Love in Red Dust – CH 032

Chapter 32.

Dingyi woke up from her drunken stupor the next day. Sitting up in a daze, she glanced at the sky and her surroundings before suddenly remembering the two birds and panicking. She had drunk the wine someone sent yesterday—her stomachache was gone, but she had neglected her duties. She hurriedly got up, tidied herself, and went out to look for the birds. The Seventh Master had promised to deliver them yesterday, so why were they not in her room?

She hastily fastened her belt and rushed toward the Seventh Master’s hall. With no lingering illness, she was full of energy, her mind now clear. Trying to recall who had visited her yesterday? The Twelfth Master had come, and she had babbled endlessly at him—had she let anything slip? Had she been exposed? The more she thought about it, the more her back prickled with dread. She remembered shamelessly clinging to him, how effortlessly the King had held her, and how safe she had felt in his arms. A wanderer with no roots, she had suddenly felt anchored beside him, no longer alone—at least someone was willing to listen to her woes. But she had been a sobbing, laughing mess, utterly humiliated. What must he think of her now?

As she ran, she mulled it over. Right now, she could not face anyone. She’d wait a couple of days, let things settle, then test the waters. If the Twelfth Master had not noticed anything amiss, she’d be content just to quietly admire him from afar. But if things had gone awry, she’d have to come clean sooner or later—grit her teeth and lay it all out.

After a frantic dash, she arrived at the Seventh Master’s Hall of Literary Virtue. Pausing at the entrance to catch her breath, she stepped inside, swept her sleeves, and dropped into a deep bow. “Your servant greets the master.”

The Seventh Master, rarely one for reading, was currently engrossed in a playbook, learning the lyrics of The Peony Pavilion. He tapped out the rhythm, humming, “What a riot of brilliant purple and tender crimson, yet all abandoned to dry wells and crumbling walls…”

He ignored her. Dingyi peeked up, assuming he was too absorbed in his opera studies to speak. But then she saw him slanting a glance at her, eyebrows raised, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Well, well, Master Mu, all recovered now?”

“Please do not address me so, My Lord—it shortens my lifespan,” she said hastily. “Reporting to My Lord, I am fully recovered now and ready to resume my duties.”

The Seventh Master snorted and circled her. “Were you really sick, or just too lazy to work and faked an illness? If you were sick, why did you not call for the imperial physician? Instead, you just lay there drinking, got drunk, passed out, and slept like a log—from yesterday afternoon straight through to today. Even I, your master, do not get to relax like that.”

She blinked rapidly. “I was not faking, My Lord, I was truly ill. And as for the drinking—it was not gluttony. The attendant here said alcohol could cure stomachaches. I did not drink much, just a small cup. But my tolerance is low—one sip and I am out. It was not intentional.”

“You always have some flowery excuse. Should I believe you?” He circled her twice more before adding, “And one more thing—stop clinging to your Twelfth Master. The two of you are nothing alike. Let me warn you, his mother is formidable. If you dare corrupt her son, she will skin you alive and turn your hide into a lantern—believe it or not.”

Dingyi shuddered. “I am innocent! How could you think such a thing of me? I’ve no intention of leading the Twelfth Master astray. Your words are completely unfounded.”

“I am almost too embarrassed to scold you. I am your master, and you doing this brings shame upon me. What will people say?” He pinched his voice and mimicked, raising a delicate finger to point in the air. “That Seventh Master, hiring a pretty boy as his birdkeeper—truly an expert in ‘playing with birds,’ even seducing the Twelfth Master. The troublemaker is the Seventh Master; let’s all gather enough spit to hurl at him—see? All the filth gets dumped on my head. What did I ever do to deserve this? Do not say I am being the villain here, but I will own it today. Who made me your master? Back then, you could not enter the Twelfth Master’s service because fate was not on your side. Since you are under me now, you will follow my orders. Got it?”

After this long-winded lecture, Dingyi could only listen in silence. There was no way to defend herself—Seventh Master had misunderstood, and she deserved the reprimand.

Thinking it over, he was not wrong. Even if she were not a man, the vast gap in status made her longing for Twelfth Master utterly futile. She should not have entertained such thoughts. Overestimating herself was downright humiliating. If Twelfth Master found out, he might even feel defiled by her!

With a pained expression, she said, “Master, you speak wisely. Your words have cleared my muddled mind. From now on, I will keep my distance from Twelfth Master and will not seek him out for anything.”

Seventh Master gave an approving hum. “That’s more like it. I am your rightful master. If there’s anything you do not understand, come to me—I will give you guidance. Honestly, I am full of brilliant ideas. Just come to me, and I will point you down the right path. See how proper and above reproach that is? Is it not wonderful?” He chuckled heartily. “Besides, my mother is kind, not like the Twelfth Master’s. My mother is Virtuous Consort Dowager, renowned for her understanding nature…”

Eventually, he veered off-topic, comparing their mothers. Clearing his throat to cover the digression, he said, “Anyway, your master is in a good mood today and has decided to grace you with his calligraphy. Go grind the ink and lay out the paper. Watch as my brush dances like a dragon and serpent.”

Once his enthusiasm took hold, no one could stop him. Dingyi acknowledged with a respectful “Aye” and glanced around the hall—fortunately, Yingying and Feng’er were both present. As she ground the ink, she asked, “Master, I took leave yesterday. Who looked after these two?”

Seventh Master replied, “Me, of course. They were fine—no fussing or fighting.”

Each bird had its own cage, so they could not fight even if they wanted to. Seventh Master’s words often lacked precision; one could only grasp the gist without delving too deeply. Watching him dip the wolf-hair brush into the ink, Dingyi moved closer as it descended onto the gilded scroll. The scholarly training of a Yellow Belt was not for nothing—rising at dawn for over a decade had given him a solid foundation. His strokes carried an innate elegance, and surprisingly, someone like Seventh Master could write such beautiful cursive script.

Standing on the other side of the desk to assist, Dingyi saw the characters upside down and could not make out what they said. Only after the Seventh Master set down the brush did she turn to look—four bold characters: “Take Heed.” She nearly burst into tears. If it were a gift, could he not have chosen a more auspicious phrase? What was this supposed to mean?

Seventh Master, however, was quite pleased. “Do not dismiss it for being blunt—these are golden words of advice. Follow them, and your path ahead will be smooth.”

She responded dutifully, “This servant remembers and will not forget your teachings.”

As far as Seventh Master was concerned, the sky was blue, the clouds were light, and today’s weather was truly splendid.

He stretched his limbs and slowly strolled into the patch of light by the door, turning back to say, “After such a long spell of rain, the clear weather feels refreshing. Take advantage of the nice day and take the birds out for a walk, let them see the sun…”

While he was giving instructions, the person at the desk was still staring at his calligraphy. Could it really be that well-written? They seemed utterly entranced.

But even in their daze, there was a certain charm to it. Seventh Master did not say anything more, quietly crossing his arms as he watched. Mu Xiao Shu was facing him in profile—never mind the shape of their face, but the jet-black hair peeking out from under their cap was intriguing. They were petite, and their small stature made them look youthful, almost childlike. Standing there holding the scroll, they resembled a country bumpkin who’d stumbled upon a treasure and did not know what to do with it. The longer the Seventh Master looked, the more amusing it became.

“Should I have this framed?” they asked, lowering their head to glance at it again. “Once I have my own place, I will hang it in the main hall. If anyone asks, I will say it is my master’s teachings.” Then they added, “Or maybe you could add your seal so I can pass it down as a family heirloom.”

Seventh Master considered it. “Fine.” He walked over, reached for the twin lotus pouch at his waist, and pulled out a seal. Breathing warm air onto the carved surface, he pressed it firmly onto the lower right corner of the scroll.

Once done, he felt rather pleased with himself. But when he glanced up, the person before him was staring at the seal script with lowered eyelids—their delicate nose, crimson lips, and rows of lashes like tiny fans… His heart suddenly skipped a beat. No wonder they’d bewitched old Twelfth Master. Even someone as worldly as him found it hard to resist.

He stared so long he forgot to look away. Xiao Shu grinned at him, their gaze open and unguarded. Hongtao, however, seemed awkward and turned his face aside with an embarrassed cough.

“Thank you for the gift, Master. This is far more elegant than gold or silver,” she said, rolling up the scroll. “I will take this back first, then come again later for the birds.”

The Seventh Master waved dismissively. “Just take them together. Tuck the scroll under your arm.” He unhooked the birdcage and handed it over, shooing them away like they were some kind of nuisance, repeating “Go on, go on” several times.

Dingyi took the cage, blinking at him in surprise. “Master, did you feed them this morning?”

“Yes, yes! Diced chicken with fermented soybeans—they are stuffed full.” He waved them off again. “Go, go…”

Once they were gone, Seventh Master stood frozen in the middle of the room, his mind echoing with just three words: This was trouble! When it came to amusement, he’d seen everything—creatures of the sky and earth; he’d experienced them all. He’d even visited brothels and drinking houses. The stricter the imperial bans, the more he’d indulged, reveling in his defiance. In the capital, there were specialized establishments that ran brothels while also training cross-dressing opera performers. Before they matured, they were young male attendants—teenagers who accompanied guests in drinking games. Had he ever engaged their services? He would not flatter himself—yes, he had. But he’d always been proper, limiting it to playful banter at the table. He’d never considered bringing anyone home because, frankly, it was not his taste.

He’d always been a principled man. So why did he feel so unsettled now? Just moments ago, looking at Mu Xiao Shu had made his heart race. Why? Thinking back, when had he started acting like that overbearing mother in the opera, blocking her daughter from marrying a poor scholar? Was it really about pride? If it were, he should’ve handed him over to the Twelfth Master long ago. But that was not what had happened.

He paced around the room, tilting his head slightly to gaze at the ceiling. This was not good—his tastes had suddenly changed. After nearly two months away from home without a woman by his side, his mind was not functioning properly. Maybe he should find a way to relieve himself tonight? Staring at a man all the time was not a solution. They still had to get along in the future, and this hot potato was too tricky to handle—neither holding onto it nor throwing it away felt right. Quite a dilemma.

He peeked outside and called, “Najin, make some arrangements. I am going out for some fun tonight. Take me somewhere lively—if it is not lively enough, I will use you as firewood.”

Najin responded with a “Yes!” and said, “You got it, My Lord!”

Dingyi glanced back, thinking to herself that the Seventh Master’s life was truly colorful. As for the Twelfth Master, he was all alone in his solitude—the more people around, the more inconvenient it became for him. The thought of it made her heart ache. But it was just a pang of sorrow—she dared not think of him as pitiful. That word did not suit him; even the thought of it felt like an insult.

Her shoulders slumped in dejection. The Seventh Master’s words earlier had chilled her to the bone. From now on, she needed to restrain herself, afraid that a single slip might expose her true feelings. It would not do if others saw her and felt disgusted. She was also afraid—the way the Consort Dowager in the palace had described things was so terrifying. Did she dare provoke anything? Besides, she had her own unresolved matters to deal with. Thinking about such things was shameless.

She gazed toward the direction of Jisi Room, where red walls and yellow tiles peeked through the green trees. The sky was so blue, and everything remained unchanged.

Carrying the birdcage to the garden, she followed the Seventh Master’s orders to let the birds bask in the sun, removing all the covers. Checking the water container, she noticed the lord had only refilled the food but not the water. Stretching her arm, she hung the cage on a branch. There was a golden well in the southeast corner of the garden, not too far away, so she headed there to fetch water.

Descending the steps and passing through the corridor, she ran into Liao Datou, who stopped in his tracks upon seeing her. “Xiao Shu, you are here?”

She responded with a “Yes.” Nowadays, running into anyone from the guards’ unit always made her feel awkward—she was not sure whether to smile or not. But since they’d crossed paths, she had to exchange a few pleasantries. “Are you here to report to the master, Liao Datou?”

Liao Datou nodded. “We are only resting here for two or three days before preparing to move out… Oh, I just remembered—tonight, the guys have booked a private room for drinks. You coming? Last time, that incident left some tension between us, but why let it linger? Men settle grudges over drinks—whatever unhappiness there was, just clink glasses and let it go. We see each other all the time—are we really going to hold onto grudges forever? So, you coming?”

Dingyi naturally did not want to go. Another gathering of men—what if something went wrong? Anyway, she did not plan on staying with them for long. Once they reached Changbai Mountain, whether things went well or not, they’d part ways. There was no need to forge any connections.

She said, “Thank you, but I will not be joining. I was not feeling well yesterday, and the palace eunuch brought me a jug of wine. I got drunk and slept through the night—cannot drink again today.”

Liao Datou sighed regretfully. “I was hoping to smooth things over so everyone could forget the past unpleasantness… Well, since you are not willing, forget I mentioned it.” He glanced toward the tree in the distance and chuckled. “Walking the King’s birds again?”

Dingyi confirmed, “It’s sunny today, so the master ordered them brought out for some sun.”

“Good, good…” Liao Datou rubbed his nose with a smile. “Take good care of them. Those birds are the King’s treasures—if even a single feather goes missing, he will hold you accountable.”

He sauntered off, swaying with each step. Dingyi turned back to look at the birdcages—nothing seemed amiss, but the sinister tone in Liao Datou’s voice made her uneasy. After a moment’s thought, she decided to skip fetching water and take the birds back instead.

Sometimes a woman’s intuition was uncannily accurate. She could not shake the feeling that someone had it out for her. Too cowardly to confront her directly, they might target the birds instead. After all, as the birdkeeper, the birds’ well-being was her responsibility, and the Seventh Master was obsessed with them. If anything went wrong, her life would be forfeit. So she kept a close watch, barely letting the cages out of her sight for half the day. And sure enough, trouble struck.

The red tit’s cage had a sunning perch, while the lark’s cage featured a raised “phoenix platform” on the sand, both designed for the birds to sing and dance. At first, the two birds stood perfectly still, but then, inexplicably, they began swaying as if drunk, stumbling until they collapsed at the bottom of their cages. She was stunned, watching as their wings splayed out—clearly, they’d been drugged.

What was she to do? The Seventh Master had gone out for entertainment. If he returned to find his birds dead, he’d tear her apart. Despair washed over her as she watched the birds’ legs twitch. Frantic, she dug out medicine she’d brought from the capital—medicine meant for bird plagues. It might not be the right remedy, but she had to try something!

Just as she was mixing the medicine with water, Sha Tong walked in, picking his teeth. “Xiao Shu, you were running like a hare earlier. You all healed up now?” He stepped inside and froze. “What’s wrong with the birds? Why are they lying down?”

Dingyi burst into tears. “I do not know! They were fine, but after hanging outside for a bit, they just… collapsed. My birds! What am I going to do?”

She was beside herself. After caring for them all this time, losing them would break her heart.

They scrambled to administer the medicine, Sha Tong pitching in. After what felt like an eternity of desperate effort, the birds gave a few feeble flaps and went still, lifeless.

It was a bolt from the blue. Cradling the two dead birds, she wailed, “My Yingying and Feng’er… What do I do? How will I face my master?” Her entire existence revolved around these birds. Without them, what worth did she have?

Her grief was contagious. Sha Tong’s nose stung as he watched her, stepping forward to console her. “Stop crying. Every bird has its fate. What’s done is done. You’ve had your share of misfortunes—right now, the important thing is figuring out how to explain this to the Seventh Master.”

She shook her head, tears streaming. “There’s no way. It is my fault for not being careful enough. I am just a walking disaster.”

“Do not blame yourself entirely. Quit the waterworks; keep it down. Look, while the Seventh Master’s away, let’s hurry out and find replacements. Red tits and crested larks are a dime a dozen at the bird market.”

Still lost in grief, she sobbed, clasping her hands together. “But they will not be the same. I failed them. I did not take good enough care of them.”

Sha Tong coughed. “Are you daft? These birds were obviously poisoned. Such tiny things—just two melon seeds could kill them. Do you not get it? Someone wants to see you fall, and you are just standing here? If your master returns before we fix this, it is over for you.” He hitched up his robe and headed out. “I will report to the Twelfth Master. Leaving at this hour requires his permission. I will get us leave, then take you to the bird market. Stop crying and wait here.” With that, he dashed off.