Love in Red Dust - Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Snow began to fall again. November in the Changbai Mountains was a season of endless white. The weather was truly bone-chilling; a teenage hahazhuzi (young page) getting up to relieve himself in the middle of the night found his "little brother" almost frozen into an icicle before he could even finish unbuttoning his trousers. He hurriedly scrambled toward a corner shielded from the wind, where an old, broken wagon wheel leaned against the wall. He let his stream fall onto the rim, not even caring that the splash soaked the tops of his shoes, and pulled up his pants to dash away the moment he was done. After running a few paces, he looked back—the lights in the main quarters were still burning, and the paper windows projected two shadows, one tall and one short, seemingly busy with something. Guards were stationed under the eaves, so he dared not get closer to investigate, but a faint, broken sound of weeping drifted on the wind. The young page sniffled; by the sound of it, it was Attendant Mu from the Seventh Prince’s retinue.
Attendant Mu was crying so hard she couldn't catch her breath, her tears flowing like a burst dam. The Twelfth Prince stood nearby, hands hovering helplessly. "Stop crying. I know you've been wronged. It’s my fault for coming late. From now on, you stay by my side. I won't let you return to him; this kind of mistake will never happen again." He lowered himself to wipe her tears, his heart breaking to see her eyes swollen like walnuts; she was truly devastated.
Hongce blamed himself. He had never imagined Hongtao could be so crude. Had he known earlier, he would never have let her go back. He knew his own personality well: he rarely left himself an exit strategy, which was sometimes a strength but often a hidden peril. Like this time—his indecision had nearly led to a disaster, and he broke into a cold sweat just thinking about it.
Wrapped in a quilt, she sat in a circle chair, her head bowed in silent sobs, looking incredibly pitiful. He was frantic, not knowing how to comfort her. He crouched down to look at her face, gently stroking the fingertips she had exposed, and whispered, "If you truly hate him, you can hit me twice to vent your anger. The Seventh Prince made arrangements beforehand and didn't let a single piece of news leak out. I only sensed something was wrong, couldn't find you on your tatami, and rushed in out of desperation, stumbling upon the scene by chance. Blame my slow reaction; had I discovered it sooner, I wouldn't have let you be bullied."
She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. She couldn't blame him—his hearing was impaired, but he had still remembered to come look for her. If he hadn't cared, heaven knew how the Seventh Prince would have devoured her! She calmed her breathing. After blow upon blow, her ability to adapt was much stronger than others'. The incident had just occurred, and she couldn't see past it for the moment, but once time passed, it wouldn't be anything significant. She tugged his arm to make him stand up; what did it look like for him to be crouching like that?
"I know the Seventh Prince is reckless, teasing people when the mood strikes him. His tastes are different from others', so this is not your fault." But remembering the Seventh Prince’s final words, she felt despair again. "I’m afraid the Seventh Prince has seen through me. With all the pulling and tugging earlier, my disguise was compromised. What do I do now?"
The Twelfth Prince said, "Perhaps this is for the best. I was always trying to be perfectly thorough, yet I almost invited disaster. Since it has started, we shall simply follow the flow of the play. Our hearts are one; if you suffer, I will blame myself for a lifetime. If Old Seven knows, it might actually be easier to handle. The facts are right before him; let him figure out how to deal with this himself." After he finished, he looked her over and hesitated. "Sitting wrapped in a quilt is not a solution. I will get some clothes for you to change into. Don't go back tonight."
Her gaze shimmered and flowed, a blush spreading across her face. Even though she knew he didn't mean it that way, she couldn't help but feel constrained and bashful.
He snapped back to reality, feeling terribly awkward, and stammered, "I didn't... I wasn't... I’m just afraid the Seventh Prince will go and pester you again. With you by my side... I feel at ease."
Her head was spinning, and she wished she could shrink herself into an olive or a walnut. So much had happened in the first half of the night; it felt as if life had been completely altered in an instant. Her dilemma and her secrets were laid bare before everyone, and she had no idea how to walk the path ahead. A woman, after all, was a woman. Once the disguise she had maintained was dismantled, she felt as if she had returned to her starting point. All the messy, complicated things had been stripped away, leaving her weakness with nowhere to hide; she could no longer pretend to be strong.
"I know. I didn't think of anything else, don't worry." She fidgeted, too ashamed to bow her head and say another word.
With her hair hanging loose, she had the face of a clean, innocent girl. How had she managed to pass as a man among men for so long? It was nothing short of a miracle! Being so fond of someone made it impossible to stare directly for too long; it left one’s spirit dizzy. He hurriedly averted his gaze and walked into the bedchamber, standing blankly before the kang for a long time before remembering what he was supposed to do. He went to open the wardrobe, rummaging through the pile of clothes for inner garments. This one was too loose, that one’s fabric wasn't good enough. After searching for a long time, he found one made of brocade with hidden cloud patterns. He checked it over repeatedly before bringing it to her, murmuring, "This was newly made before I left the capital. I’ve only worn it once. You should change into this! That... that binding cloth... don't wear it anymore. It will ruin your body if you keep it on."
Dingyi’s face burned like fire. Not only had the Seventh Prince seen it earlier, but the Twelfth Prince had also likely caught a glimpse when he rushed to save her. How could she possibly respond to such an intimate topic? She lowered her head further and further, not daring to look at him. In truth, Hongce didn't mean it in that way; he was worried about her health, as constant binding made it difficult to breathe. But the more flustered he was, the less sense he made. Even he realized what he had just said—what was he even talking about?
There was no way to explain it, so he just stood there frozen. Fortunately, she didn't mind; clutching the quilt, she got up and headed toward the inner room. He stood there wringing his hands until Sha Tong stuck his head through the curtain. "Master," he called, "I’ll have someone bring in hot water. Xiaoshu... Miss Wen has been frightened; she should wash up and get some rest."
He nodded slightly and glanced at Sha Tong. "Let her stay here tonight. You tidy up the southern kang; I’ll make do there."
Sha Tong was stunned, thinking his master was a fool. Knowing full well that the Seventh Prince was watching like a tiger stalking its prey, to miss such an opportunity was madness. If the Seventh Prince had another episode, Xiaoshu might not be so lucky. It would be better to just seal the deal; once it was done, everyone would have to talk reasonably. "One must not covet a brother's wife"—the Seventh Prince had read the Four Books and Five Classics; he knew the meaning of propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame. But the Twelfth Prince was a man of virtue; he wouldn't force him to do something so unscrupulous. Since his master wouldn't do it, he, as a servant, would not suggest it either. The Twelfth Prince was different from the Seventh; a sensible man wouldn't be easily incited, and he was far more clear-headed than his subordinates. Sha Tong acknowledged the order and turned to call for the basins to be brought in. Steam rose from the buckets as he ladled water into the tub, then knocked on the carved frame of the partition to signal it was ready outside the curtains.
The Twelfth Prince leaned against a bolster, playing with the jade pendant at his waist, his thoughts wandering. This matter had become quite large; there was no way to hide it. Fortunately, Old Seven’s brain wasn't complex. He only knew Dingyi was a woman, but he wouldn't be able to discover her true identity. If this wasn't made public, he would keep her by his side first, and when they returned to the capital, he would find a match for her, settle her down, and then go to the Palace to request a marriage decree. Then she would be properly married into his house. But could Old Seven be so easily dismissed? He had already accepted the fact that he was "homosexual"; now that he knew the person he admired was a woman, there was no telling what kind of chaos he might stir up. The Yuwen family’s ancestral graves must have had bad feng shui. First, father and son fought over women, and now brothers were tearing each other down. Wasn't this some sort of karmic retribution from a past life? What could he do? Neither side would let go; it would come down to whoever had more skill. He knew Dingyi’s heart was with him, but he feared she couldn't withstand Old Seven’s relentless pestering. The journey to Ningguta was still months away, and they wouldn't return to the capital for at least half a year. He couldn't help but feel exhausted just thinking about the days ahead, where they would be forced to see each other every single day.
After Sha Tong finished laying out the bed, he instructed the others, "Keep the fire steady, and pack the embers well so the flames don't flare up, lest the Master wake up with blisters on his lips tomorrow." He then turned back, hiding his hands in his sleeves as he looked at the Twelfth Prince. "I’ve sent someone to keep an ear on the Seventh Prince. His Highness is acting as if nothing happened; he has washed up and gone to sleep. Master, given the trouble today, how do you plan to handle the next time you see him?"
"Handle him? How?" He crooked his index finger and slowly rubbed his lip, unimpressed. "For these years, I’ve served the Imperial Court based on my own abilities. People come to me asking for favors; I’ve never been one to bow and scrape. I’m used to walking my own path; it makes no difference whether I have one more brother or one less. Since we share the same surname, it doesn't matter if I lose out on other things, but regarding her, my enmity with Old Seven is set. What is he? Knowing full well about our relationship, he had the audacity to try and snatch her in broad daylight. Does he see me as a brother at all? He treated her so shamefully; I spared him once out of brotherly affection. Had it been anyone else, they would have already crossed the Naihe Bridge."
Sha Tong was intimidated by his master’s dark expression. He muttered, "There’s no helping it. Both of you are Imperial Commissioners, tied together on this mission. Staring at each other every day will be agonizing. How about this? Let’s have someone escort the young lady back to the Prince Chun residence. If she isn't here, the conflict between you and the Seventh Prince might lessen. Once the mission in Ningguta is finished and we return to Beijing, we can discuss this at length. What do you think?"
He had considered this idea, but after thinking it over, he felt it was inappropriate. He couldn't rest easy if she returned alone. The Wen brothers were all dead; there was no telling if someone was working in the shadows. If her identity were leaked, and someone came to "cut the weeds and eliminate the roots," he would regret it forever. Even if she were safe inside the Prince's residence, what if the Noble Consort in Langrun Garden found out? If she asked questions and found no background, no name, and no status, she might look down on her from the start, and Dingyi would never be able to hold her head up. He was planning for a lifetime, not just playing around with a mistress.
He shook his head slowly and thought, "Unlike a bondservant who switches masters mid-way, those registered under the Eight Banners must sign and press their handprints in person. That registry is the proof. Once that book is gone, there’s no point in talking about whether one is 'in the banners' or not! The Seventh Prince is lax in managing his household; his subordinates are all slackers living day to day. Send a message to Guan Zhaojing and have him find a way into the Feather Banner to get that book. Once it’s in hand, burn it or bury it—it doesn't matter."
They had truly reached that point. The Twelfth Prince had always been a man of integrity; he had never done anything shady in his life. But now that he loved a woman, he used every trick in the book. Things he once disdained, he now commanded without batting an eye. They said a woman marrying a husband was like a second reincarnation, but wasn't it the same for a man? Getting a good wife meant a father-in-law who was a high-ranking official, which meant reflected glory regardless of one’s own standing. If the in-laws failed and the family collapsed, what could one rely on? If you weren't dragged down for a few generations, you were lucky. The Twelfth Prince had labored for half his life, only to fall at the final hurdle. When he thought about it, it felt truly worthless.
Worthless or not, a servant did not interfere in a master's business. The master’s word was law; as long as he gave the order, there was no reason not to obey. Sha Tong acknowledged the command and went off to execute it.
He sat there rubbing his brow. When he glanced up inadvertently, he saw her standing by the partition. Her hair was loosely bound, and she was small, wearing his clothes—the sleeves and pant legs were rolled up several times. She looked rather overwhelmed by the oversized garments.
His gaze fixed on her, his composure momentarily lost. He took a few faltering steps forward, then stopped a yard away, not daring to overstep. He forced a smile. "It’s getting late. Go inside and rest."
"And you?" she asked pitifully. "Don't go too far. I’m a bit scared by myself."
In truth, neither of them wanted to part. It was the sentiment of young lovers; those who had been through it knew. They wished a day had twenty hours, so they could spend every second together without sleeping or eating.
He was secretly delighted. As he walked to her, she stood there forlornly like a child, wearing soft slippers, her head only reaching his shoulder. She was dressed thinly. He raised his hand, wanting to touch her, but ultimately pulled it back.
"I won't leave. I’ll be in the outer room." He lifted the curtain and gestured toward the inside. "Go in. I’ll be your guard. Don't be afraid."
She turned away gloomily, dragging her feet as she looked back at him. "I’m used to my small room. When I’m in a spacious place, I feel like I’m drifting in the void and my heart feels empty."
The tone and expression were moving. He said, "It’s late. It’s not proper for a man and a woman to be alone in one room. You go in; I’ll watch from a distance as you settle down. Then you won't be afraid."
She hesitated and asked, "You aren't coming in?"
He pursed his lips and smiled. "I can't go to the edge of the kang. If I go, I’m afraid I won't be able to leave."
Her face flushed scarlet, and she grumbled in complaint, "Even now, you’re still so slick-tongued!"
Hongce laughed helplessly. He was a grown man; who was made of clay or wood? Some things could not be said to her, and even if he said them, she might not understand. He went along with it, "I know to be careful outside. You’re not dealing with officials now; being at ease is only natural."
She understood—he didn't treat her as an outsider. She bowed her head, smiling. Wearing his clothes and occupying his bedroom was perhaps the greatest achievement of her life.
Her steps were exceptionally lingering, and the palace lanterns in the main hall stretched their shadows long. She moved forward, expecting that she would be getting further and further away, but when she stole a glance, his figure was still beside her. Weren't you going to watch from a distance? She blinked as she watched him; he had already stepped over the threshold. Seeming to suddenly realize this, he knew it was too late to retreat. He coughed behind his hand to cover it, looking around. "The weather is cold... I don't know if the windows are closed tightly... You get on the kang, don't catch a cold. I... I’ll tuck the quilt in for you."