Love in Red Dust

Foot-binding also required consulting the almanac to pick an auspicious day, and once decided, it was set in stone.

Dingyi was drowsily pulled out of her warm quilt by her nursemaid when she was just five or six years old, barely starting her education. Rubbing her eyes and shuffling in her slippers, she stood before the stone slab in the courtyard.

Her mother stood with her hands tucked in her sleeves, looking at her with an expressionless face. "It's time. There's no putting it off today. You should've had your feet bound at three, but we couldn't bear to do it then out of love for you. Now look—if we delay any longer, the suffering will only be worse later." As she spoke, she nodded and turned away, gesturing to the maids below, "Get to work!"

Dingyi looked up to see two old maids with large sewing needles pinned to their lapels approaching and squatting in greeting. "Don't be afraid, young miss. When you're small, your bones are soft—just like kneading dough for dumplings, you can shape them however you like." With that, they took out a pair of red embroidered shoes, the uppers adorned with golden flowers, resembling a pair of tiny water chestnuts. Holding them out in their palms, they presented them to her. "Take a look, aren't they pretty? Once we're done binding, you can wear them."

Dingyi was still young, and the sight of the pointed, bound feet peeking out from beneath the maids' wide pant legs terrified her. All the women around her had bound feet. Her mother, the principal wife of the Censor-in-Chief, held a highly esteemed position. She wore a grand red skirt with cloud-head patterns embroidered along the hem, and when she walked, not even the tips of her toes were visible—she too had bound feet. When it came to the matter of feet, the Han Army Banners were no match for the Five-Tone Banners. The Han people prized the Three-inch Golden Lotuses, a tradition upheld for thousands of years. Dingyi's father hailed from Datong, where the bound feet were renowned across the land for being slender, small, pointed, curved, fragrant, soft, and perfectly shaped. But this reputation came at a great cost to the girls there, as the process was even more rigorous than elsewhere.

With a clatter, a maid shattered a porcelain bowl. The shards were gathered—what were they for? They would be wrapped into the binding cloth. The shards would cut into the flesh, leaving it mangled, rotten, and foul-smelling. The toes would be broken, the arches forced upward, until finally, a pair of tiny feet took shape.

Women would go to any lengths for beauty, and the mere sight of it was enough to make one wince in pain! Tears welled in Dingyi's eyes, her mouth twisting like a gourd. "I think... maybe we can do it tomorrow?"

Tomorrow had been pushed to the day after, and the day after to the next, for two whole years. This time, her mother was resolute—there would be no more delays.

No one paid her any heed. The old maids stripped off her shoes, cupped her delicate feet in their palms, and rubbed them briefly before stuffing them into the belly of a gutted rooster.

The heat and stickiness sent shivers down Dingyi's spine. The rooster's wings still flapped weakly, its organs pulsing with lingering life. One part pressed against her sole, throbbing with a dull thud.

This time, it seemed there was no escape—she was trapped in a dead end with no way out. Just as she was losing hope, the western sky darkened like the bottom of a pot, rolling clouds spreading overhead. A maid looked up and exclaimed, "Madam, it's about to rain—a downpour is coming!"

No sooner had she spoken than pea-sized raindrops began pelting down without warning. In the chaos, everything else was forgotten. Dingyi yanked her feet out of the rooster's belly and bolted back inside. The old maids, with their tiny bound feet, wobbled as they ran, leaving Dingyi utterly disoriented.

In any case, the torrential rain arrived at the perfect moment, disrupting the foot-binding ceremony. Freed from her shackles, Dingyi gleefully perched on her bench, watching as the household servants disciplined the children. She even egged them on from the sidelines, cheering, "Good job! Kids need to be taught a lesson—Xiaoshu deserves a slap!"The next day, her mother had just picked an auspicious date and prepared the necessary items when a group of people in official uniforms barged in through the gate. Leading them was a prince, wearing a red-tasseled summer hat, his voice carrying the distinct cadence of Beijing drum songs. He bellowed, "Women stay inside! Tie up all the men!"

Dingyi didn’t understand what was happening. She struggled to peek out, but her nanny held her down, covering her mouth to keep her silent. Her head spun, the world around her a blur, as if she had fallen into an iron barrel. All she could see was the stark white window paper, with a Magpie holding auspicious grass window decoration pasted right in the center of the lattice.

The wind howled fiercely, whistling through the eaves and branches, sending chills down her spine. Her mother knelt before Prince Zhuang, kowtowing desperately. "There must be some misunderstanding! Wen Lu’s loyalty to his master is as clear as heaven and earth. His promotions were all under Your Highness’s watch. All these years, he has served the court diligently. Even if there were oversights, such is human frailty. Your Highness… you are a living Bodhisattva! Please show mercy and spare his life!"

Prince Zhuang looked down and ordered his guards to help her up, frowning. "It’s not that I won’t help, but this matter was personally decreed by His Majesty. I have no say in it. Since the imperial order has been issued, my priority is to fulfill my duty. We can discuss further details later. Just wait—if the trial proves him innocent, justice will be served."

Dingyi’s father held a high position in the Censorate, a senior official who had always been the one arresting others. Never had they imagined the tables would turn like this. After pleading for a long time, Wen’s wife begged, "At least tell me how this started. It would be a kindness."

The prince wiped his nose. "Last year, the Censorate handled a case overseen by Wen Lu, implicating several high-ranking officials who were all executed. Now the case is being reopened, and someone must take the blame… Our families have ties. Didn’t I warn him? Don’t make enemies over petty gains. He agreed but didn’t listen. Now that disaster has struck, whether he lives or dies depends on fate."

Her father and brothers were taken away. Dingyi felt as if the sky was collapsing. The women in the house were all thunderstruck, unable to think of a solution. Though young, Dingyi understood everything. Tears welling in her eyes, she tugged at her mother’s skirt, trying to console her. "Don’t worry, Mother. Father will be back with a whistle." Her mother only wept harder, holding her until late into the night.

Some things were beyond control, like trying to hold water in cupped hands—no matter how tightly you squeezed, it would slip away. Dingyi sat by the pond with a tiny fishing rod, trying to catch goldfish. People came and went behind her, but she dared not look back. The family could no longer support so many mouths. Her mother exhausted their savings, even selling their pots and pans to bribe officials, but her father was still sentenced to Awaiting execution after review. Too ashamed to face the execution ground, he hanged himself in prison with his own belt. As for her three brothers, the court, acknowledging their father’s "minor contributions," showed leniency and sentenced them to exile—banished to Changbai Mountain to dig for ginseng.

A once-prosperous household had shattered in an instant—how terrifying! Fortunately, the punishment didn’t extend to the entire clan, so the women were spared. Dingyi lifted her head to the sky, watching two sparrows fly past. With her father and brothers gone, what remained of the Wen family now? Tears as big as beans fell, rippling the water’s surface.The population dwindled, the houses grew smaller—from large homes to tiny ones, until only three people remained in the household. At night, she slept in the western wing with her wet nurse, while the mistress slept alone in the main house.

Sweat crawled like worms down her cheeks. She wiped it away with her arm, too hot to sleep, and sat up with a turn. The crackling of burning firewood still echoed in her ears. Suddenly, she turned her head—flames surged outside, the main house was on fire, and her mother was still inside! Terrified, she cried out loudly. The wet nurse slept like the dead. Frantic and helpless, she slapped the woman hard across the face, jolting her awake. But waking her didn’t help—stumbling off the kang, the nurse even tripped over the footstool. Carrying her outside to find the mistress, the fire in the main house was too fierce, the eaves twisting in the heat waves, with no sign of the mistress.

She couldn’t lose anything else—not her mother! Breaking free, she charged forward desperately, but the wet nurse clung to her, refusing to let go. Stomping her feet, she wailed hoarsely, “Mistress… come out quickly…”

Her chest felt as if crushed by a millstone, the pain unbearable. Surrounded by scorching flames, she thought she would die here. At the brink of despair, a cool hand rested on her forehead, and a faint voice called, “Shu, dreaming of some mistress again? Was she beautiful? Look at you, so desperate and eager!”

She gasped for breath, opening her eyes to the dim light of an oil lamp, her senior brother’s face shadowed before her.

“Nightmare? Crying and shouting like that—so eerie!” Seeing her struggle for breath, her brother opened the cabinet to fetch a medicine gourd, pouring out two Glory Heart Pills to feed her. Standing by the kang, he said, “You know that Anba Lingwu? Signed the confession the other day. The Ministry of Justice submitted the petition, and His Majesty approved it. He’s to be executed at noon tomorrow. Looking at you like this, I doubt you’re fit for duty. Better report to Master and rest at home.”

She insisted it wasn’t necessary. “If I’m not there, who’ll hold the sword for Master?”

Her brother clicked his tongue. “Oh, so capable! As if the Red Errand can’t proceed without you!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why don’t you do it then?”

Her brother turned away awkwardly, covering half his face and muttering, “Why does my tooth hurt…”

Not a toothache—more like a pain in the ribs! Mention holding the sword, and this guy wilted—not without reason. In this line of work, reputation and skill all hinged on a single blade. This sword was peculiar, usually enshrined atop the Xuanwu Gate tower, harder to handle than a lord. Before using it, one had to offer incense, paper horses, and kowtows. Only those of pure constitution could approach it—either extremely yin or extremely yang. Those who had lost their chastity couldn’t touch it, or it would throw a tantrum. No matter how well the blade was sharpened, if it curled at the critical moment, failing to sever flesh from bone, getting stuck in the neck, the executioner’s reputation would be ruined.

Enough of that—back to the Red Errand. What was a Red Errand? When a condemned prisoner was taken to the execution ground at Caishikou to be beheaded, that was a Red Errand. The prisoner, reluctant to leave this world, needed someone to send them off. No worries—someone would be waiting at the execution ground: the one wearing a red headscarf and fast boots, the so-called headsman. Headsman—a terrifying profession at first glance, but really just a way to make a living. This trade dealt with the King of Hell, carrying heavy killing aura, so ordinary folks dared not provoke them. The work was light, the pay high—once you saw through it, you wouldn’t trade it for a clerk’s position. Nowadays, Dingyi was apprenticed under the most famous executioner in Shuntian Prefecture—Wu Changgeng.How did a good girl end up in this line of work? Well, that’s a long story. To cut it short, back then her mother was burned to death, and their small courtyard home was reduced to ashes. The wet nurse took her to seek refuge with relatives on both sides, but they all said their families were either dead or exiled to the army. Only she was left, which showed how tough her fate was—no one was willing to take her in. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter—that’s how it’s always been. There was no other choice, so in the end, she had to follow the wet nurse back to Sanhe County.

The wet nurse’s family wasn’t well-off either. The elders were gone, and she lived next to her brother’s family. The sisters-in-law often bickered, and the men were useless, making life quite hard. Fortunately, the wet nurse was a shrewd woman. She took the girl back and raised her as a boy, giving her the family name Mu and changing her name to Xiaoshu. Everyone knew that girls had it tough in many ways—they were easy targets—but boys fared a little better. Even so, the wet nurse’s domineering husband grumbled, “A stray kid, and you treat her like a treasure. The village head has no sons—why not send the kid to them for a better life? We could even get two sacks of cornmeal in return. Wouldn’t that be great?” If they’d known she was a girl, sooner or later, they’d have found a way to exploit her. Selling her off as a child bride would’ve been the best-case scenario; the worst would’ve been selling her to a brothel. People only care about their own flesh and blood—someone else’s daughter might as well be chopped into strips for all they care.

The wet nurse truly couldn’t bear to part with her. Her own son had died of smallpox two years prior, and this nursling girl was like half a son to her. Sadly, her life was short. The year the old emperor abdicated, she fell ill, and by spring, when the new emperor changed the reign title, she passed away. Counting back, that was five or six years ago. At the time, Dingyi was only twelve. A twelve-year-old, half-grown child had to find a way to survive. She was sharp-eyed and knew staying with the Mu family wouldn’t end well, so she kept her head down, fetching water and pushing the millstone for Wu Changgeng’s elderly mother. The old woman saw how clever the child was and relented, taking her on as an apprentice before bringing her back to Beijing.