Love in Red Dust - Chapter 46
Chapter 46
Breaths mingled and lips were pressed together. Both were novices; they simply clung to each other, feeling that this alone was enough to be called a kiss.
Dingyi squinted, opening her eyes a tiny crack for a blurry look. The Twelfth Prince was the type of person who gave his undivided attention to everything he did; even though he wasn't well-versed in this, he threw himself into it with gusto. How wonderful this was—both nerve-wracking and sweet. Their hearts weren't large, and they were people easily satisfied, which made them especially susceptible to feeling happiness. She groped around and interlaced her fingers with his, a muddled thought crossing her mind: such beautiful hands were now hers, too. From now on, she could rub or knead them however she pleased.
As for Hongce, he couldn't stop dwelling on that kiss from the Seventh Prince, with his talk of how "tasty" those little lips were. His jealousy was fierce; he had been unhappy before but kept it to himself, struggling with his own irritation. But it was better now. The mark the Seventh Prince had left on her lips had been covered by his own. It was just like the business practices of the "Four Great Hengs" in the capital—money exchanged at one shop and deposited at another—a stamp was clapped down, confirming the asset now belonged to that house. It could co-exist, but it was absolutely not interchangeable. The Seventh Prince only knew how to be delusional; let’s see what he had to boast about now!
However, fighting over trifles was not a long-term strategy. It was unsafe for Dingyi to remain by the Seventh Prince's side. He had thought about it a great deal: if he couldn't transfer her registration, he would have her records erased. Once her identity was masked, it would be easier to negotiate a proper marriage arrangement later.
Once a person occupied his heart, his thoughts became a thousand times more meticulous. He planned for their future life, steering everything in a direction that favored them both. The Seventh Prince was a firecracker with a broken fuse; heaven knew when he would explode. Dealing with his madness was difficult—after all, they were brothers, and both were Imperial Commissioners dispatched by the Court. A scene would only lead to "grief for loved ones and joy for enemies." When brothers fought over a person, decorum was already out the window. Who had truly emerged as the winner in the past conflict between the Retired Emperor and the Crown Prince Dongli? He only hoped to minimize the damage. He could no longer let go; he hoped the Seventh Prince could still retreat unscathed. The thought was selfish, but who isn't selfish when it comes to their feelings?
He blamed her for being excessively adorable. As she leaned softly against his chest, he felt as if the past twenty-three years of his life had been lived in vain. He hadn't understood heartache or the flutter of a beating heart before. A man who had always kept to himself, once he split his heart in two, finally understood the feeling of being tangled up in longing.
Perhaps it was innate talent; he began to trace the fullness of her lips, which was indeed far more interesting than just stupidly pressing them together. She mumbled something and subconsciously licked her lips, meeting his head-on like a lightning strike.
Is it supposed to be like this? Both were bewildered. After the dizziness came a wild joy. It didn't matter if one was confused; having the other, cleverer one to lead was enough. He tasted the sweetness and pursued it, raising a hand to cup her slender neck, pecking at her lips again and again. Each time he pecked, he whispered "Dingyi." She emitted a soft, sticky nasal sound, her legs turning weak until she could only manage to cling to him for support.
In the midst of the flickering torchlight, amid the ice and snow, two men were huddled together. The sight was truly unbearable to behold.
The Seventh Prince bit his lip and turned around to look at Najin. That boy was also stunned, his mouth hanging wide open in helpless shock.
"Mu Xiaoshu’s stock is rising. Not only do I have to guard against him taking a wife later, but now I have to guard against him stealing someone else’s man." The Seventh Prince said with a sinister edge, before adding, "No, he's already stolen one. Look at what they’re doing? He’s hooking up with Old Twelfth behind my back! Old Twelfth is shameless! He’s kidnapped my Goshaha (personal guard)! He’s kidnapped my Shu’er..." By the end, his eyes were actually brimming with tears. "I’m going to go reason with him. On what grounds? Is he deaf in his ears and blind in his eyes? Does he not know that Xiaoshu is my man? Doing this so brazenly—does he think I, his elder brother, am dead?"
He said he would do it, and he meant it. He stomped his feet and started to march over. A fine pair of lovebirds—he would definitely pluck them clean! He had only taken one step before Najin hugged him around the waist. Najin said with a pained face: "Master, please calm your anger. You cannot go. If you go, you’ll tear your relationship with the Twelfth Prince apart. Would making such a scene be fun?"
The Seventh Prince was furious. He struggled a bit and hissed, "So what? I don’t allow them to be together! If Mu Xiaoshu wants to find a new master, he needs my permission. His life is mine! If he makes me unhappy, I’ll tie him up and send him to the frontier garrison. Those soldiers have been thirsty for eyes for so long; they won't care about his 'spring flowers and autumn moons.' Once he falls into that wolf’s den, I’ll make sure he gets his fill of pleasure!"
Najin certainly couldn't just stand by and watch. He scrambled to stop his master, begging him to think twice. He himself had been terrified just moments ago—how could the Twelfth Prince be a duanxiu (homosexual)? If this became known in the Changchun Garden, wouldn't the sky collapse? And their master, what a great Prince he was—a talented, young, and high-ranking noble. He had the looks and the background; why would he wade into such muddy waters? And for a Mu Xiaoshu—a little executioner who started out wielding a big blade in the Shuntian Prefecture—what was so exceptional about him that he deserved two Princes fighting over him like red-eyed fighting cocks? Najin scratched his head. Why didn't he have such good luck? He looked at his reflection in the mirror—he didn't look bad himself, just a bit chubby. Being chubby meant he was wealthy and prosperous!
He sighed and advised, "My dear master, you know the principle that the more you try to pull things apart, the tighter they stick. If you jump out now, aren't you just asking for trouble? This servant thinks that Xiaoshu and the Twelfth Prince haven't been like this for just a day or two. There are feelings involved now. What are you going to do? Better wait until they drift apart, then have a proper talk with him. Xiaoshu is quite smart; he knows what’s good for him."
"He knows shit!" The mention of this made the Seventh Prince explode. "I’ve told him so many times, I promised to set him up in a mansion, I promised to elevate his status, and what does he do? He won't even look me in the eye. I’m a Prince, goddammit! In what way am I not good enough for him? You listen to me: get him into my room tonight. I’m going to handle him, and we’ll see if he can still act cocky! Let’s see if he has the face to see Old Twelfth again!"
This was truly a case of "breaking the pot since it’s already cracked." In the Seventh Prince’s view, Mu Xiaoshu was really not showing proper respect. Who did he think he was, picking and choosing among Princes based on his looks? If he was going to pick, he should have picked him—he was the primary master and was right there at his side. Who knew the kid had grease in his brain? He went in a giant circle to find someone further away—what was this, the idea that food from someone else’s kitchen always smells better? He didn't even stop to think how he would survive in the future after offending his master!
He couldn't help but glance back again, his liver, heart, spleen, lungs, and kidneys all twisting in agony. He fiercely swept his sleeves and turned to leave. As he walked, he ordered: "Get a bucket of water. Once he’s scrubbed clean, throw him on my bed. Move all the men here to keep guard; don't let the Twelfth Prince get wind of this and ruin my good deed."
Wouldn't the whole world know by then? Najin felt very conflicted. "Master, rumors are terrifying. 'The broken arm is hidden in the sleeve'—if you move all these men here, everyone will know. How will you face people in the future?"
"I don't care." The Seventh Prince returned to the main gate of the Imperial Manor and turned to look in frustration. The grain-drying field was too far to see, but that scene from just before pierced his heart like a needle. He was just that kind of person: he didn't care for things others didn't want, but if someone else cared for something, he had to have it, no matter what. Mu Xiaoshu had known how to provoke people from the very beginning, hooking this one and tying that one; he wouldn't let go of anyone. He blamed himself for being weak, ultimately falling into the kid's net. Since that was the case, he would do it for real. Grab the lips first, then the body—he could not fall behind.
He was just worried about how to proceed with his partial understanding; after all, men and women were different. He had never tried to "take the side path." If something went wrong, it would be a matter of a lifetime. Back in his room, he sat in the main seat and pondered for a long while before asking Najin, "What should I prepare?"
Najin gasped and said awkwardly: "This servant heard from Mi-zi of the Imperial Household Department that eunuchs have many specialized skills for 'that,' and they have many tools. But for the first time, you don't need anything else; you just need a bottle of sesame oil. Rub it on 'that' part of yours... it’s useful for 'opening the mountain.'"
The Seventh Prince looked stunned. The term "opening the mountain"... it was evident how difficult the process must be. He hesitated. "Does it hurt? Why does it sound so terrifying?"
Najin blinked. "This servant was castrated and sent into the palace to serve you before I even had the chance to use my own hammer. You ask me, and I don't know if it hurts or not. According to Mi-zi, it’s the other person who should be hurting. Think about it—how can a woman's wedding night be comfortable? You grit your teeth, close your eyes, and after tempering yourself a few times, you get used to it."
The words were coarse, but the logic held. Thinking back to what he had seen made his jealousy flare up again. The Seventh Prince made up his mind: that’s how he would do it!
He got into position and waited, looking like he intended to devour someone alive. He checked the time—it was almost 10:00 PM. They must be having a great time out there. Releasing so many lanterns... for a moment, he had even thought there was an enemy attack. Did they really take everyone else for blind? That morning, when he went to Old Twelfth’s room, that pile of items in the inner room turned out to be for this purpose. Speaking of which, he had to admire Hongce—to win people's hearts, he really spared no expense. A dignified Prince acting as a lantern maker, and doing it so happily. There must have been over a hundred of those lanterns. To do that, he must have stayed up all night—that level of dedication was truly something. If it were him, he wouldn't bother with these cheap tricks to coax a girl. Why release lanterns? The Seventh Prince was a pragmatist. He would melt gold into a giant necklace, slap it around a neck, and make it dazzlingly, suffocatingly wealthy—that was much better than those fleeting, flashing things.
What would he say later? He would have to pull a long face and give him a stern lesson. He was always too soft with him, and the kid didn't take him as his master at all.
He sat quietly. In the courtyard, he could even hear the snow falling from the branches. He had never felt such torment. To think that his own things were being enjoyed by others—his heart felt like it was being twisted. How could he endure this? He clenched his fists tightly; the gold-inlaid, jewel-encrusted ring on his index finger made his knuckles look sharp and distinct. The charcoal was burning in the room, the heat rising in waves, and he was sweating with anxiety. He took off his green-fox fur cover-up, tossed it aside, and rose to poke the furnace fire with the tongs, sending sparks dancing through the air.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the corridor. This time, he calmed himself down, leaned the tongs against the wall, turned around, and looked toward the door with a smirk.
Mu Xiaoshu entered. His large, dark eyes darted around, assessing the situation. He hurried up to pour tea. "Master, it’s so late and you haven't rested yet? It’s past the Hour of the Boar outside."
He curled the corner of his lips and grunted. "You know it’s past the Hour of the Boar, yet you’re still running around the world? I sent someone to find you earlier, but you weren't there. Where did you go?"
He was clearly startled, hesitating before saying: "I couldn't sleep, so I went outside for a walk."
A walk. A walk to the grain-drying field, dragging Prince Chun along with him, hugging, cuddling, and locking lips—a fine performance indeed! The Seventh Prince widened his smile, wanting him to see his displeasure. This was what one called a cold sneer.
Sure enough, he looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, asking in surprise: "Master, what’s wrong? Are you having a toothache? Why is the side of your face twitching like that?"
The Seventh Prince couldn't keep it up. Was he blind? He was smiling with such profound meaning; how did that become a toothache? But he couldn't worry about that anymore. No matter what bullshit the kid was spouting, the plan could not change. He turned and sat in the armchair, giving a look toward the door. Najin understood and closed the door with a creak.
Dingyi looked back, her heart leaping into her throat. What is this? She thought back and forth—most likely the noise of the lanterns was too loud and had disturbed the Seventh Prince. Looking at his strange, ominous expression, had he seen something? She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, feeling both awkward and guilty. She had been so intimate with the Twelfth Prince earlier that she was still floating in a honey jar; she had planned to go back and savor it properly. She never expected Najin to be waiting in the corridor, and upon seeing her, he had dragged her over. She was bewildered. She wasn't afraid of being beaten or killed, but what did locking the door mean? A lone man and a lone woman...
The Seventh Prince stood up, hands on his waist. "Stop wondering. I’ve been away from the capital for three or four months; no one to relieve my boredom, and my heart is restless. I’ve looked around, and among all these accompanying guards, you’re the only one whose looks suit my taste. Plus, I’ve always had a bit of interest in you. Today, I’m calling your number—you’ll serve in my bed tonight. Don’t be afraid; I’ve already prepared everything: sesame oil, healing ointment—all the necessary good things. You and the Twelfth Prince have been acting quite sweet, haven't you? Is the Twelfth Prince attentive? I can be, too. I’ve finally figured it out: you’re someone who won't drink the toast unless you’re forced to drink the forfeit. You’ve annoyed me, and I’ve got fists as big as bowls. If I beat your face until it blooms like a flower, you’ll know how tough I can be."
She was dumbfounded, taking a long time to understand his meaning. He intended to use force? She would be beaten if she didn't agree? She panicked. What kind of situation is this? Meeting these two brothers—she truly loved the Twelfth Prince, but here was the Seventh Prince acting like a maniac and coming out with this. If this really escalated, how could she handle it with her own skills?
"No, no, let’s talk about this." She retreated a few steps. "I only came into your estate to raise birds. I sell my skills, not my body. I can kowtow to you, but you cannot bully people."
He let out two laughs. "Do you think I care for your kowtows? I’m bullying you today, so what? You entered the Feather Banner; from your generation on, your grandsons and great-grandsons are all in my hands. Who are you going to tell you can't? I’m usually a very reasonable person; it’s you who don't know the situation."
She hunched her back and said it wasn't like that. "I respect you very much. If I’ve done anything wrong, just tell me and I’ll change."
The Seventh Prince hated that he was playing dumb. "Your brain works well, but don't try to play games with me! The Twelfth Prince is fragrant, and Old Seven is a stench? When I kiss you, you act like you’d rather die, but when Old Twelfth kisses you, you give him that lovestruck look—who are you putting on a show for? Born of the same father, yet you insist on distinguishing between high and low? Is it because you like his title of Prince of the First Rank and I don't meet your requirements? Fine! You’re greedy for wealth and love climbing high branches, but you don't have the fate for it! As long as I don't let you go, even if I’m begging on the streets someday, you’ll have to carry the bowl for me. Who told me to be your master?" He eyed him sideways. "I know you have big ears, and no matter how much I say, you don't take it to heart. Enough, I’m tired. You go tidy up the kang, and sleep in my room, on my bed! From today on, you are not allowed to see the Twelfth Prince. If you don't listen, I’ll skin your martial brother alive!"
The whole conversation was completely off-target, but he felt that this would allow him to squeeze her into submission. Dingyi was also at a loss. He had thrown Xia Zhi into the mix, and she couldn't immediately figure out the way out. Just as she was about to speak, in the blink of an eye, he had lunged at her, claws and fangs bared.