Love in Red Dust - Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Dingyi offered her thanks, and Sha Tong gestured toward the inside before withdrawing and quietly closing the door behind him.

Inside the hall stood a floor screen and a throne, illuminated by two towering "Gathering Radiance" lanterns. Their light made the gold-threaded longevity patterns on the headrests sparkle with brilliance. However, the Twelfth Prince was nowhere to be seen. After Sha Tong led her in and left, his vague gesture had provided little direction. She took a few hesitant steps forward and called out, "Your Highness, where are you?" The hall was vast, and her voice echoed like thunder, startling her. Then she remembered he could not hear her. Sha Tong had said he was about to rest; surely, he must be in the bedchamber!

In the bedchamber? The memory of the last time she had wiped his back made her heart skip a beat uncontrollably. If she were to run into that scene again... She covered her face and chuckled. Actually, it wouldn't be a catastrophe; it wasn't as if she hadn't seen it before. The first time is awkward, but the second is familiar.

Summoning her courage, she arrived at the diamond-patterned door to the inner room. After a brief pause, she pushed it open. Behind layers of curtains, a figure stood with his back to her. He was preparing for sleep; having finished washing, he wore a loose robe patterned with bamboo branches, his hair secured with a pearl-studded ribbon. From behind, he looked leisurely and elegant, possessing an air of detachment from the world.

She suddenly felt a bit flustered. A young woman always felt shy entering a man’s bedchamber. A hot flush spread across her face, but she steadied her nerves, stepped forward, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

When they were alone together, a faint, lingering warmth always seemed to surround them. It was hard to describe, and not something intentionally created; it was just a simple kind of happiness. He turned around, his eyes filled with a smile. "Coming over so late—is something the matter?"

Dingyi swallowed hard. The Twelfth Prince was truly a feast for the eyes; under the lamplight, he appeared even more fair and translucent. In the circles she usually lived in, she was surrounded by rough men with dark faces, drenched in oil and sweat, their skin pitted with acne like the sesame seeds sprinkled randomly on baked flatbreads. But the Twelfth Prince? He was like the first snowfall in a world of glazed tiles—pure and unstained by the slightest speck of dust.

She stared, stunned, and forgot to speak. This Prince was very patient; he did not urge her. He pulled her shoulder gently, leading her to sit on a stool, then leaned back against a mother-of-pearl cabinet. He didn't speak, but simply watched her with a smile. Dingyi suddenly snapped out of it, realizing she had been so muddled she hadn't even offered a proper greeting. She hurried to stand up, but he preempted her, saying, "No need for formalities. We see each other several times a day; there's no need to be so stiff. I just asked why you came—could it be you only came to see me?"

She paused, blushing as she looked away. "No," she said. Her hands were fidgeting with the banknotes so much that the edges were fraying. Like holding a hot potato, she thrust them forward. "Master, acting on the Seventh Prince’s decree, I have come to repay your money. The Seventh Prince says he is very grateful that you have spent your time and wealth several times over to help him secure these playthings. He feels very uneasy about it... adding in the hunting dog from last time, he has converted it all to cash for you. It’s three thousand taels in total. Please see if that is enough."

Hong Ce, naturally, would not accept it. Hong Tao was a person who was straightforward to a fault; he knew exactly what the Seventh Prince was thinking. He wanted to clear the debt so that he would have no more attachments—was that the intention? If he didn't want to accept his favors, so be it, but to force her to deliver the money and put her in the middle of it all? That was just the Seventh Prince’s way.

He said, "Is the Seventh Prince planning on having no further dealings with me? Between close brothers, why act as if there is no exchange at all? Why make things even colder than between neighbors on the street?"

Dingyi didn't know how to answer this. She prevaricated, "That’s not how it is. The Seventh Prince just doesn't like that I’m always adding to your troubles. Now that I am under the Feather Banner, the Seventh Prince feels that if his own servant keeps running to you at every hurdle, it brings shame upon the Master. My coming here is, first, to deliver the banknotes, and second, to thank you. Please rest assured, the Seventh Prince didn't scold me this time. He is a reasonable master; he knows someone was setting me up, and he didn't use this as an excuse to make things difficult for me. If you accept the money, the account between you brothers is settled, and to me, you remain my benefactor." She pushed the banknotes toward him again, pleading, "Please, just take them. Otherwise, I won’t be able to report back to my Master. He’ll say I couldn't get the job done and that my head is just for show."

He could see she was doing her best to mediate for her master; she was a loyal servant. As for him, he had never intended to take the money back. They weren't born of the same mother, but they shared the same father. If he accepted the money, would it mean he agreed that Hong Tao should be so distant with their brotherhood?

She held them out with both hands, looking nervous. He glanced at her. "I cannot accept this money—not just for the Seventh Prince’s sake, but for your dignity as well."

Dingyi laughed sheepishly. "I’m just a servant; what dignity do I have? If you don't accept it, I have no way to answer to my master. The Seventh Prince made it very clear: if I fail to get this done, he will come down hard on me later."

Exaggeration or not, it was close enough to the truth. She didn't know what to do with the money in her hands; if the Twelfth Prince would just nod, she would be completely unburdened.

"In that case, you keep it yourself!" He turned away, pacing deliberately, the fine pleats of his robe moving like a folding fan with every step.

Dingyi felt as if she were sitting on needles. She quickly said she didn't dare. "Twelfth Prince, please don't make things difficult for me. If you accept it, I have something to tell him. Otherwise, what am I supposed to do?"

He laughed. "Since the money hasn't fallen into your own pockets, you’re just holding the name of it anyway. It would be better to make it official so you don't feel aggrieved. Whether you owe a favor or owe a debt, it’s all the same—if you have too many lice, you stop feeling the itch. What are you afraid of? Or is it that you don't want to owe me, but would prefer to owe the Seventh Prince?"

Logically, it made no difference who the creditor was. It was merely a split decision: either she continued to owe the Twelfth Prince a favor, or she suddenly bore the burden of three thousand taels to the Seventh Prince. Three thousand taels! To the wealthy, it was pocket change, but she was now trapped at the bottom of a well with no way to climb out. Just thinking about it made her want to weep.

She shook her head. "I can't just take this money for myself. What would that make me? Please, don't tease me. If you keep at it, I’ll have to kneel to you."

As she spoke, her knees actually started to buckle, but he reached out and caught her. "Even if you haven't a pot of gold to your name, don't look down on yourself. I’m not teasing you; I mean it when I say you should keep it. Having money by your side gives you confidence. Don't you still have a master to support? There will be many places you’ll need money in the future."

She said, "That doesn't matter. My master isn't the type to spend lavishly. If I earn a little here and there, we two will live just fine."

He gave a helpless smile. "Earn a little here and there? By plastering walls or chasing after funerals to play the trumpet?"

She grinned. "What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that how common folk live? We look for work throughout the four seasons. When there’s no work, we wait for the crops to ripen—the autumn harvests—scavenging and stealing a little..." She realized she had slipped up and laughed, embarrassed. "A person like me is a craftsman, and the money comes quite quickly. You don't need to pity me. Besides, I have a proper job in the Seventh Prince's mansion now. Between the annual salary and the grain allowance, I earn thirty-seven taels—more than the servants in the tea room."

"Thirty-seven taels a year, with a debt of three thousand taels—if you don't eat or drink, it will take you eighty-one years to pay it off. Have you calculated that?" He looked straight into her eyes. "If you owe me the money, I’ll only take the principal, no interest. Wouldn't that be better?"

Dingyi looked utterly despairing. "Eighty-one years... I’ll be dead before I finish paying it back."

"Then pay it for a lifetime. When a person dies, the debt is settled... Had I known, I should have brought you into my own mansion from the start, rather than letting you end up serving the Seventh Prince." He sighed. "The Seventh Prince insists on settling accounts, and I have no reason to refuse, but I feel that if I take this money back, the meaning behind it changes. So, I’ll leave it with you for my own peace of mind."

Dingyi was caught between a rock and a hard place. She waved her hand. "Please, don't do that. You helped me when I was in trouble, and if I end up owing you thousands of taels on top of it, what kind of person would that make me!" She placed the banknotes on the heated platform table, stepped back a few paces, and said, "I won’t take your money. I will owe you the favor. When the opportunity arises, I will certainly repay you. As for the Seventh Prince, I am his servant; he even said that my son would be his hereditary slave. If I can't pay it back in my lifetime, I’ll have my son continue the repayment. There will be a day when it’s all paid off."

She was a bold spirit, tempered by wind and frost, shattering all his previous understandings of women. After returning from the bird market, her gestures and movements had been truly beyond anything he could have imagined. He had guessed her gender and made a thousand calculations in private. Now that it was suddenly confirmed, his heart settled, yet his thoughts drifted and floated in mid-air. Was she pitiable? There were many pitiable people in this world, but she was truly one of a kind. No wonder when those guards joked with her last time, she had bristled like a cat with its tail stepped on—thinking about it now, it was indeed hard for her.

But why would a perfectly good girl disguise herself as a man? For what purpose? His curiosity now outweighed that inexplicable feeling of affection. Even if he liked her, he wanted to like her with total clarity; with a barrier between them, his feelings felt impure and required constant probing.

He took a step back and nodded. "Very well. Since you insist, let it be. If you ever run short of silver, come and get it—the offer stands." He turned to the treasure cabinet, opened a small double-door, and took something out to hand to her.

Dingyi didn't know what it was. She took it hesitantly and saw a rhinoceros-horn comb and a fine white porcelain bottle. She shook it; it sounded like hair oil. Her heart took a heavy blow, and she looked at him in shock. His expression remained indifferent, showing no change.

Could he have seen through her? She stammered, "Twelfth Prince... w-why did you think to give me this?"

Hong Ce stood with his hands behind his back. "It’s inconvenient while out on the road. Those guards don’t comb their hair, and after the wind blows through it, their heads are a mess. Don't be like them."

Dingyi held the items, standing stiffly in embarrassment. She subconsciously smoothed her hair with one hand and said awkwardly, "I understand. I am too slovenly, and it has become an eyesore for you."

He turned his head away, looking calm. "I have so many guards, yet you haven't seen me give a comb to any of them. I once heard that if a woman takes a fancy to a man, she sends a comb as a token of love. But when a man sends one to a man, there shouldn't be such an implication, right?"

What on earth was he talking about? She didn't understand the sentiments of young girls; she had never heard of combs being tokens of love. Now that the Twelfth Prince was steering the conversation in that direction, she didn't know how to respond.

She stood there, stunned and silent. The Twelfth Prince tilted his head to observe her; his eyes glittered like stars under the lamp. He said, "What? Have you never used hair oil? Dip the comb in, comb it through little by little, and smooth all the loose hairs back... If you really can't, shall I serve you?"

"No, no..." She hurriedly declined. "Thank you for the Twelfth Prince’s gift. I will figure it out on my own; I wouldn't dare trouble you." It was a girl's nature to love beauty. She looked down at the bottle; the slender body of the bottle felt elegant. She loved it so much she couldn't put it down. She smiled. "To tell you the truth, I’ve never used hair oil. People who do manual labor aren't so particular. I just brush it out in the morning and that’s it. Who has the time to use a fine-toothed comb? I once heard a neighbor talk about the Eastern Peak Temple, and there’s a story in the Eighteen Levels of Hell about using too much hair oil. It says that after you die, little ghosts hang you upside down and pull on your hair to drain it, but because the bowl underneath has no bottom, it never fills up, so you stay hanging there year after year."

He laughed. "That’s just to scare people, to encourage girls to buy less hair oil and be frugal."

"I know." She pursed her lips and smiled, her two dimples brimming with joy. "Ah, I’ve never used this in my life..."

Hong Ce observed her expression and let out a slow, long sigh. Just a bottle of hair oil, and it was enough to make her happy for half a day. Being so easily satisfied—he couldn't find anyone else like her around him. The things she had experienced could not be reduced to mere words. While others were viewing flowers or playing chess, she had been sweeping blood off the ground at the execution grounds, raising her head through the swirling dust, still able to smile as brightly as the morning clouds. She did not indulge in self-pity, but lived tenaciously. The noble daughters of those aristocratic houses would panic at the sight of a bug; if it were they on the execution grounds, they would likely be scared to death.

The watchman’s clapper sounded outside, and Dingyi finally realized it was late. She hurried to bow. "I’ve delayed your rest; I should go. Thank you for today. I’ve almost worn out my thanks, saying it over and over..." She raised the horn comb and the porcelain bottle. "And thank you for this. I will start using it right away."

"The hair oil is secondary; keep the comb well." He walked her to the door. "It’s not far from here to the tent area—can you walk back yourself? Do you need me to escort you?"

She laughed. "You honor me too much. Since when does a Prince escort a guard? If people heard that, they’d laugh. Please, stay here; I’m off."

Just as she was about to step over the threshold, he suddenly pulled her back. His fingers hooked into her arm, and he felt the delicate, fragile outline beneath her padded robe. He was stunned for a moment, then released his hand and whispered, "We’re back on the road tomorrow. Are you feeling better? Does your stomach still hurt?"

Dingyi choked. It was a woman’s ailment; she couldn't explain it clearly to him. She prevaricated vaguely, "Thank you for your concern, Twelfth Prince. It is all better. You see, I’m back to jumping around. You go inside; the night air is heavy and cold—you’ll catch a chill." She turned her wrist and gave his arm a light push. "Go back. There are lanterns on the road; I won’t stumble."

He stood outside the threshold, watching her as she drifted out the gate before he turned back into the hall. He thought of the state of his heart just now—it was like seeing someone off for eighteen miles. He touched the spot she had brushed against, his heart filled with a sudden, aching sense of loss.