Love in Red Dust - Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Dingyi looked as if she had been struck by lightning, her eyes widening in bewilderment. "Master, I am a man; I cannot be your secondary wife."

"I know." The Seventh Prince seemed deeply disappointed in himself, drooping his eyelids as he said, "I was just speaking off the cuff. How could I actually let you be my secondary wife? It's not as if there are no women left in the world."

She rubbed her nose in chagrin. "Then what was the purpose of saying that? Were you just making a fool of me?"

"Not really." The Seventh Prince paced to the window and pushed it open to look out. The bright moon hung high in the sky, and his heart felt inexplicably desolate. He said, "Xiaoshu, has your master arranged a marriage for you? How many wives do you intend to take in the future?"

Dingyi hung the birdcage on the rack and laughed. "I am a person of humble means. If I took several wives, I wouldn't be able to feed them—would the whole family just starve to death? I just want to find one person to share the bitter and the sweet. He could sell bean juice, and I could sell fried dough rings; as long as we have a mouthful to eat and live together without anger, in peace and harmony, that would be enough."

He clicked his tongue and pondered this. "One pair for a lifetime—the imagery is quite beautiful, and perhaps only the common folk can achieve it. As for us, the Imperial Court dictates our marriages. Ever since His Majesty brought in a successor Empress, he has essentially washed his hands of the matter. The selection process still happens, but he doesn't keep anyone he picks—he gives them all away. I personally think he's a bit afraid of his wife. Don't be fooled by the Empress’s constant smiles and her agreeable nature; she actually has a very calculating heart! She disciplines the sons strictly; the Sixth Prince sees his father as if he were a dear brother, but when he sees his mother, he is so terrified that he detours around her. The Empress is fierce; she likely disciplines her husband in the bedchamber, too. That’s why the Emperor doesn’t even bother picking concubines anymore—the poor man. There are two kinds of men in our Aisin Gioro family: those who commit to one person until death, and those who love no one at all. I wonder which kind I am; even I don't know." He turned around and asked, "Which kind do you think I resemble?"

This question was too difficult. Dingyi said, "I can't tell, but don't you already have several wives in your household?"

"That’s true." The Seventh Prince seemed a bit muddled. "How many are there? I need to count... one second-in-command, three third-in-commands—four in total, and I'm still missing a head of the house. There will be another round of selections next spring; by then, they will likely be assigned. It’s not just me; it’s time for the Twelfth and Thirteenth Princes, too. It is truly exhausting to be the Emperor; after he finishes assigning marriages for our generation, it will be his sons' turn. Let me tell you, the biggest matchmaker in the world is the Emperor. When he assigns someone to you, you have no room to pick or choose. Whoever he says, that is who it is; you are not allowed to negotiate. Tell me, aren't we royal relatives pitiful? We have no say in our own marriages. Even if he assigns a cripple to you, you still have to kneel, kowtow, and thank him for his imperial grace."

Listening to him, Dingyi realized for the first time how the marriages of these princes were decided. "I always thought that if a noble took a fancy to a girl, he would quietly report it upward, and then the palace would issue an edict to go through the motions. That’s not how it works?"

The Seventh Prince said, "That sort of thing exists, but you need someone inside the palace you can trust. For instance, if your mother has influence, or if you have a deep friendship with the Emperor or Empress, you can walk through the back door. If they are willing to accommodate you, they might let you pick first. But people's hearts are hidden behind their skin. Sometimes, if someone dislikes you, they might assign you someone terrible to ruin your life—that happens, too. Take Empress Kun—the one before the current Empress—she had a brother who inherited his father's title; he was a Duke of sorts. And what was he assigned? A wife with a lame leg, simply because at the time, he and the Emperor were rivals for the same woman. Originally, the Empress Dowager had already issued an edict assigning the lady to the young Duke, but the Emperor forcibly snatched her away, and in the end, he stuffed her lame younger sister into the Duke's household. What is that? Isn’t that clearly trying to give someone a hard time?"

Dingyi wore an uncertain smile. "Master, these are royal secrets. If you tell me, my ears might be cut off later."

"That wouldn't happen," the Seventh Prince said. "These aren't really secrets; everyone knows them. I just wanted to say that people like us are sometimes not masters of our own destiny. When the things we want in our hearts cannot be attained, living becomes quite difficult. But I am a person who takes things in stride; I don't dwell on things too much, and I try to live a good life." He seemed to be talking to himself, then looked at Xiaoshu again. "I always counsel myself: if something cannot be done, just put it aside and stop thinking about it. That often works. But if something is etched into your bones, it is difficult to manage. I wonder if this is etched into my bones... When we return to the capital, I will give you a house. Later on, marry a good wife and live a stable life."

Dingyi was quite surprised. "Master, what has gotten into you today? Did you go out drinking?"

The Seventh Prince shook his head. "What kind of drinking? I sat down, ordered two top-tier courtesans—from a distance they looked fine, but up close their faces were wrinkled. Their powder was plastered on like mortar, layer upon layer. I sat there terrified, afraid that the moment they spoke, the powder would fall into my wine cup. Those old veterans of the pleasure quarters have even invented a trick: they leave their pinky nails two inches long, fill them with wine, and dip them into the cup to offer someone a drink. It terrified me... who knows if they were picking their noses before? Making someone eat that—I almost threw up my previous night’s dinner."

Dingyi laughed out loud. This prince was too interesting; with such a cheerful person, all her troubles vanished. Covering her mouth, she said, "They wear nail guards, or they would break."

"That won’t do either. Fingernails are so dirty; isn't that just disgusting?" As he spoke, he looked at his own hands. "Oh, they need trimming... Shu, go to the high cabinet and get the toolkit; trim my nails for me."

A master never distinguishes between chores when summoning a servant; once he catches you, you do whatever task he sets! Dingyi replied, "Yes, Master," and said as she walked, "I am a clumsy person with rough hands; if I accidentally cut you, please don’t blame me."

The Seventh Prince said, "Can’t you think more positively? Demand excellence from yourself first. If you always think you can’t do something, you’ll never amount to anything in this life."

Dingyi meekly agreed and took the carved sandalwood box. When she opened it, she saw brass scissors arranged from largest to smallest, all polished to a shine. The Seventh Prince sat in the chair, and she knelt beside his legs, looking up to ask, "Should I spread a white cloth to catch the nail clippings?"

"Just do it like this; this isn’t a palace lady combing her hair—there’s no need for so much fuss." He reached out his hand. "Watch closely; don’t cut the tips of my claws off."

She smiled. "I won't; I am being very careful!"

And so, the Seventh Prince relaxed and let her serve him. Mu Xiaoshu was a meticulous person, and her pressure and technique were just right. The Seventh Prince squinted as he watched; she was holding his hand, head tilted, clipping with deep focus. The Seventh Prince closed his eyes again. This was actually quite nice—more comfortable than drinking in the pleasure houses. Looking at the gaudy, powder-caked courtesans of the world, and then at the one person hovering before his eyes, he realized he would rather just stay here and watch over him.

However, the Prince was very troubled. What was he to do? Hong Ce was acting strangely, and if both brothers fell for the same person, wouldn't that just be adding to the chaos? He knew the Twelfth Prince was unusual toward Mu Xiaoshu. Hong Ce was a bachelor, so it didn't matter, but he himself had a family and household—it was outrageous to have such worldly desires.

Did this lad have some sort of magic? He squinted at him; he looked perfectly ordinary—just a bit handsome, durable, and good-tempered. Besides that, what else was there? He was a country bumpkin, a rustic fool who bowed and scraped to everyone—he lacked backbone and spirit... but that was caused by his background; he couldn't blame him. The Seventh Prince pondered. He couldn't do anything to the lad, so perhaps he should look after him a bit more in the future. He would promote him so his descendants might enjoy the shade of his protection and not have to bend their spines as he did.

It was a very comprehensive plan; the Seventh Prince had never thought himself so far-sighted. He closed his eyes again and let out a long sigh. He had brought this trouble on himself—of all the people to take a fancy to, why did it have to be a boy? Did he not plan to have sons in the future? Without a son, who would inherit his title? Who would care for him in his old age and perform his funeral rites?

Playing around was fine, but he shouldn't get serious; getting serious would only hurt himself. The Seventh Prince was adept at self-comfort. Xiaoshu was busy attending to his nails, and he lifted his eyes slightly to look at the birdcage, saying slowly, "Later, have Na Jin send three thousand taels in banknotes. You go to the Twelfth Prince and settle the full account. You are not allowed to owe any favors, do you hear?"

Dingyi gripped his finger, thinking to herself that once a favor is owed, it is owed—how could it ever be settled with money? But she had to reply, "I know. I’ll say the dog money is settled, too. If the Twelfth Prince thinks it’s not enough, he can ask you for more, okay?"

The Seventh Prince raised an eyebrow. "Don’t cheat me; twenty-five hundred taels is more than enough to buy a dog. Forget the dog—you could buy ten small theater troupes with that, enough for them to perform 'The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea' without missing a soul."

Dingyi said, "For 'The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea,' isn’t ten people two too many?"

The Seventh Prince clicked his tongue. "Can’t you assign roles? The remaining two can be Zhang Guolao’s donkey and Iron Crutch Li’s gourd—there, that's perfect."

She had nothing more to say and had to agree, "The Master’s assignment is truly brilliant."

The Prince’s hand felt very smooth. Once the nails were clipped, she used a small file to polish them, going back and forth until she had the Seventh Prince perfectly groomed. When she finished, the Seventh Prince put his ten fingers together to inspect them carefully and found a distinct, elegant arc on each tip. He said, "What is this? Why didn't you trim them completely?"

Dingyi packed up the box. "If they are trimmed too short, it’s inconvenient to hold things; keeping a little bit looks good."

Hearing her say it looked good, the Seventh Prince found that the best possible explanation. As long as it looked good, a little extra length didn't matter. "Very well," he said, "just trim them like this from now on. It’s getting late; you go back now." He turned to look at the birdcage. "Take the money to the Twelfth Prince; otherwise, I’ll set the birds free tomorrow."

Dingyi asked with her mouth half-open, "I’m going now? What if he’s already asleep?"

"Go even if he is asleep," the Seventh Prince said. "Today's debts must be settled today. Tell the Twelfth Prince that I thank him for his care, but that there is no need to trouble him in the future; we can handle our own household affairs. And you remember this, too: keep your distance from the Twelfth Prince. You are a servant of my Seventh Prince’s mansion, registered under the Bordered Feather Banner, not his Merchant Banner. Once you enter a banner, you must acknowledge your banner master. Forget about you—even your son will be a hereditary slave of my household! Have less to do with outsiders. Your master does not tolerate grains of sand in his eyes; I despise people who cannot distinguish between kin and outsiders."

This was effectively building a prison of his own making—alive, she was the Seventh Prince’s person; dead, she would be his ghost. Dingyi didn't dare say another word. She respectfully agreed, slowly retreated from the hall, and after a few steps, met the head steward, Na Jin, under the corridor.

Na Jin stood with his sleeves crossed, leaning against a pillar. Seeing her come out, he hurried over, peeked into the hall, and lowered his voice to ask, "How is it? Has the Master’s anger subsided?"

Dingyi recalled that the Seventh Prince had been furious at first, but later, it was as if the wind had left no trace. When she trimmed his nails, he looked utterly satisfied; she couldn't see any lingering resentment. She said, "The matter has passed; you know the Master’s temper. Just now, the Master ordered me to go to you to get three thousand taels in banknotes to settle the debt."

Na Jin nodded. "I heard everything from outside." He pulled a roll of dragon-head banknotes from his sleeve and handed them to her. "Three thousand taels, exactly—keep them safe."

Dingyi took them, feeling a bit hesitant. It was so late; the Twelfth Prince was likely already resting, but she didn't dare delay the Seventh Prince’s orders. Fortunately, security at the temporary palace was not as strict as in the Forbidden City; this area wasn't locked down yet, and it would only take passing through two gates.

She gripped the banknotes, using the light from an ox-horn lantern to illuminate her way as she hurried along. When she reached the Twelfth Prince’s Jisi Pavilion, the building was spacious and quiet, save for the hazy, dim light emanating from the lanterns hanging high at the eaves.

She stopped in front of the side room and rapped her knuckles against the window's lattice. "Is An-da there?"

A large shadow was cast on the window paper, gradually shrinking. The bolt clicked as it was drawn, and Sha Tong poked his head out. "Xiaoshu, it’s so late—aren't you resting yet?"

Dingyi stammered, "I am acting on the Seventh Prince’s orders to see the Twelfth Prince... it is late, but the Seventh Prince insisted it be done today, and I couldn't decide otherwise."

Sha Tong finally stepped out. He had just washed his feet, his robe tucked into his waistband and his pant legs rolled high. Standing in the light and shadow, he asked, "Is it urgent?"

"It’s just about buying the birds today. The Seventh Prince scolded me, saying I was always troubling the Twelfth Prince, and ordered me to bring the money over." She held it forward. "What should I do? Could you accept it on his behalf and present it to the Twelfth Prince tomorrow morning?"

Sha Tong shook his head, saying it wouldn't do. "Settling accounts clearly between brothers isn't a simple matter; if I take it, the Master might blame me later." He walked toward the main hall as he spoke. "The light is still on; I reckon he is reading. Why don’t you wait for a moment? Let me go in and see; if he isn’t asleep, I will report it, and you can go in once the Prince summons you."

Dingyi bowed. "Thank you, An-da. It’s so late, I’ve troubled you—I’m truly embarrassed."

Sha Tong waved his hand, adjusted his appearance, approached the hall door, and squeezed through a small gap.

Dingyi stood under the eaves to wait. The night wind carried a chill, flowing in through her collar and sleeves. She wrapped her robe tightly around herself, wondering how to broach the subject with the Twelfth Prince. Just as Sha Tong said, when close brothers truly reach the point of settling accounts, even good things can turn sour. Just as she was struggling with how to speak, the hall door opened again, and Sha Tong called out to Xiaoshu from the threshold, "The Prince was just about to retire, but he has a moment now. He says you may come in to speak.”