this somewhat, though whether vernacular or not, once written into books, these vernacular speaking styles probably still had to be a bit more refined compared to actual speech. Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties, especially by the Ming Dynasty, even government notices were required to use vernacular. In the Qing Dynasty, Emperor Guangxu's vermillion rescripts to officials included phrases like "you who serve as governors" should do such and such.
So don't really think ancient people were necessarily that different from us. Modern songs placed in ancient times certainly couldn't grace elegant halls. If you say "this is refined," that's impossible. However, private entertainment between two or three people really isn't a big deal. Moreover, modern songs' lyrics and singing methods differ from ancient ones. If you compare Beijing opera, Yue opera, and various opera forms, you'll notice the differences. Ancient singing methods went in different directions. So while they might not adapt to more complex and strange singing methods, privately finding them interesting and novel—this should be easy to understand. What's more... the girl already has feelings for him...
I don't pursue pure ancient charm. For instance, since you're writing ancient prose, you must follow ancient methods to give people an ancient feeling. Some even say don't invent this or that, maintain authentic ancient flavor—I don't pursue these things. The story I want to write isn't some formulaic "ancient officialdom story," "ancient conquest story," "ancient farming story," or "ancient wuxia story." I don't pursue formulaic things. If you want to define this story, it's simple: a series of events happening when a modern person returns to ancient times... As long as it could happen and seems interesting, I won't avoid it. If you returned to ancient times, wouldn't you miss television? Wouldn't you miss songs? Wouldn't you miss MSG? He must first be a modern person. I absolutely won't make the protagonist become an ancient person for the sake of some ancient charm—that would be unreasonable. My ancient charm is expressed through other aspects. A "modern person" returning to "ancient times"—this is dramatic conflict. Both modern person and ancient times are equally important.
I only pursue reasonable human nature. Given an environment, I only let happen what could happen. Like I said above, I let songs appear based on such considerations. I've thought about these things. I know ancient people spoke vernacular, so this is enough.
Of course, for those who fundamentally refuse to believe this, who don't know what doggerel poetry is or what folk songs are and treat ancient people like aliens—I can't help that.
Yes, I believe by now I've established the ancient charm well.
This is the Wu Dynasty.
(End of Chapter)
- Reference to Su Shi (Su Dongpo), the famous Song Dynasty poet known for treating talented people well ↑
- Historical text Records of Wei, part of the Twenty-Four Histories ↑
- The mortal world with all its attachments and desires ↑
- Also known as preserved eggs or thousand-year eggs, made by preserving duck eggs in a mixture of clay, ash, salt, quicklime, and rice hulls ↑