Dingyi hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "You've misunderstood me. I came specifically to pay my respects today... and incidentally to return an umbrella to your estate's horse groom."
Even the lowliest have their wisdom, and her reply was quite clever. Hongce chuckled, "How thoughtful of you to remember to pay your respects."
She straightened up and clasped her hands respectfully, "Prince, you've done our martial brothers a great favor, and I've kept it in mind, never daring to forget. Today I also wanted to say—since you compensated for the dog on our behalf, we can't let you suffer the loss. My senior brother and I discussed it, and we'd like to make some restitution, though... we'd ask for your leniency. We're poor, so we can only repay you gradually from our monthly wages."
Her words lacked confidence, but her sincerity was evident. Seeing her earnestness made him feel his help hadn't been in vain. He said, "There's no loss on my part—it's all about personal connections. The bondservants below make their offerings; there's no need to dwell on it."
"But it's still your face that made it possible. If not for you, the dog wouldn't have been brought all the way from Shaanxi. I truly have no way to repay you, so let me kowtow properly to you!" Dingyi genuinely felt he deserved such a gesture. For small folk like them, there was no pride about kneeling—with nothing else to offer, a kowtow was the best way to express gratitude.
Hongce stopped her in time, "None of that. Kneeling would make this feel wrong."
For nobility, accepting prostrations was as common as a kowtow, but the Twelfth Master's refusal was enough to earn her endless gratitude. She glanced outside and asked, "Where are you coming from, Prince? I didn't see your sedan chair—are you alone?"
He nodded. The sky had darkened when he left the Grand Council in the afternoon, and without strong sunlight, he'd preferred to walk alone. Fortunately, an umbrella had been prepared for him at the Xihua Gate, so he hadn't been drenched in the rain.
"Ah, your attendants aren't doing their duty—how could they let you go alone? Look at this storm, thunder and lightning—it's terrifying." She sighed regretfully, "If I were serving by your side, I'd carry you on my back. Look, your shoes are soaked—that must be so uncomfortable."
This person could deliver flattery with a perfectly straight face. He'd seen too many who wagged their tails like dogs, but this one wasn't particularly annoying. Her devotion was sincere, though her claims were grandiose—someone so small could barely carry a lantern, let alone a person.
He gave her a skeptical look, which Dingyi noticed, flushing with embarrassment as she hastily explained, "Don't judge by my size—I'm quite strong."
Hongce idly adjusted his sleeves, "You don't even have an umbrella. If you carried me, I'd have to hold it for you."
She hadn't considered that. Seeing his amused smirk, she blushed, "I understand what you mean, Prince. The last two times I only caused you trouble, to the point where my mere presence gives you a headache... But I don’t think I’ll have any more mishaps now. Everyone knows I’m acquainted with you—no one would dare trouble me." She paused, licking her lips before adding, "But I thought... if I could serve by your side, you wouldn’t have to worry about me at all..."
This person was quite amusing—no matter how she circled around, her true intent always surfaced. She'd probably been bullied too much before, with no one to rely on, and now sought refuge in the Prince's estate. Unfortunately, the Prince's Guards, like the Imperial Guards, were selected from trusted confidants and trained from childhood. There were hardly any outsiders—someone like her would never be considered."I'm not worried about you," he said lightly. "Both times were coincidences. I just helped when I could, and didn't interfere when I couldn't."
She felt awkward being brushed off like this. "Then... is the Prince showing concern for me?"
He smiled faintly and turned to look beyond the eaves where raindrops streamed down the roof tiles in torrents. The heavy downpour had alleviated the drought since early summer—the heavier the rain, the more expansive his mood became. The prince's residence had kept its gate half-closed, and only now did the gatekeeper notice his return and hurried out to greet him, only to be dismissed with a glance. Standing with hands clasped behind his back, he took a deep breath facing the empty street before turning to look at the child. "How old are you?"
Dingyi stiffened and bowed. "Your Highness, I grow a little tail every Double Ninth Festival. I'll be eighteen on the ninth day of the ninth month."
He studied him for a moment. "You don't look it. I'd have guessed fifteen or sixteen at most."
She grinned in response. "Yes, I'm a slow grower—look younger than my age." Most young men would have shot up tall by seventeen or eighteen, but she couldn't help it. Even if two people pulled her head and feet in opposite directions, she'd still remain the same. Polite folks called her "youthful-looking," while the blunt ones just called her short. She wasn't that short, really—standing next to Prince Chun, she just about reached his shoulders. Prince Chun was tall with long legs, so compared to ordinary women, Dingyi was actually quite tall. Of course, among men, she obviously didn't measure up.
Hongce had never seen someone praise themselves like this and found him increasingly amusing. "You've volunteered yourself several times. What's the matter? Not doing well in your current trade?"
Dingyi shook her head. "No, my master and senior brothers take good care of me. The work isn't hard, and the pay's enough to get by. It's just... the job isn't respectable. Seeing decent people lose their heads with one chop—I've seen too much of it, and it doesn't sit right with me."
"Those executed are criminals who've committed heinous acts. They deserve it," he said with a slight frown. "So you're afraid?"
"No." She puffed out her chest. "I'm actually very brave..."
As if the heavens were mocking her, without warning, a thunderbolt suddenly struck nearby—so fierce that sparks seemed to roll across the ground. She gasped and plopped down on her backside. Hongce couldn't help but laugh. "Very brave, is that it?"
Her heart pounded, and she felt humiliated by his teasing. He couldn't hear well, but her ears worked just fine—a thunderclap exploding right beside her would scare anyone!
She stammered, about to reply, when his expression suddenly turned somber. "When I was little, I was afraid of firecrackers," he murmured. "Every New Year, the palace would prepare all kinds of fireworks and double-bang firecrackers, lined up outside the Gate of Supreme Harmony. My brothers would all join the fun—the older ones were bold, lighting fuses with paper spills—while I covered my ears and hid to the side. The firecrackers were powerful; with a loud bang, they'd shoot into the sky. If you stood too close, you could feel the bricks tremble underfoot..." He sighed, his lips curling into a self-deprecating smile. "Now? Even if thunder explodes right by my ear, I wouldn't hear it. That's how people are—blind and deaf, yet somehow more resilient."His words took Dingyi by surprise. She knew this lord had it harder than most, having endured more than the other princes. Hadn’t he spent over a decade in Khalkha? In the past, he hadn’t been well-received.
Scrambling for words to comfort him, she was startled when he reached out his hand. Was he offering to help her up? She stared at it—the flowing cloud patterns on his sleeve cuff accentuating his fair skin, his fingers long and elegant. Those fingertips, like orchid buds, could tickle their way into one’s heart with just a flick.
She hesitated, embarrassed. She was a rough sort—how could she sully such refinement? Instinctively, she wiped her hand on her lapel before offering it to him.
His palm was warm, brimming with strength, and with a single effortless tug, he pulled her up. She curled her fingers behind her back, her hand empty yet feeling as if she’d grasped something. Smiling at him, she said, “Prince, have you ever played with sky rockets? You stick the rod in a brick crevice, light it, and whoosh—it shoots halfway to the sky before popping with a bang. Stand far enough away, and it doesn’t even bother you.”
He shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t very brave as a child. Anything with fire scared me.”
With a stranger, before you get close, you always imagine them as profound and inscrutable. But hearing these words, she suddenly realized that despite his power and status, the prince was still flesh and blood. She prided herself on being bold, yet he spoke openly about his flaws without shame, making him seem all the more human.
“Isn’t the point of sky rockets to hear that loud pop?” he asked, watching her. Sometimes, what one lacks makes them sensitive—like opera, which he couldn’t stand and thus despised.
Dingyi quickly corrected him. “I don’t play with them for the noise—just to see how high they go. I’m scared of loud sounds, as you’ve seen. Even thunder can send me cowering. Things like firecrackers during New Year? I steer clear.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m like you—just watching from a distance, enjoying the spectacle.”
They’d finally found common ground. Standing under the eaves with rain rumbling outside, they chatted about fireworks. Dingyi could clearly see the smile on Prince Chun’s face. In the flickering lamplight, every glance and turn of his head was unlike anyone else’s. She didn’t care for the Yuwens, but he was an exception—not just because he’d helped her a few times, but because he was decent and well-spoken. She genuinely enjoyed talking to him.
“When’s your birthday, Prince?” she asked, squinting and flashing a row of pearly teeth. "When the time comes, I’ll make you a big red longevity lantern with the character 'longevity' on it. Once lit, it’ll fly—higher than any sky rocket.”
His expression remained indifferent. “The ninth day of the ninth month. I was born on the Double Ninth Festival.”
Dingyi gasped. “What a coincidence…”It was quite a coincidence—life was full of such inexplicable encounters. But this person seemed childlike at heart, using the phrase "growing a tail" for birthdays, a term usually reserved for children. To hear it at eighteen was rare indeed. Hongce, accustomed to the guarded exchanges of officialdom, found it refreshing to meet someone with whom he could speak freely. He was considering inviting the person in for tea when Guan Zhaojing hurried in, drenched like a drowned rat. Dropping to his knees, he wailed, "Master! I waited for you at the Shenwu Gate for ages, never dreaming you'd come through the Xihua Gate instead. Did the rain catch you? Look at your robe—soaked through! Let’s not delay. I’ll have dry clothes prepared at once. You mustn’t risk catching a chill."
With that, their casual chat came to an end. The eunuch was eager to attend to the Prince, leaving Dingyi’s half-spoken words unvoiced. She clasped her hands respectfully, watching them depart with a pang of regret. Just then, the Prince turned back after a few steps and handed her his umbrella.
"Take it," he said, offering the handle. "This rain won’t let up anytime soon. Getting drenched will only make you ill."
Dingyi smiled, bowing deeply as she accepted it with both hands. "I’ll return it once the skies clear. Thank you, Your Highness."
He gave a slight nod, turned away, and swept through the gate, his entourage following closely behind.
After freshening up and changing, Hongce emerged to find Lu Shenchen, the steward of the front courtyard, already waiting. The Prince’s residence was managed by separate staff for the front and rear courtyards, each with its own protocols. The front steward held a third or fourth-rank title, overseeing the estate’s lands and handling external affairs on behalf of his master. Every day, he stood solemnly to report: who had visited, their purpose, and so on. As the Twelfth Master served in the Grand Council and was involved with the Censorate and the Ministry of Justice, updates on cases—their progress, resolutions, and the like—were also required.
Hongce listened patiently, item by item. This was his duty, whether he liked it or not. The imperial court was a tangled web of people and affairs, where old cases could resurface as leverage at any moment. Straightforward matters brought relief, but there were always one or two riddled with inconsistencies, demanding fresh scrutiny and revealing intricate, thought-provoking layers.
His finger paused on a name in the ledger. "Wen Lu committed suicide in prison. The jailer didn’t discover it until the next morning at mao hour—meaning no one was on watch, or at least no patrols were made that night. Shortly after his death, his home caught fire, his wife perished, and his young daughter vanished. The case was closed just like that, far too hastily."
Lu Shenchen nodded. "The Ministry of Justice sent word this afternoon with a brief summary. It’s a case from the Emperor Emeritus’s reign, twelve years past. Yesterday, the Ministry received orders and has begun reinvestigating. Wen’s three sons were exiled to the Imperial Manor. As for his daughter, none of the relatives would take her in. She was eventually taken in by her wet nurse, but her current whereabouts remain unknown."
Hongce closed his eyes briefly. "Prioritize the search. The child is secondary—the wet nurse is key. If she stayed till the end, she must know something."Lu Shenchen responded with a respectful "Aye," and said, "The Prince will be heading to Ningguta in a while, passing by Changbai Mountain on the way through Shengjing. The Wen Brothers were exiled there to process ginseng. If they're lucky enough to still be alive, they should be approaching thirty by now."
He gave a hum, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said, "Then submit a memorial explaining the situation. No need to wait—pick a time and set off as soon as possible."
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