"Me?" She was taken aback. "You flatter me too much—how could I possibly do that? I can run errands for you, but this task you mentioned... I really can't handle it."
Uncle Xi smacked his lips. "What's there to fear? You're on Red Errands every day, picking up heads—seen enough of it to make it seem like plucking watermelons."
That was putting it far too lightly. What did he mean by picking up heads every day? Xiazhi couldn't take it and retorted, "Executed prisoners have families to collect their bodies. Those without family or means are taken by the Huai Tree Residence. There's no need for us to do this."
Hearing this, Uncle Xi grew troubled again. "Then what should I do?"
Wu Changgeng patted his knee and said, "Headsmen are responsible for the cutting, not the collecting. Our Xiaoshu isn't unwilling to help, but our ancestors' rules forbid it. I think you'd better go find Ma Pijiang (Horse Leather Craftsman). If you're short on money, the courtyard folks can chip in, and you can add some yourself. Once the stitching's done, change the clothes and get the coffin ready. When the Oldest Madam's family comes and sees the state of things..."
Uncle Xi clasped his hands together. "Then, Uncle Wu, I'll thank you in advance. Once I've sent off my wretched wife, I'll properly repay you. Ah, I've never dealt with something like this—right now, I'd rather be the one lying there." A grown man, sleeves rolled up, began to cry—genuinely heartbroken, weeping for his loneliness, for having no one to even pour his foot-washing water in the future.
Wu Changgeng pressed his hand down. "Don't say that. We're neighbors—no need for such talk. Here's what we'll do: Xiaoshu will make a trip to the execution grounds, and I'll gather everyone to discuss pooling some money as a funeral donation. How does that sound?"
Uncle Xi sighed dejectedly. "I'll leave it to you. I need to go back and have our Oldest Aunt hide first. If she falls into their hands..."
Didn't she deserve the lesson? Xiazhi thought the aunt deserved to be beaten to death and interjected, "You can't let her leave! If she runs, and the Oldest Madam's family can't find the culprit, they'll bury you alive! With something this serious, can hiding solve anything? Admit your mistakes, kowtow—you have to give them an explanation."
Uncle Xi wilted like frostbitten eggplant, stammering, "Her elder brother is at least a deputy battalion commander—that's what I'm afraid of."
Now he's scared? Too late for that. Dingyi was surprised. "Your wife was the battalion commander's sister?"
The so-called battalion commander was a Captain of the Banner—a full third-rank or deputy fourth-rank official. In a capital teeming with high-ranking officials, it might not stand out, but for common folk, it was a solid backbone. She hadn't known before and had felt sorry for the Oldest Madam's death. Now that she knew, she felt even more it wasn't worth it. The woman's family wasn't without influence—suffering hardship with a useless man, only to meet a bad end. What was the point? Dingyi stepped over the threshold but couldn't resist a final jab. "No offense, but having a married aunt come back to take charge—your family's ways are truly unusual." Uncle Xi heaved a sigh from the depths of his lungs, but whatever else he said, she didn't hear, lifting the curtain and descending the steps.
The distance from Tongfu Lane to the execution grounds was considerable—a round trip on foot would take half a day. Standing in the courtyard, she saw it was already evening, with thick clouds piling up in the northwest—looked like a storm was coming. Xiazhi leaned out the window and called, "Unhitch the cart and ride a horse. When you see Ma Pijiang, don't haggle—just coax him here first."Dingyi responded and went to the back shed to fetch the horse. After years of rough living, any trace of girlish delicacy had long been worn away. Driving carts, riding horses, hauling coal—there was no task she couldn’t handle. In the past, such a thing would have been unthinkable. The way Han families and Bannermen raised their daughters was different. The Bannermen’s women had naturally sized feet—wild and capable. Han women weren’t like that. With their tiny bound feet, they hobbled along, taking half a day to walk a short distance, spending their days confined to their chambers, gazing at flowing springs and listening to the wind, simply waiting to be married.
If her parents were still alive, seeing her hitch up her robe and mount a horse would surely scare them to death again. But what could she do? Circumstances forced her hand. Who would willingly wallow in mud and water if not to survive? For common folk in the city, even breathing was a struggle. That she could scrape by with her master and earn a meal was already a stroke of immense luck.
A heavy rain was coming. The dull rumble of thunder overhead wasn’t an immediate downpour but more like a threat, urging people to hurry. There was a saying about Beijing’s roads: Three feet of dust when there’s no wind, a street of mud when there’s rain. Best to get things done while the ground was still dry. Once the rain started, the muck would make travel difficult.
She whipped the horse into a gallop, urging it forward with sharp flicks of the reins. Arriving at the leatherworker’s shop, she explained her purpose. Ma Pijiang (Horse Leather Craftsman) seemed hesitant. “I’ve heard about this. You see, if it were an official execution ordered by the court, I’d dare to handle it. But someone who died under unclear circumstances—that’s not something to meddle with lightly. Don’t say I’m being superstitious. Who doesn’t have some fear of ghosts and spirits? Otherwise, why would so many people burn incense at Dongyue Temple during the New Year?” He lowered his voice. “Those with deep grievances—whoever touches them, they’ll hold them accountable. You earn a pittance and invite bad luck. What’s the point?”
Dingyi knew the tricks of small-time merchants. Playing hard to get now was just a ploy to drive up the price, squeezing more silver out of desperate clients. She forced a smile. “Everyone in the east and west of the city knows your skill. This is an act of virtue, a good deed. The dead would thank you—what’s there to fear?”
“Have you ever met a reasonable ghost?” Ma Pijiang muttered, eyes downcast as he tapped the copper nails on a saddle. Indifferently, he added, “Once dead, the mind is gone. They can’t tell good from bad.”
She covered her mouth and mumbled, “The bereaved family said they won’t shortchange you. Da Nǎinai (The Oldest Madam) hanged herself after quarreling with her sister-in-law. That sister-in-law is feeling guilty now. If you ask her for payment, she won’t dare refuse.”
Seeing room for negotiation, Ma Pijiang’s stance softened. But he immediately switched to a mercenary tone, still circling the issue. He sucked his teeth and grumbled, “Still not good. The weather’s turning. My son’s off duty and doesn’t have an umbrella. I need to bring him one.”
Playing coy now! Dingyi clenched her jaw and asked, “Where does your son work? I’ll deliver it for you. This is urgent—just grab your needles and thread and go. A whole room of people is waiting for you!”
Ma Pijiang saw that the moment was ripe and nodded. “Fine, you’re just doing someone a favor. If I refuse any longer, I’ll seem uncharitable.” He took down an oil-paper umbrella from the wall and handed it to her. “My son’s name is Ma Lianying. He’s a cook at Prince Chun’s residence on the north shore of Houhai. That boy’s a master in the kitchen. Whenever the Prince wants to send someone a feast, he dispatches my son. Things like eight bowls and eight dishes, pastries, and fruits—he can handle it all by himself without any help.”When Dingyi heard it was Prince Chun's Residence, she thought it was quite a coincidence and casually praised, "Your son is truly promising. No matter how bad the times are, a cook never goes hungry—it's a good trade." She finished rolling up his bundle and ushered him out, "Hurry along now. If it starts raining and your walking mule twists a hoof, that’ll be the end of it."
Ma Pijiang staggered off towards Dengshikou, while she tucked the umbrella under her arm and headed straight for Prince Chun's Residence. The princely mansion was as imposing as ever, evoking the same sense of awe as before. Arriving at the side gate, she approached the gatekeeper—the same familiar face—who pointed at her and said, "You again!"
Dingyi smiled, "Sorry to trouble you, but I'm looking for Ma Lianying. His father asked me to bring him an umbrella."
The gatekeeper nodded, "Ah, Chef Ma went out for a banquet. He's not here."
She was puzzled, "Isn't he the cook? How come he's dining out? If he's eating at a restaurant, who's handling the work in the residence?"
"You think he's eating for free? Gathering Guests Restaurant has new dishes—he's there to steal techniques! After tasting, he’ll bring the skills back, keep them in his head, and when the master orders it, he’ll whip it up. That’s a cook’s job." The gatekeeper chatted with her for a while before beckoning from behind the threshold, "Leave the umbrella here. I’ll give it to him when he returns. No loitering allowed outside the prince’s residence. Off you go, now."
Such were the rules of noble households—deep as the sea, with sprawling gardens, layered halls, and courtyards upon courtyards. Trying to see someone here was harder than climbing to heaven.
Dingyi felt disappointed. She usually had clear intentions, but at Prince Chun's Residence, she always felt like she was relying on luck. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince—if she succeeded, it was fortune; if not, it was fate. A sigh of resignation would suffice. As for what to say if she did meet the prince, she hadn’t thought it through—probably just some flattery and compliments. The prince was good-natured; a nod from him, and he might assign her to some obscure corner, allowing her to join the expedition to Changbai Mountain. Not that she absolutely needed to tag along—she could go on her own—but fear held her back. The north had been restless these past few years, with mounted bandits robbing travelers at will. A lone woman like her, without support, would be helpless if trouble arose—she wouldn’t even know where to cry if something happened.
Dejected, she turned away. This wasn’t a place to linger. Just as she was about to step out from under the eaves, heavy raindrops began pelting down, drumming loudly against the ground. The dusty road instantly gave off a muddy scent. How awful—she suddenly remembered she’d come to deliver an umbrella but hadn’t brought a rain hat for herself. Now she was stranded here, with the gatekeeper shooing her away, leaving her stuck between a rock and a hard place.
There was no question of seeking shelter from the rain outside a prince’s residence. Her horse was still tethered under the willow trees by the lake. Steeling herself, she decided to make a dash for it—once mounted, she could gallop home.
Summer thunderstorms were terrifying in their suddenness. The sky turned pitch-black in an instant, so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Now she was truly stuck—where to go? Panicked, she hesitated, afraid a bolt of lightning might strike her to charcoal. Behind her, the gatekeeper urged impatiently, "Hurry up! If the steward catches you here, I’ll get an earful again."Kicking someone out in the pouring rain—that was truly heartless. But there was no helping it. Prince Chun's residence was no different from Prince Xian's in essence; neither was a charitable household. Setting aside the princes themselves, all the servants under them behaved this way. She sighed and prepared to cover her head as she stepped out, when a figure appeared at the far end of the steps, unhurriedly holding an umbrella. The rain had soaked the hem of his robe, like a thin porcelain base coated with heavy glaze, evoking a sense of vastness after the misty rain.
He must be from the prince's residence—surely not another seeking shelter from the rain. She paused slightly, catching a glimpse of his face beneath the umbrella. He lowered it, revealing a purple-gold hair crown with red tassels. Though the surroundings were dim, his features grew increasingly distinct under the lantern light by the eaves.
A man burdened with endless duties, his nerves taut as a bowstring. He glanced at her, seemingly remembering who she was, and greeted her familiarly, "You're here?"
Dingyi felt a little flustered and mumbled an affirmative. Coming to her senses, she hastily curtsied. "Your Highness, blessings upon you."
He raised a hand. "Rise. What brings you here this time?"
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