Dingyi settled into the Seventh Prince's residence, bringing along her birds. The work was light and easy. A corner of the garden was designated as an aviary, and to shield the birds from the heat, a sunshade was erected. Dozens of birdcages were hung in staggered rows, housing parrots, yellow birds, and indigo buntings, among others. Dingyi sat on a spring stool beneath them, sewing and altering a riding jacket, the melodious chirping of birds overhead and the cool breeze wafting through the hall making her days unexpectedly pleasant. But comfort was not a lasting state—they were to set off the next day, and her heart was a mix of tension and anticipation. Twelve years had passed since the Wen family's downfall, and in those years, she had endured much on her own. Yet, what awaited in Changbai Mountain remained unknown. She could only hope her three brothers were safe and that the Twelfth Master would overturn her father’s unjust case—if nothing else, allowing the exiled to return to Beijing. Even fallen leaves return to their roots. Once back, she could tend to her parents’ graves during Qingming and Lidong.
She shook out the altered robe and held it up to herself—the length was just right. After changing in the barrel-shaped room, she stepped out and peered into the water vat. The reflection showed a face with bright, expressive eyes, a straight nose, and a faint dimple appearing when she smiled. Indeed, clothes make the man—the guard’s uniform was far superior to the yamen’s official garb. The latter was uniformly black with a row of bright red trims along the lapels, which faded indistinctly after repeated washing. The Prince’s guards wore dark blue uniforms with satin lapels and arrow sleeves—understated yet neat and tidy. Upon closer inspection, there was even embroidery on the shoulders. She hadn’t worn embroidered clothes since leaving Sanhe, and even in men’s attire, she found it quite striking.
Adjusting her sleeves and belt, she turned to check her reflection from behind when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone approaching from the side path. The small birdcage the Seventh Prince had ordered was ready, and he carried it in his palm, whistling as he strolled leisurely under the shade of the trees.
The Prince approached and scrutinized her. "Life in the Prince’s residence suits you—cleaned up, you’re almost presentable." Then, as if tossing beef to a dog, he flung the birdcage toward her. "Take a look—woven with gold wire, a single cage, no food or water containers." He sauntered over to select birds, pointing at a crested myna. "This one’s coming. Clever little thing, mimics anything. And that red bird—I rely on it to get me out of bed."
Dingyi looked down at the two cages, exquisitely crafted and no larger than a fist, just enough space for the birds to turn around. The two chosen ones were unlucky, but she would do her best to care for them—whether they survived would depend on their fate.
She responded with a respectful "Aye." "This servant has prepared small blankets. If necessary, I can wrap them up or keep them warm with a hand warmer. But if it’s too cold, what if the birds refuse to sing?"
The Prince’s gaze was full of disdain. "That’s your problem. If I knew, would I need you to tend to them?"
Dingyi choked back a retort and bowed her head. "This servant understands. Master, when do we depart tomorrow?"
The Prince scratched his ear. "The Twelfth Master is strict—roll call at mao hour, and we set off three quarters later. Listen to those seasonal birds—‘Summer heat, summer heat’… enough to drive a man mad."Seventh Lord was referring to a type of small green cicada called "futian'er," named for its distinctive summer call. Dingyi knew he was in a foul mood—this playboy bristled at the mere thought of official duties. She smiled reassuringly, "Don't be upset. Though the northern assignment will be tough, if you succeed, you'll render great service to the court. His Majesty might even promote you further! Imagine becoming an Iron-Cap Prince, with your little heir inheriting the title for generations—how splendid!"
"Easy for them to enjoy while I suffer as their father," the Seventh Prince retorted, stiffening his neck. "If our ancestors' descendants want the throne, let them fight for it themselves. I'm content with my princely title. Even if offered a Prince of the First Rank like Old Twelve—with his mutilated ears—plus a million taels of gold, I'd refuse." He sat on the carved railing of the arbor, hands braced, and asked pointedly, "You're close with Twelfth Master, visiting often. Has he said anything about me?"
Dingyi carefully placed watered clay pots into the birdcages—some fastidious birds needed multiple baths in this heat. Turning at his question, she replied, "Not at all. You overestimate me. Twelfth Master wouldn't share his thoughts with a servant. As brothers, you understand him better than I do. Gossiping isn't gentlemanly conduct. Besides, what fault could anyone find in you? I used to think you unapproachable, but you're truly kindhearted—straightforward without pretense, your character beyond reproach."
The rascal certainly knew how to flatter. Seventh Lord brightened. "You've got it right. Our elders were shrewd with eighteen schemes apiece. Me? Six out of seven wits intact—no wonder they say each generation declines. But so what? I'm content. If everyone were brilliant emperor material, the world would descend into chaos. Better to be like me—ambitionless, eating three meals and sleeping soundly, living peacefully."
These Descendants of the Dragon were no fools. Seventh Lord knew standing out invited trouble, preferring instead a reputation for mediocrity that kept him off the court's radar.
Dingyi bowed slightly. "Your insight is rare—few truly see beyond fame and fortune."
His phoenix eyes slanted her way. "Indeed. Even you seek advancement, let alone those steeped in wealth." Rising to stretch, he muttered, "I must bid farewell to our Dowager Consort," and departed without another word.
Like a sudden gust, the prince was gone. Dingyi bowed respectfully. While princes took familial leave, she had only her master and senior brother. Just as she thought herself free, a gatekeeper announced her father's arrival. Her head throbbed—the wet nurse's husband had impeccable timing. One day later and she'd have escaped his monthly demands.
She could ignore him—he'd never dare make a scene at the princely residence. Yet reconsidering, avoidance wasn't an option. Having come this far, she couldn't risk failure. Money now mattered less than ensuring an unimpeded departure. Buying peace was wiser than letting him expose Mu Xiaoshu as Wen Lu's orphan—a disaster of catastrophic proportions.She tucked a couple of broken silver pieces into her sleeve pocket and headed out the side gate to meet him. Mu Liansheng had a dark complexion, and after half a summer, it had turned as black as the bottom of a pot. A farmer through and through, though he spent his time mooching around, he still planted seedlings and melons in the spring. By summer, he’d harvest the melons and haul them to the market, selling them whole or sliced—a straightforward way to earn money. Despite his simple, honest appearance, he wasn’t as straightforward as he seemed and could be downright unreasonable. Dingyi had her ways of dealing with him—you had to be tougher than he was, curse him out, then hand over the money. A slap followed by a sweet date—that’s how it had always been.
She stepped forward and greeted him, "Uncle, you’re here?"
Mu Liansheng gave a noncommittal grunt, eyeing her attire up and down. "Yeah, if I didn’t come, I wouldn’t even find you. Looks like you’ve moved up in the world, huh? Got yourself a salary now, when’s payday?"
She replied patiently, "I only started yesterday. Even if there’s a salary, it’s not time to collect yet."
"Playing poor with me, are you? I haven’t been to the city in two months, and this is how you greet me?" He coughed. "Actually, I’m not here to ask for money. You grew up in our household, after all. Now that I’m getting old and can’t work anymore, I’m counting on you to support me! The family’s land is under the Captain’s watch, and it can’t just lie fallow. The melon seedlings have been pulled up—it’s time to plant wheat and sorghum. Go back, finish the work, then come back."
Dingyi knew he was scheming and kept her patience. "I’m a Guard in the Prince’s residence now. I can’t just leave whenever I want. You’re putting me in a tough spot with this idea."
"You’re not even registered under the banner, not a bondservant born into the Prince’s household. Quitting the job is no big deal—nothing unreasonable about it."
Beating around the bush, he always circled back to the same old topic, just to remind her of her origins. Her expression darkened as she crossed her arms. "Can you stop messing around with me? This is the Prince’s residence, not the Dingxing market. If you’ve got business, say it. If not, I’m going back—there’s a pile of work waiting for me."
"Hey!" Mu Liansheng raised his voice. "I raised you all these years, and now you’re throwing your weight around just because I ask you to do a little work. What’s so special about the Prince’s residence? Even they have to be reasonable! You’re my godson—I’m disciplining my child, who’s got a problem with that?"
There it was—the unreasonable tantrum. That’s why she couldn’t give him the money now. If she handed it over too easily, he’d just keep extorting her. She had to let him vent like a fever breaking, let all the pustules burst before she could quell his momentum. Dingyi said, "Stop shouting. I lived in your house for less than six years, and in that time, you’ve taken bits and pieces from me—at least seven or eight taels of silver. How you treated me when I was little, you know best. I remember waiting by the stove for my godmother to make me pancakes, and you slapped me so hard you knocked out a tooth. Did I ever hold that against you? People should know their limits. Nobody owes anybody. I’m still grateful to you—if you’re starving and I’ve got something, I won’t let you go hungry. But you can’t keep making unreasonable demands. If this gets out, it won’t sound good for anyone."
Mu Liansheng smirked. "Oh, so you’re worried about it sounding bad? What’s so bad about it? Let me ask you—when you entered the Prince’s residence, how did you report your household registration? If the Prince knew your background, would he even let you in?"Dingyi finally lost her temper. "If you're going to be like this, I won't give you a single coin. I'm already at rock bottom—what does it matter? If someone asks how you knew, what will you say? You raised me all these years. If I go down, you'll be guilty of harboring and conspiracy!" Having said her piece, she turned to leave. Mu Liansheng was dumbfounded, left standing there unsure how to respond. After a few steps, she glanced back. The timing was about right—any more would be overdoing it—so she turned around again. With a sigh, she said, "You've had little income these past two years; it hasn't been easy. I didn't mean to argue with you, just to let you know I'm not a child anymore. Your mix of deception and intimidation doesn't work on me." She pulled out some loose silver and handed it over. "This is all I have. There haven't been many Red errands lately, so no one's slipped me bribes for favors. Take it—it's enough for two sacks of flour. Don't say it's too little."
Before Mu Liansheng could reply, she turned and disappeared through the moon gate.
He weighed the silver in his palm—three or four qian, barely enough to buy him a cricket! Still fuming from the girl's earlier dressing-down, Mu Liansheng spat in disgust and ground his teeth. "Fine, you've got nerve. We'll see who has the last laugh!" Pocketing the silver, he stomped off, cursing under his breath.
Author's note: Dingxing stalls: stalls where people from Dingxing sold secondhand goods in the old days.
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