Love in Red Dust

Breath mingled, lips pressed together—both were novices, clinging like this, believing it already counted as a kiss.

Peeking through half-lidded eyes, she caught a hazy glimpse of the Twelfth Master, who approached everything with unwavering focus. Even if he didn’t quite understand, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. How wonderful this was—both nervous and sweet, hearts unambitious, easily satisfied, and quick to feel happiness. Her fingers fumbled, interlacing with his, her mind muddled with the thought that these beautiful hands were now hers too. From now on, she could knead and squeeze them however she pleased.

Hongce, on the other hand, kept dwelling on Seventh Lord’s kiss—that remark about how her little mouth wasn’t bad to suck on. His jealousy ran deep. Earlier, he had been quietly displeased, hiding it from her, stewing in his own frustration. But now, it was fine. The mark Seventh Lord left on her lips had been overwritten by him, just like how the Four Great Hengs of the Capital did business—silver exchanged at one shop could be deposited at another with a single stamp, declaring it now the latter’s asset. They could prosper together, but never intermingle. Seventh Lord was always so full of himself—let’s see what he had to boast about now!

But competing in trivial matters wasn’t a long-term solution. Keeping Ding Yi near Seventh Lord was unsafe. He had thought it over—if he couldn’t arrange a transfer registration, he’d have her registration removed. Once her identity was concealed, it would be easier to speak of betrothal later.

Once someone occupied his heart, his thoughts became a thousand times more meticulous than before, planning for a future where everything would benefit them both. Seventh Lord was like a firecracker with its fuse cut—who knew when he’d explode? When he lost his temper, it was hard to handle. After all, they were brothers, both Imperial Envoys dispatched by the court. If they clashed, it would only bring pain to their loved ones and joy to their enemies. Brothers fighting over a woman—face was already out of the question. Back then, when the Emperor Emeritus and the Crown Prince of Dongli had torn into each other, who had truly won? All he could hope for was to minimize the damage. He couldn’t let go now—he just prayed Seventh Lord could still walk away unscathed. Selfish as the thought was, who wasn’t selfish in matters of the heart?

He blamed her for being too adorable. As she nestled softly against his chest, he felt as though the past twenty-three years of his life had been wasted. He never knew what heartache was, never understood what it meant to be stirred. A man who had always kept to himself suddenly found his heart split in two, finally experiencing the torment of longing.

Some things came naturally. He traced the plump curve of her lips slowly—far more interesting than just pressing dumbly against them. She mumbled something, instinctively licking her lips, and their mouths met again, sending a jolt through them both.

Was this how it was supposed to be? Both were dazed, but after the dizziness came elation. It didn’t matter if one was clueless—as long as the other led the way. Once he tasted the sweetness, he chased after it, lifting a hand to cradle the back of her slender neck, peppering her with little kisses, murmuring "Dingyi" between each one. She responded with a string of soft, muffled sounds, her legs too weak to support her, leaving her clinging helplessly to him.

Amid the flickering firelight, two men huddled together in the icy wilderness—the sight was unbearable.

Seventh Lord gritted his teeth and turned away, shooting a glance at Najin. The boy was stunned too, gaping in shock, utterly at a loss."Mu Xiaoshu's getting too bold. Not only do I have to worry about him finding a wife in the future, but now I also have to guard against him sneaking around with others," Seventh Lord said darkly. After a moment's thought, he added, "No, he's already done it. Look at what they're doing! He's gone behind my back with Twelfth Master—that shameless old man has seduced my guard! He's stolen my Shu'er..." By the end, his eyes were actually glistening with tears. "I'm going to confront him. What gives him the right? Is he deaf and blind? Doesn't he know Xiaoshu is mine? How dare he be so brazen—does he think I'm dead?"

True to his word, he stamped his foot and made to charge over there, determined to pluck the feathers off those lovebirds. But the moment he took a step, Najin wrapped his arms around his waist to stop him. With a pained expression, Najin pleaded, "Master, calm down. You can't go. If you do, you'll sever all ties with Twelfth Master. Do you really want this to become a public scandal?"

Seething with rage, Seventh Lord struggled briefly and hissed, "Then what? I won’t allow them to be together! If Mu Xiaoshu wants to find another master, he needs my permission. His very life belongs to me. If he displeases me, I’ll have him tied up and sent to the Garrison Camp. The soldiers there are desperate—they won’t care about his delicate Spring Flowers and Autumn Moon. Once he’s thrown to the wolves, he’ll get all the ‘pleasure’ he can handle!"

Of course, Najin couldn’t just stand by and watch. Flustered, he held his master back, urging him to think twice. He himself had been shocked—who would’ve thought Twelfth Master was a cut-sleeve? If word got out to the imperial gardens, wouldn’t it cause an uproar? And their own master—such a fine lord, a brilliant young talent, an Imperial relative with looks and wealth to spare—why was he wading into this mess? As for Mu Xiaoshu, ah, that little Headsman, who rose from wielding a broadsword for the Shuntian Prefecture—what was so special about him that two Princes were fighting over him like roosters in a pit? Najin scratched his head. Why didn’t he have such luck? He glanced at his reflection—he wasn’t bad-looking either, just a bit plump. But plumpness was a sign of prosperity, wasn’t it?

Sighing, he advised, "My good lord, you know the more you try to pull them apart, the tighter they cling. If you burst in now, you’ll only make things worse for yourself. This servant has noticed Xiaoshu and Twelfth Master have been close for quite some time—there’s real feeling between them. What can you do about it? Wait until they part, then talk to Xiaoshu properly. He’s a clever one; he knows what’s good for him."

"He knows nothing!" Seventh Lord exploded at this. "How many times have I told him? I promised him a house, promised to elevate his status—and what does he do? He won’t even look me in the eye! What’s wrong with me, a Prince? Where do I fall short? Listen—tonight, drag him to my chambers. I’ll have my way with him, and we’ll see if he still acts so high and mighty! Let’s see if he dares show his face to Twelfth Master again!"

This was truly the last resort. In Seventh Lord’s eyes, Mu Xiaoshu had been given too much leeway and still refused to yield. What kind of audacity did he have, flaunting his meager charms and picking and choosing among Princes? Fine, let him pick—but he should’ve picked him, his rightful master, the one right under his nose! Instead, the fool had gone in circles, throwing away what was near for what was far. What, did he think the grass was greener on the other side? Had he even considered how he’d survive after offending his master?

Unable to resist, Seventh Lord glanced back, his heart twisting painfully. With a furious flick of his sleeve, he turned and stormed off, barking over his shoulder, "Fetch a bucket of water. Scrub him clean and toss him onto my bed. Mobilize all the guards—make sure Twelfth Master doesn’t catch wind of this and ruin my plans."In that case, wouldn’t the whole world know about it? Najin felt rather troubled. "Master, gossip is a fearful thing—disputes should be settled behind closed doors. If you summon everyone here, they’ll all find out. How will you face others in the future?"

"I don’t care," Seventh Lord retorted as he reached the gates of the Imperial Manor. He turned back angrily, though the threshing ground was too far to see now. Yet the scene from earlier pricked his heart like a needle. That was just how he was—what others didn’t care for, he didn’t either, but what they valued, he would go to any lengths to obtain. Mu Xiaoshu had been teasing him from the start, tugging at one end while pulling at the other, never letting go of anything. And it was his own fault for being weak—in the end, he’d fallen right into Xiaoshu’s net. Since that was the case, he might as well get serious. If he couldn’t have the words, he’d take the body. He refused to lose.

But half-knowledge might not suffice—after all, men and women were different. He’d never tried this backdoor approach before. If something went wrong, it could affect him for life. Returning to his quarters, he sat in the main seat and pondered for a long while before asking Najin, "What should I prepare?"

Najin let out an awkward sound before hesitantly replying, "This servant once heard Little Rice from the Imperial Household Department mention that eunuchs have many tricks for dealing with the rear end, and they have plenty of tools too. But for the first time, you don’t need much—just a bottle of sesame oil. Apply it to your... that part. It’ll be useful for the Mountain Opening."

Seventh Lord looked stunned. The term "Mountain Opening"... it made the process sound downright grueling. He hesitated. "Does it hurt? Just hearing about it makes my skin crawl."

Najin blinked. "This servant was castrated and entered the palace to serve you before I ever got the chance to use my hammer, so if you ask me, I wouldn’t know if it hurts. According to Little Rice, the one who should be in pain is the other party. Think about it—how comfortable can a woman be on her wedding night? Grit your teeth, close your eyes, and after a few rounds of practice, you’ll get used to it."

Crude as the words were, the logic wasn’t wrong. What he’d seen earlier had stoked his jealousy to a fever pitch. Seventh Lord made up his mind—this was how it would be done!

He settled into position, looking as though he was ready to devour someone whole. Checking the time, it was nearly the second half of the hour of Hai. They must be having a grand time outside, releasing so many lanterns. For a moment, he’d even thought there was an enemy attack—did they really take him for a fool? When he’d gone to Twelfth Master’s quarters that morning, the pile of items in the inner room had turned out to be for this purpose. Speaking of which, he had to admit some grudging admiration for that rascal Hongce—he’d really gone all out to win people over. A dignified Prince, working as a lantern craftsman, and doing it with such enthusiasm! There must have been a hundred or so lanterns in that string—so many that he must have stayed up all night. That level of dedication was truly something. If it were him, he wouldn’t bother with such cheap tricks to woo someone. What was the point of lanterns? Seventh Lord was a pragmatist—he’d rather melt gold into a massive neckpiece and slip it around their neck, dazzling them with undeniable wealth. That was far better than fleeting, flickering lights.

Later, he’d have to put on a stern face and give Xiaoshu a proper scolding. If he kept being soft, Xiaoshu would never take his master seriously.

Sitting in silence, he could hear every sound—even the snow falling from the tree branches in the courtyard. Never before had he felt such torment. The thought of what was his being taken by another was like a knife twisting in his heart. How could he endure it? He clenched his fists tightly, the gilded, jewel-encrusted ring on his finger making his knuckles stand out sharply. The room was heated with charcoal, waves of warmth rising, yet he was so agitated that sweat beaded on his forehead. He took off his Blue Fox Cape and tossed it aside, then stood to poke at the brazier with fire tongs, sending sparks flying in all directions.Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the corridor below. This time, he steadied himself, leaned the poker against the wall, and turned around with a faint smirk, watching the door.

Mu Xiaoshu entered, her dark, large eyes darting shrewdly before she hurried forward to pour tea. "Master, you're still up so late? It's already quiet outside."

He curled his lips and snorted. "If you knew it was quiet, why were you running around? I sent someone to look for you earlier, but you weren't there. Where did you go?"

She visibly stiffened, hesitating before replying, "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a stroll outside."

A stroll? A stroll all the way to the threshing ground, dragging Prince Chun along, hugging, clinging, and even kissing—what a fine performance! Seventh Lord widened his smile, deliberately making sure she could see his displeasure. This was what they called a cold smile.

Sure enough, she stared at him as if seeing a ghost, asking in surprise, "Master, what's wrong? Do you have a toothache? Why is half your face twitching?"

Seventh Lord nearly lost his composure. Was she blind? His smile was so meaningful—how could she mistake it for a toothache? But never mind that. No matter how she acted, his plans wouldn’t change. He turned and sat in the armchair, flicking a glance toward the door. Najin understood and creaked it shut with a squeak.

Dingyi looked back, her heart leaping into her throat. What was this about? After some frantic thinking, she guessed the lantern display must have been too loud and disturbed Seventh Lord. Judging by his odd demeanor, had he seen something? She swallowed, both embarrassed and guilty. Earlier, she had been so intimate with Twelfth Master, still floating in a honeyed daze, planning to savor the memory later. But then Najin had been waiting in the passageway, grabbing her the moment she appeared. She was completely bewildered. She wasn’t afraid of being beaten, but why shut the door? Alone with a man—this was improper.

Seventh Lord stood up, bracing his hands on his hips. "Stop overthinking it. I’ve been away from the capital for three or four months with no one to amuse me, and I’m restless. Looking around, out of all the guards accompanying me, you’re the only one who suits my taste. Besides, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for you. Tonight, you’re on duty—you’ll serve me in bed. Don’t be afraid. I’ve prepared everything: fragrant oil, healing balm—all the essentials. You and Twelfth Master were quite cozy, weren’t you? Was he considerate? I can be too. I’ve figured you out—you refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. If you anger me, my fist is as big as a bowl, and I’ll smash your face into a blooming flower. Then you’ll know my power."

She gaped, taking a long moment to grasp his meaning. He intended to force her—if she refused, she’d be beaten? Panic set in. What kind of situation was this? She had genuinely fallen for Twelfth Master, but now Seventh Lord was pulling this nonsense. If things escalated, how could she handle it alone?

"Wait, wait, let’s talk this through," she said, backing away. "I entered your household as a bird keeper—I sell my skills, not my body. I can kowtow to you, but you can’t bully me."

He laughed mockingly. "Do I care about your kowtows? Today, I’m bullying you—what of it? Once you entered the Feather Banner, from your generation down, your grandsons and great-grandsons are in my hands. Who can you complain to? I’m usually quite reasonable, but you’re the one who doesn’t know what’s good for you."

Bowing deeply, she protested, "I respect you deeply! If I’ve done anything wrong, please point it out, and I’ll correct it."Seventh Lord resented his feigned ignorance. "You've got quite the nerve, playing dumb with me! Twelfth Master is sweet, and I, Old Seventh, am foul. You act like it's life or death when I kiss you, but when Twelfth Master does it, you put on that lovesick face for whom? Born of the same father, yet you insist on ranking us. You admire his title of Prince of the First Rank—do I not meet your standards? Fine! You scorn the poor and fawn on the rich, you love climbing high branches, but you weren't born with that fortune! As long as I don't release you, even if I end up begging on the streets someday, you'll have to hold the bowl for me. After all, I'm your master." He shot him a sidelong glance. "I know you're thick-skinned, nothing I say matters to you. Enough, I'm tired. Tidy up the kang and sleep in the same room, the same bed as me! From today onward, you're forbidden to see Twelfth Master. Disobey, and I'll skin your senior brother alive!"

This entire tirade missed the mark completely, but he believed it would keep her in line. Dingyi was indeed thrown off—when he dragged Xiazhi into it, she couldn't immediately grasp his angle. Just as she was about to respond, in the blink of an eye, he pounced on her with claws bared.

Author's Note: The "Four Hengs" refer to the four major banking houses of old Beijing: Henghe, Hengxing, Hengli, and Hengyuan.