Dingyi was pressed down so hard she couldn't straighten up. Struggling to lift her head, she saw it was another prince who had come with the group who spoke.
This prince had a more pleasing appearance than the Seventh Prince. While the Seventh Prince wore an air of arrogance, this one didn't look domineering at all—his brows and eyes carried a gentle humility. Some people's features only look good when combined together, but appear unremarkable when separated. He was different. She'd often heard that the Yuwen family produced beauties, and she'd assumed it referred only to women. Apparently not. Nobles and high officials, well-nurtured as they were, stood worlds apart from the common folk around her. Her family had fallen into ruin when she was young, so she hadn't read many books, but in her spare time, she loved browsing bookstalls for poetry collections. A phrase came to mind that suited him perfectly: "A mind nourished by poetry and books radiates elegance." He must be a learned man, and learning naturally cultivated that composed grace. Setting aside old grudges, at this moment Dingyi felt deeply grateful to him. Regardless, the fact that he spoke up for her showed he was at least more benevolent than the Seventh Prince.
As for the Seventh Prince Hongtao, she'd occasionally heard him mentioned in casual conversations at the yamen. They said he had a terrible temper, nitpicking over everything—a complete waste of the title Prince Xian.
"You don't know the full story," the Seventh Prince said impatiently. "There's no point explaining it to you."
"I've asked the subordinates. From what I see, it's nothing too serious. Since Anling Ba Wu has already been executed, there's no need to dwell on past matters." The kind-hearted prince glanced at her. "In my opinion, she shouldn't be killed—she ought to be rewarded instead."
The Seventh Prince frowned at this. "I know what you mean, but she defied my will."
"The entire court is avoiding this matter, and it's already passed without incident. Yet at the last moment, you're getting yourself stained, letting people say you had ties with Anling Ba Wu. How would that sound if it reached the Emperor's ears?" He turned slightly and lifted his chin. "Release her."
The guards were all bondservants of the banner. When their master's brother gave an order, they dared not disobey—but neither did they dare fully comply. They loosened their grip hesitantly, watching Hongtao's expression. Hongtao had spoken in a fit of anger earlier, but upon reflection, he realized it was indeed inappropriate. Crushing an ant like her was nothing, but the real issue was how the news might spread and harm his own standing. Once he weighed the pros and cons, his fury subsided, and he decided to climb down from his high horse.
"Didn't you hear the Twelfth Master's words?" He waved dismissively to signal her release, but letting her off scot-free was too lenient. With a cold glare, he added, "Today, you're lucky. If not for the Twelfth Master pleading for you, I wouldn't just take your life—I'd break your arms and legs. Remember this well. If you cross me again, watch your hide!"
Dingyi had broken out in a cold sweat earlier. When the guards released her, it felt like she'd narrowly escaped the gates of the underworld—her legs still weak with lingering fear. Once she steadied herself, she bowed deeply. "This humble one will remember. Next time I see Your Highness, I'll serve you properly." As the prince moved toward his palanquin, she hurried forward to lift the curtain. "The weather is hot—Your Highness has endured much hardship... Safe travels."
Just like that, the Seventh Prince's fingers loosened enough for her to escape death. Turning back, she looked at the Twelfth Master again. The sunlight glinted off the Walking Dragon embroidered on his shoulder—the dragon's head and four claws standing out boldly, his figure as towering as a mountain.He didn’t seem to expect her polite remarks. Once the matter was settled, he stepped over the carrying poles and entered the sedan chair. Though hesitant, Dingyi shuffled over and called out, “Prince,” then dropped into a deep bow on the spot. “Today, thanks to Your Highness, this humble one managed to keep my life. Your great kindness is something I will never forget. Should the Prince ever have any orders in the future, I would gladly lay down my life to repay this debt of gratitude.”
She rambled on, but strangely, Prince Chun acted as though he hadn’t heard her. Once seated, his expression remained unchanged. The bamboo-woven wattle fence of the sedan allowed a breeze to pass through, making it cool for summer travel. The small curtain at the window fluttered in the wind, casting scattered light on his face and figure—solemn and dignified, impossible to look away from.
A prince was a prince after all; his imposing demeanor was innate. Saving you didn’t mean he was willing to engage with you. Having been brushed off, she awkwardly retreated to the side as the sedan was hoisted onto the bearers’ shoulders. It was one of his close attendants who responded to her instead. “The Prince acknowledges your words. Be more careful in the future—he may save you once, but not a second time.”
She repeatedly assented, bowing deeply like a shrimp. “Farewell, Your Highness.”
The imperial guards marched down the earthen road, stirring up clouds of dust as their thunderous footsteps faded into the distance. Only then did she straighten up. Her gaze followed them, catching only a glimpse of the azure swallow designs atop the sedan—a sudden breath of purity in this blood-soaked place, rare yet utterly out of place.
Having narrowly escaped death, she left the others in the yamen dumbstruck, watching from afar but not daring to approach. It wasn’t until the prince and his guards had turned the corner that they crowded around her, necks hunched and tongues clicking. “You’ve got the luck of the devil, kid. Go tell your master when you get back—have a bowl of noodles tonight. You’ve cheated death and gained decades more to live.”
She exhaled deeply, suddenly feeling the world spin. Wiping the sweat from her face, she muttered, “Scared me half to death…” Before she could finish, her legs gave way.
The group gasped—apparently, the heat and the shock had combined to give her heatstroke. They hastily carried her into Henian Hall, laying her on a rattan couch. They wrung out cold towels to wipe her face, fanned her, and forced a vinegar-infused tea down her throat. After much fuss, she finally came around. Still fixated on the execution ground, she weakly pointed outside. “I haven’t finished my work yet!”
Several people quickly held her down. “It’s already done. Stay still—you’ve just come back from the dead; can’t you catch your breath? That little bit of work was wrapped up in no time. If we’d left it any longer, the flies would’ve taken over, and Henian Hall wouldn’t be able to do business.”
Relaxing, she lay back again, staring blankly at the ceiling. The earlier ordeal had stirred up memories like a flood in the kitchen—every sweet and sour thing came rushing back. Having lived through it, she realized how hard life truly was. She’d met a kind soul this time, but if that Twelfth Master had stood by indifferently, she’d be joining her parents in the afterlife by now. Truth be told, she wasn’t afraid of death—the moment itself was painful, but once past, it was a relief. Honestly, dying might’ve been better than living this half-existence, neither man nor woman. If not for the fact that her usual companions knew she disliked gua sha and hadn’t stripped her clothes during her delirium, her livelihood would’ve been over.
The group marveled at her luck, saying the Twelfth Master was a good man, her guardian angel in this life. For a lowly yamen errand-runner, meeting high officials was rare—like trying to reach the Buddha across eighteen layers of heaven. They’d heard of princes ordering executions, but a prince saving someone? That was unheard of. Zhang Dequan scratched his head and mumbled, “Prince Chun isn’t often seen around here. Heard he just returned from Khalkha?”At the Crane Year Hall, where business thrived and welcomed guests from all directions, the clerks were more in the know. One of them dusted the counter and replied, "Haven’t you heard? Prince Chun’s mother is the Khalkha Noble Consort. Though her rank is high, she’s just a figurehead. The old emperor and the empress dowager’s darling, the Thirteenth Master, is the true heir of two dynasties—their apple of the eye. The other sons? Well, they don’t quite measure up. Prince Chun was enfeoffed as a Beile at thirteen and sent to Khalkha as a local official, where he stayed for over a decade. During that time, the Khalkha Left Wing secretly plotted rebellion, but before they could act, word got out. The Twelfth Master cut them down like wheat under a sickle—swish, swish—wiped them all out. For his merit, he wasn’t exiled anymore. He returned to the capital, was granted the title of Prince of the First Rank—really brought honor to his mother."
Everyone marveled at how adversity had honed his abilities—what a fine man indeed!
The clerk tilted his head and clicked his tongue twice. "What a shame, such a fine lord..."
The crowd pressed him for details, but he just shook his head and kept silent. They cursed him, "Leaving a story half-told is inhuman! Next time your sister gives birth, may she stop halfway!"
"You lot..." The clerk flushed and jabbed a finger at them. "No ivory comes from a dog’s mouth! Fine, I’ll tell you, but you’ll never get to verify it... Prince Chun is hard of hearing! The moon waxes and wanes, and men may be blind, mute, deaf, or lame! But though he can’t hear well, he’s sharp as a tack. As long as you face him when speaking, he’ll reply clearly, sentence by sentence."
Dingyi, who had been lying down, sat up upon hearing this. No wonder he hadn’t responded to her thanks earlier—that was why. Watching someone’s lips and piecing together words in his head must be exhausting. Good men suffer hardships, while the wicked roam free. Take that Seventh Prince, for instance—why couldn’t he be the deaf one?
The crowd lamented, "How did such a fine man end up like this? Could he speak before going deaf?"
"Most likely," the clerk nodded. "If he’d been deaf since childhood, how could he have learned to talk?"
Just as the chatter reached its peak, the Crane Year Hall’s manager walked in—a tall, thin old man with freckles on his cheekbones. His face drooped like a saddlebag on fire as he bellowed at the clerk, "What nonsense are you spouting? Tired of living, are you? That’s a prince you’re talking about, not some neighbor of yours! Wagging your tongue like this will bring trouble to the shop—I’ll tear you apart! As if I didn’t have enough headaches already, now this!"
The manager’s scolding dampened the mood. By chance, Xiazhi arrived with news to pick someone up. He strode in, slapped his thigh, and began scolding, "That damned Yang Er sent me to collect a corpse—scared the life out of me! Trying to fool me? Over my dead body!" He rubbed his face and ears, eyes even glistening with tears. "Sure, we bicker a lot, but if you’d died, I’d have missed you."
The bystanders eagerly embellished the scene, but Dingyi felt embarrassed. Being restrained like that was humiliating—she was a girl, after all, and didn’t want to relive it. She slipped on her shoes and tugged at Xiazhi, smiling. "It’s fine now, no need to fuss. Let’s go back, shixiong. I need to let Master know I’m safe." She cupped her hands toward the crowd. "Thank you all for your trouble. My shixiong will host a feast at Little Immortal’s Abode to thank everyone—do join us."
Xiazhi blinked. "When did I agree to that?""That's settled then, see you later." She dragged Xiazhi out the door, muttering complaints, "Aren't I your junior brother? I got my life back for free—you owe me some comfort after that scare."
Xiazhi thought it over before gritting his teeth and agreeing. "As long as you're alive, that's what matters. I was really afraid I'd see your head rolling. Just passed by the cobbler's shop and settled on a price with Old Ma—two taels of silver to stitch your head back on. Since you didn't die, we'll use that money for celebration instead. Worth it."
An elder brother is still an elder brother after all. Dingyi sniffled twice and climbed onto the cart he had originally prepared to haul her corpse.
The summer cicadas chirped enthusiastically from the branches as waves of hot air rushed toward them. Holding up her smoke tree umbrella, she asked, "Brother, do you know Prince Chun? He saved me today."
Xiazhi grunted. "That Prince doesn't go out much, so I don't know much about him. What, you thinking of repaying him? He's a Yellow Belt—helping someone was just a casual good deed for him. He might've already forgotten about it. If you show up at his mansion with Eight Beijing Delicacies to thank him, the steward won't even let you through the gate. Just drop it!"
She hadn't actually thought about repaying him—she just felt sorry when she heard about his hearing impairment. When she mentioned it to Xiazhi, he coughed. "Life's full of ups and downs. The Imperial Clan lives off court stipends—how could they be worse off than us? Trading heads for coins—who wants blood on their hands? If I could be a Prince, I wouldn't mind going deaf!"
Fair enough, she laughed at herself. Her current predicament was entirely thanks to people like them. Though separate matters should be treated separately, she still couldn't stand anyone surnamed Yuwen. Right now, her only goal was saving up to go to Changbai Mountain to find her brothers. Once she found them, she wouldn't be alone anymore. Today's incident was just a passing encounter—something to forget once it was over.
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