Love in Red Dust

There was a hint of bashfulness in those words, and as their eyes met, both felt a little embarrassed.

Dingyi was naturally open-hearted. To spare him any awkwardness, she pretended not to notice and said with a laugh, "No need to worry—I sleep very well. My nanny used to say I hardly toss and turn, lying just as I was when I fell asleep... It’s getting late. I don’t want to keep you up all night—aren’t you tired?"

"I’m a man, not so delicate," he chuckled, finally reaching over to take her hand. "You see, now that we’re settled, I just want to keep my eyes on you. In my twenty-four years, this is the first time I’ve felt so close to someone. My heart’s all warm now—even if I lay down, I wouldn’t sleep. Remember before I left the capital, you read my palm and said love is in the air within three years? Never thought you’d be so spot-on."

Dingyi covered her face, giggling. "That was all made up—how could you believe it? Don’t stare too much, or you’ll get tired of me. What’s the point if just the sight of me makes you sick later?" Though she teased, deep down, she felt the same. Her fate had been harsh—losing her parents, then her brother. Though her master had taken care of her during her six-year apprenticeship, she had always hidden her true feelings, lonely at heart. Now, by sheer luck, a good man had fallen from the sky into her lap. She treasured him so much she feared even holding him too tight. If he wanted to look, she’d gladly tie up her hair and let him gaze his fill. She just didn’t know how long this fervor would last—whether in three or five years, he’d still feel the same way.

Pulling him inside, she said softly, "We’re young now, but in a few years, when wrinkles come, don’t look too closely. Just remember me at my best."

A strand of hair fell over her brow, and he tucked it behind her ear, smiling. "Wrinkles are a long way off. I’ve read your face—you’ve got at least twenty more years of beauty, sixty more of good fortune."

She scoffed. "Twenty more years and I’ll be nearly forty. If I’m still pretty at forty, I’d be some old enchantress. I just worry—I’ve always felt cursed. Back then, my relatives called me a jinx, saying I brought death to my parents and drove my brother away. Left all alone, anyone who took me in would suffer misfortune. So they shooed me away, wouldn’t even let me cross their thresholds. Sometimes I wonder if they were right—maybe I really do carry ill luck, harming those close to me. Now that you hold me in such high regard, I’m overjoyed but also afraid. What if I bring you harm? Even if unintentional, I’d blame myself forever if you suffered."

Her rambling about past hardships pained him. Helping her onto the footrest by the kang, he lifted the quilt for her to slip in, saying, "Don’t talk nonsense. Losing your whole family was fate—you surviving alone proves you’re blessed, not cursed. They didn’t take you in because the Wen family’s wealth was gone. You were alone, with nothing to offer. Try showing up with deeds to houses and land when they’re prospering—they’d welcome you with open arms. The world’s full of opportunists. Even among close kin, seeking refuge doesn’t guarantee kindness. At best, they’d toss you a few taels and send you off with blessings. The fickleness of human nature is just how things are."

Lying on the pillow, she watched him pull up a stool by the kang, his warm smile impossible to hide.She tucked in the quilt and sat down. After knowing him for several months, how had she never noticed before that he was so fond of saying one thing and doing another? Prince Chun was a man of flesh and blood, not some lofty portrait or solemn memorial tablet. At twenty-four, he was at the age of youthful vitality—this was exactly how he should be.

She said softly, “I know what’s good for me, and I’ve made up my mind not to associate with them. They live on Pucai Lane, and though I pass by there often on duty, I never even glance their way. Once the older generation passes, it’ll all be over. We’ve drifted further and further apart—they don’t think of me, and I don’t think of them.”

He nodded. “Just wait—there’ll come a day when they’ll be knocking on your door, begging for an audience. The Manchus have an old custom: you can skimp on sons, but never on daughters. A daughter might just leap through the dragon’s gate—her future could be limitless. And in your case, it’s proven true. Though we’re not entering the palace as imperial consorts, being sisters-in-law with the Empress and Princess Consorts is no less prestigious.”

Hearing this, Dingyi’s heart fluttered. She had never dared to think so far ahead—sisters-in-law? It was as if there were already something between them. A young girl like her was shy, not like men who dared to think and speak boldly. She lowered her head, fiddling with the hem of her clothes, and muttered, “You sound just like my master—he said the same thing, that a lady’s achievements could never be measured…” She stole a fleeting glance at him, her face burning. “Don’t say such things so casually, or outsiders might laugh at us.”

Before, when she disguised herself as a man, she had carried herself like a little gentleman. Now, restored to her true self, she was just a girl, every gesture brimming with shy charm. Dazed, he shifted from the stool to sit on the edge of the kang. Her arm rested atop the quilt, and he solicitously tucked it under the bedding. “Don’t catch a chill…”

Such a tender, considerate man was rare in heaven or on earth. Before he could withdraw his hand, she held onto it foolishly, wanting to ask if he was cold. But then he leaned in and pecked her lips. It wasn’t a reckless indulgence—just a fleeting touch. His warm palms cradled her face, forehead pressed to hers as he murmured, “Dingyi, the road ahead for us won’t be smooth. No matter how many obstacles we face, remember you’re in my heart. Even if they strip me of my clan membership, I will marry you.”

She trusted him. She had once resigned herself to being nameless—being able to stand openly together would be an unexpected joy, but if not, she wouldn’t resent it.

She reached out to stroke his back. “Let’s take things as they come. Don’t force it—forcing things only brings unhappiness. Before I met you, I wandered the streets doing hard labor, but I still lived just fine, didn’t I?”

He smiled bitterly. “Truthfully, I’m just anxious—afraid Seventh Master might steal you away. He’s clever. If he ever tricks you into changing your mind and choosing him, I’d be helpless.”

“Nonsense,” she whispered. “He poured out his woes to me before you ever did. If I’d wanted him, what chance would you have had?” She added softly, “Don’t think just because I come from hardship that I’d entrust myself to just anyone.”

He caught the implication and teased, “So you’ve had feelings for me all along—you were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

She absolutely couldn’t admit that, but being called out made her blush furiously. Flustered, she burrowed under the covers and muffled her voice. “No such thing… I’m sleepy now, going to bed. Do as you please!”He just smiled, sitting on the edge of the kang without getting up. His earlier words had merely been teasing. He couldn’t even remember when he had first fallen for her—probably earlier than she had for him. Maybe it was during that thunderstorm, or perhaps on their journey to Shuntian Prefecture... He understood Seventh Master’s feelings all too well. Back when he hadn’t known she was a woman, he’d genuinely suspected himself of being a cut-sleeve. His brothers were stubborn, and the Yuwen family was stubborn to the core, so once they set their minds on something, it became exceptionally troublesome.

Dingyi burrowed under the covers—his bedding—surrounded by the faint scent of him that lingered everywhere. She couldn’t hear anything except the thunderous pounding of her own heart. Was there no movement outside? Had he left? She peeked out slowly and met his gentle gaze. Puffing her cheeks, she asked, “Why are you still here?”

He said, “I just want to look at you a little longer. Go to sleep. I’ll leave once you’re asleep.”

Her arms emerged from the quilt, the wide sleeves sliding up to reveal two soft, snow-white arms glowing under the lamplight like clouds. “Hongce,” she murmured, “hold me.”

His mind went blank in that instant. Lifting her slight, almost weightless body, he pressed her against his chest, feeling his entire ribcage tremble. A bittersweet ache surged through him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

All he could do was sigh deeply. Finding her lips, he dared not be reckless—just a fleeting taste. The deeper the love, the greater the fear of hurting her. The more precious she was, the more cautious he became. Lingering between her lips and teeth, he knew if he kept this up, things would spiral out of control. He wanted to pull away but couldn’t bring himself to. It took immense resolve to finally separate from her. Her dazed eyes, her panting breaths against the pillow—he didn’t even dare look at her again. Hastily stepping off the kang, he muttered, “It’s too late... rest well,” before lifting the felt curtain and slipping out.

The next day, the snowstorm raged on. The weather was too harsh for the convoy to set out, forcing them to delay another day at the Imperial Manor.

Outside, the world was frozen, but inside the Prince’s quarters, a brazier warmed the room. The red plum blossoms on the desk had bloomed overnight, leaving Seventh Lord standing before them utterly perplexed.

The door curtain lifted as Najin entered, hands tucked into his sleeves. The gust of cold air made his nose itch, and he sneezed violently over a dozen times in quick succession. Normally, Seventh Lord would scold him for such a racket, but today he remained silent, muttering to himself, “They’ve bloomed... a good omen!”

Najin, sniffling, approached and mumbled, “In this heavy snow, Twelfth Master’s men are still out running errands. They’re really pushing themselves.”

Seventh Lord ignored him, his eyes fixed, a strange smile on his face. From the side, Najin found his expression unsettling and timidly called, “Master... are you alright? If you’re unwell, this servant can fetch the physician.”

Seventh Lord clasped his hands behind his back and swayed his head. “I’m fine—better than ever! Look at these flowers—they’ve bloomed! What does this mean? Auspicious fortune! They say Great Britain enjoys favorable weather, but that’s got nothing to do with me. These flowers—they’re me! A withered tree meeting spring! I’m not a cut-sleeve—isn’t that wonderful news?”So that's what you're happy about? Najin tilted his head, "Yes, yes, you finally don't have to worry about this anymore, and you can give an explanation to the Dowager Consort. Just think how much suffering you'd have to endure if you actually went through with it—your Secondary Wife and Concubines would fight you tooth and nail, and you wouldn't stand a chance against them all ganging up on you..." He gave a perfunctory response while thinking to himself, This flower isn't you at all—it's clearly Twelfth Master! Last night, Mu Xiaoshu stayed in Twelfth Master's quarters. They're both hot-blooded young men, full of vigor, ready to ignite at the slightest spark. And you? You're just walking further and further down the road of pursuing happiness while your Concubine is taken by someone else, and you're still grinning foolishly. What's there to be happy about?

Seventh Lord glared at him fiercely. "What's this? Mocking me? Whether I'm cut-sleeve or not is beside the point. What makes me happiest is that my Shu'er is a girl. If she's a girl, then it's easy—just tidy her up and bring her into the manor. Act first, report later. Start her off as a princess, then gradually promote her step by step. Once she bears a son, I'll make her the proper Princess Consort."

Najin stuck out his tongue. "That's a fine plan, but I'm afraid Xiaoshu might not wait that long. You don't know yet, do you? Last night, she stayed in Twelfth Master's quarters. If she ends up bearing a son, and it's Twelfth Master's, what will you do then?"

Seventh Lord hadn't considered this possibility. He froze for a moment before saying, "Twelfth Master isn't that kind of person. Staying one night, keeping to their own business—he wouldn't do anything to her."

"You trust Twelfth Master too much. Forgive me for saying this, but he's a young man in his prime, and when he's with someone he likes, do you think he cares about such things? Don't assume he wouldn't—he can learn, can't he? Twelfth Master is such a clever fellow... As for you, it's already too late. They've already done the deed, and all our efforts are wasted."

Seventh Lord gasped, finding it hard to believe. "I'm the master. Without my permission, how dare she give herself away?"

Najin said, "Well... there's no seal on her, is there? Besides, didn't you hear what Twelfth Master shouted at you before he left?"

Last night, Seventh Lord had been so stunned he couldn't even find his bearings—how could he remember what Hongce had said? He racked his brain before asking, "What did that brat shout?"

Najin cleared his throat and scratched his head. "Twelfth Master forbade you from laying a single finger on Xiaoshu again, or else he'd kill you."

Seventh Lord scoffed. "That rebel! All his studies have gone to the dogs—doesn't he know the order of seniority? It should be my turn first! Besides, Xiaoshu is my bondservant. For him to butt in like this is downright bullying! Tell me, did they stay in the same room last night? Did they sleep on the same kang?"

Najin said, "I don't know if they slept on the same kang, but they definitely stayed in the same room. The lamp was lit all night... Twelfth Master can't hear, so he needs the light to see clearly."

Seventh Lord's heart shattered instantly. He slammed his fist on the octagonal table, his face flushing red with anger. "Hongce, if I don't bring you down, I'll write 'Yuwen' upside down! How dare you set your sights on what's mine? The tiger doesn't show its might, and you mistake me for a sick cat." He jabbed a finger, nearly poking Najin in the forehead. "Go, see if they're up yet. If they are, tell her to come see me. I need to have a proper talk with her."

Even after all this, this lord still wants to check if they're up—is this deep love or just plain spinelessness? Najin shuffled his feet, took a couple of steps, then turned back to ask, "Master, if Xiaoshu and Twelfth Master have already consummated, what's the point of calling her over?"Seventh Lord tilted his head slightly back, his jawline taut with tension, his eyes flickering between anger, hesitation, and agitation. Najin had grown up by his side and knew his temper all too well—this time, there would inevitably be outbursts of scolding and violence. He felt uneasy. With the Emperor so far away, if the two brothers were to clash, Twelfth Master had elite guards at his disposal, while Prince Xian's Residence's guards were no match. His heart fluttered with anxiety, and he wanted to offer another word of caution when Seventh Lord, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke—

"Truth be told, the Xianbei people aren’t so particular about a woman’s chastity or whether she’s been married before. Back in the era of Prince Yuejin, my grandfather even exchanged concubines with his brother... If Xiaoshu changes her mind, I’ll still treat her well. But if she refuses to listen, once I return to the capital, I’ll have her master drawn and quartered—let her think carefully about that."

Najin was struck by his master’s pitiful compromise. Flaying her senior brother and now threatening to quarter her master—what kind of affection could be gained through intimidation? That their lord had fallen to such depths was truly too heartbreaking to put into words!