Love in Red Dust

The Qi people had no concept of a coming-of-age ceremony for girls. Once a girl turned fourteen, she was considered ready for marriage.

The young ladies of Qi didn’t just sit idle; they helped manage household affairs. Hailan had been reading account books since she could read. Her father managed the Emperor’s treasury—a modest official position but an extremely lucrative one. When Beijingers mentioned the Cang Suo family, they would raise their thumbs in admiration, summing them up in two words: rich and extravagant! Few officials who handled gold day in and day out could resist its corrupting influence. Who wouldn’t want a comfortable life? Her father was a cautious man, keeping two sets of account books—one open, one secret. Hailan, being sharper than her sister Haihui, helped her father transcribe newly received funds, specifically handling the secret ledger.

People often compensate for what they lack. Her family had wealth in abundance, but her father’s official rank never rose. He dared not buy a promotion, fearing exposure that would not only ruin his chances of advancement but also drain the family coffers. He took it in stride, often saying that one’s rank should match one’s ability—he was born to be an accountant, not a grand secretary. Since he couldn’t rise higher himself, he pinned his hopes on the next generation, aiming to marry his daughters into proper official families. Otherwise, he’d remain a mere warehouse keeper for life.

Power and wealth are inseparable—the rich seek patrons, the powerful seek financiers. Her father had a friend in the Ministry of Revenue who, during a visit, saw the two sisters and remarked that they were quite lovely. He offered to arrange marriages: Haihui was betrothed to the son of the Minister of the Imperial Guards, while Hailan was promised to the Third Prince of the Censorate.

The Third Prince, named Rujian, came from the Wen family, whose naming tradition followed the virtues: Wen (gentle), Liang (kind), Gong (respectful), Jian (frugal), and Rang (yielding). But the last one was miscalculated—a daughter arrived instead of a son, leaving "Rang" unused. As the son of a second-rank official, he was born into the position of a Guard. Raised alongside imperial princes, studying and training in martial arts, such men were destined for smooth official careers. Hailan had her worries. She initially opposed the match, fearing their family’s lower status might invite disdain for their wealth, leaving her to face cold rejection. But her concerns proved unnecessary—the two families hit it off and agreed to formalize the betrothal after Hailan’s birthday.

On the day of the engagement, Hailan saw Rujian for the first time. He wasn’t the flashy, arrogant young master she had imagined. Standing tall and straight as a pine, he carried himself with the composure of a martial artist, his gaze steady and resolute. He greeted her openly, his smile warm. Yet, being only a year older, his attempt at maturity faltered when, after a brief exchange, his cheeks slowly reddened.

Haihui couldn’t help but envy her. "The Third Prince of the Wen family is quite impressive. He seems like a good man—unlike the one I’m betrothed to, who’s plump and dull. I’m really not pleased."

Hearing this, Hailan felt a secret thrill but feigned modesty. "What’s so great about him? He’s just ordinary. A little plumpness means good fortune—he’ll slim down once he has household responsibilities."

But when the two matches were compared, the difference was obvious. Rujian was far more attentive than Haihui’s fiancé. After the betrothal, he visited frequently, bringing fruit and ice in the summer, mutton and sea cucumbers in the winter, skillfully endearing himself to his future in-laws.

On his visits, they occasionally met in the garden, sitting or standing by the waterside pavilion, facing each other with bashful glances.A man ought to take the initiative, so he mustered his courage and spoke to her, "I'll be attending the Autumn hunt as part of the imperial escort. There's a hunting ground in Chengde with plenty of game. What would you like? I'll bring some back for you."

She smiled faintly, "I don't want food. Bring me a little rabbit instead. I'd like to keep one."

He agreed. Later, he returned with two tucked in his coat, saying one would be too lonely and two could keep each other company.

First love is the sweetest. Sometimes she felt their wedding day was set too far away, wishing she could be with him every day. He visited often, and just seeing him from afar gave her a sense of security. Once, while she was practicing calligraphy after Wang Xizhi's style, he watched by her side. Seizing a moment when no one was around, he stole a kiss on her cheek.

There were no dramatic ups and downs—their relationship was as ordinary as any other. They just couldn't meet often, as pre-marital propriety had to be observed. He said, "Every day after work, I'll pass by the alley. If you watch me from upstairs, just seeing you once will be enough for me."

Her heart warmed, and she held his hand, murmuring, "Two more months."

He teased her on purpose, "What's in two more months?"

She laughed and playfully hit him, "The crabapple blossoms will bloom in two months."

He knew she was also eagerly awaiting their wedding day. Young love truly is like poetry.

And so, as he promised, he took a long detour after work every day to pass by Qinlao Alley. The two would gaze at each other from afar, content even with just a glimpse of each other's silhouettes.

But one day, he didn't show up. She thought he must have been delayed by some matter. That night, however, she heard from her father that the Wen family had fallen into trouble—father and all three sons had been imprisoned.

Her mind was in chaos, unsure how bad things were. When she asked her father, he only shook his head and said, "Not good. They might not recover this time." After a silent puff of his pipe, he glanced at her and added, "Best to put this out of your mind. Who knows what will happen? Consider yourself lucky—if this had happened after you married, your life would have been ruined."

She cried all night in her room. Put it out of her mind? How could she! Haihui came to comfort her, and she leaned against her sister, saying, "I want to wait for him. My heart is his. If this match is broken, I won’t marry anyone else."

She clung to hope, but then the court's verdict came down: his father was sentenced to death, and his three sons were exiled to Changbai Mountain. The news struck her like a bolt from the blue. She wanted to see him, to bid him farewell, but her father barred the door, refusing to let her leave. This regret lingered in her heart for years. As a pampered daughter, she was stubborn—the more she was denied, the more she yearned. And so, she yearned for over a decade.

A decade passed in a daze. The family suffered some misfortunes—Haihui was gone, having quietly succumbed to illness. Her parents had only two daughters; one was dead, and the other refused to marry, which was a heavy blow to them.

The Suo family was wealthy, and now with only one heir left, suitors nearly wore out their doorstep. But she was obstinate, chasing away anyone who came to propose, adamant about not marrying. Her mother wept and said, "This won’t do. You might not feel it now, but you’ll surely regret it when you’re old."She simply refused to listen. "Regret is my own business, and I'm willing to bear it. If you keep pushing me, I'll jump into the well!" People are like this—sometimes, the closer someone is, the deeper the hurt they can inflict. She blamed herself too, knowing she was a selfish wretch who never considered her parents' feelings, bringing them endless pain.

She was stubborn, clinging to her resolve with single-minded determination, waiting from the age of fourteen until twenty-seven.

Thirteen years—she had waited so long she nearly forgot herself. But one day, a young girl arrived, escorted by the steward of Prince Chun's Residence, sitting primly in the main hall. When she entered to pay her respects, she felt a momentary daze. There was something familiar in the girl's features, a hint that perhaps good news was coming.

Indeed, the girl was Rujian's younger sister, the youngest daughter of the Wen family. She said Rujian was returning to the capital. Hearing this, she felt both sorrow and joy. At least all these years of waiting hadn't been in vain—he had finally remembered to come back.

The days dragged on like years, and the more she longed for his return, the harder time seemed to pass. If she had given up hope entirely, she might have simply taken each day as it came. As the year drew to a close, she remembered it was the twenty-second day of the twelfth lunar month. She was checking the New Year's goods prepared by the servants when her mother came to tell her that the Secondary Wife of Prince Xian had summoned her to the residence. Seventh Lord was their Banner Lord, and one dared not disobey a master's call.

She changed her clothes and went to Denei Street. Entering the Seventh Prince's residence was merely a formality—she was soon escorted out through the back gate. Puzzled, she was taken to Dongfushun.

It was an inn. What business did a young lady have at an inn? She had no idea. Then, from behind a curtain, the steward from Twelfth Master's residence told her, "Just wait here. Someone will come to see you shortly."

She asked who it was, but the steward replied, "Don't worry about it. You'll know when you see them."

She had an inkling—it must be Rujian returning. Their family's young mistress had been betrothed to the Twelfth Prince, and with the steward acting on behalf of their Princess Consort, it could only mean one thing.

Her heart pounded thunderously, her ears ringing, her mind too overwhelmed to think. She felt utterly dazed. After a while, she heard footsteps—first hurried, then slowing as they neared the door. She could only see a silhouette cast on the Korean paper covering the window. She stood up, clutching her handkerchief tightly, forcing herself not to cry. She didn't dare speak, afraid that opening her mouth would unleash a flood of tears.

Finally, the door curtain was lifted, and the person outside stepped in—taller, sturdier, no longer the same as before. She squinted hard to see his face. As he drew closer, his voice trembled as he called her name, "Hailan..."

Her heart leaped. The voice was unmistakable—she still remembered it. Then she looked at his features, faintly overlapping with the image in her memory. It was really him!

"Third Brother..." Forgetting all restraint, she threw herself into his arms, tears streaming endlessly as she buried her face in his chest. "Why did it take you so long to come back? I waited for ages..."

He apologized, "I had no choice, but I thought of you every day."

Their feelings, tempered by time, needed no elaborate explanation—they both understood. After the initial wave of tears subsided, they calmed down and sat together. She poured him wine. Through the thin veil of lingering tears, she studied his face. His features hadn't changed much, but his brow was perpetually furrowed, his youthful face bearing eyes that had seen too much.

She reached out to hold his hand. "Now that you're back, you won't leave again, will you?"

He nodded. "I won't leave. With Little Date and you here, where else could I go?"He still blushed so easily, and she didn’t tease him about it. Softly, she said, “They all thought I shouldn’t have waited, but I did—and I was right.”

Rujian knew how hard it had been for her. Yet even now, there was no resentment in her, only gratitude. He cupped her hands in his, steadying his emotions before speaking. “Once this is all over, we’ll marry. I’ll be with you every day. We’ll go boating, see the peach blossoms—make up for all the time we lost.”

Now that they were reunited, nothing else should have mattered. As long as they were together, why dwell on anything else? But that was a woman’s way of thinking. For a man, the rise and fall of his family outweighed even life itself. She listened as he spoke firmly, word by word, about the old case of the Wen family. In his eyes, his father had been a good official. Even if he’d sometimes let personal feelings influence his judgments, he didn’t deserve such an end.

“I have to clear my father’s name and seek justice for my two brothers. The years in Changbai Mountain were too bitter—watching them die one by one. You can’t imagine what that was like.” His eyes glistened with tears as he lowered his head. “Hailan, I’ve wronged you in this life. I never expected you to wait for me so long. When Xiaozao told me, I was stunned. I thought you’d have married long ago. That you’re still here—it’s my blessing. But I carry too much on my shoulders. I can’t walk with my head held high until the ones responsible are punished. If… if things don’t end well for us, hate me fiercely. Don’t hold onto me—marry a good man.”

Her tears fell into the wine cup, rippling the surface. Dabbing them away with a handkerchief, she said, “I didn’t wait to hear you say such things. Promise me you’ll be safe. How many thirteen years does a person have? Don’t fail me.”

He pulled her into his embrace, too many words caught in his throat. With a sigh, he murmured, “You’re so foolish.”

Yes, she was foolish—but it was a worthy foolishness. She knew countless thorns lay ahead, but he had returned. No matter the obstacles, they would overcome them.

Like a lost treasure found again, she no longer felt empty behind her. She had her man now. Tilting her face up, she kissed him. He was so tall she could only reach his chin. His face flushed deeper, but he obediently bent down, pressing his lips to hers.

Hailan was overjoyed, kissing him tenderly, though his inexperience made him a little clumsy. His kisses were gentle, unassuming. She felt his breath grow uneven—he must have been moved too.

He pressed her onto the couch, his gaze hazy like obsidian submerged in water, shimmering faintly as it sank into her heart. His hands traced her curves, the thick padded jacket between them doing little to mask his touch. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, she gasped, softly calling his name.

She thought something more would happen—but it didn’t. Instead, he lay beside her, pressing his face against her neck.

“Just a little longer. Wait until our wedding night.” He clasped her hand tightly, his palm burning. “Hailan…”

She kissed his eyelids. “I’ll wait for that day.”

He said, “Next time, embroider something for me—a blade of grass, a flower, anything. Let me carry it with me, as if you’re always by my side.”She agreed and went back to prepare a set of undergarments for him, embroidering two butterflies on the hem with vibrant patterns and curled antennae.

Happiness was hard-won, yet lost in the blink of an eye. On New Year's Eve, he was taken away by the Commander of the Nine Gates, charged with defying the imperial decree and fleeing in secret. On the first day of the new year, visitors came to pay their respects and casually mentioned, "Haven’t you heard? The third son of the Wen family escaped back from Changbai Mountain and was caught last night, handed over to the Ministry of Justice. I remember Third Prince Wen was once your son-in-law. What a mess this is."

Her father washed his hands of the matter entirely. "That was over a decade ago. Whether he’s back or caught, it has nothing to do with us."

Frantic, she pleaded with her father after the guests left, "Please, think of a way to help him. He’s your son-in-law."

Her father scolded her, "Shameless girl! What son-in-law? That’s ancient history! We’ve tried to arrange marriages for you, but you refused. What are you thinking?"

At this point, she no longer cared about dignity. "I’ve met him," she said. "Last time at the inn… I’m already his." Seeing her father stunned, she knelt and kowtowed several times. "All these years, I never married because of him. Now that he’s back, I’d rather die than lose him again. Father, if you’re angry, beat me—but you must find a way to save him. If he dies in there, I won’t live either."

Her father fumed, helpless against her stubbornness. It was a doomed fate from a past life—how could a few brief encounters lead to such devotion, wasting her youth in longing? Eventually, he began pulling strings, calling in favors everywhere. But the Ministry of Justice was strict, labeling him a major state criminal and barring all unauthorized visitors. By the time she saw him again, he was already a corpse, lying stiffly on the bier.

She couldn’t believe it. In that moment, she felt her heart tear into pieces, her chest a mangled wreck. He was gone—what was left in her life? Before, there had been exile, but at least she had hope. Now, reality had slapped her brutally awake.

Kneeling before him, she touched his cold face. "Third Brother…" There was no response. The scent of death filled her nose, and a helpless despair choked her throat. She couldn’t hold back her wails. No matter how she shook him, he wouldn’t wake. She felt her own breath fading, ready to follow him at any moment.

Her family couldn’t bear to see her like this and coaxed her to return home. Sitting in the sedan chair, she suddenly coughed up blood, staining the front of her robes crimson.

From the wake to the funeral, she remained by his side. Though her heart was steeped in grief, she found she could no longer cry. Often, she sat alone by the coffin, murmuring words she couldn’t even recall later, drowned out by the deafening clang of cymbals outside.

On the day of his burial, she watched as the coffin was lowered into the deep, cold grave, feeling as though she were descending with it. She trembled uncontrollably. The mound was quickly raised, leaving only the tombstone standing hollowly with the inscription: Tomb of Wen Rujian .

She couldn’t bear to stay in this mortal world any longer. Every extra day felt like agony. She went to Red Snail Temple to become a nun. Perhaps the dim lamplight and ancient Buddha suited her best—perhaps only in seclusion could she find peace.She knew it was selfish to act this way. She only thought of herself, disregarding her elderly parents, never considering how they would manage in their old age. Her mother cried so bitterly it shook her heart, nearly kneeling before her. "Your father and I are no longer young. How can you bear to leave us with no one to rely on in our old age? What sin have we committed for heaven to punish our Suo family like this? One dead, one renouncing the world—this will be the death of your father and me!"

In the end, she couldn’t harden her heart. Unable to take full monastic vows, she could only practice as a layperson, keeping her hair. She spent over half a year in peaceful seclusion at the temple until Dingyi came to fetch her. She went out to the temple gate to meet her—Dingyi, with her heavily swollen belly, had quarreled with the Twelfth Master and was living alone in the old residence, pitiable indeed. For Rujian’s sake, she couldn’t turn her away, so she followed her back to the city to care for her daily needs. She never returned to her own home, too ashamed to face her parents.

Dingyi gave birth to a son, named Xian'er. The child was beautiful, and she adored him. Sometimes, holding him, she felt as though her drifting life had suddenly found an anchor.

The Wen Family Compound had a wall covered in climbing roses that bloomed even in autumn. She loved taking Xian'er there for walks. On one such stroll, she occasionally ran into Xiazhi, Dingyi’s senior brother—an overly lively man. Concerned for his junior sister, he often visited the residence, bringing food and small trinkets.

Women have a keen intuition about certain things. Whether it was her imagination or not, she always sensed something unusual in Xiazhi’s demeanor toward her. He would play with Xian'er, coaxing the child to call him "uncle," and every time she heard it, her heart would tremble involuntarily. If Rujian were still alive, he would be Xian'er’s true uncle.

Such things revealed themselves in the subtlest ways—hard to articulate, impossible to pin down. Dingyi, worried about the Twelfth Master, rushed off to Khalkha in a frenzy, asking her to take Xian'er to Langrun Garden. She didn’t think this was good for the child. Though the Noble Consort at Langrun Garden was the Twelfth Master’s birth mother, how could someone who lacked warmth toward her own son properly care for a grandson? She kept Xian'er with her, along with the wet nurse and nanny, raising him until he was eight months old. Then, a letter arrived from Dingyi, saying they couldn’t return. The Twelfth Master had been effectively exiled by the court, granted the title of Khalkha Prince and stationed there indefinitely. Any future visits to the capital would be brief, like relatives passing through, with no chance to stay long.

History is full of examples of discarded tools once their purpose is served. This outcome wasn’t the worst—at least they were together and alive. But poor Xian'er, left in the capital, was, to put it bluntly, a hostage. Soon, palace officials arrived to take him into the Forbidden City, where he would be raised alongside the Seventh Prince under the Empress’s personal care. Hailan couldn’t bear to part with him, and Xian'er, now old enough to understand, clung to her, refusing to let go. Without her, he cried day and night, leaving the Empress no choice but to bring Hailan into the palace as well.

Hailan had once participated in the imperial selection in her youth. As the daughter of a fourth-rank official, the highest she could hope for was to become a palace maid. Back then, her father had spent silver to ensure she was eliminated in the first round. Never did she imagine that so many years later, she would enter the Forbidden City again, this time with Xian'er.

The Empress was a rare and remarkable woman—noble in status yet possessing a childlike heart. She knew their whole story. Once, while offering incense at the Xianruo Pavilion, she turned to Hailan and asked, "Do you think husband and wife will meet again in the next life?"

She thought for a moment and said yes. The Empress smiled faintly, "Only if there's fate in this life can you find him again in the next. Without fate in this lifetime, you won't even recognize his face—why hope for another life? That person has already gone far away, so stop dwelling on him. If destined, you'll meet; if not, you won't walk together. He isn't yours, and no amount of persistence will change that. While you're still young, find a path for yourself. You should have a home, a man, and children of your own. They say those who die young have no roots—their memories of this life simply don't remain. Guarding his memory your whole life will be futile in the end. Seeing others in pairs every day while you remain alone—doesn't that ache your heart? Find someone. No matter how flawed, at least they'll cherish you and warm your heart."

She lowered her head, fiddling with the tassels on her bracelet. In truth, she wasn't convinced, only offering a perfunctory reply: "Your Majesty also says it depends on fate. Perhaps this servant's fate hasn't arrived yet, or maybe this lifetime is simply meant to be this way—destined for solitude."

The Empress didn't press her when she refused, and so two more peaceful years passed.

Xian'er grew older, proving exceptionally bright and lively. Under the Empress's care, he faced few restrictions. He loved watching his elder brothers study, often visiting the Imperial Study or the Prince's Residence. Though not yet three, he could listen raptly as the tutors spoke of Confucius and Mencius. Holding him in her arms, she asked with a smile if he understood. He replied, "Half and half." That single phrase astonished her.

Frequently moving about the palace, she occasionally encountered the Emperor. Lower-ranking palace maids were not permitted to face the Emperor—even bowing or kneeling was forbidden. Upon seeing the imperial procession, they were to turn and stand facing the wall, as per protocol. Once, while carrying Xian'er through a narrow passage, she happened to see the Emperor emerging from the Grand Council. Without much thought, she stepped aside with the child in her arms. Resting on her shoulder, Xian'er suddenly called out, "Uncle!"

The Emperor was affectionate toward children, and since Xian'er was raised in Yikun Palace, the uncle and nephew were quite familiar. The Emperor beckoned, and Xian'er wriggled out of her arms. Naturally, she followed to attend to him, stepping forward—only to meet a pair of smiling eyes. The Emperor gestured to the man beside him, "This is Fu Xiang, First-Rank Defender-General of the State, who rendered great service in the campaign against the Dzungars. Tonight, the palace will host a banquet, with the Empress presiding to honor Fu Xiang and the elder princess. Assist your mistress well."

Hailan curtsied in acknowledgment, sensing faintly that the Empress's matchmaking urge had flared up again.As she had anticipated, this Defender-General of the State had come precisely for this reason. Fu Xiang's grandmother was a cousin of the late Emperor, making him a collateral relative now, belonging to the Red Belt. As a man, he was a military officer, yet his speech was not brash but rather very courteous. With many guests at the banquet, they had little interaction, only meeting again afterward. He was sincere, speaking earnestly, "I won't hide it from you—I had a Princess Consort before, who passed away from illness three years ago. We were deeply devoted, and I hadn’t planned to remarry, but my family pressed me relentlessly. I know you’ve had a similar past, and honestly, I admire you greatly after hearing about it. A woman who could devote her youth entirely to another—you are a remarkable woman of profound loyalty. But life is too long, and living isn’t just for oneself but also for family. If you don’t mind… let’s be companions! I don’t care that your heart still holds him. Honoring him is a testament to your true feelings." He watched her expression carefully. "Hailan, those who’ve endured hardship understand each other best. Why not give me a chance—and yourself one too?"

She hadn’t cried in a long time, but now she couldn’t hold back. Perhaps it was his understanding that made her feel, for the first time, less weary, as if she could finally rest.

She married him—a woman of thirty, long past the usual expectations—yet unexpectedly found such fulfillment. Her parents were greatly comforted. At times, she felt regret, suddenly remembering Rujian and feeling deeply guilty toward him. Yet Fu Xiang was a good man. She could confide in him, and he would listen attentively, not so much as a husband but more like a trusted friend.

She wrote to Dingyi, who was said to live in a place of breathtaking beauty, though the distance was so great that messengers took two or three months for a round trip. Seasons passed, and by the time she received Dingyi’s fourth reply, she was pregnant. Coincidentally, Dingyi was also expecting. In her letter, Dingyi mentioned missing Xian'er and said she would petition the court the following spring to allow her and her husband to return to the capital to visit family and friends.

Counting the years, it had already been five since they left for Khalkha—just a fleeting moment, yet five whole years had passed.

She stood under the eaves watching Fu Xiang practice his martial arts. He was now very mindful of her condition, often glancing back at her between routines. She sighed. This life of ups and downs had finally settled. Happiness? Not exactly—just companionship. After all, Rujian remained unforgettable, as he always had been and always would be. Only now, those memories were buried deeper, requiring a knife to the heart to unearth them again.