Love in Red Dust - Chapter 18
Chapter 18
"Go back and tell Guan Zhaojing to handle it as he sees fit," he said. "Even if you aren't by your master's side, don't skimp on the filial respect. 'When a man leaves, his tea goes cold'—that’s the most heartless thing in the world."
Dingyi let out a soft sigh, her heart sinking instantly. If there had been no hope from the start, it would be one thing, but knowing the situation had taken such a sudden, desperate turn—to have the chance slip through her fingers just like that—was perhaps the cruelest thing in the world.
"What can I do..." She sniffled. "Just a moment ago, the Seventh Prince gave the order for me to go to his residence and look after the cellar. I refused, so he said if I didn't go to the Prince Xian residence, I wouldn't be able to stay in any other prince's residence either... I hadn't planned on telling you this, but now that you've given me your word, I find it all the more regrettable."
Hongce was slightly taken aback. Hongtao’s temper was erratic, and he never did things by the book. Since he had already spoken, it wouldn't be convenient for him to forcefully keep her here.
"There is nothing to be done about it." He leaned back, and seeing her crestfallen expression, he offered a word of comfort. "Beijing's winter is cold, but Ningguta is ten times colder. You haven't experienced that kind of bitter cold before; if you regret it after arriving, it will be too late. Perhaps it's better you don't go."
"I'm not afraid of the cold; I just want to see the world while I'm young... It's lonely on one's own, and following you would have given me some reliance." She felt deeply melancholy, but since things had come to this, she could only blame her own bad luck. She forced a smile at him. "Never mind. I'll just go back and be a steady executioner. I won't go to the Prince Xian residence to move flowerpots, either; I'm afraid if I go, I'll be stuck there for the rest of my life."
It wasn't that she was desperate to escape her current life; she was simply young and full of curiosity about the world outside. That wasn't a bad thing—by not being overly attached to one outcome, a person could live more freely. The topic couldn't continue, so they set it aside to chat about other things. Mu Xiaoshu was an interesting person. Even though she was quite disappointed by the situation, a smile always played at the corners of her mouth, and she was full of colloquialisms and street wit; talking to her was never dull. Hongce couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so heartily. Listening to her talk about her childhood—catching beetles or chasing dragonflies with bodies as green as jade—was so vivid that it felt as if a picture were being painted right before his eyes. Without noticing the passage of time, he looked up and realized they were not far from the Shuntian Prefecture office. He hurriedly collected his smile, lowered the curtain, and sat upright with his hands on his knees.
The Prefect of Shuntian had received word and hurried out to greet them. Before the sedan chair had even landed, he was already swiftly bowing with a sweep of his sleeves. He stepped forward to lift the curtain, his voice bustling with activity. "If Your Highness had an order, you could have just summoned me to the residence. Why make the trip yourself in this heat?"
"Either you run, or I run—someone has to suffer the trouble," Hongce said as he stepped out of the chair. "The documents you sent over last time were standard depositions, nothing out of the ordinary. I've come today to check the original files. It’s not easy to dig up the transcripts and testimonies from a case twelve years old, so I'll give you some time. I'll wait right here."
The Shuntian Prefect repeatedly agreed and ushered him into the main hall.
The rest was none of her business. Dingyi lingered at the gate for a while before turning to ask one of the clerks, "An old case from twelve years ago? Whose case is it?"
"I wouldn't know," the clerk said, leaning against the doorway. "Checking an old case isn't like a new one. With new cases, when there's trouble somewhere, we go and catch people as soon as the order comes down, and we know the rough details of what we're handling. Old cases? No one is committing crimes—it's all just ink and paper. They don't need us; that's the job of the record-keepers and private secretaries. Let them busy themselves with it!"
She was suspicious. How many major cases could there be from twelve years ago that required a Prince to be in such a hurry to overturn them? When she tried to link it to her father's case, she felt it couldn't be such a coincidence. She kept it in the back of her mind, wishing she could be nearby to serve them, but the office had its own people for serving tea and water, and she couldn't get a foot in.
While she pondered, she paced back and forth in the gatehouse. A while later, she saw Xiazhi enter from outside, carrying a string of crabs tied with straw. He hung them on a small iron hook where the gatekeeper kept his keys and began pouring water over them from a teapot, one by one, fearing the crabs would dry out; if they died, they wouldn't taste good.
The gatekeeper grumbled, "That was the cold boiled water I just set out to cool, and you're using it to douse your crabs!"
Xiazhi shook the pot. "There's still some left, isn't there? Enough for you to drink." He turned back to look at Xiaoshu. "Back early today?" He walked over and nudged her with his shoulder, pouting toward the wall. "Someone's selling crabs at the acrobatics grounds by the Temple of the Sun—two coppers a basket. Look at how fat they are; their shells are practically popping open. Didn't you say you were going to buy wine for Master? Look, I've already prepared the wine and the snacks."
Crabs weren't rare among the common folk; they were everywhere in the irrigation ditches. They weren't huge—two taels was the limit—and anything bigger was sent to restaurants or noble mansions. The wealthy ate crab using the "eight crab tools," picking at it bit by bit, as delicate as embroidery. The poor? They just tore off the back, grabbed the legs on both sides, snapped them in the middle, and took a big bite of the roe. It was like "a cow chewing a peony"—coarse, but good for drinking.
Dingyi finally remembered and scratched the back of her head. "I forgot. I'll go take the gourd home later."
"You're so busy every day, you never have a moment to rest." Xiazhi sighed, following her gaze. "Whoa, back to Prince Chun's residence again? I see, returning the umbrella, right? You two going back and forth like this, it's really quite lively."
He hadn't finished lamenting before Dingyi grabbed a teapot and ran out—she had heard the sound of wood knocking against a bucket. It was a wealthy household performing charity, offering free ice water during the dog days of summer.
She was always diligent, and everyone in the office liked her. For these kinds of trivial chores, the runners and clerks didn't want to move, so she always snatched them up. She didn't just bring the ice water back; she even poured it for people and distributed it one by one. Those who received it praised her with a smile, "Our little Shu is the most sensible. So young, but she knows how to keep busy and not be lazy. Look at Xiazhi—if he were like that, which girl would ever want to marry him and be a maid?"
She poured water into the tea bowls on the table. Two clerks were waiting to take them, but she didn't hand them over; instead, she carried them into the office. She walked straight to the side room on the east, where Guan Zhaojing and Master Bai were talking.
"Chief Steward, please drink some water." She handed it to him and passed another bowl to Master Bai. She looked back toward the main hall; the paper on the windows made it hard to see clearly, but she could see a few pairs of black cloth boots moving back and forth—they likely weren't finished yet. She blinked and asked, "Have all the files the Prince requested been brought out?"
Master Bai said, "Not yet. The criminal law secretary is inside assisting him. I am the finance and taxation secretary; those files don't concern me. When the Prince handles a case, there is Secretary Lu from the outer court, so the two of us are free. We're usually busy with our own duties, so it's rare that we get to gather together like this." He bowed to Guan Zhaojing. "The idea for Xiaoshu to enter the Prince's residence and request an audience last time was mine. The matter was rather inappropriate, and it must have been difficult for you—I haven't thanked you yet."
Guan Zhaojing waved a hand. "You're being too formal. We're from the same hometown; according to our family lineage, I should be calling you 'Cousin Uncle.' That little favor wasn't worth mentioning. Besides, this kid is sharp. He didn't say exactly what offense his senior brother had committed, and it wasn't until I passed the word inside that I found out what it was."
They had played a bit of a trick, but fortunately, the Prince didn't blame them; they had emerged unscathed. Master Bai also laughed. "This kid has it hard. No parents, a humble background—once someone treats them well, like their master and senior brother, they give their whole heart to them."
Dingyi felt embarrassed by the praise and hurriedly changed the subject. "Is the court opening another case? I heard it's an old case from twelve years ago. Why pick it up now?"
"It's like that every year," Guan Zhaojing said. "Which year is without some sort of commotion? More people mean more ideas. Today it's an impeachment, tomorrow a debate over punishment—not a day goes by where they aren't busy. You can't just eat without working. It's just like laborers in the market; if the master hires you to move bricks and wood, you work hard while someone is watching, but if no one's watching, you slack off. In officialdom, you strive for performance. Only when the waves you stir up are big enough will the Emperor notice you, and only then will there be a chance to get promoted and get rich."
The answer she wanted was getting closer and closer. She steadied herself and asked, "Was there a major case twelve years ago? I lived in the capital for a while when I was a child, and I never heard of any great bandits entering the capital."
Master Bai laughed. "You were only six twelve years old. What kind of child remembers anything? If there had been a great bandit, the court would have sent troops to wipe them out long ago; would they have waited until now? This is an old account from the officialdom—the criminal record of the Censorate Inspector Wen Lu. The Emperor's intention is that the trial wasn't clear, so he issued an edict to dig it up and re-examine it."
Dingyi felt a tingling sensation across her scalp. Her suspicions were correct: it was her father's case that was to be retried. After all these years, to have it suddenly brought up felt surreal. But now, none of that mattered to her. The house had been sold, her family ruined; even overturning the verdict couldn't change what was lost. The dead could not be brought back to life, but those in exile might have a glimmer of hope. The prisoners would inevitably be brought to the capital for trial, and this way, she wouldn't have to travel a long distance—she would be able to see her brothers.
Her heart pounded. She took a steadying breath and said, "I know Wen Lu. My parents used to work for their family. I heard they had three sons; are they still around? If they are, they count as eyewitnesses!"
Master Bai said, "They were all sent to the imperial farms. So many years have passed, and the climate in those places is harsh. They were all young noble masters; I'm afraid they couldn't withstand the suffering. Who knows if they are still alive?"
"True." She forced a smile. "Then our office will be sending people to the imperial farms to take them into custody, right? When are they leaving?"
Guan Zhaojing crossed his arms and said, "No need for that. The Prince is passing through that area, so he'll handle the matter while he's at it. Traveling back and forth is such a waste of effort."
They were all officials, and the case wasn't classified, so they didn't need to hide their words. She had asked for and received all the hidden information. Dingyi became even more anxious; she couldn't just leave things so vague. It seemed she would have to accompany them. The path through the Twelfth Prince was broken, so she could only find a way to beg the Seventh Prince. He was also an imperial envoy sent to Ningguta; anyway, the two brothers were together, so it was all the same who she followed.
But he was a man who would eat you alive without spitting out the bones. What could she use to convince him to transfer her from the garden to the guard detail? He had already spoken: becoming a gosha was easy, but she would first have to knock down his two top generals. Dingyi sized herself up—she wasn't even a mouthful for them. A head-on clash would definitely not work.
That left only the "soft" approach: flattery and obsequiousness. If he was in a good mood, perhaps he would agree to take her along.
Once she made up her mind, she began to track the Prince's movements. The Seventh Prince was actually an idle prince who had gained his title based on his mother, the Imperial Concubine De. Sometimes he would run between the Imperial Clan Court and the Imperial Household Department, holding a nominal title to justify his salary. Of course, even if he did nothing at all, he wouldn't lose a single coin, so his attendance had a lot of room for adjustment. If it was too hot, he didn't go; too cold, he didn't go; if it rained, he didn't go; if it was windy, he didn't go. By that calculation, he didn't show his face for more than a month or two throughout the whole year.
He might not report for duty, but there was one place he had to go. Every morning after finishing his martial arts practice, he would change his clothes and go to the "Elegant Pavilion" to drink tea and eat dim sum. That place gathered many banner-men who loved birds; they would tune their various birds, gather together to compare notes, and show off. The Seventh Prince also raised a bird—a lark. When it first started singing, its voice was incredibly ugly. Later, he slowly trained it. When he said, "Imitate an old man rubbing walnuts," the bird would click-clack, clicking perfectly; when he said, "Cry like a mule," the lark would howl, pulling its voice and braying, which would crack everyone present with laughter. The Seventh Prince was in his element in that kind of place, spending half the day at the Elegant Pavilion and even eating there when mealtime came. After he was full and satisfied, he would go to the pear garden in the afternoon to listen to the opera. Whether it was the octagonal drum or Henan clapper opera, he wasn't picky. If the mood struck him, he would paint his own face and go on stage to sing "Entering the Palace Twice," with a dedicated group of people in the audience whose job was to cheer for him.
Dingyi spent a few days mastering the Prince's schedule—what time he went out, what time he ate, what time he went to the opera house—she had it all accounted for in a ledger. Well, she would treat a dead horse as if it were still alive; she would try it once. If it didn't work, she would honestly confess everything to her master, and she would simply have to go to the Changbai Mountains.