Love in Red Dust - Chapter 66
Chapter 66
The moon climbed to the center of the sky. After blowing out the oil lamp, the moonlight outside squeezed through the gaps in the curtains, casting a hazy, swirling halo of light within the room.
It was still dim, and the Twelfth Prince could not see her lip movements, so they could not communicate verbally. But being unable to communicate didn't matter; there were plenty of other interesting things to discover.
She played with his fingers, holding his hand high. The moonlight happened to pierce through his fingers, projecting a shadow onto the kang screen painting of Diaochan Worshipping the Moon. His hands were different from others—his knuckles were long and slender, yet they did not appear bony. Though his fingers had developed callouses from gripping the reins and pulling the bow, his palms were soft. When she was little, her nanny used to say that people with soft hands were blessed with good fortune. With a playful touch, she twisted his fingers into various charming poses, like the gestures of a Qingyi or Huadan in opera—she made him perform all fifty-three types of "orchid finger" gestures. He indulged her, letting her manipulate him as she pleased, moving within that small band of light—"Reflecting the Sun," "Floating Waves," "Fighting Fragrance," "Unfolding Petals"... With his long, slender fingers, the gestures possessed a unique, maiden-like charm. She watched until she was bubbling with joy; fearing her laughter would be too loud, she covered her face with the quilt, her shoulders shaking.
The two of them lay down, hearts untroubled by restless desires, filled only with a plain, grounded warmth. He could not hear her, but she could hear him, and he took advantage of the fact that her replies were futile, whispering softly in her ear, "From now on, I will come every night to accompany you in your sleep so you can rest more peacefully."
Dingyi rolled her eyes. He was certainly silver-tongued—it was clearly he who couldn't sleep soundly, yet he turned the tables on her. She poked his chest with a slender finger, demanding the truth. He understood, raised his arm to cover his face, and said, "It is me. I am always afraid of when you might run away again... The experience that day in Suifenhe is something I can never forget. I never want to tread that path again."
Indeed, the agony of that day was too much to recall. The moment she left him and stepped out that door, a large part of her had died as well. Emotion and reason were meant to coexist, yet she had tried to peel them apart, and every day she lived afterward felt hopeless. They had wanted to break through to foreign lands, but he had ordered that not even a fly should be allowed out. The squad leader who had taken their bribe had retreated, unwilling to accommodate them, and had urged them to head south instead. There was no other choice but to disguise themselves and follow a trade caravan returning from Goryeo to Xi'an Prefecture.
He remained silent, yet his reach was long. The Governor of Shaanxi was his former household bondservant; a slave serving his master, he would have gladly torn out his own heart if asked. Like master, like servant—the Governor of Shaanxi was also low-profile. He investigated day and night; they were interrogated whenever they entered or left the city gates, and even staying at inns was restless—they were hounded until they couldn't stop. They walked many roads, resting only briefly in each place, and the bitterness of that life was hard to bear. Fortunately, the Governor of Shanxi did not belong to the Plain Bordered Banner. While he had investigated, it was mostly for show—a superficial gesture with no follow-up—which was why they were able to find a place to settle for long. But looking back, it hadn't been long—perhaps a month or two—before Rujian's business was up and running, and he had descended from the heavens.
In the end, she couldn't break free; she couldn't escape the palm of his hand. She also had her own selfish thoughts: Rujian was stubborn and hard to reason with, so she secretly placed her hopes on him. She trusted that he wouldn't make things difficult for Rujian for the sake of his own career. If they could turn hostility into friendship, there would be no more perfect fulfillment than that.
She turned over and rested her leg on his—a human cushion, comfortable and firm. His tolerance for her was truly limitless. Only now did she realize how good it was to have someone close—you could act spoiled or wild, and he wouldn't be angry, providing whatever you asked for. When you squeezed or bullied him, he would look at you with teary eyes, as aggrieved as a little daughter-in-law. This was her Twelfth Prince, a man she had once looked up to like a towering mountain, now trembling beneath her... Her thoughts wandered, and the more she thought, the happier she became, letting out a sharp, joyful laugh.
He wore white inner robes, the collar slightly open, revealing a patch of fair skin on his chest. In such a beautiful, moonlit moment, it was truly tempting. She pretended to be casual as she leaned over, satisfied to hear him gasp, feeling more smug than ever.
A man should not be teased—he hadn't taught her this principle, and it seemed he didn't need to explain it with words; he only needed to teach her with action.
She had been lying flat, acting bossy and taking advantage of him, enjoying their cozy life. Who would have thought he would suddenly strike, rising up to flip her onto his stomach. She let out a sharp cry of surprise, but before she could cover her mouth, it was too late. The sound had escaped, and she was left draped over him like a lid, the posture terribly awkward. He adjusted slightly, revealing a row of neat teeth in the darkness.
Perhaps that cry had drawn attention. Rujian’s servants had lived and died with him and were utterly devoted to her. That cry in the middle of the night spooked them, and they ran to the bottom of the steps to ask, "Miss, what happened? Is everything alright?"
She feared they would barge in, her heart pounding against her ribs. She hurriedly mimicked the slurred, hazy tone of someone waking from a dream. "It’s nothing," she said, "I just had a nightmare and it gave me a start."
The person outside said "Oh," assuming all was well, and left. She gently punched him. "If you fool around again, I'll have Rujian skin you alive if he finds out!"
It was shameful to think about—a young maiden who, before even being married, had enticed a man into her bed. How lacking in self-respect! Yet, having reached this point, she felt her determination was as firm as iron. He and she were of one heart, having walked through storms and rain together; she could even entrust her life to him.
He was a clever man who could read a person’s heart at any moment, and he didn't indulge himself blindly. His fingers slowly traced her spine, and though she could ignore the tightness and pain in certain parts of her body, he merely whispered in her ear, "I won't touch you. I won't cross that line until the day of our wedding. I know what you’re thinking; you have your dignity, and I cannot let you be wronged in the name of love. When the case reaches its conclusion, we will return to the capital, and I will lead you into the palace to meet everyone. If we can get the decree issued this year, we shall prepare the wedding feast next spring. When the time comes, you will carry the treasure vase and enter my Prince's mansion openly and honorably. Everyone who sees you will have to respectfully call you 'Twelfth Fujin.' How does that sound?"
She hadn't expected him to say that. She had been caught in a dilemma a moment before, yet he had already made the decision. She raised her head, resting her pointed chin on his collarbone, and nudged upward to kiss the corner of his mouth. Such communion of hearts was truly a fate forged in a past life. Now, she focused solely on listening; in the darkness, she was like a mute, not speaking because she didn't want him to grow anxious over not being able to hear her.
Let it be so; let it be decided this way, and let everything be done according to his wishes. It is a good thing for a man to respect you; it is only the ones who seek only their own pleasure, consuming passion and love, that ultimately leave the woman to suffer.
They slept with necks entwined for the night, peaceful and undisturbed.
Rujian had been terribly drunk the day before and didn't rise until the sun was high the next morning. When he opened his bedroom door and saw his sister hanging clothes in the courtyard, he asked curiously, "You're not going to the shop today?"
She gave an "um." "I'll go later. I’ve thought about what you said yesterday; it really isn't good for me to be out in public all the time... once the stock is mostly sold, I'll sell the shop!"
Rujian looked at her and nodded. "It should have been this way from the start. For a young woman, reading and embroidery are better than doing business. It’s not like we’re struggling to put food on the table, and we don't need the meager income from your shop! Once the mountain in the north is managed well, it will be enough for you to earn for generations to come."
She smiled, turned to draw water for him to wash his face, and once that was done, went inside to prepare breakfast.
Rujian had experienced life and death, and he was very meticulous about preserving his health. He performed a set of boxing exercises in the courtyard, then came in, clicking his teeth together before sitting down, not in a rush to eat, the clack-clack of his teeth echoing.
"Are there new neighbors in the alley?" he asked, biting down while he spoke. "What’s their background? Have you interacted with them?"
His appearance was a bit laughable, though clicking one's teeth was a common health practice among Beijing gentlemen, advocated by Sun Simiao—clicking your teeth three hundred and sixty times lets you live to ninety-nine, after all. He was sitting there early in the morning, ga-deng ga-deng, biting the empty air. Dingyi acted as if nothing were unusual, serving the porridge as she replied that she didn't know. "They’ve been here for a while, but I haven't seen anyone coming or going. Perhaps it's different here than in Beijing. Beijingers are lively and love to visit, but people here seem to prefer closing their doors and living their own lives!"
Rujian tilted his head, thoughtful. "I’ve been busy outside lately and haven't paid much attention to my surroundings. Since you plan to sell the shop, you’ll be bored at home alone. Later, I’ll entrust someone to buy a maid. Poor families who can’t afford to raise their daughters are often willing to send them out to work."
She refused. "We’re doing fine; why buy a maid? I spent my time serving others from the age of six, and now that I can hire others, I can’t bring myself to do it. As for you, I heard someone is acting as a matchmaker for you. You should marry a sister-in-law soon to keep me company—that’s better than buying a maid."
It was a rare moment of shyness for Rujian; he turned his head away, the sound of his teeth-clicking growing much softer. "There’s no such thing; don't listen to nonsense!"
She knew he was worried about their current situation—that if he married, he would bring disaster upon someone else. Having suffered himself, he didn't want to drag others into their mess. She sighed and handed him his chopsticks. "We are quite settled now, and things will slowly get better. If the Twelfth Prince stops searching the world for us, and the word from Changbai Mountain is that all three Wen brothers are dead, we can change our names and live like ordinary people. Why can't you marry? You said you wanted to bring glory to the Wen family. If you marry me off, I will leave, bear children, and take the other family's name. Unlike you, the weight of the Wen family rests on you. You should hurry and marry a wife to branch out and spread leaves—don't spend all day busy with business and delay your own life. You’re twenty-eight this year; in two more years, you’ll be an old man with no market value."
He held his breath for a long time without speaking. Only after quite a while did he say, "The year the old master met with disaster, I was fifteen, and the family had arranged a marriage for me. The girl lived in Qinlao Hutong; her father managed the imperial treasury, and their family was wealthy. Like the imperial merchants in Zhaoyuan and Zunhua, they gave tribute to their family, delivering carloads of gold. That official post was a fat position, though the rank was low—fourth-rank—but they were eager to curry favor with the Grand Council. Back then, it was a sincere betrothal. The two daughters of the family were intended for the two of us brothers, but later, the second brother caught the eye of the Sixth Princess of Prince Ding, and that union didn't come to pass, but the betrothal gifts were already exchanged on my side..." He fell silent, appearing somewhat dejected. "A Manchu grandmother is capable and even helped her parents manage the household. Back then, she was fourteen, a year younger than me, and we had met in secret a few times. In the blink of an eye, thirteen years have passed, and everything is gone with the wind... I don't want to think about marrying a wife anymore."
So, he too had once loved someone. After so many years, he still held her in his heart. Dingyi suddenly felt he was pitiful. His best years were spent on Changbai Mountain, and the childhood sweetheart of those days was now the wife of another man—no wonder his hatred for the Yuwen clan was so deeply rooted.
So, she couldn't say any more about forgetting the past or rushing to marry. Dingyi had felt that way herself; if your heart isn't in it, no amount of matchmaking will help. He had to wait until he saw things for himself; once he understood, or met someone else he was fated with, he would naturally make his own arrangements.
After breakfast, they each went their separate ways. Rujian went to inspect the northern mountain—a newly acquired mountain, all fresh and exciting! Dingyi went to the shop. The customer who had bought hair oil and asked her to teach her how to style hair came again, buying a few hanks of silk thread to weave into trinkets. Upon entering, she exclaimed, "Oh, young miss, your hairdresser is back?"
The Twelfth Prince had helped her coil her hair into a "small double-bun" that morning, with tassels hanging from both sides that danced playfully with every step she took. For a girl, having her hair neatly and cleanly coiled looked beautiful. Her neck was also naturally elegant, long and slender, and the swallow-tail at the collar of her cloud-patterned vest made her look even more strikingly beautiful. It was just ridiculous to compare him to a "hairdressing nanny." Was there any nanny like that? She didn't argue, only smiling as she said, "My nanny came from my hometown. He has good skills; the hair he coils doesn't come loose."
The customer became interested. "That’s good, that’s good. Since you have a shop, let him come help out; business will be even better."
She joked teasingly, "With transactions of only a few strings of copper a day, if two people work on it, we won't even cover the capital. My nanny only coils hair for me and doesn't like to join in the bustle of the shop—even if I asked him, he wouldn't come. Hey, you should pick out a few more things today; I’m planning to sell this shop to the neighbor for storage, so it won't be open for many more days. Pick a few more, and I’ll give you a cheaper price."
The customer let out an "ah" and said it was a pity, but after a moment's thought, she laughed. "Young miss, good things are approaching. It's good to close the shop; being a young madam is better than managing things yourself. It’s just a pity for me—from now on, I’ll have to go to the West Market to buy hair oil. It’s too far, and these bound feet aren't easy to walk with." She sighed, picked out two more silk flowers, and left in a melancholy mood.
Dingyi finished closing up the shop with a light heart. In three or four days, all the odds and ends had been sold—half-sold, half-given away—and counting the silver, she hadn't lost money; it was better than she had expected. That small storefront had been bought for fifteen taels of silver and resold for eighteen and a half—a net profit of over three taels. She went to the market to take a lap, bought two fish, freshly slaughtered a few quail, and went home to cook.
Now she was at leisure. Rujian wasn't home during the day; he was busy negotiating business, supervising work, and urging people to open the mountain to mine coal, usually not returning until dusk. Bored with nothing to do, Dingyi went visiting, heading to the northern room to pass the time. Although the Twelfth Prince was in Shanxi, he controlled affairs in the capital. Naturally, members of the Imperial Clan could not leave the capital at will, so he had declined guests by claiming illness. His explanation to the Emperor was merely two words—"investigating the case." He traveled north and south as he pleased, relying on carrier pigeons for information. He worked, and she sat by his side. He would occasionally look up and smile at her, and even without a single word, she felt settled in her heart, the years peaceful and good.
It was just that it was hard on him. Since their reunion, he had been traveling by starlight, coming in the middle of the night and leaving before the sky turned bright in the morning. Sometimes, when she thought about it carefully, she couldn't help but lament—what was all this for? It wasn't just for lying on the same kang; it was because they couldn't bear to part. He was truly miserable; twice he had overstayed his time and almost run into Rujian, which had scared them to death.
However, he couldn't stay in Shanxi for too long because the case was in the capital and involved the Southern Salt Route. After all, relying solely on issuing orders from afar was beyond his reach. Prince Zhuang was a He-shuo Prince, holding the same rank as he did, and having mingled in the court for many years, he was an absolute official scoundrel—slippery as an eel. To uproot him completely required harsh measures. She didn't ask what stage the investigation was at; he bore a heavy burden in his heart and often couldn't sleep at night, fearing that turning over would wake her, so he would lie with his eyes open until the window paper turned white. She only pretended not to know, fearing that bringing it up would only press him harder—he was already tired enough.
It was still dim, and the Twelfth Prince could not see her lip movements, so they could not communicate verbally. But being unable to communicate didn't matter; there were plenty of other interesting things to discover.
She played with his fingers, holding his hand high. The moonlight happened to pierce through his fingers, projecting a shadow onto the kang screen painting of Diaochan Worshipping the Moon. His hands were different from others—his knuckles were long and slender, yet they did not appear bony. Though his fingers had developed callouses from gripping the reins and pulling the bow, his palms were soft. When she was little, her nanny used to say that people with soft hands were blessed with good fortune. With a playful touch, she twisted his fingers into various charming poses, like the gestures of a Qingyi or Huadan in opera—she made him perform all fifty-three types of "orchid finger" gestures. He indulged her, letting her manipulate him as she pleased, moving within that small band of light—"Reflecting the Sun," "Floating Waves," "Fighting Fragrance," "Unfolding Petals"... With his long, slender fingers, the gestures possessed a unique, maiden-like charm. She watched until she was bubbling with joy; fearing her laughter would be too loud, she covered her face with the quilt, her shoulders shaking.
The two of them lay down, hearts untroubled by restless desires, filled only with a plain, grounded warmth. He could not hear her, but she could hear him, and he took advantage of the fact that her replies were futile, whispering softly in her ear, "From now on, I will come every night to accompany you in your sleep so you can rest more peacefully."
Dingyi rolled her eyes. He was certainly silver-tongued—it was clearly he who couldn't sleep soundly, yet he turned the tables on her. She poked his chest with a slender finger, demanding the truth. He understood, raised his arm to cover his face, and said, "It is me. I am always afraid of when you might run away again... The experience that day in Suifenhe is something I can never forget. I never want to tread that path again."
Indeed, the agony of that day was too much to recall. The moment she left him and stepped out that door, a large part of her had died as well. Emotion and reason were meant to coexist, yet she had tried to peel them apart, and every day she lived afterward felt hopeless. They had wanted to break through to foreign lands, but he had ordered that not even a fly should be allowed out. The squad leader who had taken their bribe had retreated, unwilling to accommodate them, and had urged them to head south instead. There was no other choice but to disguise themselves and follow a trade caravan returning from Goryeo to Xi'an Prefecture.
He remained silent, yet his reach was long. The Governor of Shaanxi was his former household bondservant; a slave serving his master, he would have gladly torn out his own heart if asked. Like master, like servant—the Governor of Shaanxi was also low-profile. He investigated day and night; they were interrogated whenever they entered or left the city gates, and even staying at inns was restless—they were hounded until they couldn't stop. They walked many roads, resting only briefly in each place, and the bitterness of that life was hard to bear. Fortunately, the Governor of Shanxi did not belong to the Plain Bordered Banner. While he had investigated, it was mostly for show—a superficial gesture with no follow-up—which was why they were able to find a place to settle for long. But looking back, it hadn't been long—perhaps a month or two—before Rujian's business was up and running, and he had descended from the heavens.
In the end, she couldn't break free; she couldn't escape the palm of his hand. She also had her own selfish thoughts: Rujian was stubborn and hard to reason with, so she secretly placed her hopes on him. She trusted that he wouldn't make things difficult for Rujian for the sake of his own career. If they could turn hostility into friendship, there would be no more perfect fulfillment than that.
She turned over and rested her leg on his—a human cushion, comfortable and firm. His tolerance for her was truly limitless. Only now did she realize how good it was to have someone close—you could act spoiled or wild, and he wouldn't be angry, providing whatever you asked for. When you squeezed or bullied him, he would look at you with teary eyes, as aggrieved as a little daughter-in-law. This was her Twelfth Prince, a man she had once looked up to like a towering mountain, now trembling beneath her... Her thoughts wandered, and the more she thought, the happier she became, letting out a sharp, joyful laugh.
He wore white inner robes, the collar slightly open, revealing a patch of fair skin on his chest. In such a beautiful, moonlit moment, it was truly tempting. She pretended to be casual as she leaned over, satisfied to hear him gasp, feeling more smug than ever.
A man should not be teased—he hadn't taught her this principle, and it seemed he didn't need to explain it with words; he only needed to teach her with action.
She had been lying flat, acting bossy and taking advantage of him, enjoying their cozy life. Who would have thought he would suddenly strike, rising up to flip her onto his stomach. She let out a sharp cry of surprise, but before she could cover her mouth, it was too late. The sound had escaped, and she was left draped over him like a lid, the posture terribly awkward. He adjusted slightly, revealing a row of neat teeth in the darkness.
Perhaps that cry had drawn attention. Rujian’s servants had lived and died with him and were utterly devoted to her. That cry in the middle of the night spooked them, and they ran to the bottom of the steps to ask, "Miss, what happened? Is everything alright?"
She feared they would barge in, her heart pounding against her ribs. She hurriedly mimicked the slurred, hazy tone of someone waking from a dream. "It’s nothing," she said, "I just had a nightmare and it gave me a start."
The person outside said "Oh," assuming all was well, and left. She gently punched him. "If you fool around again, I'll have Rujian skin you alive if he finds out!"
It was shameful to think about—a young maiden who, before even being married, had enticed a man into her bed. How lacking in self-respect! Yet, having reached this point, she felt her determination was as firm as iron. He and she were of one heart, having walked through storms and rain together; she could even entrust her life to him.
He was a clever man who could read a person’s heart at any moment, and he didn't indulge himself blindly. His fingers slowly traced her spine, and though she could ignore the tightness and pain in certain parts of her body, he merely whispered in her ear, "I won't touch you. I won't cross that line until the day of our wedding. I know what you’re thinking; you have your dignity, and I cannot let you be wronged in the name of love. When the case reaches its conclusion, we will return to the capital, and I will lead you into the palace to meet everyone. If we can get the decree issued this year, we shall prepare the wedding feast next spring. When the time comes, you will carry the treasure vase and enter my Prince's mansion openly and honorably. Everyone who sees you will have to respectfully call you 'Twelfth Fujin.' How does that sound?"
She hadn't expected him to say that. She had been caught in a dilemma a moment before, yet he had already made the decision. She raised her head, resting her pointed chin on his collarbone, and nudged upward to kiss the corner of his mouth. Such communion of hearts was truly a fate forged in a past life. Now, she focused solely on listening; in the darkness, she was like a mute, not speaking because she didn't want him to grow anxious over not being able to hear her.
Let it be so; let it be decided this way, and let everything be done according to his wishes. It is a good thing for a man to respect you; it is only the ones who seek only their own pleasure, consuming passion and love, that ultimately leave the woman to suffer.
They slept with necks entwined for the night, peaceful and undisturbed.
Rujian had been terribly drunk the day before and didn't rise until the sun was high the next morning. When he opened his bedroom door and saw his sister hanging clothes in the courtyard, he asked curiously, "You're not going to the shop today?"
She gave an "um." "I'll go later. I’ve thought about what you said yesterday; it really isn't good for me to be out in public all the time... once the stock is mostly sold, I'll sell the shop!"
Rujian looked at her and nodded. "It should have been this way from the start. For a young woman, reading and embroidery are better than doing business. It’s not like we’re struggling to put food on the table, and we don't need the meager income from your shop! Once the mountain in the north is managed well, it will be enough for you to earn for generations to come."
She smiled, turned to draw water for him to wash his face, and once that was done, went inside to prepare breakfast.
Rujian had experienced life and death, and he was very meticulous about preserving his health. He performed a set of boxing exercises in the courtyard, then came in, clicking his teeth together before sitting down, not in a rush to eat, the clack-clack of his teeth echoing.
"Are there new neighbors in the alley?" he asked, biting down while he spoke. "What’s their background? Have you interacted with them?"
His appearance was a bit laughable, though clicking one's teeth was a common health practice among Beijing gentlemen, advocated by Sun Simiao—clicking your teeth three hundred and sixty times lets you live to ninety-nine, after all. He was sitting there early in the morning, ga-deng ga-deng, biting the empty air. Dingyi acted as if nothing were unusual, serving the porridge as she replied that she didn't know. "They’ve been here for a while, but I haven't seen anyone coming or going. Perhaps it's different here than in Beijing. Beijingers are lively and love to visit, but people here seem to prefer closing their doors and living their own lives!"
Rujian tilted his head, thoughtful. "I’ve been busy outside lately and haven't paid much attention to my surroundings. Since you plan to sell the shop, you’ll be bored at home alone. Later, I’ll entrust someone to buy a maid. Poor families who can’t afford to raise their daughters are often willing to send them out to work."
She refused. "We’re doing fine; why buy a maid? I spent my time serving others from the age of six, and now that I can hire others, I can’t bring myself to do it. As for you, I heard someone is acting as a matchmaker for you. You should marry a sister-in-law soon to keep me company—that’s better than buying a maid."
It was a rare moment of shyness for Rujian; he turned his head away, the sound of his teeth-clicking growing much softer. "There’s no such thing; don't listen to nonsense!"
She knew he was worried about their current situation—that if he married, he would bring disaster upon someone else. Having suffered himself, he didn't want to drag others into their mess. She sighed and handed him his chopsticks. "We are quite settled now, and things will slowly get better. If the Twelfth Prince stops searching the world for us, and the word from Changbai Mountain is that all three Wen brothers are dead, we can change our names and live like ordinary people. Why can't you marry? You said you wanted to bring glory to the Wen family. If you marry me off, I will leave, bear children, and take the other family's name. Unlike you, the weight of the Wen family rests on you. You should hurry and marry a wife to branch out and spread leaves—don't spend all day busy with business and delay your own life. You’re twenty-eight this year; in two more years, you’ll be an old man with no market value."
He held his breath for a long time without speaking. Only after quite a while did he say, "The year the old master met with disaster, I was fifteen, and the family had arranged a marriage for me. The girl lived in Qinlao Hutong; her father managed the imperial treasury, and their family was wealthy. Like the imperial merchants in Zhaoyuan and Zunhua, they gave tribute to their family, delivering carloads of gold. That official post was a fat position, though the rank was low—fourth-rank—but they were eager to curry favor with the Grand Council. Back then, it was a sincere betrothal. The two daughters of the family were intended for the two of us brothers, but later, the second brother caught the eye of the Sixth Princess of Prince Ding, and that union didn't come to pass, but the betrothal gifts were already exchanged on my side..." He fell silent, appearing somewhat dejected. "A Manchu grandmother is capable and even helped her parents manage the household. Back then, she was fourteen, a year younger than me, and we had met in secret a few times. In the blink of an eye, thirteen years have passed, and everything is gone with the wind... I don't want to think about marrying a wife anymore."
So, he too had once loved someone. After so many years, he still held her in his heart. Dingyi suddenly felt he was pitiful. His best years were spent on Changbai Mountain, and the childhood sweetheart of those days was now the wife of another man—no wonder his hatred for the Yuwen clan was so deeply rooted.
So, she couldn't say any more about forgetting the past or rushing to marry. Dingyi had felt that way herself; if your heart isn't in it, no amount of matchmaking will help. He had to wait until he saw things for himself; once he understood, or met someone else he was fated with, he would naturally make his own arrangements.
After breakfast, they each went their separate ways. Rujian went to inspect the northern mountain—a newly acquired mountain, all fresh and exciting! Dingyi went to the shop. The customer who had bought hair oil and asked her to teach her how to style hair came again, buying a few hanks of silk thread to weave into trinkets. Upon entering, she exclaimed, "Oh, young miss, your hairdresser is back?"
The Twelfth Prince had helped her coil her hair into a "small double-bun" that morning, with tassels hanging from both sides that danced playfully with every step she took. For a girl, having her hair neatly and cleanly coiled looked beautiful. Her neck was also naturally elegant, long and slender, and the swallow-tail at the collar of her cloud-patterned vest made her look even more strikingly beautiful. It was just ridiculous to compare him to a "hairdressing nanny." Was there any nanny like that? She didn't argue, only smiling as she said, "My nanny came from my hometown. He has good skills; the hair he coils doesn't come loose."
The customer became interested. "That’s good, that’s good. Since you have a shop, let him come help out; business will be even better."
She joked teasingly, "With transactions of only a few strings of copper a day, if two people work on it, we won't even cover the capital. My nanny only coils hair for me and doesn't like to join in the bustle of the shop—even if I asked him, he wouldn't come. Hey, you should pick out a few more things today; I’m planning to sell this shop to the neighbor for storage, so it won't be open for many more days. Pick a few more, and I’ll give you a cheaper price."
The customer let out an "ah" and said it was a pity, but after a moment's thought, she laughed. "Young miss, good things are approaching. It's good to close the shop; being a young madam is better than managing things yourself. It’s just a pity for me—from now on, I’ll have to go to the West Market to buy hair oil. It’s too far, and these bound feet aren't easy to walk with." She sighed, picked out two more silk flowers, and left in a melancholy mood.
Dingyi finished closing up the shop with a light heart. In three or four days, all the odds and ends had been sold—half-sold, half-given away—and counting the silver, she hadn't lost money; it was better than she had expected. That small storefront had been bought for fifteen taels of silver and resold for eighteen and a half—a net profit of over three taels. She went to the market to take a lap, bought two fish, freshly slaughtered a few quail, and went home to cook.
Now she was at leisure. Rujian wasn't home during the day; he was busy negotiating business, supervising work, and urging people to open the mountain to mine coal, usually not returning until dusk. Bored with nothing to do, Dingyi went visiting, heading to the northern room to pass the time. Although the Twelfth Prince was in Shanxi, he controlled affairs in the capital. Naturally, members of the Imperial Clan could not leave the capital at will, so he had declined guests by claiming illness. His explanation to the Emperor was merely two words—"investigating the case." He traveled north and south as he pleased, relying on carrier pigeons for information. He worked, and she sat by his side. He would occasionally look up and smile at her, and even without a single word, she felt settled in her heart, the years peaceful and good.
It was just that it was hard on him. Since their reunion, he had been traveling by starlight, coming in the middle of the night and leaving before the sky turned bright in the morning. Sometimes, when she thought about it carefully, she couldn't help but lament—what was all this for? It wasn't just for lying on the same kang; it was because they couldn't bear to part. He was truly miserable; twice he had overstayed his time and almost run into Rujian, which had scared them to death.
However, he couldn't stay in Shanxi for too long because the case was in the capital and involved the Southern Salt Route. After all, relying solely on issuing orders from afar was beyond his reach. Prince Zhuang was a He-shuo Prince, holding the same rank as he did, and having mingled in the court for many years, he was an absolute official scoundrel—slippery as an eel. To uproot him completely required harsh measures. She didn't ask what stage the investigation was at; he bore a heavy burden in his heart and often couldn't sleep at night, fearing that turning over would wake her, so he would lie with his eyes open until the window paper turned white. She only pretended not to know, fearing that bringing it up would only press him harder—he was already tired enough.