Love in Red Dust - Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Out in the wild, only two people sat opposite each other under the moon, chatting about topics they wouldn't normally touch upon.
At first, Dingyi was in a foul mood, her cheeks puffed out, wanting to cry. Later, the Twelfth Prince cheered her up by sharing stories of his childhood—how he was overlooked and how others pushed him around. It was a comparison of sorts, a contest of misery, using his own misfortune to offer her comfort. Dingyi pondered to herself: Can your misery possibly compare to mine? My parents are gone. Even if your parents are effectively absent, at least you can still see them. You were raised in luxury, while I tasted the hardships of life at age six. I couldn't get enough to eat, and I was all too familiar with the cold glares of others. How can we possibly compare?
Yet, she was still very grateful to him. To have such a meticulous person, a golden, jade-like prince, sitting on a stone to comfort her—to be honest, it was truly heartwarming.
Deep down, Dingyi wasn't a stubborn person by nature. She knew the difference between right and wrong. It wasn't that because her father had committed an offense and fallen at the hands of the Aisin-Gioro clan, she had to grit her teeth and hate anyone with that surname. That wasn't it. Although she didn't know the exact reasons, the extravagance of their household was plain to see. A magistrate for three years, one hundred thousand silver ingots—she understood the weight of that saying. If her father hadn't been greedy or used his power, they never could have built such a vast estate. A second-rank official’s annual salary was 155 taels, along with 155 bushels of grain, and the anti-corruption silver allowance—at most, seven hundred taels a year. Could seven hundred taels buy a grand mansion in the capital? Could it support hundreds of servants? So, it was best not to look too closely; everyone just kept their mouths shut and carried on. If the imperial court didn't stir up trouble, fine; but if they were to investigate, more than half of the officials in the capital would capsize. Her father’s luck was poor, and at a certain moment, he was pushed out to be the scapegoat. If she wanted to hate, she first lacked the conviction herself. If he were truly innocent and wronged, she could hate the Aisin-Gioro clan with every fiber of her being.
Therefore, she maintained a neutral heart. Whether treating the Twelfth Prince or the Seventh Prince, she felt neither love nor hate. She simply did her job well, carefully guarded her secrets, and waited until they reached the Changbai Mountains to honestly confess her identity. She wanted to be with her brother, so she had to beg the two princes not to blame her and to be lenient enough to let her go.
She said, "Twelfth Prince, when you help me make up for my birthday, can you do me a favor? I’m embarrassed to ask, but it’s my birthday, and the birthday child is the most important, right?"
Hongce tilted his lips. He forgot that they shared the same birthday, but it didn't matter. His affairs were all trivial, and there was no harm in agreeing. He said, "As long as it does not violate the law, I will do my best."
Dressing as a man shouldn't be a crime, right? Although deception would certainly make people angry, the law could be bent with mercy. If a prince just turned a blind eye, it would pass. She smiled and said, "I’m a principled person; I never do anything out of line."
He raised an eyebrow and studied her. "Is that so?"
His tone reminded her of the time she stole a dog with Xiazhi, and she felt a bit ashamed. Fortunately, it was too dark to see clearly, and the prince didn't know she was blushing from guilt. She sulked, "Why did you add that 'is that so'? If we’re talking about bad deeds, who can guarantee they’ve never done one in their life? As long as one is upright in the important things, it’s enough. Don’t take life too seriously; it’s so tiring, don’t you think?"
This time, he agreed. "That’s true. If you are too obsessive, you will be exhausted the moment you open your eyes. I used to be like that—striving to make everything perfect. In the end, after putting in so much effort, it was thankless work."
She looked up at him. "Ningguta is a miserable assignment; I don’t know how long you’ll have to stay there. Do you think the court will send you to Khalkha again in the future? I know that place is bad; you don’t like it there."
A layer of confusion appeared on Hongce’s face. "If no further trouble arises in Khalkha, I should be able to live peacefully in the capital. But if there is even the slightest disturbance, those sent abroad will be the first to bear the brunt."
Only after getting close to him did Dingyi realize that princes had so many troubles. She didn't understand why, even after his reputation was ruined, they still wouldn't let him be. She said indignantly, "You are both sons of the Retired Emperor—how are you different from them? You didn't stir up the trouble in Khalkha, so why is the blame laid on your shoulders?"
Because his mother was tied to the fate of Khalkha. When his mother was in power, he rose by her status; now that she had lost power, the faults naturally fell on him to bear alone.
Seeing him clenching his fists in anger, he found it amusing. "Nothing, that’s just how the imperial family is. Whether you are favored or not depends on the power behind you. Among brothers, we all share the same blood of the Retired Emperor; how we are ranked depends on our mother’s family foundation."
The Twelfth Prince’s hair was loosely tied with a pearl ribbon. As the evening breeze blew, several strands brushed across his face. He hooked them away with his pinky finger—a casual gesture that left Dingyi dumbstruck.
She gave a small laugh. "Your hands... are truly beautiful."
He was a bit surprised. "What?"
She startled herself, having spoken without thinking. He had probably never been complimented like this before! She hurriedly laughed it off to cover her tracks. "That, I mean, you take good care of your hands. Unlike us, who do rough work; when we gesture, it’s like two lumps of wood."
He lowered his eyes and stretched out his hand to examine it, not feeling there was anything particularly beautiful about it. Dingyi couldn't hold back anymore; her heart itched with admiration. She quickly turned her head away, looked at the sky, and muttered, "I didn't realize it—it’s getting late. Let’s head back!"
In her nervousness, she forgot to face him while speaking. Since the prince couldn't see her, he asked, "Last time you read my palm, were you really reading it, or were you just messing around?"
She was stumped and stammered, "I... I can certainly read them, of course! Didn't you see how well I spoke? I wouldn't mess around with you—you are my benefactor."
He smiled faintly, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression, and it was hard to tell what he meant.
She couldn't stay any longer; the longer they spent together, the more her secrets would be revealed. Dingyi hurriedly added, "It’s late, and I’m afraid my master is looking for me. Let’s go back!"
Then let’s go back. The Twelfth Prince stood up, and his robe brushed against the back of her hand. Her heart trembled, and she felt an inexplicable sense of melancholy.
When they returned to the post station, many people had already fallen asleep. Occasionally, she saw a few people walking about, holding hand towels and banana-leaf fans, shuffling along under the eaves with their shoes half-on—likely thirsty and looking for water.
She bid the Twelfth Prince farewell, saying, "Please go back and rest. You’ve been jolted on horseback all day, your bones must be rattling. Lie down early; I’ll come to pay my respects tomorrow."
Waiting at the door for the Twelfth Prince was Sha Tong. Being on a long journey, Guan Zhaojing—the manager of the prince’s household—had to stay in the capital to maintain the house, so the Prince was looked after by a few close personal attendants. This Sha Tong was a eunuch, but he was also a skilled martial artist who had been by his master’s side since childhood. He could look after his daily needs and also ensure his safety; he was even more useful than an ordinary Goshaha. As soon as the Prince returned, he stepped forward to welcome him inside.
Dingyi stood under the porch, dazed for a while, before returning to her quarters. Qian Chuanzi and the others had been punished by having to sleep in the stables, but there were still four or five men in the room; it was rather inconvenient. She looked around—perhaps she should climb onto the roof and find an empty ridge to spend the night.
Just as she was calculating, the door of the main room opened. The Seventh Prince stood in the diamond-shaped halo of light outside the threshold, hands on his hips. "Where have you been having such a good time? The birds are so thirsty they’re gasping, and here you are, neglecting your duties! What exactly are you doing?"
The Seventh Prince looked displeased. Dingyi felt her scalp prickle and hurriedly went up to perform a bow. "This servant had indigestion after dinner and went out for a walk. I walked a bit too far and only just returned. Please punish me, Master."
"Indigestion? Did you go digest your food with the Twelfth Prince?" The Seventh Prince glanced toward the other side, huffing. "Have you forgotten who your real master is? Are you stupid?" After saying this, he turned to walk away. After two steps, he realized she wasn't following and clicked his tongue. "Still standing there? Are you waiting for me to carry you?"
Dingyi’s heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly followed with her neck retracted. When she entered the room, she saw the bird food box and water tray on the table. Without waiting for orders, she opened the cages and filled them. She pulled out the drawer under the white-eye bird cage, replaced it with clean paper, and turned back. "Master, I’ll go pan for river sand tomorrow. Traveling every day, I haven't changed the sand in the lark’s cage for days; it’s too cruel to the bird."
The Seventh Prince sat with his legs crossed, playing with his snuff bottle, and cast a sideways glance at her. "It’s good that you still remember to serve the birds. I thought you only had eyes for the Twelfth Prince and had cast my two treasures aside to go play by yourself." As he spoke, he pointed at the lark cage. "Uncover the cloth and let it sing by the lamp. This bird is interesting; it gets excited the moment it sees the light."
Dingyi acknowledged the order. "You don’t know yet, but these past two days it has learned to crack a whip." She smiled, lifted the cloth, and made a hiss sound at the cage. "Feng’er, give the Prince a whip crack—loudly, okay?"
The bird was incredibly smart and understood human speech. When Dingyi gave the order, it spread its wings and puffed up. With a huo-huo sound, it combined the sound of the wind and the crack of a whip, instantly making the Seventh Prince laugh.
"This little trick is quite interesting." The Seventh Prince put down the snuff bottle and came over, circling the cage like a weasel eyeing a chicken coop. "You are not a human; if you were a human, I would reward you handsomely."
Dingyi raised her hand. "Prince, I am a human."
The implication was that she was asking for a reward. The Seventh Prince looked at her with his arms folded behind his back. "You? It’s enough that I haven't punished you yet! What else do you want!" He turned back to look at the lark. "You named it? Called it Feng’er? Could you be any more vulgar? You should have called it Danzhu or something; calling it Feng’er sounds like someone who goes door-to-door doing laundry."
He was truly picky. Dingyi said, "Where I’m from, people who do laundry are called Flower or Grass; there’s no one called Feng’er. It’s a crested lark, so calling it Feng’er is quite fitting."
The Seventh Prince rolled his eyes at her again. "Fine, Feng’er it is. And what about this red one? What’s it called?"
Dingyi coughed. "It’s called Yingying."
"Oh, my." The Seventh Prince covered his eyes and dragged his face downward. "Yingying, what next, Zhang Sheng? You’ve been reading too many playbooks!"
She blinked her large eyes and said, "This servant hasn't read many books and doesn't know how to choose clever names. I just wanted something that’s easy to call out. If you don’t like it, we can change it. How about Little Jujube?"
Lacking any substance, the Seventh Prince laughed. "Forget it, just call it Yingying. We’re used to it now; if we change it suddenly, we’ll confuse the poor thing." He paced the floor a few times, turned, and slumped into a chair, looking her up and down. "Tell me, Mu Xiaoshu, the Twelfth Prince came to complain to me today, saying the Goshaha subordinates are unruly and causing trouble. Liao Datou also came to plead guilty and reported the whole sequence of events. You..."
He was probably going to blame her, saying she was making a mountain out of a molehill. When she thought about this, her heart filled with frustration. Even if she were a man, it wasn't right to treat someone like that. She knelt down, but kept her chin up. "This servant is guilty."
When the Seventh Prince saw her attitude, it was clear she was very unconvinced. He hadn't intended to reprimand her, but who was she directing that attitude toward? The Seventh Prince was getting irritated. "Did I provoke you? Why the long face? Are you getting bold? It’s common for men to get a little physical with each other. If you act so chaste and upright, won’t people laugh at you? Tell me, being so serious, how can you get along with others? When on duty, it’s duty; between brothers, there’s always some interaction, right..."
He stopped as he spoke, realizing that this kid, Mu Xiaoshu, was crying—tears streaming down his face, catching him completely off guard.
"What’s this... a man shouldn't cry easily; why are you crying?" The Seventh Prince leaned forward, pressing on the arms of the chair, and shouted with a hint of intimidation. "Stop it right now!"
Everyone blamed her; only the Twelfth Prince truly cared for her. She was a wretch, having ended up in such a miserable state. The more she thought about it, the sadder she became. She sobbed, "This servant was wrong. These are tears of regret; please just pretend you didn't see them!"
The Seventh Prince felt there was more to her words. What did she mean by regret? Regret becoming a bird-keeper in his Seventh Prince’s mansion?
"Your temper is quite large. They are crude and touched you, while the Twelfth Prince is kind and accompanied you to digest your food." He furrowed his brows and asked, "Tell me, do you and the Twelfth Prince have something going on? How is it that every time there’s a problem with you, he’s the first to know? When he saved you, what was I doing..." He scratched his head. "Right, I was having my legs massaged! Tell me, between me and him, who is your master?"
If the master wasn't stepping in, was he not allowed to let others help? Dingyi said, "You are my master; didn't the Twelfth Prince just help out because I am your servant? Please don’t mind it."
"That’s why I say there’s something fishy between you two." The Seventh Prince looked as if he had discovered a massive piece of news, appearing very shocked. "Your Twelfth Prince likes men, is that it? You two... huh?"
Where was he getting this from? Dingyi hurriedly said no. "The Twelfth Prince is kind-hearted. He wouldn't just help me twice; he’d worry about a kitten or a puppy if he saw one. He is a gentleman of virtue. This servant dare not ruin his reputation. You can scold or hit me, Master, but you cannot throw dirty water on the Twelfth Prince."
Good heavens, what did she take him for? Was he the type of person to throw dirty water? The Seventh Prince stood up and paced around the room twice. He had a short temper, and the more he looked at this kid, the more annoyed he became. He shouted viciously at him, "No sense of hierarchy! You don't know how to speak with discretion. Slap yourself!"
So, not all Aisin-Gioros were easy to get along with. Dingyi gritted her teeth, gave a firm answer of "Yes," and began slapping her own face left and right. Because she was feeling suffocated with anger, she felt it was all quite meaningless, so she hit quite hard. After a few slaps, her face was burning, and it quickly began to swell.
When the Seventh Prince saw she was actually doing it, he hurriedly called for her to stop. "Are you trying to argue with me? You want to bruise yourself up and then go complain to the Twelfth Prince?" He stomped his feet hard. "You stay here and kneel for the rest of the night! Don't you dare leave without my order!" He had stomped too hard and strained a muscle, so he gasped in pain and hobbled into the inner room.