The night passed peacefully, with Seventh Lord indeed sharing a kang bed with Twelfth Master. Though they were brothers, the usual distance maintained in imperial families made such close quarters rare. It must have been uncomfortable, for the next morning, both had dark circles under their eyes, sitting listlessly in the hall with sluggish gazes.
Dingyi served them breakfast, arranging the dishes while neither spoke. She rested her chin on her hand, observing them. She recalled how, back when they belonged to separate princely estates, she had sought their help for Xiazhi’s sake. As Princes, their imperial bearing was imposing, their gazes tinged with arrogance, making her feel she had to look up at them. Now, though, both were groggy—one dazed, the other lethargic—utterly unlike their former selves.
Men could be like children sometimes, their moods written plainly on their faces. But being handsome, it wasn’t particularly off-putting. When the attendant came to clear the dishes, they remained seated, unwilling to move. She said nothing, simply rose to tend the horses in the stable.
Strangely, after the blizzard-ridden journey from Changbai Mountain to Ningguta, the weather had cleared upon arrival. The sun had shone for four or five days straight. Though its rays offered little warmth, it was still a comfort—as if sunlight alone could kindle hope.
A gust of northwest wind swept by, rustling the branches and thatched roofs. Snow blanketed everything, a world of white under a pale sun. She squinted, inhaling the crisp air that filled her lungs before exhaling slowly, her breath forming a mist before her.
The inn didn’t just cater to guests—it also provided for their animals. Horses couldn’t thrive on hay alone; they needed beans. For the finer breeds, eggs were mixed into the feed to keep their coats glossy.
Bending to scoop beans, Dingyi turned and saw Twelfth Master rubbing his eyes as he approached. She paused, resting the basket against her hip, and smiled as he drew near. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
He nodded, leaning against a wooden post supporting the stable, and sighed. “Seventh Master must’ve done it on purpose—kicking and punching me all night. I couldn’t exactly retaliate, so I just took it.”
Her heart ached, and she frowned. “How could he? Maybe he was faking it! Coming all this way just to make trouble.”
He hung his head, looking rather pitiful. “That’s what I thought. I should’ve slipped into your room at midnight. Even if the kang’s small, a man and woman wouldn’t mind squeezing in. But two grown men can’t exactly cuddle, and he snores—it was unbearable.”
Dingyi also felt vexed. “Why didn’t you come, then? My place is spacious enough for two.” Then she reconsidered—it wouldn’t be proper, even if nothing happened. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Hongce smirked faintly before lowering his voice. “There’s a lantern festival tonight. I bet Seventh Master will insist on tagging along. When the crowd’s thick, we’ll lose him and go off on our own. Why let him ruin it with his third-wheel antics? This is our chance to enjoy ourselves—let’s not waste it on him.”She naturally longed to be alone with him too, her grievances no less than his. So she responded softly, "I'll follow your lead. Just give me a signal when the time's right." After a moment's thought, she added, "Actually, I've brought it up with Seventh Lord several times. At first, I was afraid of embarrassing him, always refusing tactfully or changing the subject. He never took my words seriously, only caring about his own pleasure and insisting on having his way. Later, I stopped being so cautious and spoke bluntly, but he remained stubborn. Now I'm at my wits' end."
A faint smile curved his lips, radiant in the morning light. Remembering her heartfelt outburst yesterday, even ten Seventh Masters wouldn't faze him now.
This girl—her courage was truly remarkable. He'd always thought her prone to shyness, that modesty was ingrained in her bones, that even deep affection wouldn't easily pass her lips. Yet driven to desperation by Seventh Master, she'd shouted without restraint. Seeing those words form on her lips, he'd been almost incredulous. He'd struggled for so long to speak his heart, yet in the end, it was the girl who voiced it first. Compared to her, he—a grown man—should feel ashamed.
As for Seventh Master—annoying, but not hateful. His reckless, bullheaded ways had actually been a great help at times. A person's virtues often shine brighter when contrasted with another's flaws, and Seventh Master served as that perfect foil. Not that he was truly bad—Seventh Master meant well, he just loved meddling and stirring up trouble, his single-track mind needing constant untangling. Still, he had his merits: at least he never harmed others. His blunt, impulsive nature was far kinder than those who schemed in secret. Take Second Prince Dongqi, for instance—why was Seventh Master always idle? Because Second Prince was ambitious. Even if he became Emperor, Seventh Master would still look down on him, considering him inferior to the Crown Prince of Dongli. Those few cricket gourds the Crown Prince had given him—he treasured them to this day.
"Knowing your heart is enough for me," he said, gazing at her with undisguised tenderness. "Dingyi, I saw what you said before leaving yesterday. It kept me awake half the night with joy."
She hesitated, unable to recall. "What did I say that pleased you so?"
His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "You said you loved Twelfth Master. Seventh Master heard it, I saw it—no taking it back now."
She gasped. "I said that?" Thinking back, she had been furious, lashing out without restraint. She'd meant to strike at Seventh Master's heart, but contrary to expectations, he only grew more obstinate the more she provoked him. Her plan had backfired, instead drawing Twelfth Master's attention. While slightly embarrassed, she felt no guilt—she'd spoken the truth and wasn't afraid of him knowing.
Twelfth Master nodded emphatically. "You said it, without a doubt." Then he lowered his lashes, turning slightly away as he added, "I meant to tell you earlier, but the servants bringing dishes interrupted... I adore you too. Though you already know, I'll say it again. With me, you'll have peace of mind. I've no habit of keeping multiple wives, nor am I like Seventh Master—forever coveting what he can't have. You can rest completely assured."The brothers' mutual teasing was truly amusing. Dingyi suppressed her laughter, feeling warmth surge within her heart. His words of admiration seemed to go beyond mere love. He had lifted her high, willingly placing himself beneath despite his own status and position. Perhaps the deeper the love, the humbler one becomes—even emperors and generals were no exception.
Dingyi began to look forward to the lantern festival at night. During the day, he had official duties to attend to. Lu Yuan's men had arrived, but they couldn't act rashly. Simply capturing slaves wouldn’t suffice; they needed to catch Yue Kundu, Soluntu, and their entire gang in one fell swoop. Only then could the subsequent cases proceed smoothly.
As for the Seventh Lord, his grand strategizing was entirely off the mark. Though he knew plenty in theory, his practical experience paled in comparison to the Twelfth Master’s. Realizing this himself, he fell into an awkward silence before shifting his attention to pleasing Dingyi, insisting on taking her to a tailor’s shop to buy clothes.
She declined repeatedly, "Thank you for your kindness, but we’re here on official business. Changing into new clothes would only hinder our movements and cause unnecessary trouble for everyone."
The Seventh Lord shook his head dramatically. "Poor thing, you haven’t worn a skirt in years. You don’t realize our Manchu robes have high slits with trousers underneath—they won’t interfere with riding."
Determined not to indulge him, she politely refused no matter what he said. The Seventh Lord, displeased, let his face darken. As a pampered and privileged son of heaven, he was accustomed to being coaxed by others, not the other way around. With a disdainful snort, he turned and strode off.
Truth be told, she would have loved to stroll outside and shop for clothes—but it depended on who accompanied her. When the Twelfth Master had a free moment and gave her a subtle glance, she would slip quietly out through the side gate. If the Seventh Lord found out, he’d likely be furious.
She hesitated, calling after him, "Is it really appropriate to wander around at a time like this?"
The Twelfth Master replied, "The more critical the situation, the more we should act casually. We’re watching them, but they might be watching us too. The trade is set for the second day of the new year—what’s the point of being cooped up in an inn on New Year’s Eve?"
Unable to argue, she followed him. Gazing into the distance, she saw bustling crowds of people shopping for New Year’s goods.
This was a frontier stronghold, a land of extreme cold—unlike Beijing, where women wore delicate pleated skirts and satin jackets. Here, women dressed like men in furs, some crudely stitched, others exquisitely crafted with embroidery or gold and silver thread. The Twelfth Master had discerning taste, having grown up surrounded by luxury. Accustomed to palace attire and elite fashions, he was meticulous in his selections. Dingyi, however, was indecisive. After over a decade without wearing women’s clothing, she found herself overwhelmed in the tailor’s shop, smiling endlessly at everything she saw.
Every girl loves beauty, and she had dreamed countless times of shedding her male disguise and reveling in silks and embroideries. Now that the moment had arrived, it felt surreal. Look at this crane-feather cloak, look at this fur-lined hood—each piece delicate and exquisite, the very things a woman ought to wear.
The Twelfth Master asked for her opinion, inquiring if she liked this or that. She only smiled and said, "I’ve no eye for these things—I’ll leave it to you."
He pulled her over to examine a violet sable-lined jacket and a silver-gray squirrel-fur skirt with a woven pattern, holding them up against her. The shopkeeper, shrewd and experienced, boasted that every item in his store had a distinguished origin—nothing shabby or secondhand.Hongce smiled at her. "Go try it on. I'll wait for you outside." He asked the shopkeeper to find her a pair of deerskin boots with cloud-patterned toes and sent her behind the curtain. Unaccustomed to wearing women's clothing, she hesitated timidly, but he gave her an encouraging smile and gently nudged her shoulder.
While she changed inside, he waited outside, his heart pounding uncontrollably. The bitter cold no longer registered—his palms were damp with sweat. As he browsed, her face filled his vision; every outfit would look perfect on her. His Dingyi was undoubtedly a beauty.
She didn't disappoint. When she emerged, he turned to look and was struck with a jolt.
She approached step by step, her eyes uneasy, awkwardly tugging at her skirt. "The fabric feels tight..."
He was used to seeing her in official uniforms—from the black robes with red trim of the Shuntian Prefecture runners to her later Guard attire. Though her beauty shone through, the clothes dulled her radiance, making her seem worlds apart. Today, she had returned to her true self. Watching her graceful figure, he realized this was how she was meant to be—every step exuding elegance, every movement full of charm. For a moment, he doubted his eyes, barely recognizing the woman before him. Squinting, he confirmed: yes, this was his Dingyi, her beauty surpassing his wildest imaginings.
He stepped forward, grabbing a white fox-fur hood, and helped her redo her hair before placing it on her head. Studying her closely, his heart threatened to leap from his throat. Only now did he truly grasp that she was a woman. Before, his love for her had been abstract, her gender a vague notion. But here she stood before him—a woman he would devote his life to protecting.
His smile was restrained, his voice warm as it hovered above her while he adjusted her bun. "Fits perfectly. Beautiful."
Her cheeks flushed pink as she rested a hand on his belt with hanging ornaments. "I'll have to learn to style my hair now—so many styles, like the 'bun head' or 'swallow tail'... I used to envy those finely dressed young ladies in sedan chairs, but I didn’t even know how to use a hairpin."
To Hongce, no challenge was insurmountable. "I'll learn. I’ll do your hair every day from now on."
Her face, small beneath the fox fur, broke into a wide grin. "But what if you're far away?"
"No matter how far, come find me. I'll wait for you." He traced her delicate profile, amused at the thought of her running halfway across the Forbidden City with a comb, her hair loose.
Lost in each other, they paid no heed to the shopkeeper, who wasn’t in a hurry to close the sale. Instead, he egged them on: "The lady is so lovely, surely the master wants to pick a few more sets? With her figure, every ready-made dress here would suit her. It’s tradition to buy new clothes for the New Year—we’ve got outfits for you too. Look at this sable fur—only the Emperor himself is allowed to wear it in the capital. For commoners, it’d be overstepping. But here? No such rules. If you’ve got the money, you can play emperor for a day."
Hongce didn’t take offense. Far from the imperial city, local customs had their own logic. "With that attitude, business must be thriving."
The shopkeeper sighed. "Getting by. Big investments, small returns—just endless toil. Didn’t you see my door couplet? The first line reads 'two-three-four-five,' the second 'six-seven'..."He chuckled, "The horizontal scroll should read 'lacking clothes and food'—how pitiful."
"Exactly!" The shopkeeper grinned. "Working from dawn to dusk just to earn a few hard-earned coins."
He turned to Dingyi, "Pick two more sets while you're here."
She shook her head. "It's inconvenient to carry on the road. I just wanted something new for today. I can buy more once we settle down."
Respecting her wishes, he took out a banknote and handed it to the shopkeeper, the amount far exceeding the price of the clothes. "I'm in a good mood today. Keep the rest as a tip—consider it a lucky start for you."
The shopkeeper took the imperial banknote, glanced at the sum, and immediately kowtowed repeatedly. "Ah, truly... thank you for your generosity, my lord! With such kindness, heaven must favor you, blessing you with such a beautiful companion." He then pulled out a pair of earrings from the cabinet—locally produced pearls, neither too large nor too small, but still valuable. This was how one should conduct themselves: grateful for small gains, treating others with the same respect they received, ensuring lasting goodwill.
The two thanked him and left. Dingyi twirled the earrings in her fingers and laughed, "I had pierced ears as a child, but not anymore. Now I can only admire them longingly."
"Then it really is a case of 'piercing ears just before the wedding,'" he teased, looking down at her with a smile. The more he looked, the more his heart clung to her. It had been years since he felt such contentment. With her whole, he too felt whole—an indescribable feeling.
They strolled leisurely back the way they came, unaware of how much time had passed. By the time they returned to the inn, dusk had fallen. The staff were lighting lanterns, clusters of red and green hanging beneath the eaves. It was New Year's Eve, and not a single room in the inn was vacant—all occupied by traveling merchants unable to return home for the holiday. The owner had sent each table a bowl of braised bamboo shoots with tofu as an extra dish for the celebration.
The main hall was lively when they entered, with everyone exchanging New Year's greetings. Hongce shielded Dingyi as they made their way to their room, only to encounter Seventh Lord, who had been waiting impatiently in the corridor. Seventh Lord had been fuming, grumbling about unfair favoritism ruining any chance of fair competition. But when he spotted them from afar and caught sight of Xiaoshu, his anger turned to shock. The dried sweet potato strip he had been chewing fell from his mouth, his hand frozen mid-air as he pointed at her, stammering, "Ah... ah..." without another word.
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