Love in Red Dust

Dingyi was as if struck by lightning, his eyes widening in alarm. "Master, I'm a man. I can't be your Concubine."

"I know," said Seventh Lord, clearly disappointed in himself, his eyelids drooping. "I was just speaking offhand. How could I make you a Concubine? It's not like all the women in the world have died."

She rubbed her nose sheepishly. "Then what did you mean by saying that? Just to make fun of me?"

"Not exactly." Seventh Lord paced to the window, pushed it open, and looked out. The bright moon hung high in the sky, casting a desolate shadow over his heart. He said, "Xiaoshu, has your master arranged a marriage for you? How many wives do you plan to take in the future?"

Dingyi hung the bird on its perch and laughed. "This servant is a poor man. How could I support several wives? Wouldn't the whole family starve to death? I just want to find one person to share life's hardships with. If he sells bean juice, I'll sell fried dough rings. As long as we have food to eat and don't quarrel, living in harmony is enough for me."

He smacked his lips thoughtfully. "'One life, one love'—it's a beautiful sentiment, but probably only common folk can achieve it. As for us, the court arranges our marriages. Ever since His Majesty took on a new Empress, he's washed his hands of the matter. The imperial consort selection still happens, but he doesn't keep any for himself, giving them all away instead. I think he's a bit henpecked. Don't be fooled by the Empress's constant smiling face and agreeable demeanor—she's actually quite cunning! She's strict with her sons. The Sixth Prince treats his father like a brother but avoids his mother out of fear. The Empress is fierce—she probably scolds her husband in the bedroom too, which is why the Emperor hasn't even chosen a low-ranking concubine lately. Poor man. There are two types of men in the Yuwen family: those who love one person until death, and those who love none at all. I don't know which type I am." He turned to ask, "Which do you think I resemble?"

The question was too difficult. Dingyi said, "I can't tell. Don't you already have several Princess Consorts?"

"Ah, yes." Seventh Lord seemed a bit confused. "How many was it? Let me count... one second-rank, three third-rank, totaling four. Still missing the head wife. Next spring there'll be another selection, and it'll probably be arranged then. Not just me—Twelfth Master and Thirteenth Master are due as well. The Emperor truly has his hands full—after arranging our generation's marriages, it'll be his sons' turn. Let me tell you, the greatest matchmaker in the world is the Emperor. Whoever he pairs you with, you can't refuse. If he says this one, then it's this one—no bargaining. Don't you think we imperial relatives are pitiful? We have no say in our own marriages. Even if he matches you with a cripple, you'd have to kneel and kowtow in gratitude for his boundless grace."

Listening to him, Dingyi finally understood how these noble marriages were decided. "I always thought lords like you could quietly report to the palace if you fancied a girl, and then an imperial decree would be issued as a formality. So it's not like that?"Seventh Lord said, "Such things do happen. In the palace, you need reliable confidants. For instance, if your mother can speak up for you, or if you have deep connections with the Emperor and Empress, then pulling some strings might get you preferential treatment. But hearts are separated by ribs—sometimes if someone takes a dislike to you, they might assign you a terrible match, ruining your life. Take Empress Kun, the one before the current Empress. She had a younger brother from her maiden family who inherited his father's title, making him a duke of some rank. And what kind of match was arranged for him? A Princess Consort with a lame leg—all because back then, he and the Emperor were rivals for the same bride. Originally, the Empress Dowager had already issued an edict betrothing the Empress to the young duke, but the Emperor snatched her back. In the end, they foisted the Empress’s lame younger sister on him. What kind of arrangement was that? Clearly meant to make life difficult for him."

Dingyi wore an uncertain smile. "Master, these are royal secrets. If you tell me, my ears might get chopped off later."

"Not likely," said Seventh Lord. "It's no secret—everyone knows about it. I just wanted to say that people like us sometimes have no choice. What we desire in our hearts may never come to pass, and living like that is exhausting. But I’m someone who takes things in stride—I don’t obsess over what I can’t have. I choose to live the good parts of life." He seemed to be talking to himself, then glanced at Xiaoshu. "I know how to talk myself out of things. If something’s impossible, I let it go and stop thinking about it. That usually works, but if it’s something that’s gotten into your bones, it’s harder to shake. I wonder if this has gotten into my bones... When we return to the capital, I’ll give you a house. You can marry a good wife and live a stable life."

Dingyi was taken aback. "Master, what’s gotten into you today? Have you been drinking outside?"

Seventh Lord shook his head. "Drinking? I sat down, called for two top courtesans—looked fine from afar, but up close, their faces were creased with wrinkles. Their makeup was caked on, layer upon layer. I sat there worrying that if they spoke, the powder would flake off into my wine cup. Those seasoned professionals even had a special trick—they grew their pinky nails two inches long, scooped wine into them, dipped the cup, and offered it to drink. Scared me half to death... Who knows if they’d been picking their noses earlier? Drinking that would make anyone vomit up yesterday’s dinner."

Dingyi burst into laughter. This lord was too amusing—being around such a cheerful person made all her worries vanish. Covering her mouth, she said, "They wear finger guards, or else the nails would break."

"Still unacceptable! Fingernails are filthy—what a way to insult someone!" He looked at his own hands and made a sound of surprise. "Time for a trim... Shu'er, fetch the grooming box from the high cabinet and trim my nails for me."

When a master orders a servant, it doesn’t matter what the task is—if you’re called, you do it! Dingyi acknowledged with a "Yes, sir," and as she walked, she added, "This servant is clumsy. If I mess up, please don’t blame me."

Seventh Lord said, "Can’t you think positively? Demand better of yourself first. If you always assume you can’t do something, you’ll never rise above the mud in this life."

Dingyi murmured her agreement and brought over the carved rosewood box. Opening it, she saw brass scissors of varying sizes neatly arranged inside, each polished to a shine. Seventh Lord sat in an armchair, and she knelt beside his legs, looking up to ask, "Should I lay out a white cloth to wrap the clippings?""Just go ahead with it. It's not like combing a palace lady's hair—no need for so much fuss." He stretched out his hand. "Watch carefully, don't clip my nails too short."

She pursed her lips in a smile. "I won't. I'm being very careful!"

And so, Seventh Lord leisurely let himself be tended to. Mu Xiaoshu was meticulous, applying just the right amount of pressure. He squinted slightly as she held his hand, tilting her head and focusing intently on the trimming. Seventh Lord closed his eyes again—this was quite nice, more comfortable than drinking outside with courtesans. Watching the world's gaudy, colorful entertainers, yet only one person lingered in his mind. Might as well come back honestly and look at him.

However, the Prince was troubled. What should he do? Hongce was acting strangely. If both brothers fell into the same person's hands, wouldn't that just be adding to the chaos? He knew Twelfth Master was unusually fond of Mu Xiaoshu. At any rate, Hongce was a bachelor, so it wasn’t a big deal. But what about himself? He had a family yet still harbored such worldly desires—utterly improper.

Did this boy have some kind of sorcery? He narrowed his eyes and studied him. Nothing special—just a bit handsome, resilient, and good-tempered. What else was there? A country bumpkin, a rustic, bowing and scraping like a sycophant, lacking backbone and spirit... But that was due to his background, not his fault. Seventh Lord pondered. He couldn’t do anything to him, so perhaps he should look out for him a little more. Promote him, so his descendants could enjoy some benefits and not have to bend their backs like he did.

He was thinking far too thoroughly—Seventh Lord had never considered himself so farsighted before. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes again, creating problems for himself. Of all people, why did he have to fancy a boy? Did he not plan to have sons in the future? Without sons, who would inherit his title? Who would care for him in old age and send him off in death?

It was fine to play around, but he shouldn’t take it seriously—that would only hurt himself. Seventh Lord was good at self-consolation. As Xiaoshu busied herself with his nails, he half-opened his eyes to glance at the bird in the cage and said leisurely, "Later, have Najin bring three thousand taels in silver notes. Go to Twelfth Master’s place and settle all the previous debts. No owing favors—remember that?"

Dingyi held his fingers, muttering to herself that once a debt of affection was incurred, it couldn’t be settled with money. But aloud, she replied, "Understood. I’ll say the dog money is settled too. If Twelfth Master thinks it’s not enough, he can ask you for more, alright?"

Seventh Lord raised an eyebrow. "Don’t cheat me. Two thousand five hundred taels is more than enough for a dog. With that, you could even buy a dozen little actors—enough to stage The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea without missing a role."

Dingyi said, "For The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea , wouldn’t ten people be two extra?"

Seventh Lord clicked his tongue. "Can’t they be assigned roles? One can play Zhang Guolao’s donkey, and the other can be Iron-Crutch Li’s gourd. Problem solved."

She had nothing to say to that and could only agree. "The master’s arrangements are truly reasonable."

A nobleman’s hands felt pleasant to the touch. After trimming the nails, she used a small file to smooth them, back and forth, tidying them up nicely for Seventh Lord. When she finished, he brought his ten fingers together and examined them carefully, noticing a neat arc on each nail. He asked, "What’s this about? Why aren’t they clipped clean?"

Dingyi packed away the box. "Clipping them too short makes handling things inconvenient. Leaving a little looks better."Seventh Lord took his explanation of "looking nice" as perfectly acceptable. As long as it looked good, a little leftover didn't matter. "Alright then," he said, "keep it this way from now on. It's getting late, you may go." Turning to the birdcage, he added, "Take the money to Twelfth Master, or else all these birds will be set free tomorrow."

Dingyi hesitated, mouth half-open. "Go now? What if he's already asleep?"

"Go even if he's asleep," Seventh Lord said. "Settle today's debts today. Tell Twelfth Master we appreciate his kindness, but we won't trouble him anymore—our household affairs can be handled by ourselves. And remember this: keep your distance from Twelfth Master. You're a servant of Seventh Prince's residence, registered under the Feather Banner, not his Merchant Banner. Once you're in a banner, you acknowledge its lord—not just you, even your sons will be my hereditary servants! Don’t go cozying up to outsiders. Your master has sharp eyes and despises those who can't tell kinship from strangers."

This was drawing a line in the sand—alive, she belonged to Seventh Lord; dead, she’d be his dead servant. Dingyi didn’t dare argue and respectfully assented, backing slowly out of the hall. As she shuffled along the corridor, she ran into steward Najin.

Najin stood leaning against a pillar, sleeves tucked together. Spotting her, he hurried over and peeked toward the hall, whispering, "How did it go? Has His Lordship cooled down yet?"

Dingyi thought back. Seventh Lord had been furious at first, but later it was as if the storm had passed. When she trimmed his nails, he looked perfectly content, with no lingering anger. "It's all settled," she said. "You know how His Lordship is. He just ordered me to collect three thousand taels in silver notes from you to repay the debt."

Najin nodded. "I heard everything outside." He pulled out a roll of dragon-head notes from his sleeve and handed them to her. "Three thousand taels exactly. Keep them safe."

Dingyi took them hesitantly. At this hour, Twelfth Master was likely already asleep, but she didn’t dare delay Seventh Lord’s orders. Fortunately, the palace gates here weren’t as strict as the Forbidden City—this area wasn’t locked at night, and it was just past two moon gates.

Clutching the silver notes, she hurried forward under the glow of an ox-tendon lantern. Entering Twelfth Master’s Jisi Study, she found the halls spacious and quiet, with only the faint light of wind lanterns hanging high under the eaves.

She stopped at the side chamber door and rapped on the window lattice. "Is the chamberlain here?"

A broad shadow stretched across the window paper, then shrank as the door bolt clacked open. Sha Tong stuck his head out. "Xiaoshu? You’re still up this late?"

Dingyi hesitated. "I’m here on Seventh Lord’s orders to see Twelfth Master... It is late, but Seventh Lord insisted it be done today. I wasn’t sure what to do."

Sha Tong finally stepped out, his feet freshly washed, robe tucked into his belt, and trousers rolled up high. Standing in the light, he asked, "So urgent? Is it important?"

"It’s about the birds bought today. Seventh Lord scolded me for troubling Twelfth Master and told me to return the silver notes." She held them out. "What should I do? Could you take them and present them to Twelfth Master tomorrow morning?"Sha Tong shook his head and refused. "Settling accounts between brothers is no simple matter. If I accept this, the master will surely reprimand me later." As he spoke, he headed toward the main hall. "The lights are still on—likely reading. Why don't you wait a moment? Let me go in and check. If he hasn't retired yet, I'll pass on your message. You can enter once the Prince summons you."

Dingyi smiled and clasped his hands in gratitude. "Thank you, Anda. I feel terrible troubling you so late at night."

Sha Tong waved it off, straightened his attire, and approached the hall doors. He cracked them open slightly before slipping inside.

Dingyi waited quietly under the eaves. The night wind carried a biting chill, seeping in through his collar and sleeves. He tightened his robe around himself, pondering how to broach the subject with the Twelfth Master. As Sha Tong had said, when brothers reached the point of settling accounts openly, even good relations could turn sour. Just as he was wrestling with uncertainty, the hall doors opened again. Sha Tong stood at the threshold and called out to Xiaoshu, "The Prince was about to retire but has a moment now. He bids you enter and speak."