She went outside to a secluded spot, covered her mouth, and cried her heart out. It was good news—she would soon see her brother—but it also felt so distant and difficult to achieve.
She was seventeen now and had lived under a false name for twelve years. At first, she endured disdain while living under someone else’s roof. Later, she followed her master, and though her days were spent running execution grounds and carrying the executioner’s blade, life was more stable than before. From now on, things should only get better, right? To settle down properly, she needed a legitimate identity to live openly. Her fate had been fragmented, moving from one phase to another, each time bidding farewell to the people and events of the past, entering new environments, meeting all sorts of people, and navigating humbly through endless challenges.
She lifted her head. The sun was blocked by the rooftops, but the sky was a clear blue. Her face, soaked with tears, felt dry and tight in the wind. She wiped it with her sleeve and took a deep breath. Walking along the street, she stopped by a tavern to buy a pound of erguotou liquor, a plate of sliced beef, and a dish of fried broad beans, wrapping them up to take back to the compound. Coincidentally, Xiazhi had gone to Mentougou to visit his parents today, so she and her master could have a private heart-to-heart talk.
Her master was a perceptive man. She had been by his side for six years, growing up under his watchful eye. Now that she was leaving, if she spoke too briefly, he might think she had grown wings and was slipping out of his grasp, hurting his feelings. But if she explained too much, she had her own reservations—revealing everything might lead to unpredictable consequences, and if anything went wrong, regret would come too late.
The problem she had agonized over for days was finally resolved. She ought to be happy, but she couldn’t shake off the heaviness in her heart. Listlessly, she entered the gate, responding perfunctorily to the neighbors’ greetings. After sitting blankly in her room for a while, she tidied up the food and liquor, covering them with a bamboo food cover. It was still early, and she couldn’t stay idle, so she busied herself cleaning—wiping here and there until even the soot-blackened tin teapot gleamed.
With nothing left to do, she remembered that the Twelfth Master had mentioned his fondness for mulberries last time. She picked up her sewing basket and headed to the back of the courtyard.
There were always all sorts of folk customs—like not planting mulberry trees in front of the house or willows behind it—a common agricultural superstition. This mulberry tree grew in the corner between two courtyards, not bothering any neighbors, so it had survived and thrived, lush and full of life. The local children relied on it when the fruit ripened, standing beneath it and knocking the branches with small bamboo poles. The fallen berries didn’t matter even if they rolled in the dirt—they’d scoop them up in their clothes and wash them at home. By the end of summer, their clothes were ruined, stained with mulberry juice. Their parents would scold them— You greedy brats, ruining your clothes! —and the beatings would send chickens flapping and dogs barking, but it never dampened the children’s enthusiasm for the tree.
When Dingyi arrived, a few kids were already there. Since the lower branches had been picked clean, they were staring longingly at the higher ones. The upper branches were Dingyi’s domain—she was good at climbing, scaling the roof with ease and picking the fruit effortlessly.
It had been a while since her last visit, and the berries were fully ripe, plump and dark purple. She climbed the courtyard wall unhurriedly, standing atop it to reach the branches. In no time, she had filled her sewing basket. As she descended, the children sucked on their fingers and called out in drawn-out voices, "Xiaoshu-ge…" She chuckled and gave each of them a handful. Shaking the basket lightly, she figured there were enough for the Twelfth Master.After returning, she soaked the fruits in water and hung them on the tree to dry under the sun and wind, which might even attract insects. She crouched by the well, changing the water several times, her mind weighed down with thoughts as she stared blankly at the fruits.
“Just like this? Add some salt. If there are maggots inside, it’ll force them out.”
She looked up and saw her master had returned. The evening was stiflingly hot, and his face was glistening with sweat. She quickly fetched water and a towel. “Wash up, Master. Look at all this sweat.”
“What’s for dinner today?” Wu Changgeng asked as he wiped his face, more concerned about this. “The cook went back to Mentougou. We can’t just wait around like the long-necked birds in the pond. How about some fried sauce noodles?”
Dingyi said, “I’ve already prepared everything—there’s wine and meat.” She hesitated slightly, glancing at her master’s expression before adding softly, “Master, there’s something I want to talk to you about today.”
Wu Changgeng looked at her. His face showed little change, but his eyes dimmed. After a long pause, he finally responded, “On the day you became my apprentice, I told you—your path is yours to walk. Take a step, then look back to see if you’ve strayed.” He poured out the water from the basin, draped the towel over its edge, and stood silently for a moment. “Let’s talk inside. The yard isn’t the place for serious matters.”
He went inside. Watching her master’s retreating figure, Dingyi felt even more distressed. The old man was usually quiet but sharp-witted. His earlier words made it seem like he had already seen through everything. She sighed. He must think she looked down on the work of a headsman, eager to climb the social ladder—an ungrateful wretch after all these years of care. At this thought, her eyes reddened.
Following him inside, she found her master seated at the table. He lifted the food cover and exclaimed, “Not bad today. The meat is secondary, but these fried broad beans look great. Are they five-spice? I don’t like salted ones—too salty, makes me thirsty.”
Dingyi hurriedly handed him chopsticks and poured him wine. “They’re five-spice. I know you prefer this flavor. I tried one on the way back—they’re fried just right, not too hard.”
Wu Changgeng nodded and took a sip of wine. “The erguotou is pretty good too.”
Dingyi didn’t know how to begin. She stood there awkwardly until he grunted, “Why not sit down? No matter how big the matter, you can say it sitting down.”
She murmured an assent but remained standing, holding the wine pot, not joining him in eating or drinking. Her master stayed silent for a long while, his eyelids drooping as he stared at his cup. Eventually, he sighed. “All gatherings must end. Don’t take it too hard—it’s not some earth-shattering matter. Even if you leave my tutelage, you’ll still be within the city walls. We can meet whenever we want. Between people—not just master and apprentice, even father and daughter—there comes a time to part. No one can be kept forever. It’s just… I’ll miss you. After all these years by my side, I’ve come to see you and Xiazhi as my own children.”
Hearing this, Dingyi burst into tears. She had been scheming behind his back, but her master had known all along. Her repeated visits to the prince’s residence had gone unrebuked because, from the start, he had never intended to hold her back.
In their trade, apprenticeships came with strict rules—once you entered a master’s tutelage, it was like signing a contract. Before you could strike out on your own, you had to work for the master for years until he recouped his investment. For someone like her, trying to quit midway, the master’s refusal would mean she’d rot there forever.Master was so kind, her heart was a mix of emotions. She left her seat and knelt beside the table, choking back sobs as she said, "I have my reasons... Master, no matter where I go, I’ll never forget I’m your disciple."
"Get up..." Wu Changgeng patted her shoulder. "Between us, there’s no need for this. 'Man seeks higher ground, water flows to lower places'—that’s how it’s always been. Me, I’ve no sons or daughters of my own, and at this age, I don’t ask for much. I just hope you and Xiazhi do well. Shu'er, noble households aren’t like other places. Once you’re in, it’s hard to get out. Get along well with those you serve alongside—they might help you when it counts. When you’re new somewhere, a few harsh words, even a few blows, they don’t mean much. Stay steady, keep your composure, and you’ll take root. A person needs roots, can’t drift like duckweed wherever the wind takes them, understand? You’re not young anymore—it’s time to think for yourself."
She lifted her tear-streaked face, clinging to her master’s leg. "It’s not that I look down on our trade. If anyone speaks ill of what we do, I won’t stand for it either. Master, I have my own reasons for joining the Seventh Prince’s household—I want to go to Changbai Mountain to find my brother. You don’t know, I—"
"I know." Wu Changgeng took a sip of wine. "You forget where your master serves. I’ve been with the Shuntian Prefecture for nearly thirty years. With one look, I can tell what kind of person someone is, what kind of matter they’re involved in. I’ll just ask you one thing—have you thought about how you’ll leave once you’re in the Guard unit?"
Dingyi was stunned. She’d underestimated her master, thinking he only knew she wanted to enter the Prince’s household. Turns out, he even knew her origins. And as for the question he raised—she truly hadn’t considered it. Noble households are hard to enter and even harder to leave. She’d been single-mindedly focused on Changbai Mountain and had overlooked such a crucial detail.
Wu Changgeng glanced at her. "You’re good in every way, just too young, lacking experience—you act without thinking ahead. Of course, you’re still better than Xiazhi. What’s wrong with you two? You seem clever, yet you’re both so thoughtless. Maybe I didn’t teach you well—how did it turn out like this... Well, there’s no other way now. We’ll just have to take it step by step. If you’re set on going, then go. But remember one thing—don’t recklessly claim kinship, especially in front of the Prince. Think about it—you’re a Guard, someone close to him, yet you have brothers who were exiled. What would people think?"
Dingyi even forgot to cry. "Master, you know I’m Wen Lu’s daughter?"
Wu Changgeng turned his gaze to the rafters overhead, crunching on spiced broad beans. "I’ve known for a while. I’ve often thought, for a girl like you, seeing so much blood isn’t good. Now that you’re moving on, I think it’s for the best. 'A tree may wither when moved, but a person thrives.' Staying with me, learning the craft of execution—what use is that for your future? After all, you’re a girl. Managing a household and raising children is the proper path—you can’t spend your whole life running to execution grounds, can you?" He chuckled, downing the wine in his cup in one gulp. "Taking you two on as disciples, it’s like having both a son and a daughter. Later, if you rise in the world, don’t worry about me—I’ll be fine. But if you fall on hard times, remember you have a master in the communal courtyard. No matter when, I’ll never turn you away. Come back to your master, and as long as I have food, you won’t go hungry."Hearing this, Dingyi felt as if she had been soaked in brine, her very heart shriveling. She sobbed loudly, saying, "From now on, I'll treat you as my own father. As long as I make something of myself, I’ll buy you a house and hire maids to serve you."
"Good," Wu Changgeng laughed. "Who knows? A young lady’s prospects are limitless. Find a good husband, and everything will fall into place."
Dingyi wiped her tears and smiled. With her master on her side, she felt free of worries.
When San Qingzi dropped by and saw the scene, he exclaimed, "What’s this act between the two of you? Crying one moment, laughing the next."
Like most proud parents, Wu Changgeng couldn’t resist boasting now that his child had a bright future. "Our Xiaoshu has caught the eye of the Prince. She’s going to serve as a guard in Prince Xian’s residence."
San Qingzi, chewing on a slice of beef, clapped his hands. "That’s wonderful! You’re bringing honor to your master. In our courtyard, we’ve got blade-wielders and cudgel-bearers, but never a guard before. Xiaoshu is really going places!"
Dingyi quickly humbled herself and glanced at her master. "Third Brother, what worries me most about leaving is my master. Please, everyone, look after him for me. I’ll come back to visit whenever I can—I won’t forget your kindness."
San Qingzi sat down on the other side and poured himself a bowl of wine. "We’re neighbors, living together for years. Of course we’ll help if needed. You focus on your duties. When you become a squad leader someday, give my son a leg up—I’ll be bowing to you in gratitude then."
And so, she felt she had settled her past life.
Stepping outside, she stood under the eaves and gazed at the evening sky, where angry clouds piled high. Dragonflies swarmed low in the air, and the alley echoed with the children’s off-key singing: "Old colored glass, fly over here..."
OpenNovel