Love in Red Dust - Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Once the matter reached the ears of the Twelfth Prince, it was no longer a trivial affair. Before long, he arrived. Stepping inside and seeing the person before him, he found Mu Xiaoshu with eyes swollen from crying, clutching the dead birds and refusing to let go. He furrowed his brows and said, “Sha Tong said he wanted to go out and buy birds. What is your opinion? Just staring at them like this won’t do—come up with a plan.”
“My mind is a complete mess right now; what kind of plan could I have?” She found a high-grade tea-dust canister to place the birds inside, crying and rambling, “Regardless of anything else, let’s first let them be buried and find peace.”
Hong Ce took the canister from her. “They cannot be buried yet. The cause of death is unknown; if you bury them, there will be no proof left. What did you let them eat? What feed did you give them, and what water did you offer?”
Dingyi stood there, dazed, and said, “In the morning, the Seventh Prince fed them minced chicken and fermented soybeans, and in the afternoon, I offered them soft food, but they didn’t want to eat. Later, I added water to the container, but they didn't touch it either. By dusk, they couldn't hold on, and after they collapsed, they died.”
As for who bore a grudge against him and was determined to harm him—there was no need to even ask. It was surely the conflict from the Yanzi River Post Station; a whole crowd of guards, narrow-minded and unscrupulous—was there no law left? He placed the canister on the table and simply said, “This matter must be investigated thoroughly. Do not hide anything from the Seventh Prince; tell him the truth when he returns. These birds died in an inexplicable manner; to cover it up would only let those people off easy. Poisoning within the imperial palace grounds—such hearts deserve to be punished. It cannot be left at this. Keep the birds; whether they are to be autopsied or buried later will be the Seventh Prince’s decision.”
He treated this as a criminal case. Naturally, Dingyi had no objections. It was one thing for them to deal with people openly, but it was pathetic that the two birds, who couldn't speak, had died so unjustly.
She sat down, streaming tears. “I didn't expect this to happen. Such fine birds, all wasted.” Remembering the Seventh Prince’s face, her heart began to thump wildly. “I’m just afraid I won't be able to account for this to my master. You asked me before what I would do if the birds suffered some misfortune. I was stubborn back then, always feeling that such an oversight wouldn't occur. Who knew that even before we reached Ningguta, two little lives would already be lost? It was my negligence; I should have guarded them every step of the way. It’s too late to regret it now.”
Hong Ce said, “Self-reproach is useless. No one keeps birds in their embrace without ever letting go, and even tigers have moments when they doze off. If someone is determined to harm you, you cannot avoid it. Think for yourself—what happened today? Who did you see, and when did you leave the birdcages unattended?”
She, of course, had an idea. “After I left Wende Hall and entered the garden, I hung the cages on the branches to let them bask in the sun. Then I went to the golden well to fetch water. Halfway there, I ran into Liao Datou, and he chatted with me for a while... I know this has something to do with them, but I have no proof, so it’s not easy to just point fingers at people.”
Hong Ce snorted. “Crafty slaves. Their courage grows day by day. If we don’t discipline them this time, I fear they will be poisoning people next.” Glancing again, he saw the person by the table staring at the birds in the tea canister, her face full of sorrow. He pondered and said, “Sha Tong’s reasoning is sound; we must buy birds. Not for the sake of deception, but to put the Seventh Prince’s mind at ease. I asked Wei Kaitai earlier—there is a bird market in Shengjing that welcomes customers even at night. You know how to judge birds; go pick out two good ones, and you will be able to answer to the Seventh Prince.”
Everyone who plays with birds knows that high-quality ones are expensive; a top-tier bird costs at least several hundred taels of silver. Truly, these beasts are more precious than people. She felt the money in her pocket—the ten taels she had saved by scrimping and sparing, intended for a place to stay after reuniting with her brother. Now, even if she took it all out, it wouldn't be enough. Flushing with embarrassment, she held up her purse and stammered, “I only have this little bit of private savings, all scraped together from small, fragmented amounts. To compensate the Seventh Prince for his birds, I’m afraid I can only afford common ones.”
He gave a soft smile and pushed her hand back. “Keep it for snacks; this little bit of money wouldn't be enough for anything anyway.”
The Twelfth Prince turned and left, his robe fluttering in the sunset like a deity. Before, she had owed him a favor; this time, she owed him money. The debts were piling up, and in the future, she might have to pay him back with her life. Dejected, she pondered this, not daring to delay, and hurriedly pursued him.
Originally, leaving the palace was a joyful event. Dingyi had a lively nature and loved to stroll around new places to broaden her horizons. But this time, having suffered a massive blow, her enthusiasm was completely gone. Firstly, she was heartbroken over the two birds; secondly, she was worried about how to answer to the Seventh Prince. She held the reins, following behind the Twelfth Prince with her head drooping and a face as long as a horse.
Hong Ce looked back once. Her depressed appearance was strangely heavy, so he said, “I am here for everything; do not worry. The Seventh Prince is not a man who holds deep affection for playthings. Last time, when I compensated him with a Shaanxi hound, he threw that long-haired dog to the back of his mind in the blink of an eye. As long as the birds we buy this time are good, there is no need to worry that he won't like them.”
She frowned, the faint light from the horizon illuminating her, casting two rows of shadows from her thick eyelashes onto her cheeks. Hearing his words, she still didn't feel much relief. She gave a noncommittal hum and said, “May your words come true. I just always feel like I’m courting disaster, time and again—I’m even annoyed with myself. When Sha Tong went to report to you, what did you think when you found out? Did you let out a long sigh and mutter to yourself, ‘Why is it him again?’ You see, if you feel that way, the Seventh Prince will naturally be irritated, too.”
Hong Ce seriously pondered this. When Sha Tong entered the room, what had he been thinking at that moment? There was truly no feeling of “trouble knocking at the door again”; on the contrary, he felt a sense of relief. Because he had been determined to keep his distance, the occurrence of this incident provided him with an irrefutable excuse. He had always thought himself a person of extremely firm principles, but only now did he understand that this was not the case. One can remain without emotion only toward people who are irrelevant; once there is frequent interaction and personal feelings become mixed in, one’s attitude can no longer remain so steadfast.
He said there was no such thing. “I never thought that way. Perhaps at the very beginning, but later on, that was no longer the case. It feels a bit like my own affairs; perhaps I have simply grown accustomed to it, and it would be strange if things were calm and peaceful.”
A warm smile reflected at the corners of his lips. Dingyi watched, a bit mesmerized. Regaining her senses, she hurriedly shifted her gaze and mumbled, “Since you say that, I feel even more shameless. Every time something happens, I look to you to cover for me. I’ve never repaid you even once, and thinking about it myself makes me feel ashamed.”
“I was idle anyway, and had you not come, I wouldn't have left the palace grounds tonight. The matter has reached this point; being sad is useless, so try to be happy. The culprit will not run away; let them be at ease for now, and we will deal with them slowly later.” As he spoke, his horse whip pointed forward. “There is a Dragon King Temple on the inner street of Dongshun City, and a row of shops is open on the side, much like the Liulichang in Beijing. When I was young, I came to Shengjing to pay respects to the ancestors and once rummaged for cricket jars in that place. The area is not as large as Liulichang, but although the sparrow is small, it has all the vital organs. The bird market is likely a new addition; I have never been there and do not know what it is like, but it is said to be quite large with many varieties.”
Dingyi stepped on the stirrups and looked ahead; in the sunset, the buildings stood like the scales of a fish. Shengjing and Beijing were not close, but because the Xibe people had once flourished here, they had left deep traces. For example, the storefronts and the hanging banners—the spliced wooden boards and white characters on blue backgrounds—walking on the yellow earth street, one could hardly distinguish where one was.
The Dragon King Temple was a place for praying for rain in ancient times, and a very spacious “Heavenly Street” remained in front of the gate. Passing through the Heavenly Street, ahead was the trading street. As night approached, the shops along the street lit their lanterns. Several tavern waiters used poles to poke lanterns under the eaves; iron hooks were clamped onto the bamboo tips, and they hung them up one by one quite smoothly.
Their horses trotted past, and the lanterns lit up in succession. Dismounting under the archway of the bird market, Hong Ce dropped the reins, which were caught by a eunuch following behind, who quietly led the horses to the side.
The saying goes that bugs and birds are one family, and this was particularly evident in the bird market. Those who kept birds also played with bugs; crickets were a serious hobby, purchased and cared for like masters. Then there was another category that relied on birds for a living—things like grasshoppers and spiders—which were fed to the birds as live food; those were the meals on the birds’ plates.
The shop they entered was the largest in the entire bird market with the widest variety. They had everything—Hwamei, Red-billed Leiothrix, Crossbills, and Shrikes. As soon as Dingyi saw the living birds in the cages, her spirit returned. The wonderful, melodic sounds were like an elixir, instantly healing her shattered heart.
The shopkeeper was a middle-aged, pot-bellied man with a belt at least three feet two inches around. He came up with a face full of smiles and performed a bow, greeting Hong Ce warmly, “Oh, Master, you’ve arrived! Please, come inside! What kind of birds are you looking for today? You’ve come at the perfect time; a new batch of parrots and hawks just arrived.”
Hong Ce had no knowledge of birds and turned his face to look at Xiaoshu. “Choose to your heart’s content; you don’t necessarily have to buy the same ones.”
“Let’s look at the original types first. I’m afraid the Seventh Prince won't be able to let it go; buying the same ones can make up for it.” She turned to chat with the shopkeeper. “May I ask, do you have any Red-billed Leiothrix or Larks with good voices here?”
The shopkeeper saw that this guard was an expert and began to brag with a grin: “It’s not just good voices. We have the ‘seven-character burst’ of the Yellowbird, the ‘cavity resonance’ of the Leiothrix, the ‘child-mimicking’ of the Hwamei... we have whatever you want. You want Leiothrix and Hwamei? Come look over here...” He led them to the area where the singing birds were kept, pointing out, “Our birds are the most complete on this street. The training is effective, and we don’t put anything but good birds on the shelves. You are an expert; you know that the ‘thirteen suites’ are the top quality. Just look at this Lark—it mimics reeds and magpies, and even rooster crowing, hen laying eggs, shrikes mating... it has the full set of skills. If you buy it and take it home, I guarantee you won’t lose out, and it will even give you face.”
Doing business relies on one’s mouth; he blew things up to be miraculous, and once the person was fooled, the deal was struck. Birds that truly knew the “thirteen suites” were certainly not cheap. While in the capital, she had heard that Duke Keqin had spent three hundred taels on a single quail; if a Lark knew all these tricks, the price tag would be staggering.
Dingyi hesitated, no longer staring at the Lark, and turned to look at the parrots. Hong Ce, watching from the side, knew she was intimidated by the price and asked the shopkeeper, “What is the price?”
The shopkeeper saw they were outsiders and decided to fleece them if he could. He held up a hand and gestured, “Five hundred taels—I won’t earn a single copper from you. Such good birds—the effort it took to train them was no small matter. Look closely at the coat and claws; aren't they beautiful?”
Dingyi heard this and turned around. “Five hundred taels could buy a Gyrfalcon; your price is far too excessive. You know that going too far is as bad as falling short—asking for this much, who would dare to bargain with you?” She cupped her hands to Hong Ce and said, “Twelfth Prince, there are many shops along the street; we don’t have to buy here. We have plenty of time; let’s just slowly look at them one by one. Even if the birds are good, we still have to compare prices, wouldn’t you agree?”
She winked, and Hong Ce understood; this was a tactic to dampen the shopkeeper’s spirit—suppressing the price first to make bargaining easier later.
As for the shopkeeper, once he heard this, he felt it was a bit risky—not because they would go to another house, but because of the way they addressed each other and the eunuch leading the horses outside. No family casually has so many children; if they were ranked to the twelfth, they were either from an Imperial Prince’s household or a grand official’s estate. He couldn't afford to offend them, absolutely not. He hurriedly bent his body halfway. “The price is negotiable; I name the price and you counter—that’s only natural. Why don’t you look at the Leiothrix again? This is genuine stock from the Xingtai General’s tomb. Anyone who keeps Skylarks or Yellowbirds at home must invite a Red-billed Leiothrix to be the teacher; this bird’s voice is good, and its singing is clear as dripping water.”
Hong Ce lacked the patience to listen to his babbling and said straight to the point, “Do not artificially inflate the price, and I won’t make you lose money either. Give me a quote for both together!”
The shopkeeper pursed his lips and pondered. “How about this: seven hundred taels for both, and I’m not playing any tricks with you.”
Dingyi saw that the Twelfth Prince was about to nod and hurriedly interrupted, “That won’t do. Five hundred taels, one-time offer, not a single copper more. And that’s not all; the birdcages must be replaced—the Leiothrix must have golden-star ebony perches, and the Lark must have silver covers. You weigh it yourself; if you can accept that, we’ll take them. If that would make you lose money, we won’t force you.”
Hong Ce watched and found it funny. She was a capable person; she hadn't spent her time in the city market for nothing and knew how to haggle. He was born into the Imperial family, and after establishing his own palace, he had never concerned himself with the management of estates and farmland, leaving it all to his servants. Although the household rules were strict, the servants managing affairs were known to skim off the top—something unavoidable in every Prince’s household—and he had never really concerned himself with it. Now, for the two birds, let alone seven hundred taels, even if they looked good, he would have intended to buy them for a thousand. But with Xiaoshu stepping in like this, he had nothing more to say; he would simply listen to her arrangements.
The shopkeeper struggled for a long time. If he didn't sell, at least there was profit within; if he did sell, the profit would be lower than he had estimated, so he found it difficult to decide.
Dingyi laughed, “Don’t calculate anymore. When I was young, I caught birds with people. If you go back a generation, the parents of these birds wouldn't be worth a single tael of silver for ten of them. Training birds is a business with a ten-thousand-fold profit; if you spend a bit of effort, you can turn around and sell them for two hundred and fifty taels each—that’s not unjust to you.”
The shopkeeper thought about it; that was true. “Since it’s a late-night transaction, I won’t hold firm. Let’s consider it making a friend. If it were the morning market, I wouldn't sell them for a single copper less than seven hundred.”
Since that was the case, the deal was struck. Dingyi happily went to pick out the birds; for the Lark, she chose one with red legs, a large beak, and clear shoulder-feathers; for the Red-billed Leiothrix, she chose one with a large head, a thick tail, and white legs, with black, shiny crest feathers. There was even a nursery rhyme for selecting adult birds: “Look at the bird’s whole body from a distance, inspect the legs and head up close, poke it with your hand when close, to see if it moves.” What did that mean? Selecting a bird, besides its appearance, depended on its temperament; those with bold hearts were steady, while those with timid hearts were not easily trained. Finally, she grasped each bird in her hand to test their strength—neither was lacking in fat, and so the deal was done.
The shopkeeper watched her fussing like this and lamented, “If I had known you were so good at picking, I wouldn't have sold them to you even if you killed me!”
Dingyi turned back and smiled, “It’s already settled; there’s no backing out now.” With the two cages in her hands, the Twelfth Prince finally took the banknotes out of his sleeve pocket. Once money and goods were exchanged, they walked out the door.
Originally, she had said she would pick out birds that looked similar to quietly fill the gap, but in reality, if you looked closely at birds, each one looked different. Along the way, Dingyi discussed bird lore with the Twelfth Prince, and finally, she spoke of the money, feeling exceptionally guilty. “I spent five hundred taels of your money again. Even if you sold me, it wouldn't be enough to fill the hole. I owe you too much this time, and along with the hound from last time, being your indentured servant for a lifetime wouldn't be enough to repay you.”
He only smiled and did not speak. Fearing he hadn't heard her, Dingyi urged her horse forward and tapped his arm with her finger. “Twelfth Prince?”
His eyes and lips curved into an extremely beautiful arc, and he nodded, saying, “I know. Then just save up and repay me slowly. A lifetime is so long; there will always be a time when you have finished repaying me.”
He was always like this, never making people feel oppressed, always maintaining that relaxed attitude toward everything. But the less he concerned himself with it, the more embarrassed she felt. With an apologetic, low voice, she said she was sorry. “I am just a useless person; without you, I feel as if I couldn't go on living...”
He was silent for a moment. “I have always felt a sense of regret; since I cannot hear sounds, for me, people are always incomplete.”
Dingyi gave a sound of surprise, a dull pain striking her heart. “Do you want to hear my voice?” She thought for a moment, then pulled two of his fingers and pressed them against her own throat. “Look, I’m speaking. Now you can hear it, can’t you?”
The Twelfth Prince’s gaze was clear, like the radiance reflected on a blue sea as described in books. A vivid trace of floating light drifted across, and a delicate smile spread from the corners of his mouth all the way to his eyes. Dingyi felt that, in this world, there was likely no one whose eyes could be more beautiful than his.