Love in Red Dust

After that, nothing much happened, and the day passed smoothly. The next day, the convoy set off again, continuing northward.

The land was vast, and the further they traveled, the more the climate seemed to change. Perhaps it was also a matter of time. After a month, they reached Shuangtaizi, where the first hints of autumn were already showing. As they headed northeast toward Shengjing, the weather suddenly turned cold. Wearing just a single layer of clothing was no longer enough to ward off the chill in the mornings and evenings, and when it rained, the damp cold made traveling through the wilderness even more difficult.

Men could grit their teeth and endure, but women couldn’t. Women needed warmth and care; they couldn’t withstand the cold. Riding on horseback all day, with no post stations in sight, eating dry rations when hungry and drinking cold water when thirsty—then add the rain, and even beneath oiled cloaks, their limbs felt frozen. On ordinary days, it was manageable, but if it happened to coincide with her monthly discomfort, for Dingyi, it was nothing short of suffering.

Lifting the edge of her bamboo hat, she looked ahead. The sky was gray, and so was the ground. It had been raining for nearly seven days straight, with no sign of clearing. That morning, she had felt a faint pain in her lower abdomen—not severe, just a fleeting twinge, but the lingering ache afterward gradually spread to her waist and back. She was anxious. She knew her own body well. Every time, it was like this—not the immediate arrival of her monthly cycle, but a warning that the days were approaching.

But she couldn’t speak up. She had to endure the discomfort silently. She asked the guard beside her and learned that, according to the map, they were still twenty li from the temporary palace. If they hurried, they could make it by midday.

Fortunately, they were close. She took a deep breath. This time, they wouldn’t be staying at a post station. Shengjing had an imperial city built by Emperor Gao, modeled after the Forbidden City, though smaller in scale. During major ceremonies, the temporary palace served as lodging for the Emperor and the Imperial Clan, though the descendants of the Yuwen family simply called it the "old residence." With plenty of rooms, there was no need to squeeze in with others, making it easier to tend to personal matters. Encouraged by this prospect, Dingyi rallied her spirits. The convoy pressed on through the rain and, as expected, arrived by evening.

Shengjing had a dedicated garrison commander, the Angbang Zhangjing, who had been waiting at the city gate since learning of the Prince’s arrival. When the party approached, he didn’t even bother with an umbrella—he knelt straight on the stone-paved "street to heaven" and kowtowed. "Greetings to Prince Xian, greetings to my master."

It turned out this Zhangjing was a Bannerman of the Merchant Banner, and Prince Chun Hongce was the banner’s commander—his rightful master from the Southern Hunting Park. A servant welcoming his master, his loyalty burned so fiercely it could move heaven and earth. A high-ranking official of the second grade, he knelt with tears in his eyes, refusing to rise. Crawling forward on his knees, he clung to Hongce’s legs and wailed, "Master, you’ve had a hard journey. I received word half a month ago and wanted to ride fifty li out of the city to welcome you, but His Majesty’s orders forbade the garrison commander from leaving his post without permission. I had no choice but to kneel here at the city gate to greet you. Master… I’ve missed you day and night. All these years stationed away, I’ve kept your household teachings in mind, never daring to slacken. Now that you’re here, I’ve examined myself and reflected—at least I haven’t shamed you. That’s the only reason I dare to kowtow before you now."

Hongce patted his shoulder. "Rise. I know your devotion. Though I haven’t come in a long time, I’ve often heard reports of your achievements in safeguarding this region. It brings me comfort."

The Zhangjing wiped his tears and rose to his feet, thanking him. "The weather has been poor lately—my Prince and master have had to travel in the rain. I’ve already sent word ahead. Wei Kaitai has prepared the palace quarters for you. Once you’ve washed and rested, I’ll come to massage your legs, Master…""Kang Sanbao, are you done with your fawning? I know you're close to your master, but spare me your mother's nonsense. Focus on preparing the wine, dishes, and entertainment, and make sure everything is properly arranged for the others below. Whether you're massaging your master's legs or back, or even sharing his bed, that's your own business—sort it out behind closed doors with your master." Hongtao was a straightforward man who couldn't stand such affected displays of intimacy. What was the point of a grown man acting like a neglected young wife? As the commander of the Feather Banner, he had few high-ranking officials under him—was this some kind of taunt about his lack of manpower? He snorted and turned to call out, "Xiaoshu! Bring Fenger and Yingying to my palace. I'm bored—come and amuse me."

Kang Sanbao was dumbfounded. A prince bringing women along on an imperial mission was utterly improper. Scolded, he dared not argue and could only murmur his assent. Then he saw a short guard respond with a crisp "Aye!" and hurry forward, hunched over, carrying two birdcages. Only then did he realize—Fenger and Yingying weren't women at all, but birds!

The chief eunuch of the temporary palace paced back and forth at the main gate. Spotting the approaching entourage from afar, he practically flew down the steps, swept his sleeves with a flourish, and bowed deeply, his face blooming into a smile as he raised his head. "This humble servant has been waiting forever—finally, the two lords have arrived! This servant, Wei Kaitai, pays his respects to the princes."

The rules of the temporary palace mirrored those of the capital, with each hall and courtyard assigned specific eunuchs and maids for service. Among them was a chief overseer—the grand steward of the temporary palace. Here, the man in charge was Wei Kaitai, who led a group of junior eunuchs in performing the ceremonial greetings. Once the formalities were complete, the masters retired to their respective quarters, the guards to their barracks, all guided separately by the eunuchs to their designated lodgings.

Most of the palace buildings in the temporary residence were in a state of disuse. Having once housed the late Emperor and his consorts, those halls remained untouched even when vacant. When imperial princes stayed, they typically occupied the side halls on the eastern or western routes. Dingyi, tending to Seventh Lord's birds, followed him into the inner gardens. Though surrounded by beautiful flowers and scenery, he couldn't appreciate them—his body ailed, likely from the accumulated chill since leaving the capital, now flaring up with unusual severity, the pain so intense he could barely stand straight. Staggering into Seventh Lord's Wende Hall, he saw the prince seated grandly on the throne, taking his lark and whistling to it cheerfully.

Drenched in sweat from the pain, Dingyi could bear it no longer. Peeking at Seventh Lord, he ventured softly, "Master, you must be weary from the journey. Perhaps you should rest awhile?"

Seventh Lord grunted. "Not tired."

Disappointed, Dingyi pressed, "Then won't you change your robes? Look, they're damp."

"Why fuss over such trifles? A little dampness will dry on its own." Seventh Lord was the type who cared little for appearances, wholly absorbed in his amusements. A bit of grime didn't bother him. Clicking his tongue, he remarked, "Fenger's plumage doesn't look as vibrant as before. Don't just feed her refined grains—give her some coarse food too. Tell the kitchen to prepare a dish of minced chicken with fermented soybeans."

Hesitantly, Dingyi asked, "Is that for you to eat, Master?"Seventh Lord was staring at the bird when he finally turned his head at the words. "You're the one eating that! So short-sighted, you'd mistreat my bird..." Then noticing his pale, ghostly face, he asked curiously, "What's wrong? Possessed? Look at your complexion!"

He instinctively wiped his face. "Reporting to the master, I'm not feeling well."

Seventh Lord eyed his hunched posture and scoffed, "Always full of tricks, aren't you? Stomachache? How delicate—more so than me. Fine, go to the outhouse. I'll have someone send the bird to you later. Don't go far. Tell Wei Kaitai to clear a room in the West Seventh Chamber for you, so I don't have to trouble myself going back and forth to see the bird."

His face flushed as he awkwardly acknowledged with a "zhe," retreating backward out of the hall. His calves cramped, making it hard to move. What to do? Find a place quickly to tidy up and rest! Clutching his stomach, he shuffled forward when a eunuch came to guide him. Taking one look, the eunuch exclaimed, "Oh dear, stomach trouble? Should we fetch the imperial physician?"

He shook his head—no examination. It was just cold-damp stagnation and weak qi-blood, a woman's pulse. A check-up would expose him. "Please, honored elder, arrange a nearby room for me. I tend to Seventh Lord's bird and must be ready at his call."

The eunuch agreed and led him to a side chamber. Opening the door, he said, "This used to be the servants' quarters of Jiqing Palace. After the master took the consorts to the Forbidden City, half the maids were dismissed, leaving these rooms empty. You'll stay here—close to Seventh Lord's residence, convenient."

He thanked him and asked where Twelfth Master lived. The eunuch pointed west. "Over there at Jisi Studio." Then, bending to observe his pallor, asked, "Will you be alright? There's a chamber pot inside. I'll bring some tea—a hot sip might help." As he backed out, he suddenly remembered something and returned, leaning in to say, "Actually, a few sips of liquor might work better. Can you drink? I've got an aged brew—I'll bring you a pot. Warm your body with it. Maybe you caught a chill on the road—sweating it out could help."

Dingyi quickly expressed gratitude. "You're too kind, honored elder."

The eunuch waved it off. "It's nothing. We rarely see visitors from the capital here—guests are welcome. Just don't mind the poor quality. On our wages, we can't afford fine liquor, just small comforts to ease the fatigue."

After exchanging pleasantries and seeing him off, Dingyi settled in and lay down on the kang. The season was wrong—the kang was cold, sending chills up his feet as he stretched out. Shivering, he curled up tightly. Traveling brought many inconveniences. Back in Beijing, a hot-water bottle might have eased the pain, but here he had no choice but to endure.

He sighed miserably, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen. The waves of cramping pain were unfamiliar. Women had their taboos—he'd always thought himself tough, but when illness struck, he was powerless.

Soon the eunuch returned with a copper kettle, pouring warmed liquor into a cup. The heated aged brew released a rich, comforting aroma, reminding him of the sweet fermented rice he made in summer."Come on, have a drink. It cures illness and strengthens the body if you're healthy." The eunuch laughed heartily, speaking like a true connoisseur of alcohol. He handed the cup forward, saying, "This wine isn't too strong—it's sweet. Don't breathe through it; down it in one go and sleep it off. You'll feel better after waking up. For folks like us, it's like a miracle cure. Drink it for colds, fevers, or stomachaches—it really works. Hey, are you Seventh Lord's bird keeper? You look more like a guard..."

The wine was surprisingly smooth. Dingyi followed his advice and drank it all in small sips. Wiping her mouth afterward, she smiled and said, "I'm both a guard and a bird keeper, handling two roles at once. Thank you so much today. Once I recover, I’ll have to bow deeply to you."

The eunuch waved a hand dismissively. "No need for thanks. Life’s hard for all of us. If we don’t look out for each other, who will? Anyway, I’ve got duties to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. Rest well!"

Dingyi tapped the edge of the kang bed. "I can’t see you out, but take care."

The eunuch left with his head bowed. She lay back down as the wine spread warmth through her stomach. Whether it actually helped was unclear, but at least she felt a bit warmer. Dingyi had a nickname—"Half-a-Sip Lightweight"—because she couldn’t handle alcohol; even a little would get her drunk. This time, though, she had no choice. Seventh Lord already knew she was sick, so even if she got tipsy, it wouldn’t matter. With no reservations, she downed the cup in one go, ensuring she’d be thoroughly drunk. So be it—as long as she felt better, she couldn’t care less.

She pulled the quilt over her head and fell asleep instantly as the alcohol took effect, her eyelids too heavy to open. Someone seemed to enter the room, but in her haze, she could only make out a tall, upright figure silhouetted against the dim light. The visitor sat on the edge of her bed.

"Who’s there?" she mumbled, her body limp, her tongue sluggish. The person didn’t answer but reached into her blanket. She pushed weakly at the intrusion, muttering, "What are you groping for?"

In truth, they weren’t groping—they simply found her hand, pulled it out, and rested three warm fingers on her wrist.

They were taking her pulse. She didn’t want it and tried to pull away, but the person finally spoke: "Don’t move."

Her mind was foggy, but she recognized the voice—Twelfth Master. Her initial wariness faded, and she relaxed, draping her other arm over her forehead as she murmured, "Sorry to worry you again. I’m fine, just... not well." Her voice cracked slightly. "I’ve never... really been well."

Hongce glanced at her but said nothing. His temperament differed from the Emperor Emeritus, but his dedication to medicine was inherited. The Emperor Emeritus had studied medicine to treat the Crown Prince of Dongli, while Hongce had done so for his own ears. Though his efforts had yielded no improvement, one thing came of it—his prolonged ailments had made him a decent physician, at least better than the street doctors with their ringing bells.

For men, the left pulse reveals deeper conditions; for women, the right. A weak, slow pulse indicated deficiency and cold. After taking her pulse, he sat in silence for a long time. Judging gender by pulse alone was unreliable, but his doubts only grew, becoming harder to suppress.The person on the kang had pulled the quilt up high, covering everything below the lips. After a moment's thought, he reached out and uncovered it. The guard's uniform had a detachable collar, stiffened with lining and fastened with hooks—commonly called an "ox tongue." He stared at that dark blue collar for a long time. The person was drunk—wasn't this taking advantage of them? If he didn't undo the collar, this ambiguity would leave him uncertain, unsure how to treat them in the future.

Never had he felt so nervous, his heart pounding uncontrollably. All it would take was unhooking the clasp to know the truth. An eighteen-year-old man, even if not fully grown, should have an Adam's apple. The stiff collar usually covered the entire neck, but now that they were lying flat, even the slightest protrusion would be enough.

He took several deep breaths, his fingertips trembling slightly. As he reached closer, the person on the kang stirred uneasily, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed. A closer look nearly made him forget his original purpose.

If it was a man, undoing the collar shouldn’t matter. If it was a woman… he had already made up his mind—he’d take responsibility.

Gritting his teeth, he touched the clasp, but before he could undo it, his hand was seized. Startled, he realized the person on the kang was awake, staring at him with piercing eyes, expressionless. Hongce immediately felt embarrassed, as if caught red-handed. Just as he was scrambling for an excuse, Mu Xiaoshu pulled his arm over, flipped it, and pressed the back of his hand against their own burning cheek.

"Ah, so cool," they murmured, tilting their head with a silly grin. "Twelfth Master, you're here?" They scooted inward, patting the edge of the kang. "Come, lie down and look at the stars."

Lie down and look at the stars? They must be thoroughly drunk—had they already forgotten what just happened? Hongce relaxed, only to realize the skin beneath his hand was smoother than he’d imagined. How remarkable that wind and hardship hadn’t roughened it! Without thinking, he turned his wrist, letting his fingertips brush slowly over their cheek. "I heard you were sick," he murmured. "How are you feeling now? Better?"

They hummed, nuzzling his hand like a cat. "Much better, doesn’t hurt anymore. I had a little wine—given by the elder here… tasted good." Their eyes grew drowsy again as they gestured toward the table. "See if there’s any left, pour me another cup… let’s toast."

He chuckled helplessly. At least they weren’t a rowdy drunk, just a bit muddled. More wine was out of the question. Turning, he called out to Sha Tong outside the door, "Bring some hot tea—" Then reconsidered. "Actually, boil two eggs with extra brown sugar."

Sha Tong gaped. Brown sugar poached eggs? As if they were postpartum? Clearly, their master had no idea how to care for someone, but he dared not comment. "Yes," he replied promptly and hurried off.

Hongce turned back, speaking softly, "It’s being taken care of. Hold on a little longer. No more wine—you’ll turn into a fool."

They let out a long sigh. "When will we ever reach Changbai Mountain… The weather’s awful, pouring endlessly. All this rain is delaying us."

They seemed particularly fixated on Changbai Mountain. Hongce tried probing, "A delay of half a month at most. Do you know someone there? Why are you so eager to go?"His lips trembled twice without making a sound. He closed his eyes, and tears began to fall. This seemed to confirm his suspicions, but then he slowly said, "No... I'm just tired of all this traveling. The sooner we reach Changbai Mountain, the sooner we can head to Ningguta and finish this assignment... Then we can go home. I... I want to find my master."

After all, he was still a child—being away from home for so long made him miss it dearly. The other man said, "I told you not to come along, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you know how hard it is?"

"The thoughts in my heart... I can't say them. Speaking them would be a sin." He swayed unsteadily as he pushed himself up, staring blankly for a long moment before his lips quivered again, and he burst into tears. He shook his head from side to side, as if presenting himself, then leaned his face closer. "Twelfth Master, look at my face—doesn’t it look like it belongs to someone born under bitter herbs?" After saying this, he let out a couple of muffled sobs before suddenly burying himself in the other man’s chest, his voice buzzing against his chest—though, sadly, the other couldn’t see him.

Author's Note:

Het'an: The living quarters of palace maids and eunuchs during the Qing Dynasty, also referred to as tatami.