Cold moonlight seeped through the oiled paper over the window, letting in a little light, so that the darkness in the room was no longer frightening and deep, but instead stirred a soothing calm that coaxed a person toward sleep.
Ding Songyan thought quietly for a while, then turned his head toward the screen and called softly, "Little Sister."
There was no answer—only a long, drawn-out breathing, faint and barely there, that could be made out only by holding one's breath and concentrating.
Asleep... Ding Songyan withdrew his gaze.
He had just remembered that he still had not asked what Zhen Manor's situation actually was, what position it held in Dingjiang Prefecture, and whether it had lately been caught up in any trouble.
Yes—he was beginning to suspect that something so bizarre happening to a perfectly ordinary storyteller like his former self really might be connected to Zhen Manor.
Never mind. I'll ask in the morning... Ding Songyan closed his eyes and tried to summon sleep, but it would not come for a long while.
After graduation he had worked two years, then spent years building up his own business, always far from home, going back no more than twice a year. There had been nights, deep and quiet, when he tossed and turned, lonely and low, aching to go home—but most of the time he was not soft at all, and often mocked himself for having a heart of iron. Yet now, at this moment, an unaccountable melancholy filled him, with no way to dispel it.
The ancients could still say, "Would that we live long, and share the moon's beauty across a thousand li." But for him, this moon was no longer that moon, and tonight's moon was not the moon of his own time.
Suddenly, on the other side of the screen, Ding Qingyan gave a mumble:
"I want to learn martial arts..."
Her voice sank away, and nothing followed.
Talking in her sleep... Ding Songyan opened his eyes and instinctively looked at the crude screen.
After several breaths, he said silently to himself:
"Who doesn't want to learn martial arts?"
He turned his gaze back to the shadowy beams overhead.
Just then Ding Qingyan mumbled another muddled sentence:
"Mother, Second Brother, I won't let anyone bully you again..."
Ding Songyan was struck dumb for a moment; it was a good while before he laughed soundlessly.
Amid the rustling of the girl turning over, his heart gradually settled, and sleepiness rose with it.
…
The next day, the night-soil cart drove off the night and startled the morning awake.
Carrying his own night-soil bucket into the small courtyard, Ding Songyan saw his father, Ding Shengyi, open the main gate.
This sent the mosquitoes around the elm tree whirring up in a rush, drawing a swarm of moths out from who knew where to chase them.
After emptying the buckets into the cart one by one and pouring the rinsing water over the tree, Ding Songyan heard Ding Shengyi, now wearing his four-square peace cap, say to his mother Liu Yuzao with open envy:
"That night-soil boss just now had coarse cloth on the outside and silk underneath. Day to day they're richer than the yamen constables.
"This night-soil trade really is a fine business!"
"Anyone who can fight his way to this trade is no ordinary man," Liu Yuzao replied flatly.
"The way I see it, Duokang Temple is the true living Buddha of ten thousand households. It can pray for blessings and speak of the harvest, and harmonize the signs of the heavens, and it sends its disciples all over the countryside to teach farming methods and the art of making compost. Since His Majesty ascended the throne, there's been a great harvest every year, and the price of night soil keeps climbing." Holding his boar-bristle toothbrush, Ding Shengyi stood before the elm tree and began cleaning his mouth.
And so the morning light drifted by amid the family's chatter and plain congee with a few small dishes.
While Liu Yuzao and the others cleared away the bowls and the square table, Ding Shengyi drew Ding Songyan aside.
"You've got business to attend to today, so don't shortchange yourself. Take these two qian of silver." The middle-aged scholar glanced at Liu Yuzao's back and pressed a piece of broken silver into Ding Songyan's hand, whispering his instructions. "This isn't household money. It's what your father's saved up for himself. Keep it."
Ding Songyan, penniless, did not refuse.
Ding Shengyi was silent for two breaths, then said quietly:
"Be careful today. Don't take risks just because Zhen Manor's retained experts are behind you."
With that, he patted Ding Songyan's elbow, picked up a folding fan, and walked out the gate.
Before Ding Songyan could get back into the main room to help his mother and sister tidy up, Ding Daniu had already come over, scratching his head in embarrassment:
"Erlang, I don't have much money on me—I gave it all to Mother. If you can't find anything to eat at noon, come find me at the docks and I'll share my food with you."
"All right," Ding Songyan agreed.
By the time Daniu went out, Liu Yuzao had finished tidying, and she came over to Ding Songyan with her black gauze veiled hat.
"I'm going to copy sutras today. Here are two qian of silver." The woman's tone was flat, as though she did not want Ding Songyan to feel too nervous. "If you only wander about Duokang Temple all day, it will look too suspicious. If there's food you like, eat some; if there's anything you fancy, buy it."
Handed yet another piece of broken silver, Ding Songyan did not know what to say.
When he saw his mother leave the courtyard and pull the gate shut behind her, Ding Qingyan—her hair done up in two spiral buns—came to the door of the main room and beckoned to him slyly:
"Second Brother, come here. Come here."
Ding Songyan went over and laughed:
"I wouldn't dare take your bottom-of-the-box savings."
The girl pouted:
"So you look down on me, is that it? You don't treat me like your sister, is that it?"
She put on a look as though she were about to burst into tears.
Seeing that Ding Songyan was not taken in at all, she huffed:
"I just want to give you some copper coins. When you go to Duokang Temple today, you're bound to listen to storytellers—stories of ancient times, stories of the jianghu. Would you really bear to tip them with silver?"
She reads people well... Ding Songyan had indeed intended to listen to storytellers today, to get a first grasp of how this world worked.
He thought it over and said:
"Fine. Give me some."
Ding Qingyan's face lit up at once, and with a bit of a skipping bounce she went back to the west wing and came out with a purse embroidered with floral patterns that carried a faint scent.
Inside were several small silver ingots and a great many loose copper coins.
"These are from Sister Nuansheng; these are what you gave me as a treat every time you came home from storytelling, telling me to save up a bit of my own bottom-of-the-box money and not rely only on Father and Mother. There's plenty more in the chest..." Ding Qingyan counted out the coins as she chattered on.
As she talked, she slowly fell silent.
Once Ding Songyan had taken the coins, Ding Qingyan smiled again and shook a clenched fist:
"Second Brother, even if you've forgotten all this, I never will!"
Ding Songyan sighed to himself and could only say, perfunctorily:
"Maybe one day I'll remember."
He examined the coins and found that there were mainly two kinds: one was the "Xingping zhongbao" coin, marked "worth five"; the other was the "Jianwu tongbao." Together there were about fifty wen.
The characters were in regular script, in the traditional forms... he could read them but was not much good at writing them... Ding Songyan, now changed into a light-colored zhiduo robe, tucked the two pieces of broken silver into a pocket sewn inside his sleeve behind the elbow, and put the copper coins in the purse at his waist.
Then he asked:
"Does Mother believe in the Buddha?"
"She doesn't." Ding Qingyan shook her head. "Mother goes there to work. Many wealthy households, to show their piety, copy great quantities of Buddhist sutras or Daoist texts themselves and hire others to do the same. Since it's mostly the womenfolk who like this sort of thing, they prefer to hire women like Mother—from respectable families and able to read and write. Once I've had my hairpin coming-of-age at fifteen, I can go too."
"So Mother usually earns money by copying sutras and Daoist texts?" Ding Songyan understood now, and confirmed that this world had both Daoism and Buddhism.
"There isn't much of that work. It usually only comes up at Buddha's birthday and festival days, or when some household's old madam has a birthday." Ding Qingyan hefted the rather heavy purse. "Mother's usual trade is as a women's hairdresser. She goes into the inner courtyards to dress the ladies' elaborate hair, and she also does face-threading and ear-cleaning, and so on and so on. If there's no work, she stays home with me, washing and starching clothes and preparing meals."
Ding Songyan nodded, then looked at Ding Qingyan with some concern:
"Then you're home alone a lot?"
At that, Ding Qingyan burst out laughing:
"Second Brother, don't let your imagination run away with you. There are five watchtowers here, and the techniques of the Xiaoming Sect and the Yi clan are good at seeing far. Nobody's going to bully me.
"Besides, I'm formidable. All the boys and girls on Chengyu Lane do what I say."
With that, the girl shook her fist again:
"I'm the Bully of Chengyu Lane!"
Before Ding Songyan could respond, the girl blinked, and her smile suddenly bloomed like a flower:
"But the fact that you worry about me makes me very happy.
"It shows that even if you've forgotten the past, Second Brother, our bond as brother and sister is still there!"
Bang, bang, bang—the courtyard gate was pounded on.
"Brother Ding, time to head out!" a hoarse, duck-like voice called from outside.
Ding Songyan looked at Ding Qingyan, and only after his sister gave a slight nod did he walk over to the gate.
Outside stood a young man in a blue-green narrow-sleeved straight robe, his hair bound up in a black cloth. By Ding Songyan's estimate he was not even one meter seventy tall. His features were regular enough, yet he hunched and shrank, with a somewhat furtive, shifty-eyed look.
"Oh, Sister Qingyan's here too." The young man's gaze went past Ding Songyan, and he greeted Ding Qingyan in the courtyard first.
Where else would my sister be, if not at home? Ding Songyan looked at the young man and raised an eyebrow.
The young man shrank a little and gave an embarrassed smile:
"Brother Ding, we should get to Duokang Temple. I hear something happened to you yesterday?"
At this, Ding Qingyan, several paces away, said:
"Xu Chang'an, wait a moment. I have a few things to say to my brother."
"Sure thing, Sister Qingyan." Xu Chang'an nodded rapidly and waved to her.
Ding Songyan went back to Ding Qingyan's side and signaled that she could speak.
The girl pulled him back into the main room and lowered her voice:
"That man is Xu Chang'an. He lives on our Chengyu Lane too, over by the well. You used to like going to Duokang Temple with him.
"He—he's a thief."
"A thief?" Ding Songyan anxiously felt the elbow of his sleeve.
Ding Qingyan laughed at once:
"He wouldn't dare steal from you—otherwise I, the Bully of Chengyu Lane, would teach him a lesson!
"Now then, today pick out a gift for me, to give to Qu Sanlang later. We troubled him yesterday, so we have to show some thanks. We can't owe too many favors; once you owe too many, they're hard to repay. Remember, he likes mechanical playthings. I'll give you the money this evening."
That was indeed the right way to go about it... Ding Songyan approved of his sister's approach.
The girl gave a few more instructions, briefly explained Zhen Manor's situation, and only then let Ding Songyan leave Chengyu Lane with Xu Chang'an.
"Brother Ding, what happened to you yesterday?" Xu Chang'an asked on the way, unable to hide his curiosity.
Of course, he really did care about Ding Songyan—after all, this was, in his mind, his future brother-in-law.
Ding Songyan remained unruffled and answered with a question:
"When did you leave Duokang Temple yesterday?"
"After the evening market. I came looking for you, but you'd already gone," Xu Chang'an answered without a hint of suspicion.
His former self really had behaved a little strangely yesterday... Ding Songyan did not answer Xu Chang'an's question either; he only drew him out with questions, to get a better grasp of things.
Chatting and laughing, the two walked to Duokang Temple on the east side of the prefecture city.
Outside the temple was a great market, shoulder to shoulder with people coming and going: sellers of vegetables and fruit, dried meat, pearl-and-jade ornaments, rings and pendants, spears and blades, painted fans and sugar fish; performers of smoke-and-fire Daoist arts, cuju football, assorted acrobatics, and piping, strumming, and dancing to the beat; and everywhere people luring passersby into games of chance and pitch-pot, or swindling them with miracle remedies and licorice. It was all over the place.
Amid the many hawkers' cries, Ding Songyan and Xu Chang'an came to the side of a storyteller's stall:
"Last time I told you how Jin Shaochong, a true-lineage disciple of the Changliu Sect in Gan Kingdom, set out to test his sword against the world. But before he ever reached Xinyu, before he ever came to our Great Zhao, there on Five Mound Mountain in Gan Kingdom, Su Yunzhang—fourth disciple of the current generation of the Tiannü Sect—broke his Seven Killings Swordplay with the Twelve Dao of the Great Void, and even said his shortcoming was that his 'will to kill was not firm.'
"And so Su Yunzhang became famous throughout the world, and busybodies added the name to the martial world's Jade Tree Ranking, with the appraisal: 'Clear and handsome, free and easy, elegant and dashing.'"
Chapter 5