Love in Red Dust - Chapter 85

Chapter 85

The small encoffinment lasted three days, and the grand encoffinment lasted seven, yet it all amounted to nothing in the end. Rujian could not return; his spirit had traveled far away.

On the day of the funeral, the sky was somber, with a scattering of snowflakes drifting through the air. According to the solar terms, spring had already arrived; perhaps this was the final snow of the year.

The wind was fierce, making the funeral banners snap and flutter. The funeral procession was quite grand, stretching for two miles. The people of the Banner respected the tradition of falling leaves returning to their roots, and Rujian had to be sent back to be laid to rest beside his parents.

The Wen family had originally been branded as disgraced officials, and back then, they had been buried hastily without a proper or dignified gravesite. Dingyi had been exhausted by the events of the past few days and had not been able to attend to much; after all, Prince Zhuang had not yet been convicted, the Wen family’s name was not yet cleared, and she could not overstep the regulations regarding burial standards. However, upon arriving there, she discovered that the gravesite had already been renovated. It had a respectable burial mound and enclosing wall, and the tombstone had been newly engraved in her name.

She said nothing. Hongce stood not far from her, carefully and cautiously observing her. She suddenly wanted to cry, for the pain in her heart was unbearable. She knew he was innocent; he had been the target of misplaced rage. From beginning to end, he had not committed a single fault. But what could she do? She was incompetent; she could do nothing. She needed someone to hate. Hating Prince Zhuang was not enough; she had to lash out at the one person closest to her, the one who loved and cherished her—perhaps because she knew she could get away with it.

She stood at the edge of the grave pit looking down. It was deep—not just one person's depth, but two. It was so deep; would Rujian be afraid lying inside? She truly could not bear to let go. The sibling bond had been thin, and they had only just reunited after much difficulty, but fate had played a cruel joke, bestowing upon them a mere year. To give hope only to snatch it away was far more cruel than being in despair from the start.

She still remembered the scenes of being with Rujian. When the two of them were alone, no matter what she was doing, he would always watch her with a smile, his gaze doting and attentive. He, too, had cherished their hard-won kinship. She remembered the little details of their daily life: how he would pick vegetables for her, always choosing the best pieces. If there was a hole in her clothing, and her embroidery skills were not refined, he would sit beneath the lamp and mend it for her. Where in this world could she find such a wonderful brother? It was a pity; now that he was dead, she felt only self-reproach. With what face could she still enjoy her life and happiness? Thus, she tortured herself, and in turn, implicated Hongce.

There was an auspicious hour for the burial, and the fortune-teller had already calculated it. When the time came, the cannons were fired and the whips cracked; there could be no delays. She stared fixedly at the coffin—an excellent casket of high-quality wood, coated with so many layers of lacquer that it shone and reflected human figures. Eight men carried it past her, and she gripped Hailan’s hand tightly. She turned to look at her and saw that Hailan’s face was pale, her breath intermittent as if it were a fragile thread. Although Hailan was trying her best to compose herself, she was trembling beneath her mourning clothes.

The burial began, and the monks and Taoists chanted sutras for his deliverance. Amidst the religious chants, Dingyi scooped up a handful of earth, cradling it against her chest, hesitant to cast it out. It felt like a scorching hot potato; it was painful to hold, yet difficult to discard. Feeling lost and helpless, she began to sob aloud. The cold wind poured into her mouth and nose, numbing even her tongue.

"Let him be laid to rest in peace," Hongce said, taking it upon himself to make the decision for her. He comforted her in a low voice and, guiding her, helped her sprinkle the mud from her hands into the burial pit.

There were too few relatives and friends. Those maternal and paternal uncles who came might as well not have come at all. There was no true affection to speak of; they only had the heart to curry favor. As the mud was shoveled in layer by layer, they wailed and lamented as if competing to see who had the loudest voice. To Dingyi, the sound only felt like needles piercing her ears.

As the earth was piled and the tombstone erected, she stood in the northwest wind watching, her heart gradually turning cold. When people are alive, everything is full of pretense and emptiness. In the end, all returns to the yellow earth. Glory and humiliation of a lifetime turn to dust—what is left behind? After ten days of suffering and torment, she had come to see things a little more clearly. If one stopped thinking about it, one could eventually find peace. She offered incense and a cup of wine, bidding farewell to her last blood relative.

Upon returning to the Wine and Vinegar Alley, the courtyard was the same, yet there was always an illusion that the place was now hollowed out, abandoned by people. The eunuchs and maids who came and went were like performers in a ritual—separated by a veil, a layer of misty light, drifting very, very far away. She stood there in a daze, not knowing what she should do.

Sha Tong stepped forward and bowed. "Master is exhausted; please return to your room to rest. Do not move around for a while. This servant will bring your meals inside; you must take good care of your health."

Ever since she forbade them from calling her "Princess," they had first called her "Eldest Young Lady," but as they became uncomfortable with that, they had all changed to "Master." Seeing that she did not answer, Hongce said softly, "Do as Tong says. I have asked for leave these two days; I will stay at home to accompany you."

She was still stubborn, turning her face away to say it was unnecessary. "I want to be alone. You should return to the Prince’s mansion."

She forgot that he could not hear; she could not drive him away. He stepped up to hold her hand, his expression pitiful. "I am also very sad about Third Brother’s death. Since the matter is settled, you must learn to accept it. Do not worry about the future; I will take good care of you."

A lump of air blocked her throat, and she could not speak. He led her into the bedroom.

He diligently spread the bedding for her to get on the kang, then sat on a stool to rub her hands, forcing a smile as he asked, "Are you cold? The wind outside the city is stronger than inside; you must not catch a chill. I have arranged new positions for Master and Xiazhi, so they can serve in the Prince's mansion. One cannot be an executioner for a lifetime, and the salary is low. Master is getting on in years; he should enjoy some comfort. You should enter the Prince's mansion. The Emperor mentioned it to me the other day. You do not need to worry about status; the Empress has found a way for us... When you return home, Master and Senior Brother will be there, and you will not be so lonely."

He spoke on and on, being so thoughtful and thorough. How should she answer him? Was that mansion her home?

Seeing that she remained silent, he continued to himself, "Having encountered such a thing, the blow you suffered is immense. I cannot help you; you must walk out of this yourself. If not for my sake, you should at least consider the child. Back then, we both hoped for her; you suffered so much during your pregnancy, this child must be a little Princess. Also, there is the matter of Hongsun investigating Prince Zhuang’s case. The Emperor’s intention is clear. There are many in the imperial court who follow the direction of the wind. It is a messy affair; not only your father's case but others are implicated as well. Yesterday, Hongzan sent someone to pass a message, wanting to see me. He spoke of Rujian’s matter."

Upon hearing this, she straightened up. "He still has the face to mention Rujian? What did he say?"

Hongce frowned. "He admitted to many things, but concerning this particular matter, he distanced himself entirely, saying it had nothing to do with him."

Dingyi’s anger surged like a mountain. "It had nothing to do with him? Is there anyone else who hates Rujian? He filed a complaint while in prison, and Prince Zhuang feared the old case would be implicated, so he killed him—does that logic not make sense?"

"If I were Hongzan, I would have killed Jilantai. Rujian accusing him was nothing but empty words without proof. Why would he provide others with a handle against him at such a moment?" He let out a long sigh. "I have imagined several possibilities, but in the end, they all hit a dead end—it makes no sense at all. But in any case, the Emperor used this matter to make a play. Because of Rujian’s death, the court was able to investigate and punish Hongzan in a justified manner. Hongzan has walked the halls of power for thirty years and has many followers. The same degree to which they once relied on him is the same degree of urgency with which they now want to remove him—that is the art of imperial power. Seventh Brother saw it most clearly—he simply stayed out of everything, neither seeking merit nor committing errors, and thus found peace."

Dingyi sat there in a daze, her mind a tangled knot. Rujian’s death was suspicious—who, then, was the killer? She grew furious. Prince Zhuang had absolved himself; for others, there is a debt for every grievance and a master for every cause, but what about Rujian? Who could he seek retribution from?

"I do not believe his words. He murdered my parents and sent people to Changbai Mountain to kill my two brothers. Rujian was the one who slipped through the net; he had every reason to kill him." She looked at him coldly. "What do you mean by saying all this? It is a fact that Rujian has lost his life. It was only today that he was buried; do you not know?"

He faltered, wanting to defend himself, but ultimately swallowed the words. The imperial physician had said to look after her emotions. She was newly pregnant and had just suffered the loss of Rujian; it was natural that she was in a foul mood, and he could not blame her. Yet he also felt aggrieved. Upon reflection, having been accustomed to exclusion since he was a child, what did this bit of sorrow count for?

He still offered a smile. "Do not be anxious. Right and wrong will naturally be judged once Hongsun concludes the case. What would you like to eat? I heard that some people experience morning sickness; when the Empress was pregnant with Tiger Prince, she vomited terribly... Are you going to vomit? I will have someone prepare a basin."

He acted like an old nanny, fussing over every little detail—how was this the once high-and-mighty Prince? Dingyi shook her head and leaned against the pillow. "Do not bother with me; I am not worth it. Hongce, there are a few things I have been pondering for a long time that I want to tell you."

He looked tense, pressing his hands against his knees, and nodded. "I am watching."

He did not say "I am listening," but "I am watching"—the difference of a single word brought a thousand flavors to her heart. She said, "Sit on the edge of the kang."

He was immediately overcome with joy, stepping onto the footstool, his face glowing with excitement. He squeezed forward, then squeezed forward again, wanting to take her hand, only for her to subtly avoid him.

She dared not look at his face and averted her gaze, speaking slowly. "As for my father's case, I know something of the inside story. To blindly seek a reversal is not entirely righteous. If it had been a wrongful conviction from the start, I would not have loved you. It is precisely because I know there were faults in my family that I cannot hate anyone. But Rujian’s thoughts were different. He witnessed the rise and fall of the Wen family, and what he held the most resentment toward were my father’s former classmates and colleagues. They pushed all the blame onto my father alone; no one saved him, and everyone hoped for his early death. And my two brothers who were exiled to Changbai Mountain—you cannot imagine the scars on their bodies. It is said there was not a patch of sound skin. If judged by their actual crimes, my father was not the primary offender and did not deserve death, and the three brothers should not have been exiled. I was only six then and did not know much, but Rujian personally experienced all the disasters. He suffered a hundred times more than I, and his obsession is a hundred times deeper than mine... I say this only so you know that a clean reputation is secondary to me. What I value is my family living in peace and having no more partings of life and death. But I fear what I fear—I do not understand why heaven is so cruel to me. It did not even spare my last relative. I have no more hope left."

He said anxiously, "You have no family, but you have me. Heaven is merciful; it takes one and sends another. You must think more positively."

She shook her head and reached out, covering the back of his hand as she used to do.

"I still love you very much." She swallowed her bitterness and continued, struggling to speak. "But there are many people in this world who love each other, yet not all can end up together. We cannot go on. It is not because of resentment—I do not blame you at all. It is just that I carry too much on my shoulders, my heart has gone cold, and I am retreating."

These few words made his entire body shudder. What did she mean by "cannot be together"? What did she mean by "heart has gone cold" and "retreating"? He looked at her with sorrow. "And the child? You want to make a clean break with me, what about the child?"

She said, "I cannot give birth to him. I am sorry to you."

"I see you have gone mad." He stood up abruptly, pointing a finger at her. His fingertips trembled, wishing he could pierce through her mask. "You have such a cruel heart! I was wrong about you! How much do I owe you that you must torture me like this? The Yuwen family failed you, and I failed you, but what is the child's fault that you cannot tolerate her? Even a tiger does not eat its own cubs, yet you want to kill her—is she not your own flesh and blood? It was my mistake to be so happy before. I thought there was finally a turning point, that you would change your mind for the sake of the child. Who knew it was just an empty joy? Your heart is made of stone!"

He could not control his agitation and covered his eyes with his hand, quickly turning away.

She knew he was crying. It was wrong to push him to this point, but how could she simply blend back into his life as if nothing happened? His parents, his brothers, his sister-in-law... the mere thought sent a chill to her bones. They all carried the surname Yuwen, and her parents and brothers were but ants in their eyes. Hongce had already been implicated by her; if he were to take her as his wife, he might never be able to hold his head high for the rest of his life.

She was selfish and cowardly; she admitted it. She only had the courage after reuniting with Rujian, because she was not alone—she had someone to back her up. Now that Rujian was gone, she suddenly realized how small she was. She could not fight against that massive, man-eating family.

She gripped the edge of the kang, repeating her apologies. But he did not want to look at her, the lines of his side profile turning cold and hard. He said, "I can endure your tantrums, and I can endure your unreasonableness, but on the matter of the child, I will not retreat even half a step. If you harm her in the slightest, it is truly over between us. I mean what I say."

He left without ordering anyone to keep watch over her, nor did he restrict her movements. She sat there; the kang beneath her was heated evenly, yet she remained cold—from the inside out, unable to be warmed.