Love in Red Dust – CH 026

Chapter 26.

Several days had passed since leaving the capital, and as the Mid-Autumn Festival drew nearer, the moon grew larger each night. The crowd was too large, and the rooms were stiflingly hot. Taking advantage of the bright moonlight, they simply moved the tables and stools out into the courtyard, hanging lanterns from the eaves on all sides, turning it into an open-air feast—a perfect opportunity to drink and admire the moon, making up for the hardships of the past few days on the road.

These traveling companions were all military men, seasoned veterans who were rough and unrestrained, slapping tables and tossing bowls as if every meal were a battle. Dingyi sat in a corner, stuffing food into her mouth. Once full, she found a secluded spot to stay and cool down. Today had been particularly unlucky—being teased by those guards was bad enough, but borrowing someone else’s place to bathe nearly exposed her secret in the end… As a girl growing older, certain parts of her body naturally developed, and to pass as a man, she had to bind herself tightly every day, barely able to breathe. This was her secret, one she could never let slip. But earlier, her mind had been too unsettled and distracted, and one end of the binding cloth had slipped from her grasp without her noticing. By the time she realized, it had already trailed far behind her on the ground…

How humiliating! She wished she could bury her head in the ground. Sha Tong probably had not noticed—he was leading the way ahead and had not been paying attention to what was behind him. As for the Twelfth Master in the main hall… She glanced mournfully at the sky. The moon was bright, yet she could not shake the feeling that a storm was coming.

Looking back, the hall was brilliantly lit. The King and the military officials did not dine with them. Those of higher rank had their own circles, ones she could never hope to enter. Fine, if she could not join them, she’d stay quietly where she was! She buried herself in her buckwheat cat-ear noodles—the post station made this dish quite well, topped with vinegar and chili, appetizing and filling.

After all, she was still part of the Seventh Master’s household, so she ate with the guards. After the earlier incident, it was clear they were not too fond of her. But she did not care—if they did not like her, so be it. She did not owe them anything. They deserved their punishment. By their logic, if someone committed murder and got caught, would they blame the victim for not dying smartly enough? She hardened her heart, resentment swelling, and held her neck even straighter. Why should she act guilty? If she showed weakness, they’d only bully her more.

The atmosphere at the table was awkward. Shouheng, as the Squad Leader, felt his authority had been undermined by his men’s behavior—it was a blow to his pride. He did not know this newcomer well and could not quite gauge their temperament. Officially, they were assigned to the guards, but their actual duty was bird-keeping. The fools like Gao had no sense of boundaries, teasing them just because they looked delicate.

Taking a sip of wine, Shouheng said, “We’ve been busy traveling these past few days, so I have not had the chance to ask much about you joining the guards. I heard your master is Wu Changgeng?”

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Dingyi only then realized Shouheng was speaking to her. She replied with a simple “Yes,” adding, “I’ve been under my master’s tutelage for six years, always assisting him with his blades. Do you know my master, Squad Leader?”

“Earlier, Liao Datou and the others went to plead for mercy before the master. I was there too. The master was lying down having his legs massaged, but when he heard what happened, he sat up and kicked them over. Honestly, such matters are trivial, but if they escalate, it reflects poorly on everyone. After all, they are Kings—their subordinates should be well-behaved, yet here we are, causing internal strife. The master cannot afford to lose face. In the end, he ordered three months’ wages docked and had them spend the night in the stables. Xiao Shu, you have not been here long and are not familiar with them. Our guard unit is full of rough men. Rough men love to fool around and do not know their own strength—do not take it to heart. If anything like this happens again, do not escalate it. Tell me, and I will deal with those rascals. As servants, enduring a little hardship is nothing; what matters is protecting the master’s dignity. I’ve heard you are close with Twelfth Master, but now that you serve in King Xian’s household, you must recognize who your true master is—Seventh Master. Understand?”

His words still carried reproach, and she naturally felt indignant. But under the circumstances, with everyone seeing each other daily, and Shouheng being the captain, she could not afford to offend him, either. Swallowing her grievances, she bowed slightly and said, “I understand. Everything you’ve said makes sense, but there’s one thing I must clarify, or I’d be wronged unfairly. Twelfth Master and I are not close—he’s a King, and I am just an insignificant ant. He could crush me with a flick of his finger. You’d have to lend me several lifetimes’ worth of courage before I’d dare presume to climb so high. As for today’s incident, though it escalated poorly, it was not my fault. They were fooling around openly outside, and Twelfth Master happened to pass by. Seeing their impropriety, he intervened—it really had nothing to do with me. I am human too; everyone has their limits. You expect me to stand there and let them strip me? I just could not do it. But I will remember your advice—you mean well, and I will be more cautious from now on. Please also relay my apologies to Liao Datou and the others. Today’s trouble was all my fault for not letting them have their fun. I owe them an apology.”

Her tone grew slightly defiant by the end, something Shouheng and the others at the table noticed. Exchanging glances, the bystanders mediated from a neutral stance. “No one’s blaming you. They were the ones acting recklessly—broad daylight, in the courtyard with the master around, carrying on like that was bound to look bad. Shouheng just meant it should not be publicized. Do not misunderstand.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Let me make my stance clear, too. I come from humble origins, with no family or friends, just my master’s kindness bringing me here. The King saw fit to take me in, but I am not quick-witted or fond of roughhousing. A little teasing is fine, but hands off. I am narrow-minded, a country bumpkin with no sophistication. Please bear with me. Here, I will bow to Shouheng and everyone as my apology.”She stood up and bowed deeply, which made everyone feel awkward. Dingyi knew that this was too stubborn, but there had to be a time like this. Since she had started, she might as well take the opportunity to make things clear, saving herself a lot of trouble in the future. She also knew that Qian Chuanzi and the others would not let her off so easily—they would not dare provoke her openly, but they’d trip her up behind her back or make things difficult for her, and that would happen sooner or later. Right now, she had no other hope but to set foot in Changbai Mountain as soon as possible. Her brothers were enslaved there; even if she had to build a shack in the mountain valleys to mend their clothes and cook for them, at least they were her own flesh and blood, and she would not have to be constantly on guard.

The meal was nearly finished. She did not drink, so after bowing, she took the chance to leave the table.

The bright moon shone over the world, casting a vast expanse of silvery light. She walked out of the posthouse alone, looking left and right—the road behind her stretched endlessly, and the road ahead was just as boundless. Standing on the dirt path, she thought for a while and remembered the map spread out on the Seventh Master’s desk when she had delivered the bird to him. It was densely covered with tiny characters, marking gullies and mountain peaks. At the time, she had searched for Changbai Mountain for a long time before finally finding it.

The territory of Great Ying was truly vast. After traveling for over ten days from the capital, the distance covered on the map was barely a cun long. As for the distance to Changbai Mountain, it was still five or six times that far. It was the eighth month now, and she estimated she would not arrive until the middle of the tenth month. They said the climate in Changbai Mountain was harsh—by the tenth month, heavy snow would already have sealed the mountain. The slaves who processed ginseng suffered terribly, washing, drying, and slicing the roots day and night in the freezing cold. The ginseng produced there was not just supplied to the Forbidden City; even the ginseng circulating in the market was processed by them. Those who were exiled there were barely considered human anymore. During the ginseng season, they were busy with their main duties, and when ginseng was not in season, they had to reclaim wasteland and farm, working from dawn till dusk without a moment’s rest.

People, after all, could endure any hardship, but there’s no end to the blessings they could enjoy. Fortunately, Ruliang and the others were tough. Since childhood, they had been forced to practice martial arts. In their teens, they would train bare-chested in the courtyard, their abdominal muscles rippling like washboards when they exerted themselves. The garden had wooden dummies specifically for them to practice routines, as well as iron chains as thick as wrists for them to wield. They were not particularly interested in martial arts, but with the instructors watching, they had no choice but to practice Tai Chi and Bagua day after day. When their father came to inspect, they would put on a show, shouting and grunting as they sparred. They might not have been cut out for the imperial martial exams, but their training was excellent for building strength and health. The three brothers had never even caught a cold since childhood—their constitutions were so robust that they could endure even Changbai Mountain.

She slowly strolled along the official road alone. As night deepened, the wind carried a chill. Thinking of the past, reminiscing about the days when her parents and brothers were around, she felt at peace. As for the hardships that came later, there had not been any major setbacks—or if there had been, she had forgotten them. Those who emerge from suffering tend to look back with single-minded focus, and if she died right here, it would be more than enough.

There was just one thing that still bothered her—the incident from earlier. She stretched out her arms and shouted at the sky, “It’s fine, everything’s fine.” She often did this; when she was upset, a good shout worked better than medicine.

Walking further ahead, she faintly saw a lake in the distance, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. It was probably the place Liao Datou and the others had planned to come and gather clams.

In such a vast expanse, discovering something delicate and exquisite felt particularly delightful. She did not dare to get too close to the lake, so she found a flat spot to sit down. As a child, she loved playing in the water but had been told many cautionary tales about water spirits and drowned ghosts. As she grew older, her imagination flourished, and her courage waned—she feared the yin energy at night and getting too close to the water, lest she become a replacement for some water ghost.

Picking up a pebble to skip across the water, she swung her arm but lost her grip. The stone flew straight behind her. Assuming no one was around, she did not think much of it—until she heard a sharp hiss of pain. Her hair stood on end, and she scrambled to her feet, hands on her hips. “Who’s there playing tricks? If I catch you, I will kick you to death!”

A vague figure emerged from the shadows. At first, she could not make out who it was, but as they drew closer, she recognized the stature and attire—it was the Twelfth Master.

Clutching her chest, she scolded, “You scared me half to death! I did not know it was you!” Remembering the pebble she’d thrown, she grew anxious and quickly looked him over. “Why are you out here? Where did I hit you? Does it hurt?”

The Twelfth Master ignored her questions and cut straight to the point. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“Nothing much, really. I just felt stifled and needed some air.” Seeing him now lifted her spirits, and she momentarily forgot his noble status as a King. Having company in the dark was a comfort. Smiling, she asked, “Are you hot? I can fan you. The mosquitoes are terrible out here—I hope they have not bitten you.”

The moonlight was bright enough to see his lips move clearly, but only if they stood close. Any farther, and she’d have to guess. He chose a rock to sit on and gestured beside him. “Sit.”

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Dingyi shook her head. “I will stand while answering you. Did you come looking for me?”

Hongce hesitated. He had not seen her since leaving the house, and during dinner, he could not stop wondering why she’d hidden that silk cord—whether she’d been so aggrieved that she might do something drastic, like hang herself… The thought had unsettled him so much that he could barely eat. The entire search had been fraught with worry, and only now, seeing her safe, did he feel at ease.

For her part, Dingyi’s initial joy soon gave way to unease. She was not sure if the Twelfth Master had noticed her secret and grew too nervous to speak much. After a long silence, she finally mustered some small talk, squinting up at the sky. “The moonlight’s lovely tonight, is it not?”

He humored her with a nod. After some deliberation, he decided against direct consolation, fearing it might embarrass her. But leaving things unsaid risked her actually doing something foolish. So he opted for a roundabout approach, choosing his words carefully. “Earlier at the banquet, I spoke with the Seventh Master about disciplining his subordinates. I doubt such incidents will happen again. Life is full of hardships—not just for you, but even for royalty, even for the Emperor on his golden throne. No one gets everything they want. Perseverance is admirable, but giving up at the slightest setback means there’s no hope left. You are clever. Clever people adapt. If there’s an obstacle ahead, you find a way around it—no need to charge headlong into it… Do you understand what I am saying?”

Dingyi listened intently, then frowned. “Not really… Well, I understand the principle, but it does not seem to apply to me.”

Hongce grew a bit impatient, sensing that she might truly have some idea, so she played dumb at every turn. Since she was hiding it and would not admit it, there was no choice but to lay it bare. He pointed at her and said, “You are not a woman—why are you carrying silk ribbons around?”

She was caught off guard. So he had actually noticed. What should she do? Flustered and at a loss, she dodged the question, saying, “What silk ribbons? There are not any… You must have seen wrong. Why would I carry a ribbon around for no reason? That’d be so unlucky.”

She stammered evasively, and Hongce could not make out her lip movements, which only fueled his agitation. He lit a match and held it up before him. In the hazy glow of the flame, he saw her pale face, the flickering blue fire casting a crimson hue on her lips. Half-lit and half-shadowed, there was an eerie allure about her.