She changed into women's attire, which indeed shocked many. Previously, when people said Mu Xiaoshu was different from them, no one had seen her true appearance—she was always dressed in long robes and mandarin jackets, hardly looking like a woman at all. But now, with her hair pinned up and wearing a fitted jacket, standing there, what a fine girl she was—curves in all the right places. She wasn’t the delicate type who’d faint at a touch; her beauty carried a heroic air, and it was precisely that chivalrous spirit that made her stand out. After seeing all the flowers in the world, this was the one that truly captivated the heart.
Seventh Lord muttered that it was outrageous. Dingyi expected him to make trouble and braced herself. But instead, he walked over, stroked the sable fur on her shoulder, and said, "You didn’t want me to provide for you, so you made Twelfth Master spend his money instead—what a good child, saving me the expense! But your head looks bare. Didn’t your Twelfth Master buy you any hair ornaments? Well, that’s perfect. Where’s the hairpin I gave you last time? It would suit this outfit perfectly. Put it on and let your Twelfth Master have a look."
Dingyi replied awkwardly, "That hairpin isn’t with me. Last time, you refused to take it back when I tried to return it, so it’s just been sitting unused at my place." She held up two fingers to demonstrate, "Such a huge filigree flower, such long dangling tassels..."
Before she could finish, Seventh Lord pulled the jade hairpin from his own hair and stuck it firmly into her bun, declaring triumphantly, "If you don’t like those jingling trinkets, then use mine. This is top-quality blood jade—one of a kind, you could say. The original craftsman is long dead, so you won’t find another like it. I’m giving it to you. It might not compare to this outfit, but make do for now. A lady must wear jewelry—it makes her look distinguished. At a glance..." He raised his thumb. "You’d think she was from a great family, someone who could stroll in and out of noble mansions at will."
This was all about one-upmanship. Beijingers had a habit of false modesty. Take Seventh Lord’s words—saying the hairpin couldn’t compare to the outfit was just a roundabout way of praising himself. It was already a unique piece, the only one in existence; no amount of fur-lined skirts or jackets could rival it. This time, he’d learned his lesson—instead of boasting outright, he said, "Mine’s nothing special, can’t compare to others," while already making the comparison. Taking a small step back was actually a big step forward—a classic case of retreating to advance.
The undercurrents were obvious to everyone. Dingyi stiffened and reached up to remove the hairpin. If she didn’t intend to get involved with someone, she couldn’t accept their gifts—she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to repay the debt. "It’s too valuable," she said. "I can’t possibly accept it..."
Seventh Lord pressed her hand down, looking her over left and right with such satisfaction it was as if both the person and the item now belonged to him. He paid no heed to her protests, nodding emphatically. "I wasn’t wrong about you—you really do me proud! Later, come with me to the old residence and let Second Sister-in-law have a look. She’s fond of matchmaking—I’ll ask her to arrange things for us." His self-assuredness hadn’t diminished in the slightest.
The so-called "old residence" referred to the Forbidden City, and "Second Sister-in-law" naturally meant the Empress. Speaking of the Empress, there was a saying: the previous Empress had transcended worldly affairs, but the current one was still rolling in the dust of the mundane. She was obsessed with arranging marriages within the Imperial Clan—matchmaking had become the greatest joy in her otherwise glamorous life. To live like this was truly to have reached a certain level of enlightenment.Dingyi glanced at Twelfth Master, who cast a cold look at Seventh Lord and said, "Second Sister-in-Law already played matchmaker for you once. Do you really have the nerve to trouble her again? Last time at the grand banquet, she and the household ladies came to speak with me, but I didn’t agree. This time, I’ll make the proposal myself—my chances are slightly better than yours. Brother, you should just let go of this idea. Now that you’re married, focus on building your career. Sticking around women all day is like feeding jasmine flowers to a camel—how much could it possibly satisfy you?"
Seventh Lord hadn’t expected Twelfth Master to confront him so openly now. This bunch of fresh lychees had them all salivating, and though they’d previously held back out of courtesy, now that the lychees were peeled, neither was willing to yield.
He shot him a disdainful look, annoyed by his blunt words, and deliberately turned his back to him, forcing a smile at Xiaoshu. "Let’s have an early dinner and go to the lantern festival! Don’t listen to Twelfth Master’s nonsense. He just can’t stand to see us happy and will do anything to smear my name in front of you. If you take him seriously, you’ll fall right into his trap."
Whether it was smearing or not, she knew better. Dingyi shook her head. "Twelfth Master and I already made plans to go to the lantern festival together. If Seventh Lord has no one to accompany you, why not take Najin along?"
Najin and Seventh Lord were inseparable. Seventh Lord swept a distant glance over that plump face and quickly averted his gaze. "Fine, let’s all go together. The festival’s crowded—more people means more hands to help."
And so it was settled. Wherever they went, there’d be an unwanted follower, and no matter how reluctant they were, they couldn’t shake him off.
No choice now—everyone should eat, tidy up, and then do as they pleased.
The ice sculptures of the north were famous, like flowers blooming in extreme cold. Mention ice lanterns, and everyone knew of them. The lantern market in Suifenhe was beautiful, spread across the widest frozen stretch of the Dasuisu River. This month, the freeze was particularly severe, with ice several zhang thick beneath their feet, forming a natural, uncolored platform. People walked on the ice, weaving between towering icebergs of all shapes. Light a red lantern here, and this area glowed red. Light a blue one there, and that area turned blue. Stroll from one spot to another, look up, and there you were—even strangers could exchange a faint smile.
Dingyi’s love for this crystalline world had been rooted in her heart since childhood. She remembered being just four or five years old during the New Year, when Shichahai froze over. Her three brothers had prepared ice sleds to take her out to play. Those sleds were small things, about three chi square, carved with intricate designs—layers of curling cloud patterns, like the chariot of the Queen Mother of the West on her celestial outings. The bottom had iron blades, and atop stood a tall little flagpole with a handwritten "Great Great King" banner. The three brothers formed a circle, pushing the sled back and forth while Dingyi sat on it, hearing only the rushing wind and her own uncontrollable shrieks.
Now all that was far away. The memories of childhood flashed by, but when she tried to grasp them, she found her hands empty—unable to pick them up again.
She bought a lantern from a riverside stall—a simple bamboo frame covered in colored paper, hung by three strings from a small stick. Carrying it, she wandered, pausing now and then to look around. Strangers brushed past her, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable loneliness. Turning back, she saw familiar faces in the dimming lantern light, their features blurred by the riot of colors.Seventh Lord was an expert when it came to play. He was an excellent skater, and without waiting for them to figure out how to ditch him, he found a place to place a bet, wagering a tael of silver on himself, and thus pitted himself against others. Hongce sometimes truly found this man unfathomable. One moment he’d be rolling up his sleeves, dead set on snatching someone away, and the next, distracted by something new that caught his fancy, he’d vanish without a trace. To borrow the Emperor Emeritus’ words, “This man is like a dog trying to bite the moon—nowhere to sink his teeth, yet somehow delightful!”
Seventh Master changed his shoes and went off to compete with others. In a few swift glides, nimble as a bird skimming the water’s surface, he disappeared from sight. Dingyi was a little worried. “This place is unfamiliar, and Seventh Lord is so fond of fun. What if something goes wrong? Those armored soldiers aren’t to be trifled with.”
Hongce said, “He knows his limits. He’s not a child who needs hand-holding.” Then he gave her fingertips a gentle squeeze and asked if she was cold. “There’s a stall up ahead. Let’s sit there and wait for him.”
It was a small tented booth, sheltered from the wind on three sides, with one side open for business. In this icy, snowy weather, watching the comings and goings while sipping something warm was a fine way to pass the time.
Dingyi ordered two clay-oven baked cakes and pulled him to sit around the stove. The stove was used to heat tea, and beneath the large tea kettle, red embers glowed. She squinted, hugging her legs, the firelight filling her embrace. Catching a faint whiff of the cakes, she took a deep breath and said, “The longer we wait, the hungrier I get. The cakes here are different from the ones in our city—much bigger, one here is worth two there… Excuse me, could you add extra sesame seeds for us?”
The vendor was a small, elderly man in his sixties, with ruddy cheekbones, and didn’t look like a local. He cheerfully agreed, scooping up a handful with three fingers like a spoon and scattering it generously, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. He then poured two bowls of butter tea and handed them over. The tea was rich, and Hongce took a sip, praising with a smile, “Tastes of Khalkha.”
The old man was surprised to hear this and dusted the flour off his hands. “So you’ve been to Khalkha, young master?”
Hongce replied casually, “Passed through on business once and had their tea. One taste is enough to remember for a lifetime. Khalkha is quite a distance from Suifenhe. What brings you all the way here to make a living?”
The old man had picked up some Northeastern dialect, though his tongue still carried the indistinct tones of Mongolian. He shook his head and said, “No choice. The twelve tribes of Khalkha are fighting among themselves, carving up land and territories, making it so the herders don’t even dare graze their livestock. With our livelihoods cut off, should we just stay there and wait to die? So I sold off all the livestock, my daughter married into Suifenhe, and the whole family moved here to make ends meet.”
Hongce frowned. “Khalkha has been unstable lately? I trade with them but haven’t heard of such things.”
The old man opened the stove, reached in with fire tongs, and pulled out two baked cakes. Placing them on a plate with a side of sauce and chili, he replied while working, “You’re just passing through. Merchants fear shaking the foundation, so they might only report the good news. On the surface, everything’s prosperous. The military commanders send reports to the Emperor here, claiming all is well. Well, let it be well. As long as Khalkha doesn’t rebel, the Emperor couldn’t care less if they beat each other’s brains out.”Hongce, in this lifetime, was inextricably tied to Khalkha. Whenever he heard of trouble brewing there, his heart would inevitably be weighed down with worry. Seeing him so preoccupied, Dingyi pressed his hand gently, her warm gaze and tender smile offering silent comfort. She broke off a piece of flatbread and fed it to him, soothingly saying, "If the sky falls, the tall will hold it up. Once this deal is done, visit the estate more often. Though father and son share the deepest bond, distance can sour even the sweetest ties. I may not understand much else, but I know the old saying—harmony at home brings prosperity in all things."
He had considered this himself, but his pride made him reluctant to bend. After enduring a decade in Khalkha, he had suffered hardships he once thought unbearable—how much worse could things get? Still, not wanting to worry her, he brushed it off lightly: "I know. In my youth, I didn’t think things through. Now I understand a little better. I’ll do as you say."
They exchanged a smile, simple yet full of affection. By the time they left the food stall, it was nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve. Firecrackers erupted from every household, the deafening bursts of "double-kicks" echoing endlessly. Wealthier families set off fireworks, their dazzling blooms competing for brilliance against the dark sky. Standing side by side, they watched as the fiery spectacle reflected in each other’s eyes, their lashes fluttering as if trying to hold onto the fleeting beauty. Dingyi tightened her scarf and sighed contentedly, "How wonderful—we’re together this New Year’s Eve. And we’ll be together every year from now on."
He opened his cloak wide, enveloping her in its folds, and murmured by her ear, "As long as you don’t grow tired of me, I’ll stay by your side year after year."
Such love should leave no room for doubt, yet somehow, the future still felt impossibly distant. Even with him right before her, he seemed just out of reach. Tilting her face up, she pressed her lips to his jaw and whispered, "I keep feeling like I’m dreaming—that one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone."
Love meant adapting to sudden bouts of insecurity. She knew she was being foolish, but she avoided his gaze, murmuring the words almost to herself as she clung tighter to him. Calling his name softly, her voice trembled against him, though he couldn’t make out what she said. Anxious, he urged, "Dingyi—"
Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked up with a smile brighter than the fireworks. Just then, a fireball shot skyward from the ground, bursting into a shower of sparks that rained down around them. Standing beneath that floral cascade, the surrounding crowd faded—thin, almost transparent—until the world held only the two of them. Years later, the memory would still make their hearts tremble with its beauty.
As the fireworks faded, another spectacle began. From nowhere, a Folk Dance Troupe appeared, performers clad in vibrant costumes with red silk sashes at their waists, teetering on two-foot-high stilts as they approached. This was likely the so-called "village performance," a spontaneous gathering of locals who roamed the streets during leisure or festive times. The stilt-walkers and acrobats were inseparable, twirling their water sleeves while singing: "Speak of virtue, sing of virtue—but where does virtue reside? Beijing renamed Shuntian Prefecture, beyond its walls lies Wang Family Village..."Most of the performances in the opera circles of the Four-Nine City were Peking opera or octagonal drum songs. These local folk operas rarely made it into formal theaters, making them a rare sight. A large crowd surged forward in waves, like disciples following their master in a ceremonial procession, stretching half a mile—what a massive parade! The throng was immense, singing and chanting amid the deafening clamor of gongs and drums. Everywhere she looked, Dingyi saw faces painted ghostly white and cheeks smeared with fiery rouge. She panicked, swept into the human tide, surrounded by heavily made-up performers and piercing lyrics: "Lady Wang, aged thirty-three, bore three sons in one birth. One and two years old, cradled in their mother's arms; three and four years old, never leaving her side..."
Her mind buzzed with noise. The Twelfth Master was nowhere in sight—she was suddenly adrift in an ocean, with no shore in sight. Frantic, she cried out tearfully, "Master Jin! Jin Yangxian..." Then she remembered he couldn’t hear her. Out of sight, he was now beyond reach.
The crowd seemed to grow denser, surging relentlessly in one direction like wave after wave, drowning her in disorientation. Hongce strained to search for her in the sea of people, but where was she? He could only shout her name as loudly as possible, yet even if she responded, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint her location. All he could do was wait where he stood.
His hands hung limp in defeat. Losing her had thrown his heart into chaos. He prayed she hadn’t gone far, but a vague sense of foreboding gripped him—an invisible hand clenched around his heart, suffocating him. With great effort, he finally broke free from the crowd. The performers’ show was winding down, neither a proper beginning nor an end, just fading into the distance. He looked around desperately. A gust of wind swept past, leaving behind an inescapable desolation after the revelry. She was gone.
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