Chapter 22: Life at Risk

Tonight, Yu Ziqi did not return home for dinner again. Before the meal, Xiao Liu came back with a message: Yu Ziqi would not be joining them for supper. In truth, Ning Qian felt more comfortable with his absence; sharing a meal with him always left her ill at ease. After Xiao Liu departed, Ning Qian immediately called Shuni in. “Shuni, tonight we’ll have hotpot. I’ve already told Nian Yu. Go to the main kitchen and pick out a bit of everything you like.”

“Thank you, Madam.” Shuni knew well why Ning Qian had chosen hotpot; Nian Yu had already explained it to her. “Madam, I’m all right now, you needn’t worry.”

“That’s good. Go on, then.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Ning Qian rose and took from the cupboard a small wooden box—the ledger Yu Ziqi had entrusted to her. She had examined this ledger many times, and each time the same feeling nagged at her. Though the accounts seemed perfectly normal, she could not shake the sense that something was amiss.

The Ning family were merchants; from a young age, Ning Qian and her siblings had been taught bookkeeping by their father, Ning Qian. Though she was not as skilled as a professional accountant, she was hardly inexperienced. Initially, Yu Ziqi’s ledger appeared aboveboard, but upon closer inspection, inconsistencies surfaced.

The ledger detailed the income and expenses of the entire Third Household, including all of Yu Ziqi’s earnings. Each month the accounts showed a modest surplus, but what puzzled her were the frequent, inexplicable expenditures. For instance, a large sum had been spent on barren land. Stranger still, Yu Ziqi had bought pleasure boats, such as painted barges—an extravagance, even for amusement.

Nevertheless, Ning Qian had no intention of questioning Yu Ziqi; the clean accounts suggested he wished to keep his affairs private. Though his wife, she had no desire to meddle, for she did not know him well enough.

She had been married for some time, yet their moments together were few. A shroud of mystery always hung over Yu Ziqi; she yearned to pierce it, to glimpse his true self, but found the task daunting.

With a soft sigh, she placed the ledger back in the wooden box, locked it inside the cupboard, and made sure to secure it. Given its dubious nature, and Yu Ziqi’s trust in handing it to her, careful keeping was essential.

That evening, Ning Qian instructed Nian Yu to set two tables in the courtyard, each with a steaming hotpot. Seated at one table, Ning Qian invited Nian Yu and Shuni to join her, while the rest of the household took their places at the other.

Ning Qian raised her wine glass. “This wine was brought from Xinjiang by one of my father’s friends. It’s quite good—do try it. Since you all work in my courtyard, I want you to consider yourselves part of it—not just in body, but in spirit. You know my temperament: as long as you serve me sincerely, you’ll never be shortchanged.”

Yu Zhi lifted his glass. “Madam, we will do our utmost and never fail your expectations.”

“There’s no need to be so solemn. I simply want you to understand: now that you’ve been assigned to my courtyard, you belong here. It’s best to leave your previous ties behind. You’re all clever; I trust you grasp my meaning. Rewards and punishments will be clear—should you err, I will not be lenient.”

No one dared to respond further, only nodding earnestly. Seeing the atmosphere grow tense, Ning Qian decided not to press on. “Enough now—the hotpot ingredients are fresh. Don’t be shy; eat your fill. Much has happened recently, and I know many of you are unsettled. Tonight, let’s set aside our worries and enjoy ourselves.”

A cheer rose from the group. In truth, after these days together, they had come to understand that Ning Qian was easy to get along with. So long as one did not overstep, she would not mind.

After eating a little, Ning Qian excused herself, claiming she was full, and returned to her room. She knew that with her presence, the others would never truly relax. Sure enough, soon after she left, exuberant shouts echoed from outside. Though not loud, she could hear them clearly.

Smiling faintly, she picked up a travelogue she had borrowed from Yu Ziqi’s study. She had little interest in heavy tomes, preferring instead to read travel narratives. As she flipped through the pages, a slip of paper fell out.

“Hm? What’s this?” Ning Qian bent to retrieve it—a sketch, drawn in simple lines. Though the strokes were plain, it was clear the subject was a beautiful young woman.

Judging by the drawing, she seemed eighteen or nineteen, her gentle demeanor and serene smile imparting a sense of ease.

A few lines of tiny script were penned on the sketch, but they were difficult to make out, blurred with age. She adjusted the lamp wick; the light grew a touch brighter. Holding the drawing near the lamp, she saw it was a poem:

Frost falls, reeds weep, tears dampen clothes;
White-haired, no longer leaning by the gate.
Last May’s yellow plum rains,
Traded a robe for rice to bring home.

“Wait, isn’t this...?”

“What are you doing?” An angry shout rang from behind.

Startled, her hand trembled and the drawing slipped onto the vivid flames.

“What are you doing?” Footsteps rushed toward her, and a large hand reached past Ning Qian, snatching up the sketch. Though swift, he was a moment too late—the drawing was already partly burned.

Sensing the fury behind her, Ning Qian turned in alarm. “Master—”

Yu Ziqi seized her throat, his eyes stripped of their usual warmth, now ablaze with wrath—wrath that threatened to consume all. “Who gave you permission to touch my things?”

“Master, I didn’t mean to—I was only reading.”

His grip tightened, and Ning Qian felt her breath growing short. Fear seized her—did he truly mean to kill her? At this moment, all softness vanished from Yu Ziqi; his terrifying aspect rivaled a demon.

“Master... master...” Ning Qian gasped, her hands clawing at Yu Ziqi’s, desperate for escape. In that moment, the old adage flashed through her mind: “Husband and wife are but birds of the same forest; when disaster comes, they fly their separate ways.”