Love in Red Dust – CH 015

Chapter 15.

The rain had eased slightly when Dingyi made her way back, riding her horse with the umbrella given by the King slung over her shoulder.

The sky was pitch black by then, and the households along the street had lit their lamps. Passing by the windows, she tilted her head to examine the umbrella in the faint glow. It was of imperial make—yellow-brown cloth coated with tung oil, its ribs lighter and more delicate than ordinary ones. The belongings of nobles emphasized refinement; anything too crude would be beneath them to carry. Commoners like her, on the other hand, would not think twice about anything, be it an umbrella or even a basket over their heads as they roamed the streets.

Raindrops pattered against the canopy. Gripping the carved handle, she recalled the moment the Twelfth Master had pulled her close—she could still remember the warmth of his touch. Having spent years among the lowest rungs of society, she had no idea what the powerful members of the Imperial Clan were truly like. But as far as the Twelfth Master went, he embodied every good quality she could imagine, so much so that she could not even find the right words to describe him.

Truthfully, his hearing impairment did not seem to hinder him much. He could not hear the gossip behind his back, and whether it was praise or slander, none of it reached him. But the world must have felt lonely—no one to converse with face-to-face, likely left to sit in silence. The thought was rather sad.

If only she could enter his residence, Dingyi mused wistfully, twirling the umbrella handle. A girl’s attentiveness could be of use—she could keep him company when he was isolated, so he would not have to sit alone. A guard as devoted as she, capable of shielding him from danger and engaging in conversation—what more could he ask for? Unfortunately, he did not seem interested, and she could not bring herself to impose. After all, he owed her nothing. Getting carried away just because someone showed her kindness would be shameless. At least there was this umbrella—like the operas sang, one act of kindness sowed the seeds for another. This back-and-forth meant there was at least one more chance to meet.

All in all, things had gone smoothly. They’d spoken today, deepening their familiarity, making it easier to approach him next time. If she wanted to follow him north, he was her only connection. The Seventh Master was also heading to Ningguta, but that one was too dangerous—he’d nearly killed her several times. She’d rather walk there alone than recklessly approach King Xian’s Residence.

The clip-clop of hooves echoed as she entered the alleyway, where the sound of a chime struck—dong… dong… dong…—eerie in the pitch-black night. It was not proper to beat gongs or clash cymbals so late, lest it disturb the neighbors. The next day would be livelier, with horn players practicing their tunes, wailing mournful dirges. Another group of monks would chant sutras and perform rituals—commoners’ funerals were no less extravagant than their weddings.

Dingyi led her horse inside, where her master and a few neighbors sat around the table talking. A single oil lamp lit the room, and large tea bowls sat on the table. Seeing her, they asked, “What took you so long? Leathercrafter Ma left ages ago, and you are only just returning now?”

She wiped her face with a towel and replied, “He put on airs and refused to come, going on about bad luck and needing to send an umbrella to his son. I had no choice but to agree to make the trip for him.”

Xia Zhi strolled to the doorway, arms crossed, and leaned against the frame, eyeing the umbrella. “Was not that meant to be delivered? Why’d you bring it back?”

“Not that one,” she said. “Leathercrafter Ma’s son works as a cook in High King Chun’s residence. I delivered it there, but got caught in the heavy rain on the way back and ended up stranded. By chance, I ran into the Twelfth Master, who kindly lent me this. I will return it tomorrow.”

Xia Zhi sucked in a breath as if his teeth ached. “How’d you run into him again? That’s too much of a coincidence.”

And what a coincidence—they even shared the same birthday. If someone spun it into a story, it could easily be turned into an opera. There was no need to explain the details to him, so she casually remarked, “When you deliver something to someone’s residence, is it not normal to run into them?”

Xia Zhi kicked a puddle of mud outside the door. “They say noble families are as deep as the sea, but High King Chun’s Residence just looks like a small courtyard—you can meet them as soon as you go in… Let me tell you, making friends is just like a girl getting married—it’s all about matching social status. They are nobility, and if we force ourselves on them, it will not end well.”

Dingyi shot him a glare. “If we had not befriended them, you’d still be locked up in that dog kennel!” The retort left Xia Zhi sulking, but she ignored him and turned to her master. “What happened with Leathercrafter Ma’s money in the end? How much did he ask for?”

Wu Changgeng tapped his pipe. “Was it you who suggested asking Eldest’s sister for it?”

She blinked innocently. “Yeah, why let her off easy?”

“Other people’s family matters are none of a child’s business.” Wu Changgeng coughed deliberately. “He did go to her, but Eldest’s sister said she had no money to give—only her life. In the end, everyone chipped in. One tael was not enough, so they added another string of money to finally send him away. Poor Uncle Xi, crying here and there, completely at a loss.”

Only crying after his wife died—what was he doing earlier? That Eldest’s sister was truly ruthless, enough to make one’s teeth itch. “She’s just refusing to take responsibility! Has Eldest’s wife’s family not arrived yet? If they do not come soon, once the coffin’s sealed, it will all be over.”

“Her family’s in Fangshan. They’ve already been notified. The Xi family wanted to bury her quietly, but everyone objected, saying, ‘You cannot do this. A living, breathing girl married into your family and was bullied to death—you cannot just bury her without a word. Her brother, the captain, will smash your skull open.'” San Qingzi spoke with flying spit. “Uncle Xi is the type who cannot handle pressure. After thinking it over, he realized there’d be no one to mediate if they came for revenge later. So, wiping his tears, he set up the benches and asked everyone to help lift the coffin.”

San Qingzi’s wife sighed, rubbing her belly. “Women suffer. Once you marry into a household, there are wolves in front and tigers behind. If you’ve fallen on hard times, you should just live quietly, but then comes a meddling sister-in-law. Aunt Xi was such a kind person, always chatting with everyone when she came and went. Who’d have thought she’d end up like this? She was truly pushed to the brink.”

San Qingzi muttered, “That’s why I say you women are narrow-minded. What’s the big deal? She dug her own grave—how pathetic is that?”

Dingyi looked outside. The rain had stopped, and the damp paper tassels on the Xi family’s door hung limply. Inside, shadows moved about—neighbors helping with the arrangements. That troublemaker was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding. Not that anyone could do anything to her now. They could only hope her family would come to demand justice. There was no bringing the dead back, but at least they could give her a good beating to vent their anger.

Stretching their necks in anticipation, they never thought their hopes would actually come true. A swarm of soldiers poured through the main gate, all with their trousers tied at the ankles and holding torches, standing tall and straight—clearly men of official standing. Behind them came a burly middle-aged man with a thick beard shaved clean, leaving only a shadow of stubble on his chin. Clutching the hilt of his waist saber, he strode purposefully toward Uncle Xi’s house. Perhaps knowing his sister had died under suspicious circumstances, the women of the family had also come—mourning knew no bounds, and the usual restrictions on women leaving the home did not apply. Judging by their attire, they were the wife of the battalion commander and the aunts. Before even entering the house, they began wailing at the top of their lungs.

The sound of weeping filled the air instantly, and neighbors with softer hearts could not help but shed tears alongside them. Dingyi and San Qingzi, the couple, squeezed their way in to see. The battalion commander stood before the coffin, trembling all over as he stared at the needle marks on Eldest’s wife’s neck. He turned and grabbed Uncle Xi by the collar, his voice twisted with rage, shaking him violently. “What did you do to our sister? What did you do?” With that, he swung a fist at him. “I will beat you to death, you traitor! Back then, how you came knocking on our door, begging—not for the elder sister but the younger one… You got what you asked for, and this is how she ends up! Why not just die? How dare you still draw breath?”

The battalion commander had thrown all decorum to the wind, his fists flying like millstones. No one dared to intervene—a military man had strength to spare. As for Uncle Xi, he cowered, covering his head. He was useless, and his wife had died in misery—he deserved this beating. The battalion commander struck hard, and before long, Uncle Xi was battered black and blue, kneeling before Eldest’s wife’s coffin and weeping, banging his head against the wooden planks. “You’ve gone and left me behind, just like that, without a care. But what about me? How am I supposed to answer for this? Take me with you—what’s the point of me living anymore? What’s left for me?”

Some troublemakers in the courtyard had somehow dug up Eldest’s sister and pushed her in front of the battalion commander. “You were always picking on Eldest’s wife, driving her to slit her own throat. Now that her brother’s here, why not say something, Eldest’s sister?”

Hearing the insinuation in those words, the battalion commander’s eyes blazed. His sister had been a proud woman—when she returned to her family, aside from asking for help, she never spoke a word of complaint. So it turned out she had been tormented by this sister-in-law until life became unbearable. His foolish sister—if she could not argue or fight, why had she not come home for help? A worthless creature like this could have been tied up and thrown into a pond to end it all—why sacrifice her own life? His eyes burning with fury, he ground his teeth and asked, “Our sister died because of you—are you happy now?”

Eldest’s sister was no pushover either. Unfazed, she retorted, “That’s unfair, sir. The authorities have already examined the scene—Eldest’s wife took her own life, and no one else is to blame. You are a man of official standing; you must uphold reason. No one held a knife to her throat—she could not see past her own troubles. Who can she blame for that? Do not think you can bully us, widow and orphans, just because you are a man.”

Her words left the battalion commander at a loss. He could not lay hands on her now, but it did not matter—his wife and the other aunts were still there. The battalion commander’s wife came from a lower-bannered family and was known for her fiery temper. Stirring trouble and making life difficult for others were skills she’d brought from her maiden home. Though she and her sister-in-law had never gotten along before, now that tragedy had struck, blood was thicker than water—she could not let her kin be wronged without consequence. Without a word, she seized Eldest’s sister by the topknot and barked at those around her, “What are you all standing around for? Hit her!”

So a flurry of punches and kicks ensued, and Eldest’s sister was beaten until she wailed for her parents. When women resorted to physical fights, pulling hair and tearing clothes were their ultimate moves. Eldest’s sister could not handle so many at once and soon found herself in tattered clothes, rolling on the ground, her pale belly fully exposed. The wife of the Battalion Commander stepped on her, sneering sarcastically, “Look at this! Our dear sister has been driven to the brink, yet she’s managed to keep herself plump! Widowed and living like a bedraggled sparrow, yet she returns to her maiden home acting like the Empress Dowager. Someone, bring me the measuring tape! Since our sister has no children, I will have to find someone to mourn her in sackcloth and filial piety.” As she spoke, she gritted her teeth and dragged the woman under the coffin, forcing her to kowtow. “Wail for the dead, and wail hard! You will have your turn carrying the funeral banner and smashing the bowl later. Did you think you could get away with killing someone? Do you take the Dings for pushovers?”

What a chaotic scene! Eldest’s sister had two children, who shrieked for their mother in shrill voices. Onlookers remarked, “These two brats are no good either. Like mother, like children—cut from the same cloth.”

At first, everyone was furious, thinking Eldest’s sister deserved punishment. But seeing her beaten like this, they could not help but feel a pang of pity. Dingyi could not bear to watch any longer—this beating might actually kill her. She glanced at Xia Zhi and asked, “Are they not planning to stop?”

Xia Zhi picked his teeth and said, “They need to vent their anger. After all, a life was lost. This was not the first or second quarrel—she’s been nitpicking every single day. Why should they tolerate it? They do not rely on her for food. I would not stand it either.”

Dingyi rubbed her hands together. “Do not let them kill her. If someone dies, everyone in this courtyard is under Shuntian Prefecture’s jurisdiction.”

Xia Zhi waved his hand dismissively. “She will not die. There’s no blood—just some tearing and pulling. It will not kill her. Besides, even if she dies, it is no big deal. The master of the house is a battalion commander. If the sky falls, he will hold it up.”

With that, Dingyi stopped worrying and took a couple of steps back, planning to slip away quietly. Just as she reached the door, she ran into the funeral director, who said, “Shu, we’ve got work. The battalion commander wants another group of horn players. Are you willing to join? Same as usual—just play the horn for half a day, and you will get twenty-four coppers.”

Dingyi had done this before when she was out of work—a little extra income. She was good at playing the horn, especially the lively “Joyful Rush” at weddings. She could play with such flair in one breath that all the local musicians knew her.

It was not a respectable reputation, and it was rather embarrassing. But people live to earn money. She did not see herself as a woman yet—she did not have the luxury. She worked hard now so that one day she could wear skirts and put up her hair. She responded, “I will ask my master for permission. Save me a spot—I will come.”