Love in Red Dust – CH 008

Chapter 8.

Those who were into dogs knew that in the capital, those who kept slippery ones were no ordinary folks. Dogs like Pekingese were lapdogs for ladies and young misses, but slippery ones were different. These dogs were wild and restless—they’d even kill a cat if they came across one. The bannermen lords would ride out hunting with falcons perched on their shoulders, and these dogs would run ahead. So you could not mess around with them; it’d spell trouble.

Dingyi thought this was too risky. She had not managed to stop him in time, but she still had to try reasoning with him. “If the meat’s gone, it is gone. At worst, let it sleep it off. But if you really carry it off and get caught, it will be disastrous! This is not some mutt—how many households do you see keeping slippery ones? If the owner investigates and traces it back to us, do not drag Master into this mess.”

Xia Zhi was entirely focused on catching the badger. How could he let such a fat prize slip away? He brushed off her words. “What’s there to fear? At this point, if we do not take it, someone else will stumble upon it and carry it off—then we’d really be out of luck! You are always like this, hesitating and second-guessing—no wonder you never achieve anything… Oh, oh, it is down! Qian’s medicine works like a charm!” Rubbing his hands eagerly, he turned to her. “Scared? If you are, stay here and keep watch. I will go.”

Men were bold and daring—this was exactly the kind of situation that proved it. Dingyi was timid and did not dare move from her spot. Wide-eyed, she watched him sneak over. The shop was noisy, and no one noticed him as he crouched by the doorstep, reaching out to grab the dog by its fur and yank it over.

Slippery ones were long-bodied. He gripped two legs in each hand, swung it around, and hoisted the dog onto the back of his neck. Quietly in, quietly out—his feet moved swiftly, like a clown on stage, hunched low as he darted forward. As he passed her, he hissed, “What are you staring at? Let’s go!”

Dingyi hurried after him, head down as she broke into a jog. By the time they entered Tongfu Alley, the clappers from Dengshikou Street were already sounding—dong, dong—marking the second watch of the night.

Xia Zhi had already made arrangements with the two brothers in the west room, treating them to two jugs of wine in exchange for their help handling the dog. Old Qian took one look and winced. “Where’d this come from?”

Xia Zhi gulped down some tea and said, “Caught it near Fangcaodi. No one was watching it—just left to roam free. I was afraid it’d turn its nose up at pork, but turns out this one is not picky. Sniffed around for ages but still took the bait.”

Old Qian looked uneasy. “This dog… it is trouble. Might’ve come from some noble household. Noble households are one thing, but if it is from an official’s family, how many heads do we have to spare?”

Xia Zhi clicked his tongue. “We cannot just let it go now, can we? I went through all this trouble to get it.”

Dingyi chimed in, “Do not risk a lawsuit over a dog. Just let it go.”

“No way. I did not put in all this effort for nothing.” Xia Zhi handed a knife to Qian the Second. “It’s too late for regrets now. If anything happens, I will take the blame. Deal?”

Qian the Second hesitated, muttering, “It’s a fine dog. A regular mutt might catch five or six badgers in a night, but with this one, the count would double.”

Doing the math, the profit was too tempting to resist. Once his mind was set, not even ten oxen could drag him back. Dingyi wanted to tell them not to go through with the cap removal—why ruin a perfectly good dog? But no one listened to her. The blade fell, and she turned away, not daring to watch. Head hanging, she trudged back to her room.

She had no idea how things were handled afterward. The dog had to be hidden, but she did not know where—probably moved somewhere else to avoid the master’s scolding when he returned. Truth be told, Xia Zhi had taken a bit of a loss this time. The dog they’d brought back was a picky one, refusing to eat unless there was meat. Left with no choice, they had to feed it plain noodles. Only after its ears and tail healed did it deign to help out, slowly making up for the initial expense.

The yamen had its busy and slow seasons. When the weather was mild, crimes were rampant. But when it was too hot, even taking a few steps left one breathless—robbery and theft were the last things on anyone’s mind. So compared to spring and autumn, winter and summer were relatively easier. When the magistrate did not hold court, the constables would sit under the corridor, sipping tea and chatting idly about this and that, passing the day away.

Summer was especially tough for Dingyi. She could not go shirtless like the men, having to wear thick clothing and even bind her chest. By the time she loosened the bindings at night, her chest and back would be covered in prickly heat. Everyone knew how unbearable that was—itchy, yet impossible to scratch through the fabric. It was pure torment. All summer long, she was a regular at the pharmacy, buying forsythia detox pills and chewing them like candy, one a day. She also had to wash with purslane-infused water to ease the symptoms, waiting for the rash to dry up and heal.

That day, she got off duty early and hitched a ride to Tongrentang Pharmacy to buy medicine. On her way back, passing by Cypress Alley, she spotted someone selling apricots under the shade of a tree. A large lotus leaf was spread over the sieve, with golden apricots laid out on top—just the sight of them made her mouth water. Deep down, she was still a girl who loved treats, although she usually had to act like a man and maintain appearances. But occasionally, she could let her guard down. When her master was around, she’d buy them to offer to him first. The old man would glance at them and wave her off, saying, “Go on, eat them.” But it felt wrong for a disciple to indulge while the master abstained, so over time, she stopped buying them altogether. This time, though, her master had gone to Miaofeng Mountain and would not return until the next day. She could buy some to share with Xia Zhi—despite being a real man, he had a sweet tooth too.

After asking the price, she bent over to pick through them, but the vendor stopped her. “My price is for the whole lot—no picking.”

“Fine,” Dingyi said. “Just give me whatever.” The vendor started filling her pouch. But despite his claim, he still picked through them himself. In the end, she saw that they were either worm-eaten or rotten—clearly a rip-off. Frowning, she said, “Why are you giving me all the bad ones? I am not paying for worms. This is no way to do business.”

The vendor rolled his eyes. “If everyone picked the good ones, who’d buy the bad ones?”

“What kind of talk is that?” Furious, she dumped the rotten apricots back out. “Forget it. Keep them yourself. I do not want them anymore.”

The vendor grabbed her arm. “Oh no, you do not. You think you can mess with me? I picked them one by one for you, and now you are backing out?”

“You picked nothing but bad ones—not a single good one.” She pointed at his hand. “Let go. You think you can force a sale right under the Emperor’s nose?”

This was quite the commotion. In the dog days of summer, everyone was irritable, voices rising higher than the next. Neighbors came out to watch, trying to mediate with, “Come on now, let it go—it’s not worth it.” But the apricot seller was belligerent, refusing to listen. Eyeing Dingyi’s small stature, he deliberately bullied her, insisting she pay up. “I used to be a butcher—slicing up cows and sheep was child’s play for me. You trying to mess with me? I will ruin you!”

At that, the crowd egged them on. “Perfect! This one here’s trained in butchering people—a top disciple of Wu the Big Head from the Shuntian Prefecture. Let’s see who’s better: the butcher or the Executioner!”

Mentioning an executioner might not have intimidated him, but the name Wu Changgeng did. In the capital, few had not heard of Wu the Big Head. In his youth, he’d been a troublemaker, connected to all sorts of shady circles. Hearing this, the apricot seller backed off, releasing his grip. He did not apologize or smile, but at least the fight was over.

Dingyi dusted off her sleeve, feeling unlucky—no apricots and now this mess. Before she could argue further, the man had already shouldered his carrying pole and fled. With no outlet for her anger, she went home to wash up and wait for Xia Zhi to make dinner.

As the sun dipped below the courtyard walls, life stirred again. Some prepared their stalls; others lit fires to cook, hauling firewood and coal briquettes. The lively atmosphere of the tenement drifted into Dingyi’s room with the scent of cooking smoke.

Having lived here for five or six years, she’d nearly forgotten what life in a grand mansion was like. Only in midnight dreams did fragments of past wealth resurface—her father, an official rarely home, barely left an impression. But her mother, fair-skinned, wore a short emerald-green jacket woven with gold, its skirt hemmed with a two-cun-wide silver-threaded border embroidered with magpies on branches. In winter, she’d clutch a small enamel hand-warmer, standing beyond the festooned gate directing servants to move flowerpots… Dingyi glanced in the mirror—she’d inherited her mother’s complexion, never tanning, earning her the nickname “Little Pale Face” at the yamen. A needle pinned to the bed curtain had been used countless times to pierce her ear holes, now fully healed. Sighing, she pinned it back—what a waste of childhood suffering, rubbing her earlobes between rapeseed stalks for who knew how long just to thread a needle, all for nothing now.

Just as she reached for a comb, the door was pounded loudly. “Xiao Shu! Come quick—big trouble!”

Startled, she opened the door to find the Qian brothers from the west room pointing outside. “Your senior apprentice Xia Zhi’s been arrested by the Seventh Master’s men! They are dragging him to the King’s residence now—hurry and think of a way to get him out!”

Dingyi’s mind went blank. “The Seventh Master’s men? Why?”

“Why? Over that damned dog! I told him not to mess with it, but he would not listen—now he’s in deep… We warned him—if anything happened, he’d take the blame, no dragging us into it,” Zhao Da kept muttering about bad luck. “That dog’s the Seventh Master’s treasure. Normally, it is not leashed—it bashes its head against walls if tied up. That day, it was out with the Fifth Beile for a stroll when it ran into you two…”

Dingyi was frantic, and regret now was too late. Seeing the attitude of the Qian brothers, which was utterly uncooperative, she waved her hand and snapped, “Enough! What’s with this ‘you two’ and ‘them two’? Did you not drink Xia Zhi’s liquor? Did you not take the poppy seeds he offered? Since he says he will take the blame, he will not rat you out. But can you really stand by and watch him die? Get moving—find someone outside to help. My master is not here, and I am at a loss too…”

The Zhao brothers intended to stay out of it. “We are just common folk; we do not deal with officials. Who could we possibly turn to?”

Hearing this, she flared up. “Do not give me that! Even beggars have poor relatives. If you do not think of something, I will report you! You are the ones who cut the dog’s ears and tail—where do you think you can hide?”

Well, this was dragging them into the mess! Qian Er scratched his head for a long while before saying, “My great-aunt’s family are third-class wrestlers. Maybe they can pull some strings? But let’s be clear—we cannot promise anything, especially since we’ve offended a King. We will do what we can, but if we cannot save him, do not blame us.”

“That depends on how much effort you put in,” Dingyi retorted, turning to close the door behind her as she walked out. “I need to find a way, too. Do not just sit around—do not wait till tomorrow; we cannot afford to. Who knows what Xia Zhi is suffering in there? If he cracks and names you, crying will not help then.”

With this mix of coaxing and threats, the Zhao brothers scurried out of the alley toward the east. She stood at the street corner, trying to steady herself, her heart pounding with anxiety. Last time, she had nearly been killed by the Seventh Master, and now Xia Zhi had fallen into his hands. If the Seventh Master suspected that Wu Changgeng had taken on these two apprentices just to oppose him, their master would surely be dragged into this mess.

What to do now? Taking this mess to the prefect—who would even listen? Better to seek out a lower-ranking clerk and ask for their help. But the gates of the King’s residence were heavily guarded—even getting in to kowtow required connections.