As an apprentice, she wasn’t required to report for duty like a regular employee. Her superior was her master, and as long as he approved, things were easy to arrange.
Wu Changgeng doted on his disciple. Knowing she wanted to stay and play the horn, he waved his hand and said, “I’ll give you a day off. Go ahead.”
She beamed. “I’ll buy you wine with the money I earn.”
After seeing off her master and Xiazhi, the group of horn players and cymbal players gathered around the square table and began their lively performance. It was the seventh month, and even sitting in the shade of the mourning tent was unbearably stuffy. Dingyi played while stealing glances into the funeral hall. Da Gū Nǎinai had been thoroughly subdued, now forced to wear mourning clothes for her sister-in-law. She wore a white cap, had hemp cloth sewn onto her shoe tips, and knelt before the altar. Her face was hidden, but Dingyi guessed she wasn’t having an easy time.
Uncle Xi was now a bachelor, never one for productive work, and when it came to spending money, he was quick to shirk responsibility. The captain had no choice but to pay for his sister’s funeral rites himself. Rumor had it that, fearing the heat would make it impossible to keep the body, they planned to bury her after just one day.
Since the captain was handling the arrangements, many people came. Colleagues who usually interacted with him didn’t show up—after all, they had no official reason to attend. Instead, they sent stewards from their households to deliver funeral donations. Dingyi recognized a few familiar faces. They entered the hall, bowed, signed the ledger, and left. As for the musicians, they played a lively tune whenever someone arrived, but after about two hours, the flow of visitors dwindled. They took breaks to drink water and mostly just snacked without working.
The sweltering heat pressed down, and sweat dripped down her neck. She excused herself from the group leader, intending to go wash her face, but just as she stood up, she saw someone enter the gate—Guan Zhaojing, the steward of Prince Chun’s residence. She perked up and hurried over, greeting him with a quick bow. “Steward Guan, you’ve come?”
Guan Zhaojing recognized her immediately. Her outfit gave it away. “You turn up everywhere! Your master handles executions, and you moonlight as a Fengshui master—covering all bases, huh?”
Dingyi chuckled. “Just a coincidence. I live nearby. And I’m not really a Fengshui master—just helping out as a neighbor by playing a tune. So, are you here on the prince’s business today?”
Guan Zhaojing shook his head. “I have a personal connection with the captain. Had to pay my respects when I heard.”
Dingyi eagerly led the way, seizing the chance to probe. She asked if the prince was in today. “We agreed yesterday that I’d visit the residence, but I’m afraid I’ll make a wasted trip if His Highness isn’t there.”
Guan Zhaojing solemnly lit incense for the deceased before answering outside, “Looking for the prince? Don’t keep running over there. It’s a prince’s residence, not your family’s kang.”
Dingyi grumbled inwardly. If it weren’t for her desire to follow them to Changbai Mountain, she wouldn’t be so eager to court rejection. Since things had come to this, she decided to cozy up to the eunuch. “I won’t hide it from you—all this effort is just to get into the prince’s residence. You’re the chief steward there. If you could think of a way to help me, I’d owe you my life.”
Guan Zhaojing rolled his sleeves with an air of self-importance. “Didn’t I tell you last time? The prince isn’t short on attendants. You’re no good at martial arts, and even for carrying a palanquin, you’re too short.”
Dingyi’s spirits sank. “Then just tell me if the prince is in today. I’ll beg him one more time. If it still doesn’t work, I’ll give up.”“A stubborn one who won’t turn back until hitting the wall!” Eunuch Guan sighed, seeing his persistence. “He’s here, preparing for the trip to Ningguta next month—lots to arrange in advance. Wait at the gate when you arrive. Same as before, I’ll announce you, but whether the Prince sees you is up to him.” He clicked his tongue. “You’re really persistent, never seen a mule as stubborn as you.”
Dingyi smiled apologetically as she saw him out, then abandoned the trumpet-blowing task and hurried back to wash up and change into clean clothes. She carefully stored the umbrella, tying it with red silk to prevent the ribs from opening. The thought of going to Prince Chun’s residence made her heart pound. She checked herself in the mirror repeatedly, smoothing her hair and moistening her lips before suddenly realizing how silly she looked, chuckling at herself.
Walking under the blazing sun from Dengshikou to the northern shore of Houhai was over ten miles, but luck was on her side. At the alley’s entrance, she ran into a familiar water vendor and hitched a ride on his donkey cart to Guanghua Temple, which brought her close to Prince Chun’s residence. The sun dazzled her eyes, but she kept the umbrella tucked in her arms, reluctant to open it. She hesitated, wondering if this was the hour when the Prince took his midday nap—was it appropriate to visit now?
Pondering by the shore of Shichahai, she felt awkward arriving empty-handed again. Glancing around, she spotted a fruit stall by the lake’s railing. This season offered plenty of treats—apricots, jubao peaches, hawthorns, and more. Unsure what the Prince liked, she settled on a bag of water chestnuts and two honeydew melons before heading to the residence.
At the gate, she waited for her announcement. The gatekeeper, who had seen the Prince speaking with her last time, treated her differently now, inviting her inside to wait—a rare courtesy.
Dingyi had just stepped over the threshold when she spotted a group approaching from the covered corridor. Dressed in fine silks and exuding an air of authority, their leader stood out with striking phoenix eyes—it was Prince Xian.
Her heart lurched. Running into him never boded well. She ducked her head, trying to slip into the servants’ quarters, but he called out sharply—
“Mu Xiaoshu!”
She froze as if struck by lightning, turning stiffly. Before she could speak, the Seventh Prince snorted. “What’s this? Guilty conscience? Hiding from me?”
“N-no, I just… didn’t see you,” she stammered.
“Really?” He smirked. “Your eyesight must be terrible.”
There was no mistaking the provocation. Hongtao thought, this brat had crossed him multiple times, yet never faced consequences—old grudges flared fresh.
Tapping a folding fan against his palm, he circled her twice, noting how oddly delicate this little headsman looked—rosy lips and pearly teeth, hardly intimidating. He pointed. “Not empty-handed, I see. Here to thank the Twelfth Master?”
Dingyi mumbled, “This isn’t worthy as thanks, just some snacks.”
The Seventh Prince clasped his hands behind his back, gaze drifting skyward. “So mindful of etiquette, yet you’ve never come to my residence to apologize. That dog your senior ruined? We had it put down and made into soup. A perfectly good hound, wasted because of your antics. Shouldn’t you have brought melons to console me?”Dingyi found it such a pity upon hearing this. "You had it killed?"
"Nonsense!" The Seventh Prince flicked his sleeve. "Should I keep it to spite myself?"
Her shoulders slumped as she muttered, "If only you'd given it to us instead... No need to kill it..."
This was a person who just didn’t get it. The Seventh Prince, irritated, smirked at those around him and mocked, "This one’s got quite the imagination! That was an Imperial dog—did he think it was some stray mutt anyone could keep?"
The others laughed in agreement. Guan Zhaojing stepped in to smooth things over. "Seventh Lord, why bother with this fool? I happened to run into him today while accompanying Ding Si to deliver gifts from our family’s elder aunt. The lad’s got heart—he asked me what the Seventh Prince likes, saying he’d save up to buy His Highness a present..." He then signaled with his eyes. "Xiaoshu, the Prince knows you’re poor. Though these things you’ve brought aren’t much, don’t be shy—it’s the thought that counts."
Finally catching on, Dingyi bowed hastily and presented a bag of water chestnuts and two melons. "Master Guan knows me best. I’ve been wanting to visit your residence to apologize but feared angering you. I’ve been saving up, but before I could gather enough, I ran into you here."
Who’d care for such worthless trinkets? Hongtao wanted to snatch them up and hurl them at his feet, but one glance at those eyes made him hesitate.
Najin, his quick-witted steward, saw his master’s restraint as a sign of favor and cheerfully accepted the gifts, tapping a melon lightly. "My lord, melons and water chestnuts are in season now. They may look plain, but they taste quite decent."
Hongtao gave a noncommittal hum. A man rolling in gold and silver couldn’t possibly value such cheap offerings—this was merely a show of grace. He cast a condescending glance at Mu Xiaoshu and added, "So effeminate. Everything about you is off-putting."
Cold sweat trickled down Dingyi’s back as she forced a smile. "Your Highness may not know, but my twin sister and I looked identical. After she passed, I was the only one left—so this is how I turned out."
"A shame about your sister," Hongtao remarked pointedly. Had the sister survived, she’d surely have been a beauty, but this one—the brother—was just a fool. Turning to Zhaojing, he asked, "Why is he here? Did your master summon him?"
Guan Zhaojing bowed. "No, my lord. A headsman’s work is bloody, and he feels unfit for it, so he sought employment in the Prince’s residence. Our household isn’t short on hands, and the Twelfth Master hasn’t agreed yet..." Suddenly recalling something, he added, "Ah, but doesn’t the Seventh Lord need a fish keeper? Najin mentioned it recently. Let’s see if Xiaoshu fits—the boy’s clever. If he enters the Prince’s service with proper decorum, it’d also be a chance for Your Highness to grant him redemption."
Dingyi was stunned. This was completely unexpected—she’d never intended to enter Prince Xian’s Residence. Though both were princely estates, they were worlds apart. Eunuch Guan’s good intentions had backfired. She couldn’t afford ambiguity—that would spell disaster—so she hunched slightly and said, "I’ve never kept fish before and dare not take on such a duty. The fish in the Prince’s residence are all precious. If anything happened to them, a hundred deaths wouldn’t suffice for my crime."Hongtao was stubborn by nature. He wouldn’t give a second glance to those who fawned over him, but if someone declined before he even made an offer, he would insist on making it happen. Turning to Najin, he said, “Don’t let him raise the dragon eye goldfish—he’d probably end up killing them. Check which positions are vacant and find a way to slot him in.”
Najin counted on his fingers. “The garden has openings—both the cellar and the greenhouse need hands. I think the cellar would be best. Plants need to be moved out during the day and back in at night for winter. Plenty of work to keep busy!”
Dingyi nearly collapsed at the news. The prince’s garden had countless potted plants—shuttling them back and forth would be the death of her! Besides, her goal in entering the prince’s household wasn’t just to change jobs but to join the northern expedition. Staying under her master’s care was comfortable—no hunger, no cold. Moving flowerpots around a mansion wasn’t her ambition.
“I have lofty aspirations,” she gulped. “I came to the prince’s household to serve as a long-term attendant, not to tend flowers and plants. Seventh Lord, could you make me one of your guards? If you agree, I’ll report to your residence immediately. But I know becoming a guard requires being registered under the banner system. I’m an orphan—I don’t even know where my hometown is. Even if you wanted to elevate my status, it’d be a hassle.”
“Reverse psychology—I know that trick. Becoming a guard is easy, and so is registering you. See those two attendants of mine outside? If you can take them down, I’ll not only make you a guard but even recommend you for an official post if you wish.” The Seventh Prince laughed heartily, his brows lifting. “If you don’t want to tend plants at my place, I won’t force you. Guan Zhaojing, pass a message to your lord: I’ve taken a liking to Mu Xiaoshu, but he refuses to follow me. Since he won’t go to Prince Xian’s residence, he can’t stay at any other prince’s household either. If your lord keeps him, he’ll be opposing me and damaging our brotherly bond—and I’ll hold you accountable.”
The words were downright vicious. Dingyi stared at him in shock, but he only looked smug, wasting no more breath on her. With an elegant flick of his robe, he strode out the gate, head held high.
Guan Zhaojing saw him off and returned to exchange a helpless glance with her. “This is a disaster,” she groaned. “How can the Seventh Prince be so cruel? If I won’t serve him, he won’t let me make a living anywhere else?”
Guan Zhaojing rubbed his nose. “To be honest, the Seventh Prince may be a bit eccentric, but he’s not truly malicious. If you served under him, I can’t promise much, but at least he wouldn’t bully you anymore.”
Dingyi was on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to tend his plants…”
Guan Zhaojing sighed. “Lofty aspirations—I know. But now that he’s issued this decree, our prince can’t keep you even if he wants to.” He clasped his hands and sighed again. “The prince said to bring you in as soon as you arrived. No matter what, see him first and ask for his advice.”
Author’s Note:
Water vendor: An old Beijing term for water carriers, mostly from Shandong.
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