Love in Red Dust

Happiness always comes unexpectedly.

Seventh Lord had initially planted that kiss with seventy percent spite, but the moment their lips touched, he realized he'd struck gold. Those lips were as soft as silk, unmatched by any woman in the prince's residence. How could there be such an endearing child in this world? They looked like a girl, kissed like a girl—that little thing between their legs was practically wasted. If only they were truly female—then everything would be perfect. He'd take them home and raise a whole brood of children. Low birth wouldn't matter; he could elevate their status gradually. How wonderful! What a shame reality couldn't match his imagination. But no matter—he didn't mind breaking his sleeve for them. This kiss was like a seal now. Twelfth Master was a gentleman and certainly wouldn't move as fast as him. Whoever got there first would claim the prize—this time, he wasn't about to yield.

Seventh Lord's heart was aflutter, utterly intoxicated. As a seasoned libertine, he knew this stirring in his loins meant there was no turning back. The further he walked down this path, would he eventually lose interest in women? That might be troublesome—he had no sons yet. What if his line ended with him? His mind raced. Truth be told, he cared most about himself. As for his descendants' future, he gave it little thought. Everyone knew—if you weren't an Iron-Cap Prince, the next generation's title would be downgraded. Raising an Heir Apparent would only produce a Prince of the Commandery, no great loss. As for him—he was of the Emperor Emeritus' bloodline, the current emperor's brother. It wasn't as if there'd be no one to handle his funeral arrangements when he died. As long as someone took care of his affairs posthumously, having no son was manageable.

Having calculated everything, Seventh Lord believed he'd left no loopholes. As for the Emperor Emeritus and his mother's opinions—they meant nothing to him. His life was his own to enjoy as he pleased. They were old; they should focus on their own affairs and leave his alone.

In the brief moment their lips touched, Seventh Lord had organized his entire unplanned life—what a monumental achievement! Dizzy and disoriented, he couldn't tell east from west, but his purpose was clear. Yet before he could linger further, two fingers jabbed at his forehead, pushing him away abruptly.

Dingyi leaped up, face burning red as they covered their mouth, eyes brimming with tears that promised to dismember him. After struggling to speak, they finally spat out: "When someone refuses, you force yourself on them—just because you're the master and I'm the servant!"

Still dazed, Seventh Lord grew slightly flustered seeing their tearful outrage. But bowing his head was out of the question. He eyed them sideways: "So you do remember I'm your master?"

They'd never been violated like this before. They'd thought becoming a man would protect them from such harassment, but it seemed no different! From the prince down to the servants, not a single decent person existed in Prince Xian's residence. They'd once thought Seventh Lord, though unreliable, had passable character. Now it was clear—he was a scoundrel who preyed on both sexes, utterly depraved!

Overcome with nausea, Dingyi scrubbed their mouth fiercely. "Your Highness forgets I was registered midway. If you have any decency, remove me from the registry. Xiaoshu hereby bids farewell to the prince."

This only stoked Seventh Lord's anger. Like a fighting cock, he declared, "Don't even think about it! My Feather Banner isn't some temple gate you can enter and leave as you please! If you refuse, I'll propose to your master when we return to the capital—I'll take you as my male concubine!"In her panic, she blurted out whatever came to mind—male concubine? She'd never heard of such a thing, and now he intended to pioneer it. Dingyi felt every hair on her body stand on end as she stared at him in horror. "Mu Xiaoshu is but a lowly person, willing to risk everything. If the Prince insists on forcing me..." She abruptly drew the saber at her waist and pressed it against her neck. "At worst, I'll die right here before you."

This sent Seventh Lord into a panic. "No, no, let's talk this over. It was just a kiss—you haven't lost your virtue. Is it worth dying over? Put the blade down. If you really think I took advantage of you, you can kiss me back. I won’t mind at all."

Dingyi shot him a fierce glare. "I don’t seek justice. I only ask that Your Highness promise never to do it again."

The thought of her actually dying pained him, so Seventh Lord reluctantly agreed—though he left himself plenty of wiggle room. "Fine. From now on, if you don’t agree, I won’t kiss you."

Unaware of his loophole, she merely flushed with indignation. "And you must never mention it again—not a word to anyone. Can the Prince do that?"

Seventh Lord stared blankly, still trying to negotiate. "I won’t tell others, but keeping things bottled up is unbearable. I need to consult Twelfth Master—ask him for advice."

Dingyi was convinced Seventh Lord had been sent by the heavens to ruin her. Flaunting this before Twelfth Master would only humiliate him. She didn’t want Twelfth Master to know—why? A vague worry gnawed at her. Twelfth Master valued loyalty; what if he decided to play matchmaker? What would that make her? She couldn’t voice it—her secret admiration for him was her own affair. Without parents or siblings, she knew her place. She wouldn’t hope for the impossible, but neither would she settle for less. Seventh Lord was a scoundrel, too frivolous to even be a confidant, let alone anything more.

She pressed the blade harder against her neck. "I’d rather die—I’ll really do it!"

Seventh Lord was terrified, stammering, "Don’t! I won’t tell a soul—just between us, our little secret, alright?" He reached out with two fingers to gingerly shift the thin blade away from her neck. "Guards carry weapons to fight enemies, not for slitting their own throats. Can’t you act a bit more like a man? Threatening suicide at every turn—what kind of behavior is that? Did you lose a piece of flesh from one kiss? I genuinely like you. Otherwise, given your behavior since entering the estate—your half-hearted loyalty—I’d have had you strung up long ago."

Dingyi’s head throbbed with pain, utterly unmoved by his words. Comparing him to Twelfth Master—how could they even be measured against each other? Twelfth Master was like an orchid or jade tree, never boastful, always just right. This lord, however, was coarse and careless, unreliable in crucial matters. He might make a playmate, but he was no choice for a lifetime commitment.

She sighed and studied him—she’d never really looked at him properly before. Seventh Lord, a descendant of the Yuwen clan, was undeniably handsome in every aspect. The only thing missing was steadiness—like a rickety tripod, liable to collapse at any moment.She turned her head away, hopped off the low couch, and tightened her belt. His interruption had thrown her off balance. She hadn’t forgotten why she had fainted—Ruliang, Rugong, Rujian, all gone. Afraid the roster might be inaccurate, she had even gone to the Aha Camp to confirm it. After hearing they were truly dead, what hope was left? She could still cry in front of the Twelfth Master, but when the Seventh Lord arrived, she had to hold back her tears. The fewer people who knew about this, the better. These twelve years had been lived in vain—day after day longing, vowing that once she grew up, she would come to the Imperial Manor. Finally grown, finally here, and this was the result.

Her spirit deflated, she glanced at the Seventh Lord, speechless. He seemed to sense something and pressed her, “You seem off. Did something upset you? Did the Twelfth Master lay hands on you last night? Tell me, and I’ll settle it with him.”

The Seventh Lord was indignant, acting as if he had every right to interfere. Dingyi quickly denied it—did he think everyone was like him, grabbing and kissing without shame? She stepped out of the tent and looked into the distance. The Prince Chun’s Residence staff were inspecting the Ahas under the cold morning sun, screening them one by one. The Twelfth Master stood with his hands behind his back, his handsome face framed by the fur collar of his fox robe, pale from the cold but with unwavering determination. His gaze inadvertently met hers, warmth flickering in his eyes. Dingyi watched him, her heart at peace. It was as if they shared a silent understanding—what she wished to do, he would accomplish before she even spoke. How could such a man not move her?

The Seventh Lord trailed behind her, grumbling incessantly about the cold, about what the Twelfth Master was doing, calling him a stubborn fool who brought trouble upon himself. Dingyi ignored him. The Seventh Lord was always slow on the uptake—a man who couldn’t shoulder responsibility, content to live carefree as a privileged lord. What did he know of suffering?

She walked over and glanced behind the Twelfth Master. “Any news?”

“There are many people. No word yet. Don’t worry—we’ll surely find someone who knows.” He studied her carefully. “How are you now? Are you feeling unwell?”

She shook her head. “I lost control earlier. Forgive me for the embarrassment.” She was about to say more when she noticed the Seventh Lord approaching unsteadily and promptly fell silent.

The Seventh Lord was the kind of person even dogs would avoid. Having gained a little advantage, he puffed up with pride, even his tone changing as he clucked, “Old Twelve, you’re working hard. Such dedication—the court ought to reward you. A promotion might be out of reach, but gold, silver, or land could be in the cards. I’ll submit a memorial singing your praises. Next year, they might arrange a good marriage for you—then you’ll have everything.”

His nonsensical rambling left them at a loss for words. Fortunately, Sha Tong arrived with an Aha in tow, bowing slightly. “Master, this man once shared a hut with the Wen Brothers. He knows something of their affairs. I’ve brought him for your questioning.”

The Aha was dressed in tatters, his face cracked with frostbite, likely in his thirties—old enough to remember events from over a decade ago. Hongce said, “I’ve come by imperial decree to investigate the whereabouts of the Wen Brothers. Speak truthfully, and you’ll be treated well.”The servant Aha timidly raised his eyes and said in a trembling voice, "I dare not deceive you, noble one. Though I wasn't close with the Wen Brothers, we slept on the same platform bed, so I heard about their affairs. They were men of strong character who refused to submit when they arrived, constantly stirring up trouble, and were severely punished for it. At first, they endured the whippings without fear. But then the Captain ordered them to wear a hundred-pound Heavy Cangue and be thrown into the Water Dungeon. Carrying that weight day after day could crush a man's spirit, and in the dungeon, rats swam about, biting at their legs. The filthy water caused their wounds to fester, yet they remained unyielding, never begging for mercy. After three months, they had to be released. But fate was cruel—though the Water Dungeon didn't kill them, they caught the plague soon after and quickly succumbed. After lingering for a while, they both went to the Home-Viewing Platform."

Dingyi listened quietly. With everyone saying the same thing, she held no hope. Though saddened, she gradually accepted it with calm resignation. The Twelfth Master, however, refused to give up. "Where were they buried? Who handled their funeral?" he asked.

Aha replied, "I was the one who carried them out. At that time, the dead were loaded onto carts and taken to the back mountain, where shallow pits were dug for them. When I returned three days later, the pits had been overturned. The mountains are full of wolves, tigers, and leopards—they caught the scent and left not a single corpse behind. All were devoured as snacks by those beasts."

Hongce turned to look at Dingyi. Her expression was composed, but the sorrow in her eyes was bottomless. He sighed inwardly, deciding it was best to clarify everything now, so she could let go of what should no longer be clung to. "Our trip to Changbai Mountain yielded nothing. After a brief rest, we'll head to Ningguta in a couple of days. Wen Lu’s case won’t be abandoned—once we return to the capital, we’ll review it from the beginning. There are too many unanswered questions, so I’ll submit a memorial to the Emperor for his judgment."

She responded belatedly, but with the Seventh Lord present, she couldn’t say much more.

The Seventh Lord rubbed his hands together and said, "Well, the trail’s gone cold. No use being so persistent." He then turned to Xiaoshu with a suggestive smile. "Xiaoshu, you’ve been gone all night—your two birds missed you terribly. Go back and feed them well. After that, come see me. We’ll discuss matters. We can raise your status again. If your senior brother is willing, I can recommend him for a position in the Document-Signing Office or to manage Banner Affairs under my banner." He winked. "After all, we’re close—when one man ascends, even his chickens and dogs rise to heaven. An old saying, you know."

Dingyi was deeply embarrassed. "Thank you, my lord, but this is his decision to make, not mine."

Hongce showed no reaction, merely turning to give her a knowing smile. He didn’t interrupt the Seventh Lord, instead instructing Sha Tong, "Recall everyone. They’ve worked hard all night, and since we can’t uncover the full story, further delay is pointless."

At his command, the guards from Prince Chun's Residence withdrew, and the Seventh Lord noisily called for his own men to regroup. In the brief interlude, the Twelfth Master lightly touched her fingertips and whispered, "I promised to make up for your birthday once we reached Changbai Mountain. Tomorrow night at the hour of Xu, I’ll wait for you in the open area southeast of the Imperial Manor. Don’t tell anyone—come alone."

His thoughtful effort to comfort her touched her heart. She looked up at him, then quickly lowered her gaze, her ears turning red, the flush spreading beneath her collar.