Love in Red Dust - Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Dingyi settled into the Seventh Prince’s mansion; her work was light and easy, and she had the birds to look after. A bird garden had been cleared in a corner of the main garden. Fearing the heat for the birds, a sun-shade was erected, and over a dozen cages of various types—parrots, yellowbirds, and indigo-throated songbirds—were hung in staggered rows. Dingyi pulled up a spring stool and sat underneath them, stitching modifications to her guard uniform. With the birdsong chirping melodically overhead and cool breezes wafting through the hall, the days were unexpectedly comfortable. Comfort was not a long-term solution, however; they were set to set off the very next day, and her heart was filled with both anxiety and anticipation. Twelve years had passed since the downfall of the Wen family, and in those twelve years, she had endured too much on her own, but no one knew what it was like at the other end, in Changbai Mountain. She prayed that her three brothers were all safe and sound. If the Twelfth Prince could overturn the verdict on her father, even if nothing else happened, it would allow the exiled to return to Beijing. Even fallen leaves return to their roots; if they could return, then during the Qingming and Start of Winter festivals, she would be able to clear the weeds from her parents’ graves.
She picked up the altered robe and shook it out, holding it up against her frame; the length was just right. She went into the dormitory room to change and then stepped out, looking into a water vat. The surface reflected her figure: clear, open brows and eyes, a nose like a hanging gallbladder, and as she pursed her lips in a smile, a shallow dimple appeared by her mouth. People truly rely on their attire; a guard’s outfit was far better than the official yamen uniform. The official uniform was entirely pitch black, with a row of scarlet trim that became blurry after many washes, making it hard to discern its original state. The mansion guard’s uniform was dark blue, with satin-faced lapels and arrow sleeves; the color wasn't flashy, but it was clean and sharp. Looking closely, there was even embroidery on both shoulders. She hadn't worn clothes with embroidery since she left for Sanhe, and now, even in men’s clothing, she still thought it looked very good.
She smoothed her sleeves, tidied her belt, and turned to look behind her. With a flick of her eyes, she caught sight of someone coming down the side path. The small birdcage ordered by the Seventh Prince was finished; he was cradling it in his palm, whistling a tune and strolling leisurely over from the tree-lined path.
The Prince reached her and scrutinized her for a moment. "It’s better to be inside the Prince’s mansion after all; once you’re cleaned up, you’re actually presentable." He tossed the birdcage toward her as if he were throwing beef to a dog. "Take a look, crafted from gold wire, a single cage—no food or water containers whatsoever." He paced slowly to select the birds, pointing to a crested hwamei. "This one must be taken; this little thing learns whatever it hears. And that red finch; I’m counting on it to wake me up from my kang."
Dingyi lowered her head to look at the two cages. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but each was only the size of a fist, leaving the birds just enough room to turn around. These two birds that he had named to take with them were ill-fated; she would have to tend to them with all her heart—whether they survived would depend on their own destiny.
She responded with an "As you command," and added, "This servant has prepared small quilts. If it truly becomes too difficult, I will wrap them up and keep them warm with a hand-warmer. It’s just that I’m afraid if it’s too cold, the birds won't want to sing."
The Prince’s expression was full of disdain. "That is for you to figure out. If I knew how to do it, would I still need you to tend to them?"
Dingyi stifled a retort, lowered her head, and said, "This servant understands. Master, when are we hitting the road tomorrow?"
The Prince picked at his ear. "The Twelfth Prince has many rules. We count heads at the beginning of the Mao hour (5:00 AM), and we move out three quarters of an hour after that. Listen to this weather, listen to those cicadas—'Fu-tian-er, Fu-tian-er'... the noise is enough to drive a person mad."
The Fu-tian-er the Seventh Prince spoke of was a small green cicada, named for its call. Dingyi knew he was deeply unhappy; he was a pleasure-seeker, and whenever he encountered an official duty, his whole body felt out of sorts. She smiled to soothe him. "Please calm your temper, Master. Going north is surely a bitter task, but if it is completed well, you will have performed a great service for the Imperial Court, and the Emperor may even promote you! He might make you an 'Iron-Cap Prince,' and in the future, the young beile will inherit your title, passing it down from generation to generation—how wonderful that would be."
"They would be comfortable, but it would be hard on their father." The Seventh Prince stiffened his neck. "The descendants of the High Ancestor can go fight for the empire themselves. In this life, being titled a Prince is good enough. Like Old Twelve—striving to be a Heshuo Prince while ruining a pair of ears; even if you gave me a million taels of gold, I wouldn't do it." He sat down on the carved railing at the edge of the sun-shade, supporting himself with both hands, and asked, "You have a good relationship with the Twelfth Prince and go back and forth often—have you heard him say anything about me?"
Dingyi placed the water-filled earthen jars into the cages one by one. It was hot, and some birds loved cleanliness and needed to bathe several times a day. Hearing the Seventh Prince ask this, she turned and said, "No. You hold me in too high regard; the Twelfth Prince wouldn't speak to a servant like me about such things. He is your brother; you know him better than I do. Gossiping about others is not the behavior of a gentleman. Besides, what could you possibly have that would make people criticize you behind your back? I used to think you were hard to approach, but you are actually a very good person. You aren't the type to play mind games—you like what you like and dislike what you dislike. Such character is beyond reproach."
This little rascal, coming up with one flattery after another. The Seventh Prince was quite pleased. "You’ve hit the mark. Our elders were fierce and had eighteen schemes in their hearts. When it reaches me, I’m only 'six orifices open out of seven.' No wonder people say every generation is worse than the last. But I think to myself, so what? I’m happy; who does it bother? If everyone were brilliant and everyone could be the Emperor, wouldn't the world fall into chaos? It’s better to be like me—no great ambitions, three full meals a day, and a peaceful life without worries."
None of these imperial descendants were fools. The Seventh Prince also knew that being too outstanding made one an easy target, so he preferred to play the fool, keeping a bad reputation so that no one in the court would pay him any mind.
Dingyi bowed and said, "You are wise. There are truly few people in this world who can see through fame and wealth."
He cast a sidelong glance with his phoenix eyes. "Indeed, even you know how to climb the high branches—let alone those who wallow in the circles of wealth." As he spoke, he stood up, stretched his limbs, and muttered, "I remembered, I need to go to the Noble Consort to bid her farewell." Without another word, he turned and left.
He truly came and went like a gust of wind. Dingyi bowed to see him off. The Princes had family members to bid farewell to; as for her, she had no one but her master and senior brother. She thought she would be free, but unexpectedly, the gatekeeper sent word that her "father" had come to see her. She felt a headache the moment she heard it; the husband of her wet nurse had arrived at just the right time—any later, and she would have been gone, and his monthly allowance would have been lost.
She could have simply refused to see him and given him the cold shoulder; he wouldn't have dared to cause a scene in the Prince’s mansion. But after some thought, she realized she couldn't. She had come this far; she couldn't let it all fall apart now. Money wasn't the big issue; what was important was to hit the road smoothly. She would spend money to buy peace and make sure he didn't scream out at the last moment that Mu Xiaoshu was the orphan of Wen Lu, or that would be a massive disaster.
She tucked two pieces of silver into her sleeve pocket and went to the side gate to meet him. Mu Liansheng had a swarthy face, and after half a summer, he was even darker, like the bottom of a pot. Being a farmer, even though he spent his time begging for scraps everywhere, he still planted seeds and melons in the spring. In the summer, he would pick the melons and push them to the market to sell, either whole or in slices—it was a more direct way to make money. Don't be fooled by his honest appearance; he wasn't as simple as he looked, and he could be shameless and unreasonable. Dingyi had her own way of dealing with him: if he were rough, she had to be even rougher. After scolding him, she would give him the money—slap him in the face and then give him a sweet date; that was how she had always handled him.
She walked up and greeted him, "Uncle, you’ve come?"
Mu Liansheng mumbled and eyed her attire from top to bottom. "Yes, if I didn't come, I wouldn't even be able to find you. You’ve really risen up, haven't you? How is it? Since you’re so successful, what’s your salary?"
She patiently replied, "I only arrived yesterday. Even if there is a salary, it’s not for me to take right now."
"Is this you crying poverty to me? I haven't entered the city for two months, and this is how you treat me when you see me?" He coughed. "Actually, I didn't come to ask you for money. You grew up in our family after all; now that I’m getting on in years and can't work anymore, I’m counting on you to provide for me in my old age! You aren't watching the land for the assistant captain anymore, are you? It’s not right to leave that land barren. Now that the melon seedlings have been pulled, we need to plant wheat and sorghum. Go back; finish the work before you come again."
Dingyi knew he was playing tricks and patiently said, "I am a guard at the Prince’s mansion now. How could I just leave whenever I want? Isn't this suggestion of yours intentionally making things difficult for me?"
"You haven't entered the Banners; you aren't a booi (hereditary servant) born into the Prince’s house. If you quit the job, you quit it. There’s nothing unreasonable about that."
Circling back and forth, he was eventually going to bring up the past, which was nothing more than a reminder of her background. Her face darkened, and she crossed her arms. "Can you stop playing around? This is a Prince’s mansion, not a stall in Dingxing. If you have something to say, say it. If not, I’m going back; there’s a pile of work waiting for me!"
"Hey!" Mu Liansheng’s voice grew louder. "I raised you for so long, and when I ask you to do a little work, you give me the 'official' attitude. What of it if it’s a Prince’s mansion? Even a Prince’s mansion has to be reasonable! You are my godson; I’m disciplining my child—who does that bother?"
Look at that; he was starting to be a rogue again. That was why she couldn't give him the money now; if she gave it too readily, he would continue to blackmail her. She had to treat him like a boil—make him fester and burst until all the pus was drained; only then could she crush his momentum. Dingyi said, "Stop shouting. I lived in your home for less than six years. Over these years, the money you’ve taken from me in bits and pieces is at least seven or eight taels. You know how you treated me when I was a child. When you saw me waiting by the stove for my foster mother to bake me a cake, you came up and slapped me, knocking out a tooth. Have I ever held that against you? Let’s be reasonable; we don't owe each other anything. I am still grateful to you—when you were starving, I gave you what I had so you wouldn't go hungry. But you can't keep making unreasonable demands. If this matter were to be shouted out and spread around, it wouldn't sound very pleasant."
Mu Liansheng twisted his mouth. "You know it wouldn't sound pleasant? What’s not pleasant about it! I ask you, when you entered the Prince’s mansion, what did you report for your household registration? If the Prince knew your origins, do you think he would let you into the mansion?"
Dingyi finally lost her temper. "If you’re going to be like this, I won't give you a single coin. I’m already prepared to 'break the jar since it’s already cracked.' If people ask how you found out, what will you say? Didn't you raise me? If I fall, you’ll be guilty of harboring and conspiracy!" Having said this, she turned and started to walk away. Mu Liansheng was naturally stunned, standing there not knowing how to respond to her. She walked a few steps, then turned to look back—the timing was just about right; if she went too far, it would be counterproductive—and she turned back. She sighed and said, "These past two years, your income has been low; it hasn't been easy. I didn't mean to argue with you; I just wanted you to know that I’m not a child anymore. These tricks of yours—deceiving and threatening me—won't work on me." With that, she took out the pieces of silver and handed them over. "This is all I have on me. There haven't been many 'red jobs' (profitable missions) this time, and no one has been slipping me any 'convenience money.' Take it; it’s enough to buy two bags of flour. Don't look down on it for being too little."
Before Mu Liansheng could speak, she turned and entered the side gate.
Weighing it in his hand, it was only three or four qian—not even enough for him to buy a bug! Mu Liansheng, having just been scolded by the kid, was naturally furious. He spat on the ground, gritted his teeth, and said, "Fine, you’ve got guts. Let’s ride our donkeys and read the script—we’ll see!" He pocketed the silver and walked away, grumbling and cursing.