Everyone was startled and quickly straightened their sleeves to kowtow respectfully, "Twelfth Master."
This man, always gentle and refined, had never raised his voice even to servants. But now, his roar left everyone stunned. He strode over, his face stern and eyes icy. "You are the Prince's guards, the guards assigned to protect your master. Gathering in a rowdy crowd—have you no regard for the law? With so many eyes watching, outsiders might think they’ve stumbled into a den of debauchery. Do you admit your guilt?"
No one had ever seen him like this. The roughhousing among the men had started as a joke, and no one took it seriously at first. But it had spiraled out of control, catching the attention of their superiors—now it was a real problem. After all, he was a Descendant of the Dragon. When he was in good spirits, everything was fine, but when displeased, he was a Prince—a Prince of the First Rank, no less, higher in rank than their own master. Who would dare provoke him? The instigators dropped to their knees in terror, kowtowing like pounding garlic. "We were reckless and have troubled the Twelfth Master. Our crime is grave. We beg for your punishment."
He cast a disdainful glance at the groveling servants before turning to Xiaoshu. The boy looked pitiful, biting his lip, eyes brimming with tears he dared not shed, swallowing his sobs. To see such a free-spirited person reduced to this state by their torment filled him with fury. Punishing them—dragging them away for a beating with the Military Rods—would be easy, but they weren’t his own servants. Even when beating a dog, one must consider its master. Slowly calming himself, he frowned and said, "I won’t punish you. Your own master will deal with your misconduct. But remember this: discipline is paramount when we’re away from home. Jokes and roughhousing must have limits. Six or seven of you ganging up to strip someone’s clothes, forcing them when they resisted—what kind of behavior is that? Let this be a warning. If I hear of such a thing happening again, you’ll face consequences you won’t like."
The men chorused their assent, rising and retreating to the side with bowed heads. He then shot a glance at Liao Datou. "You’re their Squad leader, yet you led this disgrace. Your crime is unforgivable. Go confess to your master in full detail. How Seventh Lord chooses to deal with you is his decision."
Liao Datou’s face fell. He stole a glance upward—the Twelfth Master’s expression was unyielding, showing no mercy. He cursed those troublemakers inwardly, glaring at them before reluctantly bowing and accepting the order. What else could he do?
As for Dingyi, she was choking back her breath. She knew she couldn’t make a scene here. For a woman, such rough handling was a grave insult to her reputation, but for a man? A touch, a tug—what did it matter?
Her legs trembled inside her trousers, her heart pounding uncontrollably. She felt utterly humiliated. She told herself to be composed—after all, the Twelfth Master had already stood up for her. But the terror of what had just happened was seared into her mind, impossible to dismiss. Over the years, she had endured many hardships, brushing off grievances quickly. But this time, she truly felt despair.
With great effort, she suppressed her panic—she had to handle the present first. From a distance, she cupped her hands toward the Twelfth Master. "Thank you, Prince. I’m fine. It was just a joke among the men, nothing serious..." Her voice wavered, and fearing she might reveal too much, she quickly kowtowed. "This servant will go wash up now. Dinner will be served soon."
"Not so fast," Hongce said. "Bring your clothes and come to my quarters."
She looked up at him in shock, wondering if she had misheard. "Prince... what did you say?"He glanced at her but didn’t repeat himself, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked toward his quarters.
Bring the clothes to his place… Dingyi mulled over those words, her heart in turmoil. At this moment, Qian Chuanzi clicked his tongue in admiration, “Twelfth Master has deep roots, no wonder!”
Dingyi turned her head sharply and glared at him fiercely. If not for his instigation, how could she have been put in such an awkward position? She hated him, wishing she could devour him whole. “There are plenty of ears listening here. Care to repeat that?”
The group immediately looked sheepish. Having just escaped danger, they were still daring to provoke her, playing with their own lives! Liao Datou had suffered enough and growled in a low voice, “Shut your stinking mouths! Think I don’t have enough trouble already? You get your kicks, and I’m the one who pays for it!” Then he turned to her, “Xiaoshu, the brothers were just fooling around, didn’t know when to stop. Don’t take it to heart. But honestly, you’re too sensitive—rare to see someone who can’t take a joke. Such a small matter, and you had to involve Twelfth Master. We’re all under Seventh Prince’s banner—family disputes should stay within the family. Now we’ve made fools of ourselves in front of outsiders. If Twelfth Master asks again, put in a good word for us, will you? After all, he’s the Superintendent Imperial Envoy—we all have to follow his orders.”
They still resented her, blaming her for making a mountain out of a molehill, insisting that grievances should be settled privately. But pushed to this point, how could she back down? If she hadn’t fought back, they would have stripped her bare! Her face burned with humiliation, her grievances choking her. Suffering such a loss, only to be blamed by them—what kind of law was that?
Seeing her expression, Liao Datou knew better than to add fuel to the fire. He sighed heavily and said, “Alright, you heard Twelfth Master’s words. I’ve got to go report to my master and take my punishment. As for you lot—watch yourselves from now on. Some people are broad-minded and can take a joke, others are petty—cross the line, and things get ugly.”
The courtyard was filled with exchanged glances, all directed at Mu Xiaoshu with disapproval. She endured countless dagger-like stares before they spat out “bad luck” and strode away.
Dingyi stood there, wronged and wooden, her limbs weak, unable to take a step. It took a long time before she recovered, touching the collar button—one side had been torn off by them. She wanted to cry but had no tears left. The sky seemed to press down on her, suffocating.
The stationmaster, at least, was kind. He had witnessed everything but, being lowly, couldn’t intervene. Only after the guards had left did he dare approach, murmuring, “Those rascals are downright shameless. Let me see—the Holy Garment is torn… Let them strut around. The Prince will deal with them. If you don’t mind, I can mend it for you?”
His thick accent was a bit hard to follow, but she understood well enough. Dingyi wiped her eyes and said, “No, thank you. Just lend me some needle and thread—I’ll mend it myself.”
The stationmaster agreed and turned to fetch his sewing basket.
When she entered Twelfth Master’s room, he was sitting by the lamp reading. Catching sight of her from the corner of his eye, he set the book down.Dingyi held the clothes under her arm, a needle still pinned to her chest. Once again, someone had come to her rescue today, and this time, she felt more grateful than ever before. She knelt down and kowtowed, saying, "Thank you, Twelfth Master. Time and again, it’s always you who helps me. I don’t know how to repay you. My life has been hard—bullied since childhood, but later, with my master and senior brother protecting me, things were peaceful. Now... I’ve learned how difficult it is to be out in the world alone. Fortunately, there’s you. You’re my savior. Without you, I don’t know what would become of me."
She spoke with a smile, but it was stiff and more painful than tears. In truth, there was no shame in crying when one’s heart ached, but forcing a smile like this only made it all the more heartbreaking. Hongce turned around, resting his hands on his knees, and said, "Get up. I’m not just helping you—I’m also rectifying military discipline. I’ve been observing things along the way, looking for a way to make an example of them, and they walked right into it. Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Your Highness, no," she replied, swaying as she stood up and stepped aside, forcing another smile. "Last time, I said I wouldn’t make you worry about me anymore, but look—just a few days later, I’ve caused trouble again."
What she had said back then, Hongce hadn’t taken to heart at all. Everyone faces hardships—no one can guarantee a smooth life forever. As for worry, it wasn’t exactly worry, just a habit that had become second nature. Whenever he saw her in trouble, he felt an unshakable obligation to step in. Why? Perhaps because once you’ve saved someone’s life, forged a bond of rebirth, you naturally want to see them live safely and soundly for a long time.
But this child truly had it hard—one obstacle after another, even her own colleagues mocked her. Hongce shifted his elbow from the edge of the table, slowly curling his fingers as he said calmly, "This wasn’t your fault. It was entirely their doing—you’ve nothing to blame yourself for. I’ve had water prepared for you. You can wash up here today. But I must also advise you—life outside isn’t as convenient as at home. Don’t take everything too seriously. Harmony is key among colleagues. It might be difficult at first, but in time, you’ll blend in."
Dingyi’s face flushed with humiliation, a mix of wretchedness and sorrow. Even he thought she was being overly sensitive. Maybe to others, it seemed that way, but only she knew the real reasons—yet who could she explain them to? Everyone said she was petty and couldn’t let things go. But what woman could brush off such things unless she were a Face powder from the brothels?
There was no point explaining—it would only make things worse. Still, the Twelfth Master was truly kind. Letting her use the Prince’s quarters to bathe—no wonder Qian Chuanzi and the others had been so snide. When he’d told her earlier to bring her clothes, she’d known what he meant. She’d wanted to refuse, but after some thought, she swallowed her pride and accepted. Wasn’t she in dire straits now? Everywhere was crowded—where could she go to clean up properly? The moment she undressed, she’d be exposed to prying eyes. But if she didn’t wash, after a day’s sweat, the cloth strips on her body had dried and dampened repeatedly. If she spread them out now, they’d probably be crusted with salt. The stickiness was unbearable.
She bowed and murmured an assent. "I know my shortcomings—I’m too difficult, causing trouble for Your Highness. From now on, I’ll try to get along with them. Please don’t worry. Then... I’ll impose on you this time. The thought of washing half-naked in front of them... I just can’t bear it."Hongce had always assumed that those who mingled in the streets and alleys weren’t particularly fastidious. Even the nobles at the Manchu Wrestling grounds would strip off their clothes without hesitation after working up a sweat. This lad, however, lived with meticulous care—perhaps due to his young age. But if one considered it, he would turn eighteen in just over a month. Was that still young?
Ever since their encounter at the execution grounds, their fates had become inexplicably intertwined. As a prince overseeing the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate, he had countless matters demanding his attention. Yet, he still found the energy to spare for this boy—something even he found peculiar. Perhaps it was an unexpected diversion in his otherwise monotonous life. After all, not even his own brothers had ever thought to pick mulberries for him, yet this boy had done so. For that alone, he ought to look out for him more.
He nodded. “Go ahead. By the time you’re done washing, it’ll almost be time for the banquet.”
She acknowledged with a soft “Yes.” Sha Tong, the Twelfth Master’s close attendant, came forward to guide her, gesturing behind him. “Perfect timing—the prince has just finished, and the curtains on the windows haven’t been taken down yet. Look at your luck—you’re soaking up all the prince’s blessings alone.”
This was still referring to the matter of bathing in the same room. Dingyi blushed furiously upon deeper reflection and laughed awkwardly. “I suppose misfortune has turned to fortune for me. I’ve troubled you—thank you.”
Sha Tong merely smiled. “Do you have a towel prepared? What about soap? It wouldn’t be proper to use the prince’s.”
She assured him she had everything, pulling out a bundle from her clothes as they walked. “I’ve prepared everything myself. Borrowing the prince’s quarters is already presumptuous—I wouldn’t dare take advantage further.”
As they headed toward the side chamber, Hongce strolled over to open the western window. The room had been fumigated earlier to ward off midges, leaving a faint, lingering scent of burnt mugwort in the air. It clung to his sleeves, and prolonged exposure made him lightheaded.
The post stations along the official roads were never lively. With their open, unobstructed layout, they stretched in straight lines. Pushing open the window, the last remnants of twilight pierced through the clouds, casting a glow directly onto his face. He shielded his eyes with his hand and turned—just in time to see something fall from Mu Xiaoshu’s arms. One end touched the ground while the other remained attached to his sleeve. It was rolled up, resembling a sweat towel, but as it unfurled, it stretched longer and longer, eventually reaching an estimated five or six feet.
Intrigued, he moved closer for a better look. Just as he approached, the object was swiftly retracted. He stood there, momentarily stunned, unable to see it clearly—only that it was a roll of white cloth about five inches wide. He was no stranger to such items. Every imperial consort kept a length of silk beneath their pillows—not for any particular reason, much like foreign envoys carried poison on their persons. It was a precaution in times of peace, a means to preserve dignity in moments of crisis.
But Mu Xiaoshu was a man. Why would he carry such a thing? What exactly was he planning?
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