Love in Red Dust

The army was currently stationed at Bayan Unjuul. After nearly ten days of traveling with them, Dingyi was getting closer to her destination.

Traveling through Khalkha was no joke. They had to set off after the hour of Chen and find lodging before Shenzheng in the afternoon. Night fell early here, and once darkness descended, the frozen landscape made movement nearly impossible. Everyone was bundled in thick furs, their old cotton jackets so airtight they could freeze stiff after prolonged wear. Once inside Mongolia, they had to switch to leather robes and boots. Dingyi's robe was a bit too short, letting in drafts, so she took the chance to adjust it during their stopover, preparing for the next day's journey.

Just as she sat down, someone called from the doorway, "Little brother, come here!"

She tightened her belt and stepped out, spotting one of the guards delivering a charcoal basin. She bowed slightly. "Need any help?"

The man grinned. "Talking to someone sharp sure saves effort. The master is discussing matters in his room, and it's too cold—asked for another stove. In this godforsaken place, even washbasins are in use, and there's nothing else to spare. Found a vat instead. Can't move it alone, so lend a hand."

She obliged, taking a coarse cloth to pad the vat's rim, and together they carried it to the Thirteenth Master's door.

Inside, the Thirteenth Master was hunched over the charcoal basin, warming his hands over the flames, his voice languid as he asked, "Any news from the Tüsheet Khanate?"

A deputy below replied, "Rest assured, Master. The silver won't go to waste. Kou Ming has made contact and is gathering evidence..."

Dingyi caught fragments of the conversation—it seemed they were bribing someone in the Tüsheet Khanate for inside information. She naturally believed in the Twelfth Master's integrity, but hearts were hidden behind ribs, and she couldn't gauge the true bond between him and the Thirteenth Master. This was a life-or-death moment, with the Twelfth Master's fate entirely in their hands. Any bias could spell his doom.

Unfortunately, delivering the charcoal didn't allow for lingering. Once done, she had to leave. She followed another guard out but had barely taken two steps when the Thirteenth Master coughed, covering his nose and mouth, then pointed at her. "Why's there so much smoke? Go stir it, let the air circulate below." Turning back to the deputy, he added, "I reckon we'll rendezvous with the main army in three days. Tell them to hurry. If it's true... we must replace the commander swiftly. This grand scheme carries the court's high hopes—it can't be ruined by one man."

Dingyi's heart pounded violently, her hands slowing as she poked at the coals. The deputy hesitated, "Does Your Highness believe the reports are credible?"

"Hard to say," the Thirteenth Master replied. "I bear the Emperor's mandate and must act impartially. If it's false, I'll clear his name. If true, then we follow orders—even if he's my own brother, I cannot show favoritism."

She couldn't delay any longer without arousing suspicion. Setting down the poker, she withdrew with hands clasped, trembling not from cold but sheer anxiety outside the door. She had no idea what news the Tüsheet Khanate would send. Bayan Unjuul was two hundred li away—if she could warn the Twelfth Master in advance, he might prepare. But the temperature here was brutally low; even if she could endure a night ride, the horses couldn't.

Her mind was a whirlwind of worries as she stood dazed under the eaves. Bodun, just back from outside, shook snow off his shoulders and spat. "Piss hits the ground and turns to icicles. This damned place is unfit for humans." Spotting her, he added, "Why aren't you resting yet?"She said, "I just delivered the charcoal basin to the master and was about to head back. Lord Bo, how much longer do we have to go?"

Bo Dun replied, "Three days if the blizzard doesn’t return. If things change, it might take up to ten."

She sighed softly and murmured, "If we drag on like this, the master’s duties will be delayed."

Bo Dun chuckled. "You’re quite the worrier, kid. The master didn’t save you for nothing. Don’t fret—this task is meant to be done discreetly. A few days’ delay won’t make a difference."

She gave a vague response, careful not to reveal anything suspicious. Back in her quarters, she tossed and turned, lost in thought. Was the Twelfth Master the kind of man who would cling to life at any cost? The court wanted him gone, exiled far away to the Western Regions—would he listen to her? He had his pride; he was a prince. Even if it meant death, he’d likely refuse to live without dignity. But staying alive meant hope. The gold dust wine was never served twice—no prisoner on the execution ground was ever struck twice if the first blow failed. Though unrecorded in law, this unwritten rule held in the prisons. The Emperor, striving to be benevolent, wouldn’t tarnish his reputation over such a thing.

Lying on her back, she slowly traced the smooth spine of the rhinoceros horn comb with her thumb. She had considered seeking help from the Thirteenth Master, but without knowing his stance, she couldn’t risk approaching him rashly. Perhaps it was better to wait until they reached the camp.

Fortune seemed to favor them—the snow had stopped, and the sun even peeked out. Riding hard with the group, they passed through a stretch of wooded hills and saw in the distance a sprawling encampment, its tents encircling a grand command tent that spanned several miles. That was where the Twelfth Master’s army was stationed.

Over a year had passed since she last saw him. What did he look like now? Surely, he remained as she remembered. But she, weathered by hardship, was a far cry from her former self. She wiped her face, feeling the rough scabs over the fine cracks on her cheekbones. As the horses slowed nearing the camp, she discreetly adjusted her collar and pulled her scarf higher.

Guards emerged to greet them at the camp’s entrance—seasoned soldiers, each with a sword at their side, their armor clinking with every step. At their head stood a man in Soft Armor adorned with a tiger-head apron, bathed in the morning sun. His warm, composed features lacked sharp edges, yet they blurred Dingyi’s vision.

From afar, he clasped his hands in greeting. "Thirteenth Brother, you’ve had a long journey. You must be exhausted."

His voice carried clearly despite the distance. After longing for this moment for so long, she now found herself unsure how to face him. Shame filled her, and she could only steal glances at him through the crowd. He had tanned slightly, looking more formidable than he had in the capital, his spirits seemingly high. But she knew—the Thirteenth Master had received secret orders. He remained unaware of the court’s deadly intentions. Now that they were so close, whether to reveal the truth to him tormented her. They would have to meet eventually, and the warning had to be given. He was clever; perhaps he’d sense something amiss from his conversation with the Thirteenth Master.

For now, haste was unwise. She watched as the brothers entered the command tent, then followed the guards to the barracks. Someone brought armor for the group, and as they suited up, she adjusted the chest mirror on hers, pretending to air out clothes while scanning outside. Guards surrounded the command tent, making it impossible for outsiders to approach. She needed to find someone close to him—Guan Zhaojing, Ha Gang, or Daiqin—any familiar face who could help her get inside to deliver her message.They had important matters to discuss, and it wasn’t until dusk that the Thirteenth Master finally emerged. Someone was waiting outside, hunched over as they led him to his own tent.

Earlier, she hadn’t wasted her time either. She had inquired about Guan Zhaojing’s quarters and slipped over while the army was cooking meals. Unfortunately, she didn’t run into him and had to wait outside, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

Patrols crisscrossed the camp, torches in hand as they moved about. One squad passed, and another followed. She turned her back and tried to avoid them, wary of unfamiliar faces—getting caught would cause a commotion. But the more she tried to hide, the more suspicious she seemed. Sure enough, a loud voice barked, “Which company are you from? What are you sneaking around for?”

A torch was thrust in her face, the sudden glare making her eyes sting. She raised an arm to shield herself and forced a smile. “I came with the Thirteenth Master. I need to speak with Steward Guan about something.”

“Is this the place for idle chit-chat? Wandering around a military camp—you know getting caught means thirty Military Rods, right?” The leader jerked his chin. “Seize him. Call their captain to take him away.”

She panicked as her arms were grabbed. Pleading and apologies were useless—they wouldn’t budge. Just as they were about to drag her off, a voice snapped from behind, “Oh? So talking to me counts as idle chit-chat? Are you looking down on him, or are you looking down on me?”

Dingyi’s heart leaped—it was Guan Zhaojing. Finally, she had waited for him.

Guan Zhaojing had grown thinner and darker since entering the camp, his neck stretched out like a crow’s. He glanced at her at first without much thought, but then his gaze snapped back, eyes widening in shock. For a long moment, he couldn’t even close his mouth. “This… isn’t this… the Prin… Princess Consort…”

Dingyi greeted him with a curtsy. “My respects to Master Guan.”

He awkwardly accepted the gesture, unsure how to react without giving her away. Clearing his throat, he said, “Rise.” Then he turned to the patrol. “Still here? Or would you like to come into my tent for some tea?”

The men hastily declined and regrouped before marching off into the distance.

Guan Zhaojing nearly dropped to his knees. “My Princess Consort, how did you get here?”

“Elder Brother…” Her voice caught. “Where’s the Twelfth Master? I need to see him.”

Guan Zhaojing quickly led the way, glancing back repeatedly as he rambled, “This servant truly never expected you to come. Heavens, it’s thousands of miles! How did you make the journey? You’re utterly astonishing—fearless, a heroine among women…” Still muttering, he gestured for her to wait while he lifted the tent flap to peek inside. The Prince was writing a memorial at his desk, with no attendants nearby, so he signaled for her to enter.

Her boots made no sound on the felt mat as she approached. He didn’t notice her, too absorbed in his writing. She drew closer, studying him in the flickering firelight, which made everything seem unreal. His features were just as she remembered, but they had been apart for so long that she couldn’t be sure. Was this her Hongce? The same man who had sat in the Cool Breeze Pavilion and asked her to read his palm?

He was accustomed to having attendants nearby, so he paid no mind to whoever stood by him. When the ink in the inkstone ran low, he tapped his brush lightly. “Grind more ink.”

Hearing this, she hurried forward to take the inkstick, adding two spoonfuls of water from the water container before grinding it carefully. She watched as his brush moved across the paper, each stroke deliberate: Prince Chun of the First Rank, Hongce, and others, humbly wish His Majesty eternal peace… Her heart ached. Here he was, dutifully submitting a memorial of respect, while those very people plotted how to have him executed.Caught off guard, a teardrop fell onto the official document, slowly spreading and blooming into a delicate, intricate pattern. His brush paused mid-stroke as his gaze shifted from the tear to the hand grinding the ink—each knuckle cracked with unhealed wounds, faint traces of blood seeping through.

Even disfigured beyond recognition, that familiarity remained branded upon his heart. He abruptly stood up, staring at her in shock. "Dingyi... am I dreaming?"

Her face was a mess of tears and snot, yet she still tried to save face between sobs. "I grew tired of staying in the capital and wanted to travel. Wandered aimlessly until I ended up here... remembered you, so thought I'd drop by."

He was utterly astonished. Though this girl had always been bold, he never imagined she'd appear here. His eyes traveled over her—the journey had taken its toll, leaving her face and hands chapped and cracked. The once radiant young woman now looked like this...

His heart ached unbearably. If she could cross such distances to reach him, surely nothing stood between them now? Trembling, he reached to touch her face. "Have you forgiven me?" His own eyes reddened. "Do you no longer resent me over Rujian's matter?"

He'd forgotten entirely—his furious departure from the capital had been because she'd harmed their child. Yet in truth, he never remembered her faults, always shouldering the blame himself. Indulging her, spoiling her, until she knew only how to take without giving.

She felt unworthy to face him; no words could undo the hurt she'd caused. Kneeling seemed the only way to ease her guilt.

"You were never at fault—the mistakes were always mine." Clutching his legs as she wept upward, she cried, "I failed to cherish my blessings, trapped in self-made misery. Caring only for my own feelings, making you suffer unjustly. I know my wrongs now... is it too late?"

Unable to lift her up, he knelt opposite her instead, wiping her tears with trembling hands. "Don't cry—your cracked skin will hurt... Please don't, how can I bear this? I never blamed you. There was momentary hatred, but I regretted leaving Beijing immediately. I shouldn't have disappeared, shouldn't have made you grieve during your confinement..."

She shook her head. "Not your fault—I brought this on myself. I knew losing you would haunt me forever. There'll never be another soul as good as you."

Leaning into his embrace, his armor felt icy yet warmed her heart. She'd feared his unforgiveness—in this carousel of life's trials, he'd borne the heaviest burdens. Indebted to none, yet enduring all pressures and injustices. Why? Simply because he loved her.