Love in Red Dust – CH 018

Chapter 18.

“Later, tell Guan Zhaojing to arrange things as he sees fit,” he said. “Even if you are not by your master’s side, do not neglect your filial duties. It is most disappointing when people forget their obligations once someone’s gone.”

Dingyi let out a sigh, her heart suddenly heavy with sorrow. If there had been no further developments from him, it might have been easier to accept. But now, with the situation taking a sudden turn for the worse, missing this opportunity felt like the cruelest twist of fate.

“What should I do…?” She sniffled. “Just now, Seventh Master gave an order—he wants me to go to his residence to inspect the cellar. I refused, and he said if I would not go to King Xian’s Residence, then I cannot stay in any other King’s household either… I had not planned to tell you this, but now that you’ve agreed, I feel even more regretful.”

Hongce was taken aback. Hongtao was known for his eccentric temper and disregard for protocol. Since he had issued such a decree, it would be difficult for Hongce to insist on keeping her.

“There’s nothing to be done about it.” He leaned back, noticing her dejected expression and offering comfort. “Beijing winters are cold, but Ningguta is ten times worse. You’ve never experienced such bitter cold—if you regret it after arriving there, it will be too late. Perhaps it is better not to go.”

“I am not afraid of the cold. I just wanted to see more of the world while I am young… it is lonely being alone, but with you, I’d have someone to rely on.” She felt deeply disheartened, yet there was no changing things now. Blaming her own bad luck, she forced a smile and said, “Never mind. I will just stick to being an executioner. I will not go to King Xian’s Residence to move flowerpots either—who knows, I might end up stuck there for life.”

So it was not about escaping her current situation—it was simply youthful curiosity about the wider world. That was not a bad thing. Without excessive attachment, life could be easier. Since this topic had reached a dead end, it was best to move on to something else. Mu Xiao Shu was an interesting person. Despite her disappointment, she always wore a faint smile and was full of lively street talk, making conversation with her anything but dull. Hongce could not remember the last time he had felt so lighthearted. Listening to her childhood stories—catching beetles, capturing emerald-green dragonflies—she described them so vividly it was as if the scenes unfolded before his eyes. He had not noticed the time passing until he looked up and saw they were already nearing the Shuntian Prefecture Office. Quickly composing himself, he lowered the carriage curtain and sat upright.

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The prefect, having received word of his arrival, hurried out to greet him. Before the sedan chair even touched the ground, he briskly swept his sleeves and bowed deeply, stepping forward to lift the curtain. “Your Highness, if you had any instructions, you need only summon this humble official to your residence. Why trouble yourself to come all this way under the scorching sun?”

“If you do not run, then I must. Someone always has to bear the burden,” Hongce replied as he stepped out of the sedan and walked forward. “Last time, you sent me signed documents—standard procedure, nothing revealing. Today, I am here to review the case files. A twelve-year-old case—digging up old testimonies and confessions will not be easy. Take your time; I will wait here.”

The prefect hastily agreed and ushered him into the main hall.

The rest of the matter had nothing to do with her. Dingyi lingered at the gate for a moment before turning to ask a yamen runner, “A twelve-year-old case? Whose case is it?”

“Who knows?” The runner leaned against the doorway. “Old cases are not like new ones. With new cases, if trouble breaks out somewhere, we get orders to arrest people, so we have some idea of what’s going on. But old cases? No suspects, just paperwork. That’s the job of the clerks and legal secretaries—let them handle the headache.”

She was puzzled—what major cases from twelve years ago could be so urgent that the King would rush to review them? She briefly considered whether it might relate to her father’s case but dismissed the thought, figuring such coincidences did not happen in the world. Still, she kept an ear out for news. If only she could get closer to serving in the office—unfortunately, tasks like serving tea were handled by dedicated staff, leaving her no opportunity.

Lost in thought, she paced around the gatehouse when she spotted Xia Zhi coming in from outside, carrying a string of crabs tied up with straw. He hung them on a small iron hook near the key rack and then picked up a teapot from the table and drizzled water over each crab to keep them from drying out—dead crabs did not taste as good.

The gatekeeper grumbled, “That was my freshly cooled boiled water you just used on the crabs!”

Xia Zhi shook the teapot. “There’s still some left—enough for you.” Turning to Xiao Shu, he added, “You are off early today.” He nudged her with his shoulder and gestured toward the wall. “There’s a vendor selling crabs at the acrobatics ground near the Temple of the Sun—two coppers for a whole basket. Look how plump they are; their shells are bursting. Did you not say you were getting Master some wine? Well, I’ve got the snacks ready.”

Crabs were not rare among commoners—they were everywhere in ditches and fields. These were not the largest, barely two taels at most; any bigger and they’d be sent to restaurants or wealthy households. The rich ate crabs with “crab tools,” meticulously picking at them like embroidery. The poor? They pried off the shell, grabbed the legs, snapped them in half, and went straight for the roe. Crude but perfect with wine.

Dingyi suddenly remembered and rubbed the back of her head. “Ah, I forgot. I will go home later to fetch the gourd.”

“You are always busy, never a moment to rest.” Xia Zhi sighed, following her gaze. “Hah, off to High King Chun’s residence again? Returning the umbrella, I bet. You two sure keep things lively.”

Before he could finish, Dingyi grabbed the tea ladle and hurried out—she’d heard the wooden clapper signaling a wealthy household giving out ice water in the summer heat.

She was always diligent and well-liked by everyone at the office. For trivial tasks like this, which the constables and bailiffs could not be bothered with, she was quick to volunteer. Fetching the ice water was not enough—she also poured and distributed it. Those who received it smiled and praised her, “Our Xiao Shu’s so thoughtful. Young folks should stay active, not get lazy. Unlike Xia Zhi—what girl would want to marry a man who’d make her his servant?”

After filling the teacups on the table, she expected the bailiffs to take them, but instead, she carried them straight into the office, stopping at the eastern annex where Guan Zhaojing and Bailiff Bai were chatting.

“Chief Steward, here’s some water,” she offered, handing one bowl to Guan Zhaojing and the other to Bailiff Bai. Glancing toward the main hall, she could not see clearly through the paper-covered windows, only the movement of black boots—they must still be busy. She blinked and asked, “Have all the case files the King requested been retrieved yet?”

Bailiff Bai replied, “Not yet. The criminal law clerk is handling it—I am the tax clerk, so those files are not my responsibility. The King has Magistrate Lu from the outer office assisting with the case, so the two of us get to relax. Usually swamped with duties, we rarely get to chat.” He clasped his hands toward Guan Zhaojing. “Last time, when Xiao Shu went to the King’s residence to request an audience, it was my idea. It was not exactly proper, and I owe you thanks for accommodating it.”

Guan Zhaojing waved his hand dismissively. “No need for formalities between us. We are from the same hometown, and by family seniority, I should call you uncle. This small favor is not worth mentioning. Besides, the boy’s clever—he did not even say what exactly his senior brother had done wrong. I passed the message inside and only later found out what it was about.”

He had used some cunning this time, but fortunately, the King did not hold it against him—a close call with no harm done. Bailiff Bai also smiled. “The boy has had a hard life—no parents, born into hardship. Having a master and senior brother to rely on, he’d give them his whole heart.”

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Dingyi felt embarrassed by the praise and quickly changed the subject. “Is the court reopening a case? I heard it is an old case from twelve years ago. Why bring it up now?”

“It’s the same every year,” Guan Zhaojing said. “There’s always some commotion—too many people with too many opinions. Today someone’s impeached, tomorrow someone’s accused—never a dull moment. You cannot just eat without working. It is like the laborers in the marketplace—when the boss hires you to carry bricks or timber, you put in effort when someone’s watching, but slack off when no one’s around. In officialdom, you need results to stand out. The bigger the splash you make, the more the Emperor notices you, and the better your chances for promotion and fortune.”

She was getting closer to the answer she sought. Steadying herself, she asked, “Was there a major case twelve years ago? I lived in the capital for a while as a child, but never heard of any notorious bandits entering the city.”

Bailiff Bai chuckled. “Twelve years ago, you were only six—just a little kid. What could you remember? If it were bandits, the court would’ve sent troops to wipe them out long ago. Why wait till now? It is an old political case—the records of Wen Lu, the Secretary from the Censorate. The Emperor felt the trial was unclear, so he issued an edict to dig it up again.”

Dingyi’s scalp prickled—just as she had guessed, it was her father’s case being reopened. After so many years, bringing it up now felt surreal. But none of it mattered to her anymore. The family estate was sold, her family broken and scattered. Even if the case was overturned, it would not make up for anything. The dead could not come back to life, but those exiled might still have a sliver of hope. The convicts would surely be summoned to the capital for retrial, meaning she would not have to travel far to see her brothers.

Her heart pounded wildly. She took a steadying breath and said, “I’ve heard of Wen Lu. My parents used to work for his family. I heard he had three sons—are they still around? If they are, they could serve as witnesses.”

Bailiff Bai said, “They were all exiled to the Imperial Manor. So many years have passed, and the climate there is harsh. They were young masters, unused to hardship—who knows if they are even alive now.”

“True,” she forced a smile. “Will our office send someone to the Imperial Manor to escort them? When will they set out?”

Guan Zhaojing folded his arms. “No need. The King is passing by there anyway—he will handle it in passing. No point in extra trips back and forth.”

As fellow officials discussing a case that was not top-secret, there was no need to mince words. She had learned everything she needed, but Dingyi grew even more anxious. She could not leave things vague—she’d had to join the journey. With the path through the Twelfth Master closed, her only option was to plead with the Seventh Master. He was also an Imperial Envoy assigned to Ningguta. Since the two brothers were traveling together, it made no difference which one she followed.

But that was a man who would eat you without spitting out the bones. How could she convince him to transfer her from the garden to the guards’ office? He had laid down the terms: becoming a guard was easy—first, she had to defeat two of his top men. Dingyi sized herself up—she was not even enough to fill their teeth. A head-on confrontation was definitely out of the question.

That left only the soft approach—flattery and sucking up. Maybe if she buttered him up enough, he’d be pleased and agree to take her along.

Once she made up her mind, the next step was to find out the King’s schedule. The Seventh Master was actually an idle royal, having secured his title thanks to his mother, Virtuous Consort. Sometimes he made appearances at the Imperial Clan Court or the Imperial Household Department, holding nominal positions just to justify his salary. Of course, even if he did nothing at all, not a single coin of his stipend would be docked. As a result, his attendance was highly flexible—too hot? He would not go. Too cold? He would not go. Rain or wind? He would not go. By that count, he showed up for work barely one or two months out of the entire year.

While he could skip official duties, there was one place he never missed. Every morning after finishing his martial arts routine, he would change clothes and head to Fengya House for tea and pastries. The place was a gathering spot for many bird-loving bannermen, who brought all kinds of birds to show off and exchange tips. The Seventh Master also kept a bird—a lark. When it first started singing, its voice was downright awful. But with patient training, it gradually improved. If told to mimic an old man rolling walnuts, the bird would click and clack, imitating it perfectly. If asked to imitate a donkey, the lark would bray at the top of its lungs, sending everyone present into fits of laughter. The Seventh Master thrived in such extravagant pastimes, whiling away half the day at Fengya House and staying through mealtime. After eating and drinking his fill, he would spend the afternoon at the opera house, enjoying everything from octagonal drum performances to Henan clapper operas. If the mood struck him, he’d even paint his own face and take the stage to perform The Second Entry into the Palace, with a dedicated claque in the audience to cheer him on.

Dingyi spent several days mapping out the King’s routine—what time he left home, when he ate, when he went to the opera—she had it all down to a science. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. She only had one shot at this. If it did not work out, she’d have to come clean to her master—Changbai Mountain was unavoidable this time.