Love in Red Dust - Chapter 44
Chapter 44
Traversing the mountains during the day was far more convenient than at night. Their pace was brisk, and by the end of the day, they had returned to the Imperial Manor. Everyone was exhausted, so they hastily filled their stomachs and collapsed to sleep, not rising until the sun was high in the sky. When the Seventh Prince awoke, he stood under the veranda, practicing his martial arts. "Straight lines for attacking, curves for defending," he muttered, repeating the mantra, "Empty the spirit, strengthen the energy, create something from nothing." As he practiced, he drifted toward Mu Xiaoshu’s door. Finding it shut, he extended a finger to poke a hole in the window paper, stealing a glance inside. The kang (heated bed) was empty; the bedding was neatly folded, and there was no sign of where the person had gone.
He looked left and right, but didn't see the birdcage. Had he gone outside to walk the birds? Or was he wandering about, only to end up tangled up with Old Twelfth again? The Seventh Prince was not pleased, feeling deeply annoyed by his own suspicions. He decided to just go and check on Hongce; there was almost an air of catching a cheating spouse about it, and his heart was filled with both anger and unease. He had to make things clear today. Mu Xiaoshu was his; if Old Twelfth continued to get in the way, he wouldn't be able to hold back his fury.
Abandoning his practice, he took a detour to Old Twelfth's residence. Sha Tong and Hagang stood outside the door, chests puffed out and stomachs tucked in, like the temple guardians. He composed his expression, walked over with a measured, steady gait, and cleared his throat loudly. Sha Tong was a sharp one; upon seeing him, he immediately sprang into action like a newly wound clock, bouncing over in a few quick steps.
"The Seventh Prince is here?" He asked with a wide, cheeky grin, bowing low. "Look at that vibrant energy; you must have just finished your practice. Are you looking for our Master? Shall this servant brew you a pot of tea so you can sit inside?"
The Seventh Prince gave a low grunt, his gaze pushing forward. "Tongzi, have you seen our Xiaoshu?"
Sha Tong was a trusted confidant by the Twelfth Prince's side, relying on his keen eyes to perform his duties. That particular quick-wittedness was unmatched. He knew exactly what was going on with Mu Xiaoshu, the Seventh Prince, and the complex, tangled relationship they had with his own Master. It was shaping up to be a drama of "two dragons fighting over a pearl." The Seventh Prince was worldly and experienced, but their Master was still a novice—how would he handle him?
He shook his head. "I haven't seen Guard Mu. She was serving your birds; those who keep birds wake up early, so he likely went outside for a walk. Even though the weather is cold, the birds need to be aired out so they can find their voices. If they stay idle for too long, they'll forget how to sing."
The Seventh Prince ignored his jesting. The more he insisted he hadn't seen him, the more suspicious the Seventh Prince became that Xiaoshu was in Old Twelfth’s room. Without another word, he lifted his robe and stepped inside. Lifting his eyes, he saw a copper furnace on the table, with wisps of smoke filling the room with the scent of sandalwood. He didn't like the smell and instinctively covered his nose.
Old Twelfth wasn't in the main room. Just as he was about to find him, Hongce emerged from behind a curtain, hurriedly calling out a "Seventh Brother" before dropping his head to study his own hand.
Sha Tong, sharp-eyed, noticed that the Twelfth Prince had a rather large gash on his hand, from which blood was oozing. Startled, he hurriedly grabbed a handkerchief and wrapped the wound.
The Seventh Prince didn't understand the situation and blinked. "Did you encounter an assassin? How did you get hurt like that?" As he spoke, he walked toward the inner room, lifting the curtain to inspect the entire area. The floor was covered in fine bamboo strips, but there was no one else there. He breathed a sigh of relief—if Xiaoshu wasn't there, he could rest easy—and turned back with a smile. "You too, you should be more careful. It's such a cold day; injuries don't heal well. Hey, what are you playing with? Look at all these bamboo strips and knives."
Hongce responded vaguely: "It's nothing, just messing around." He busied himself pouring tea and invited him to sit. "What brings you here so early, Seventh Brother?"
The Seventh Prince said it was nothing. "Just finished my practice and was wandering around, so I stopped by." After saying this, he cast a glance at him. Hongce was sipping his tea, looking calm and composed. He pondered for a moment. Xiaoshu and Old Twelfth interacted too frequently, and he still refused to yield to him. If this went on, sooner or later, something would happen. Don't look at Old Twelfth as someone who didn't say much—"the dog that bites doesn't bark." He was currently fighting a one-sided battle; once they were truly entangled, it would be difficult to separate them.
He licked his lips, planning to exaggerate his intimate encounter with Xiaoshu when telling Hongce. He couldn't worry about the promises he had made; grabbing the person first was the priority. He cleared his throat. "Well… I had a long talk with Xiaoshu yesterday. He’s always trusted you; did he mention anything to you?"
Hongce didn't react much. He smoothed his hand and said no. "What did Seventh Brother say to him?"
The Seventh Prince grinned. "Me? I’ve seen and played with everything in my life. Anything others have, I must have, and anything others don't have, I must also have. I’ve taken a liking to this child, Xiaoshu, and I plan to take him into my household. How about that? Taking a male concubine in the Prince's estate—hasn't that set a precedent for our Great British Imperial Clan?" He said this with self-satisfaction. "I know many people dare to think about this but don't dare to do it, but I’m not afraid. Once we return to the capital, I’ll arrange it. He is my servant; whatever I choose to do with him is my own family business, and no one can interfere."
Old Twelfth had practiced the skill of hiding his emotions since childhood. The Seventh Prince observed him carefully, but he remained calm. His hand merely paused for a moment before he used the cup lid to scrape the tea foam, saying blandly: "Seventh Brother should think carefully. After all, this kind of matter is not honorable when spoken of. It is true you are the master, but since you like him, it wouldn't hurt to listen to his wishes. What does he say? Does he know your thoughts?"
"Of course he knows; I mentioned it to him long ago. He’s a shy child and is reluctant to agree easily, but that blushing, embarrassed look of his is truly adorable..." He smacked his lips and tilted his head, laughing. "Let me tell you, I even managed to steal a kiss yesterday; his little lips tasted quite good. This is the first time I've taken a liking to a man. I know it shouldn't be, but there's nothing I can do; when love reaches the depths, there are no regrets—you wouldn't understand this."
Hongce’s hand beneath his sleeve slowly tightened into a fist. What did Old Seven mean by running over to tell him this? A warning? A boast? He knew of Dingyi’s plight, and now, even if he regretted it, it was too late. If he had kept the person by his side back then, they wouldn't have had to take such a long, winding road. The mistake was his, and the fault was his alone. Old Seven was someone who took unconventional paths; he dared to shove his way in without even knowing the situation. That boldness was something to be admired. Between brothers, there shouldn't be unnecessary conflicts, but in the past, when clashes occurred, it was nothing more than power and interest; he would yield, and even if he suffered a loss, it was nothing. But this time, it was different. Money and status could be earned again, but if he lost the person he loved, he would pine for a lifetime. He absolutely could not let go.
He hadn't been in a rush before, out of consideration for her grief over losing her relatives, and hadn't demanded she accept him immediately. But Old Seven’s sudden attack forced him to face the issue squarely. Dingyi had always been in a vulnerable position; when she encountered injustice, she felt hurt, and after the hurt, she had to digest it alone because she lacked the ability to resist. For Hongtao to do this and then run over to tell him—if it weren't for his excellent self-cultivation, he would have rolled up his sleeves and given him a beating. This spoiled, arrogant bastard never considered anyone else’s feelings. Usually, when brothers competed, everyone let him have his way; but he just became more arrogant and intolerant. If he were a man of long-term affection, Dingyi following him would be fine, but sadly, this man was unreliable. When he liked someone, they were perfect, but once the novelty wore off, he would cast them aside. Dingyi had lived a difficult life since childhood; if she spent the rest of her life in waiting, her life would be more bitter than coptis.
"I don't understand these things. Seventh Brother is a player, while I have shallow knowledge and lack such ability. But we were born into the Imperial family; the first rule is to live up to the responsibilities on our shoulders. You doing this..." He smiled. "Forgive me, but I cannot agree."
"It's pure jealousy!" The Seventh Prince was still very proud, feeling that he had struck Old Twelfth’s weak point. This kid was trying to frame him! He tugged at his chin. "I know I can be a bit 'out of step'; this habit didn't start today. Brothers, father—who doesn't know this? Even if I'm out of line, at worst, they’ll call me 'Old Seven the Fool.' Let them curse; it won't take a piece of flesh off me."
Hongce pursed his lips and said nothing more, shifting his gaze elsewhere. He simply didn't understand why someone who had achieved nothing should be accommodated by everyone. He worked a hundred times harder than him, yet he wasn't even half as successful. Destiny was clearly biased; the Heavens were no different from a eunuch!
The Seventh Prince was triumphant; his goal was to make Hongce unhappy, and if he were unhappy, he would be pleased. Keeping Xiaoshu hidden away—wasn't that just letting Old Twelfth continue to daydream? That kiss yesterday was like a bannerman staking his claim on a mountain; once it was in his hands, it was his, and Hongce could only stare. Speechless now, aren't you? The battle between brothers started from today. Everything else was negotiable, but Xiaoshu could not be yielded. He had tried it back in Shengjing; neither men nor women suited him—he only cared for Xiaoshu. If he let this slip through his fingers, wouldn't he be stifled to death for the rest of his life?
The brothers each harbored their own thoughts, saying nothing. The Seventh Prince took his leave after sitting for a while. Hongce stood there blankly, having made up his mind. He resolutely turned and walked into the inner room. Feeling in a foul mood, he gave the curtain a fierce yank, sending the heavy felt sweeping high behind him.
The day passed aimlessly. Dingyi finished walking the birds and sat inside working on decorative tassels. The Seventh Prince had come looking for her, but she claimed to be ill and turned him away. The Twelfth Prince said he would make up for her birthday tonight. Both of them were born during the Double Ninth Festival, and since it was his birthday too, they should at least make a gesture. She couldn't afford expensive items, and she lacked the skill to embroider pouches or handkerchiefs, but she had learned to make knots in the past. When passing through Qingyuan, she had bought some bead thread and gold thread, so she decided to make a few tassels. She would let the Twelfth Prince hang them on his sword or his pouch; though small, it was her sentiment.
She waited anxiously for the Hour of the Dog (7-9 PM). The sky darkened bit by bit. Looking out across the rows of houses, the Prince’s residence was far away, obscured by the fine, swirling snow. It had always been a world apart; she was dreaming. She was just spinning a story for herself—once the joy passed, it would all be over. She would only meet one Twelfth Prince in her life. She would keep her feelings, as light as mist and cloud, to savor slowly in the future.
The watchman’s drum rang for the first watch; the time had come. She wrapped the tassels in a handkerchief and tidied her appearance in the mirror before leaving. Not being able to wear women's clothing was a regret. She had no lip rouge, but red paper was readily available; she pressed it to her lips, and her complexion brightened significantly.
She walked straight south from the Imperial Manor; she had scouted the path while walking the birds in the morning. It was originally a grain-drying field, a vast, open area covering more than ten acres. It sat idle in midwinter, covered in a layer of snow. Looking out, it was clean, white, and soft, like the silk cotton padding inside armor.
However, after standing there for a long time, she couldn't see anyone near or far. She stood there, feeling a bit flustered. Had she remembered the time wrong? Why was there no movement? Or had the Twelfth Prince forgotten, leaving her to have a foolish, empty joy?
Just as she was trapped in a dilemma, the faint sound of a deer whistle drifted over. She turned her head and saw the ground transformed into a slightly arched semicircle under the dim light. From somewhere, many Kongming lanterns (sky lanterns) appeared, of varying sizes and covered in five-colored oiled paper. They rose extremely slowly, one after another, connecting into a formation.
She let out a joyful, low cry and hurried to follow. The lanterns flew higher and higher. Looking up, she saw the sheep-tallow candles at the bottom of the lanterns burning with a sizzle, slowly drifting over her head. She squinted as she watched them go, her heart drifting far away with them.
In the past, watching lanterns and scenery was merely joining in others' bustle; it had nothing to do with her. But now, as her luck turned, it was like the Qingyi (leading actress) on stage—knowing she was the star of the show, the taste was truly different.
The snow fell across the sky—not in heavy clumps, but fine and dense, sweeping across in a single motion, weaving into a veil that obscured the eyes. In the haze, she caught a glimpse of a slender figure. He was pacing over from a distance, holding a sheep-horn lantern. She walked two steps to greet him, then stopped, waiting for him under that sea of lanterns with a smile.
The Twelfth Prince was wearing a stone-blue arrow-sleeve robe patterned with white fox underarm fur. The weather was cold, but he wore no heavy cloak, appearing neat and spirited. The soft light of the lantern shone upon his face—his brows relaxed and his eyes open—possessing a grace that words could hardly describe. As he gradually drew near and they stood face to face, his gaze flowed tenderly across her face. After a brief pause, he turned his head to watch the lanterns rising into the sky and asked if she liked them.
Dingyi was filled with emotion; how could she not like them? She said: "I’ve never had a birthday like this. In the past, on my birthday, my master would boil two eggs—that was already the height of happiness; how could I dare hope for lanterns? Oil candles are so expensive; lighting one Kongming lantern is enough for the family to live on for half a month... Twelfth Prince, the Imperial Manor is so remote, where did you buy so many lanterns?"
Hongce laughed gently. "The materials were all there, so there was no need to buy them. I made them myself; you can make them whatever shape you like."
She sighed in surprise. "There are so many; how long did you spend?"
He said: "Since I returned from the slave camp, I spent a day and a night making one hundred and eight of them. You are eighteen; this number is just right for the occasion."
One hundred and eight lanterns—from splitting the bamboo strips, assembling the frames, pasting the covers, to tying the candles—it must have taken a massive amount of effort. He hadn't slept for a day and a night; no wonder there were dark shadows under his eyes. Dingyi felt a complicated mix of emotions. He was a Prince—what was he doing all this for? She hesitated, fidgeting. "This servant is not worthy of such kindness from the Twelfth Prince. I am a person in distress; the fact that the Twelfth Prince did not hold me accountable is already something I am deeply grateful for."
His eyes flowed with shimmering light, and a smile slowly emerged. "I do not care about your background, and you should not mind my hearing impairment. It is not easy to stay alive; we each have our own misfortunes. Do not look at my high status; that iron-hat title was something I earned with my life, but it still benefited from having a father who is a retired Emperor and an older brother who is the Emperor." He lowered his head to examine her closely. The light of the sheep-horn lantern spilled onto her face, which was fair, gentle, and lovely. He tentatively covered her fingertips with his hand. "Dingyi..."
She trembled violently. This name had been sealed away for a long time. Hearing it from his lips reminded her of her departed parents and brother. Unable to restrain herself, tears poured down her face.
He watched her cry silently, offering no comfort, feeling only sharp stabs of pain in his heart. He grabbed her hand, his thumb stroking the back of it lingeringly. The lantern fell to his feet as he raised his hand to wipe away her tears; her skin was so delicate it made his heart tremble. He sighed deeply, "If only you were properly cared for; I don't know what kind of devastating beauty you might be... I don't know how to say flowery words, but seeing you cry makes my heart feel like it's being pricked by needles—do you understand this feeling? Your life in the past was too bitter. I wasn't there for the past eighteen years, but for the next thirty-eight, forty-eight years, I want to spend them with you."
He usually handled cases and held court, maintaining a dignified demeanor required by his position. Once he stepped down from his official duties, he was a shy person who didn't easily chat with girls, let alone make long, emotional confessions. Dingyi was different; girls pampered in deep boudoirs were cute, but she, who had survived such hardship and remained strong, was even more respectable.
She raised her head in panic; his face was flushed, but his eyes were clear and firm. She felt a bit dizzy, suspecting she might be a little muddled. The relationship between them was always inscrutable—separated by a thin layer of window paper, it seemed as fragile as if it were hanging by a thread, yet as indestructible as a bronze wall. She thought it would always be like this, but he had suddenly revealed the secret. She simply couldn't believe it was real.
"Twelfth Prince..."
His fingers grazed her mouth, blocking her words between her lips. "I have a name. Originally, our generation was 'Dong'; Dongli, Dongqi, Dongsheng, and so on. Later, when my Second Brother ascended the throne, the brothers had to avoid the character, changing 'Dong' to 'Hong,' so I am called Hongce." He smiled at her. "From now on, call me by my name directly; do not call me 'Twelfth Prince.' It is too distant, and there is no human warmth."
Dingyi’s heartbeat was uncontrollable. She stared at him, stunned, unable to speak. He pursed his lips and smiled. "Are you stunned, mysharp-witted one? Or did I scare you?" He whispered, "I don't have the glib tongue of the Seventh Prince, nor do I know how to please people. In the palace, they tried to arrange marriages for me time and again, but I found opportunities to decline them, which is why I haven't taken a Fujin (wife) yet. I am disabled, and having it out with you took immense courage. I was truly afraid of making things difficult for you and insulting you. Though I am lacking, my heart is sincere toward you. I have nothing else to say now, only a promise: in this life, I will never fail you... I know I have been far too abrupt this time; I don't need an immediate answer from you. It concerns a lifetime, so think about it carefully; don't come to a conclusion lightly."
She moved her lips and gently gripped his fingertips in return. How could she refuse? Actually, from the very first moment she saw him, he had been deeply imprinted on her heart. She just couldn't believe this happiness had arrived like this; she didn't know what day or age it was anymore. Yet she knew clearly that while he could decide his own matters, he could not decide the matters of the entire Imperial Clan. But even if he didn't get their approval, with this one promise from him, she would die content.
She looked into his eyes; through the veil of water, his face had never been so clear. She said: "I am the descendant of a disgraced official; the crimes of my father and brother were never cleared, and I have lived in the shadows my whole life. Originally, I hoped the Wen family would be vindicated, but now that Ruliang and the others are dead, whether the case is reopened doesn't matter... If I follow you, I fear I am unworthy of you. I know my own mind; I... want to be with you. I have always liked you." She was blushing, but her gaze didn't flinch. She felt like a Batulu (brave warrior) on the grasslands—formerly timid, but this time, unprecedentedly brave. She heard her own trembling voice, "My status cannot see the light of day, and I don't want to make things difficult for you. Find an alleyway to settle me; I... will be your mistress.”