Love in Red Dust - Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The group was shocked and hurriedly bowed, offering respectful salutes as they chanted, "Twelfth Prince."

He had always been a gentle and refined man, one who never raised his voice even when speaking to servants. Yet, this sharp cry had stunned everyone. He paced toward them, his face stern and his eyes filled with a chilling, wintry gloom. "You are guards of the Prince's mansion, Goshahas assigned to protect your masters. To congregate and frolic like this—is there no law left? With so many eyes watching from above and below, someone who didn't know better would think they had stumbled into a brothel. Do you know your guilt or not?"

No one had ever seen him like this. The rowdiness among men had started as a joke, and no one had taken it seriously, but it had spiraled out of control. Now that it had caught the eyes of their superior, things were difficult. After all, he was of imperial blood; when he was easy to talk to, everything was fine, but when he wasn't, he was a Prince—a Heshuo Prince of a rank higher than their own masters. Who among them had a life to lose by offending him? The few who had been egging them on were terrified and fell to their knees, knocking their heads against the floor like they were pounding garlic. "It is we servants who lost our sense of propriety and caused the Twelfth Prince distress. Our crimes are great; please, Twelfth Prince, punish us."

He looked down with contempt at the servants covering the floor, then turned his gaze toward Xiaoshu. The boy’s expression was pathetic, biting his lip, his eyes brimming with bean-sized tears. He wanted to cry but didn't dare, suppressing his sobs. To see such a free-spirited person harassed to this state made him furious. Punishing them—dragging them off for a military flogging—was not difficult, but they were not his own servants; to beat a dog, one must consider its master. Slowly calming himself, he furrowed his brows and said, "I will not punish you; if you commit offenses, your own masters will discipline you. I will only say this: when out on the road, military discipline is as firm as a mountain. There must be limits to your rowdiness and jokes. Six or seven men surrounding one person to strip his clothes, and even when he refused, you persisted—what kind of decorum is that? Let today be a lesson. Hear me well: if I hear of this again, you can decide for yourselves what the consequences will be."

The group hurriedly agreed, rose to their feet, and retreated to the side with their hands hanging down. He cast a sidelong glance at Liao Datou. "You are their team leader; to lead the trouble is an unforgivable crime. Go and confess to your master. Explain it from beginning to end. How the Seventh Prince deals with you is entirely up to him."

Liao Datou’s face fell. He stole a glance upward; the Twelfth Prince’s face was resolute, showing no sign of leniency. He hated these little bastards to death. He glared at them with a side-eye; there was no help for it, he had to stoop and accept the order before worrying about it later!

As for Dingyi, she was choking, unable to catch her breath. But she knew she couldn't make a scene here. Being handled by men was a matter that could ruin a woman's reputation. For a man, what did a touch or a grab matter?

Her legs trembled inside her pant legs, her heart jumping wildly out of control. She felt utterly humiliated. She told herself to be more nonchalant—after all, the Twelfth Prince had already stood up for her—but the terrifying experience was seared into her heart. She couldn't just brush it off. She had been through thick and thin for all these years; in the past, no matter how wronged she felt, she would forget it soon after. This time, however, she truly felt despair.

She spent a great deal of effort to suppress her panic; she had to handle the immediate situation first. She cupped her hands toward the Twelfth Prince from a distance. "Thank you, Prince. I am fine. Everyone was just joking; there was no malice..." She could not control her voice and, fearing that she would break down if she continued, she quickly offered a salute. "This servant will go and wash up; dinner will be served soon."

"No rush," Hongce said. "Bring your clothes and come to my room."

She looked up in astonishment, thinking she had misheard. "Prince... what did you say?"

He glanced at her and did not repeat himself, walking away with his hands behind his back toward his quarters.

Bring my clothes and go to his place... Dingyi chewed over those words repeatedly, her heart in turmoil. At this moment, Money-String clicked his tongue in admiration, "The Twelfth Prince has a hidden connection with him, no wonder!"

Dingyi turned around and glared fiercely at him. If not for his egging them on, how could she have been so embarrassed? She hated him; she could have eaten him alive. "There are many people listening here. Would you like to say that again?"

The men immediately looked sheepish. They had just escaped trouble and were already pushing their luck—were they playing with their own lives? Liao Datou had tasted enough bitterness. He whispered a sharp command, "Shut your foul mouths! Do you think I haven't got enough trouble? You had your fun, but now I’m the one who will suffer!" He then turned and said, "Xiaoshu, the brothers were just joking and didn't know when to stop. Don't take it to heart. To be honest, it’s rare to see someone so thin-skinned. It’s such a small matter, and it had to reach the Twelfth Prince. We are all under the Seventh Prince’s gate; it’s like an arm broken inside the sleeve. Making a scene in front of outsiders—you... sigh. If the Twelfth Prince asks again, please put in a few good words for us! After all, he is the General Imperial Commissioner, and we all have to follow his orders."

They were still unconvinced, blaming her for making a mountain out of a molehill, believing that any grievance should be resolved privately. But having been pushed to such an edge, where was there any room for retreat? If she hadn't struggled, she would have been stripped bare! She flushed with rage, unable to voice her bitterness. She had suffered a great wrong and was still being blamed by them—what law stated this was right?

Seeing her expression, Liao Datou knew he shouldn't add fuel to the fire. He sighed deeply. "Fine. You heard the Twelfth Prince’s words; I have to go accept my punishment before my master. You lot—avoid this in the future. Some people are generous and can play along; others are narrow-minded, and if you go too far, things will happen."

The eyes of the people in the courtyard darted back and forth; they all felt Mu Xiaoshu was not worth the trouble. Thus, they "executed" her with countless icy glares, spat out a curse about bad luck, and dispersed with long strides.

Dingyi felt an overwhelming sense of grievance. She stood there like a block of wood, her limbs powerless; she couldn't even take a step. It took a long time to recover. She touched the toggle button on her collar; one end had been torn off by them. She wanted to cry but had no tears. The sky felt as if it had lowered, pressing down on her until she was nearly suffocated.

The postmaster was actually a good man. He had watched from start to finish, but he was a person of little consequence and couldn't step in to stop it. Only after all those "mighty" guards had left did he dare come over. He said sympathetically, "Those rascals are truly hateful. Let me see... even the clothing is torn... Let them act out; the Prince will handle them eventually. How about this... if you don't mind, shall I mend it for you?"

The thick local accent sounded a bit jarring, but Dingyi could barely understand it. She wiped her eyes and said, "No, thank you. Just lend me a needle and thread, and I will mend it myself."

The postmaster agreed and turned back to get a basket.

When she entered the Twelfth Prince’s room, he was sitting under a lamp reading a book. Catching sight of her, he set the book down.

Dingyi held her clothes under her arm, with a needle stuck to her chest. Once again, he had saved her. She felt more grateful this time than ever before. She knelt and kowtowed. "Thank you, Twelfth Prince. Time and again, it is you who helps me; I don't know how to thank you enough. I have a rough fate; I’ve been bullied since I was little. Later, with my master and senior brother’s protection, it was peaceful. Now... I realize how difficult it is to be out in the world. Fortunately, there is you. You are my savior; without you, who knows what would have become of me."

She said it with a smile, but that smile was stiff and more painful to look at than tears. In truth, she was suffering inside—it wouldn't have been wrong for her to cry, but laughing like this made it all the more heartbreaking. Hongce turned, pressing his hands on his knees, and said, "Get up. I am not just helping you; I am also straightening out military discipline. I have seen everything along this journey and was looking for a way to use this to warn the others—they ran straight into the tip of the knife themselves. How are you? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

"Returning to the Prince, no." She wobbled as she stood up, retreated to the side, and managed a forced smile. "You see, last time I said I wouldn't let you worry anymore, but it’s only been a few days, and I’ve caused such a lapse again."

Hongce hadn't taken that promise to heart at all. People have times when they hit a narrow path; no one can guarantee a smooth life forever. As for worrying, it didn't count as worry; it was just a habit that had become second nature. Whenever he encountered something happening to her, he felt compelled to act as if a spring had been triggered. Why? Perhaps because one had saved another’s life, and there was a bond of gratitude—he simply wanted to see him live a long and peaceful life.

But this kid truly had it hard; every step was an obstacle, and even those he served with wanted to bully him. Hongce shifted the elbow resting on the edge of the table, his fingers slowly curling together. He said in a soft voice, "This matter has nothing to do with you; it all started because of them. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I had my subordinates prepare water; wash up in my room today. However, I must also advise you: when out in the world, it is not as convenient as being at home. Do not be too calculating about everything. Harmony is the most important thing when dealing with colleagues. Perhaps the beginning is hard, but as time goes on, you will fit in."

Dingyi’s face showed her embarrassment, half-humiliated and half-sad. Even he thought she was being sensitive—or perhaps, to others, she appeared to be. The reasons were only known to herself, but who could she tell? People all said she was petty and couldn't let things go. The only girls who could "let things go" when encountering such things were the courtesans in the pleasure houses.

There was no need to explain; the more she explained, the more miserable she felt. However, the Twelfth Prince was truly a good person. Lending a Prince’s room for her to bathe—no wonder Money-String and the others were acting so weirdly. When he first told her to bring her clothes, she had known; she had wanted to refuse, but after pondering it, she decided to accept it with a thick skin. Her situation was difficult; there were people everywhere—where else could she go to clean up? If she stripped, others would see; if she didn't wash, the sweat from the entire day would soak and dry on her rags, and if she spread them out, they would probably be covered in salt crystals. It was truly uncomfortable.

She bowed and replied, "I also know I am inadequate, too rigid, and have caused the Prince trouble. I will learn to get along with them better in the future, please rest assured. I will bother you this time, Prince. As for cleaning myself in front of them with my shirt off... I am not used to it."

Hongce had always felt that people living in the marketplace were not so fastidious. Not to mention them, even the nobles on the wrestling grounds would disrobe after sweating profusely without intentionally avoiding anyone. This kid lived quite delicately—perhaps it had to do with his young age! But speaking of young, he would be eighteen in just over a month. Was he still young?

Ever since their encounter at the vegetable market, they had been inextricably linked. As a Prince holding the supervisory duties of the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate, he had too many things to deal with, yet he could still spare the energy to handle him—even he himself found it rare. Let’s consider it an unexpected diversion in a monotonous life. After all, not even his own brothers had thought to pick mulberries for him, yet he had brought them to him. Just for that, he should take care of him more.

He nodded. "You may go. Once you are finished, it should be about time for dinner."

She answered with an "Mm." The Twelfth Prince’s close attendant, Satong, came to lead the way and gestured toward the back room. "It is convenient, as the Prince just used it, and the curtains on the window haven't been taken down yet. Look at your luck; you get to enjoy all of the Prince’s graces alone."

This was still referring to the matter of bathing in the same room. Upon reflection, Dingyi blushed all over, laughing it off. "I am just receiving blessings through misfortune. You’ve been inconvenienced; thank you."

Satong just smiled. "Did you prepare a towel? And soap? I’m afraid it might not be good to use the Prince’s."

She said she had both, and as she walked, she pulled out the things wrapped in her clothes. "I have prepared everything myself. Borrowing the Prince’s room is already overstepping; I wouldn't dare take advantage of the Prince’s things."

As they walked toward the side chamber, Hongce was pacing over to open the lattice window on the west side. Because the room had been fumigated for insects earlier, a faint scent of burnt mugwort lingered and drifted between the sleeves; after smelling it for too long, one would feel dizzy.

The post stations on the government road were never bustling. They were laid out straight and crosswise, spacious and wide-open. Pushing open the window, the last vestige of the sunset from the western sky shone through the clouds, striking his eyes directly. He shielded them with his hand. As he turned, he happened to see something drop from Mu Xiaoshu’s arms. One end rested on the ground, while the other was still attached to his arm. It was rolled up, shaped like a sweat towel, getting longer the further he walked; in the end, it was estimated to be five or six feet long.

He found it strange and couldn't help but walk toward it. Just as he was about to get close, the object whoosh was retracted. He stood there stunned, not seeing it very clearly; it was roughly a white cloth, about five inches wide. He was no stranger to such things. The imperial concubines in the palace all kept silk beneath their pillows, not for any other reason, but just like the envoys sent to foreign lands who carried poison with them: in times of peace, they prepared for danger, and at the critical moment, they would sacrifice their lives for righteousness.

Mu Xiaoshu was a man; why did he carry this with him? What exactly did he want to do?