Love in Red Dust – CH 033

Chapter 33.

When the matter reached the Twelfth Master, it was no small affair. Before long, he arrived, stepping inside to survey the scene. Mu Xiao Shu was crying so hard her eyes were swollen, clutching the dead birds and refusing to let go. Frowning, he said, “Sha Tong suggested going out to buy new birds. What do you think? Just standing here watching will not do. Make a decision.”

“My mind’s a mess right now; how can I decide anything?” She found a jar for tea scraps and placed the birds inside, sobbing as she said, “No matter what, let’s give them a proper burial first.”

Hongce took the jar from her. “We cannot bury them yet. The cause of death is unclear—burying them would mean no evidence remains. What did you feed them? What kind of food or water did you give them?”

Dingyi stood frozen. “This morning, the Seventh Master fed them diced chicken with fermented soybeans. At noon, I gave them soft food, but they would not eat. Later, I refilled their water dish, but they did not touch that either. By evening, they were gone—just collapsed and died.”

There was no need to ask who had a grudge against him. It had to be the unresolved conflict from Yanzi River Post Station. A whole group of guards, petty and ruthless—was there no law anymore? He set the jar on the table and said firmly, “This must be investigated thoroughly. Do not hide anything from the Seventh Master—tell him the truth when he returns. These birds died under suspicious circumstances. Covering it up would only let those people off easy. Poisoning within the palace grounds is a crime punishable by death. We cannot let this go. Keep the birds—whether they are examined or buried later will be up to the Seventh Master.”

He treated this like a case to be solved, and Dingyi naturally had no objections. They could openly target people all they wanted, but to harm two innocent birds that could not even speak—it was too cruel.

She sat down, tears streaming. “I never thought it would come to this. Such beautiful birds, ruined.” The thought of the Seventh Master’s face made her heart race. “I am afraid I will not be able to explain this to my master. Back then, you asked me what I’d do if anything happened to the birds. I was stubborn, convinced nothing would go wrong. Who knew they’d be gone before we even reached Ningguta? It is my fault—I should’ve watched them every second. Now it is too late for regrets.”

Hongce shook his head. “Blaming yourself is pointless. No one carries birds in their arms without ever letting go. Even tigers nap sometimes. If someone’s determined to harm you, there’s no avoiding it. Think back—what happened today? Who did you see? When did you leave the cage?”

She already had an idea. “After leaving Wende Hall, I went into the garden and hung the cage on a branch to let them bask in the sun. Then I went to the Golden Well to fetch water. On the way, I ran into Liao Datou—he chatted with me for a bit… I know they are probably involved, but without proof, I cannot just accuse them.”

Hongce scoffed. “Insolent servants, growing bolder by the day. If we do not deal with them now, next time they might poison people.” He glanced at the figure by the table, staring mournfully at the birds in the tea jar. After a moment’s thought, he added, “Sha Tong’s right—we should buy new birds. Not to deceive, but to ease the Seventh Master’s heart. I asked Wei Kaitai earlier—there’s a bird market in Shengjing that stays open late. You know how to pick good ones. Go choose two fine birds, and it will be easier to explain to the Seventh Master.”

Bird enthusiasts all knew that birds were valuable—a top-quality one could cost at least several hundred taels of silver. Truly, beasts could be more precious than humans. She felt the money in her pocket, ten taels saved through frugal living, meant for a place to settle once reunited with her brother. Now, even if she spent it all, it would not be enough. Blushing, she held out her purse and stammered, “This is all I’ve saved from small daily expenses. To compensate the Seventh Master for the bird, I am afraid I can only afford an ordinary one.”

He smiled faintly and pushed her hand back. “Keep it for snacks. Such a small sum will not do much.”

Twelfth Master turned and walked away, his robe fluttering in the sunset like a deity. Before, she owed favors; now, she owed money. The debts piled up, and someday she might have to repay with her life. Crestfallen, she hurried after him without delay.

Leaving the palace should have been a joyous occasion. Dingyi, lively by nature, usually loved exploring new places to broaden her horizons. But this time, she was utterly disheartened—mourning the two birds and dreading the inevitable confrontation with Seventh Master. Gripping the reins, she trailed behind Twelfth Master, her head drooping and face long with gloom.

Hongce glanced back, struck by her despondent air. “Leave it to me. Do not worry. The Seventh Master does not stay attached to his playthings. Last time, when we compensated him with a Shaanxi hound, he forgot about that slippery one in no time. As long as we get him a good bird this time, he will be pleased.”

Her brows furrowed, the faint light casting dense lashes’ shadows on her cheeks. His words did not fully ease her. “I hope you are right,” she murmured. “I just keep feeling like I am causing trouble, over and over. Even I am sick of myself. When Sha Tong reported to you, what did you think? Did you sigh and wonder, ‘Why him again?’ See, if you feel that way, Seventh Master will surely be furious too.”

Hongce pondered seriously. When Sha Tong had entered, what had he thought? There was no sense of nuisance—rather, relief. Having resolved to distance himself, this incident provided an irrefutable excuse. He’d always believed himself firm in stance, but now realized it was not so. Detachment was only for those who did not matter; with deeper ties, personal feelings muddled resolve.

“Not at all,” he said. “I never thought that way. Maybe at first, but not later. It has become like my own affair—perhaps I’ve grown used to it. Silence would feel strange instead.”

His warm smile lingered on his lips, and Dingyi stared, momentarily entranced, before hastily looking away. “Hearing you say that makes me feel even more shameless,” she muttered. “I always turn to you when trouble strikes, yet I’ve never repaid you once. Thinking about it burns me with shame.”

“There’s a Dragon King Temple on Dongshun Inner Street, with a row of shops beside it, much like Beijing’s Liulichang. When I was a child, I came to Shengjing for ancestral rites and once went there to hunt for cricket jars. The place is not as big as Liulichang, but though small, it has all the essentials. The bird market must be newly opened—I have not been there before, so I do not know what it is like, but I hear it is quite large with a wide variety.”

Dingyi stood in the stirrups and looked ahead. Under the setting sun, the buildings stood row upon row. Shengjing was not particularly close to Beijing, but the deep traces left by the once-prosperous Xibe people were evident—like the shops and their signs, the patchwork of signboards and blue backgrounds with white lettering. Walking on the earthen streets, it was almost hard to tell where one was.

The Dragon King Temple was an ancient site for rain prayers, with a broad street to heaven still remaining in front. Crossing this street led to the market area. As evening approached, the shops along the street lit their lanterns. A few young tavern workers used poles to poke lanterns under the eaves, iron hooks fixed to bamboo tips, hanging them up one by one with practiced ease.

As their horses clip-clopped past, the lanterns gradually brightened. Dismounting beneath the bird market’s archway, Hongce tossed the reins, which the eunuch behind caught effortlessly, quietly leading the horse aside.

The saying “insects and birds are inseparable” was particularly evident here. Those who kept birds also dabbled in insects—crickets and grasshoppers were serious hobbies, pampered like lords once bought. Others relied on birds for their livelihood, like grasshoppers and spiders, which served as live feed—the birds’ meals.

The shop they entered was the largest and most diverse in the bird market, boasting thrushes, red tits, crossbills, and shrikes. At the sight of the lively birds in their cages, Dingyi’s spirits lifted instantly. Their melodious songs were like a miracle cure, mending her battered heart in an instant.

The shopkeeper was a portly middle-aged man with a belly so large his belt measured over three feet. Beaming, he stepped forward with a kowtow and warmly greeted Hongce. “Ah, My Lord, you’ve arrived! Please, come inside! What birds are you looking for today? You’ve come at the perfect time—we just received a new batch of parrots and falcons.”

Hongce had no expertise in birds, so he turned to Xiao Shu. “Take your pick. It does not have to match the original.”

“Let’s look for the same kind first. I am afraid Seventh Master will not be able to let it go—getting a similar one might help make up for it.” She turned to chat with the shopkeeper. “Excuse me, do you have any red tits or larks with particularly good songs?”

Seeing that this Guard knew his stuff, the shopkeeper grinned and boasted, “Not just good songs—yellow birds with ‘seven-word bursts,’ red tits with ‘clear calls,’ thrushes that ‘mimic children crying’… we’ve got it all. You want red tits and thrushes? Come this way…” Leading them to the songbird section, he pointed out, “Our birds are the most complete on this street. Training them is effortless—we only stock the finest. You are an expert; you know the thirteen-song sets are top-tier. Take this lark, for example—it mimics reeds, magpies, roosters crowing, hens laying eggs, even shrikes mating… the full repertoire. Take it home, and I guarantee you will not regret it—it will even earn you respect!”

Business thrived on the gift of gab—spin a tall tale, bamboozle the customer, and the deal was done. A bird that truly masters thirteen tunes would fetch a hefty price. Back in the capital, I heard the Commandery King¹ spent three hundred taels on a quail. If a lark could perform, the price would be staggering.

Dingyi hesitated, no longer eyeing the lark, and turned to look at the parrots instead. Hongce, watching from the side, could tell he was worried about the cost and asked the shopkeeper, “How much?”

The shopkeeper, seeing they were out-of-towners, decided to fleece them if he could. He gestured with one hand. “Five hundred taels—not a penny more. A bird this fine takes no small effort to train. Just look at its plumage and claws—absolutely splendid!”

Dingyi turned back and said, “Five hundred taels could buy you a gyrfalcon. Your price is outrageous. You know what they say—going too far is as bad as not going far enough. Who’d dare haggle with such a steep price?” He cupped his hands toward Hongce and added, “Twelfth Master, there are plenty of shops along the street. We do not have to buy here. We’ve got time—let’s take it slow and browse around. Even a good bird needs a fair price, do you not think so?”

He winked, and Hongce understood—this was a tactic to drive the price down first, making it easier to negotiate later.

The shopkeeper, sensing trouble, was not just worried they’d go elsewhere. The way they addressed each other by rank and the eunuch holding the horses outside told him these were no ordinary customers. Who but a Kingly household or a wealthy family would have so many sons, numbering up to the twelfth? Not people to offend, no, not at all. He quickly bent halfway in deference. “The price is negotiable. I quote, you counter—that’s only fair. Take another look at this red tit—genuine stock from General’s Tomb in Xingtai. Anyone keeping larks or yellow birds at home needs a red tit as a tutor. Its voice is exquisite, so clear it could drip like water.”

Hongce had no patience for his spiel and cut straight to the chase. “No inflated prices, but we will not let you take a loss either. Give us a bundled price for both.”

The shopkeeper pursed his lips in thought. “How about this—seven hundred taels for both, no tricks.”

Seeing the Twelfth Master about to nod, Dingyi quickly interjected, “No deal. Five hundred taels flat—not a penny more. And on top of that, we will need the cages swapped—the red tit gets a Venus ebony perch, and the lark gets a silver cover. You weigh the options. If you can let them go, we will take them. If it is a loss for you, we will not force the issue.”

Hongce found him amusing—sharp and street-smart, knowing all the tricks of haggling. Born into an imperial family, Hongce had never bothered with managing estates or farmland after establishing his household, leaving it all to the servants. Though household rules were strict, embezzlement was unavoidable in any King’s residence, and he did not fuss over it. As for the birds, even if they cost a thousand taels, he’d have bought them if they pleased him. But with Xiao Shu stepping in, he had nothing more to say—he’d leave it all to him.

The shopkeeper agonized for a long moment. Refusing to sell meant losing a profitable deal, but selling meant falling short of his expected profit. It was a tough call.

Dingyi chuckled. “Do not overthink it. When I was a kid, I helped catch birds. Trace these birds’ lineage back a generation, and ten of their parents would not be worth a single tael. Training birds is a low-cost, high-return business. You put in some effort and flip them for two hundred fifty taels apiece—hardly a raw deal.”

The shopkeeper mulled it over and conceded. “It’s late-night business—I will not dig in my heels. Consider it a gesture of friendship. If this were the morning market, I would not sell for a tael less than seven hundred.”

Since it was settled, Dingyi happily went to pick the birds. For the lark, she chose one with red legs, a large beak, and clear wing patterns. For the red tit, she selected one with a big head, a straight tail, white legs, and glossy black crown feathers. There was even a rhyme for selecting adult birds: “From afar, observe the whole avian; its legs and head need close inspection; approach and graze—see if it flees or stays.” What did that mean? Besides appearance, temperament mattered too—bold birds were steady, while timid ones were harder to train. Finally, she tested the strength of the two birds by holding them in her hands. Neither was underweight, so the deal was sealed.

Watching her meticulous selection, the shopkeeper sighed, “Had I known you were this picky, I’d never have agreed to sell!”

Dingyi turned and laughed, “The deal’s done—no takebacks!” With the two cages dangling in her hands, the Twelfth Master finally took out the banknotes from his sleeve. Once payment was settled, they left the shop.

Originally, she had thought of quietly replacing them with similar-looking birds, but upon closer inspection, each bird was unique. Along the way, Dingyi chatted with the Twelfth Master about bird lore. Eventually, the topic turned to money, and she grew particularly guilty. “Another five hundred taels spent on me. Even selling me would not cover the debt. This time, I owe you too much—including that fine hound last time. Working for you my whole life would not be enough to repay it.”

He only smiled without a word. Worried he had not noticed, Dingyi urged her horse closer and tapped his arm lightly. “Twelfth Master?”

His eyes and lips curved into an exceptionally pleasing arc as he nodded. “I know. Then take your time repaying. A lifetime is long—there will be time to settle it.”

He was always like this, never making others feel pressured, always maintaining that relaxed demeanor. But the more indifferent he seemed, the more awkward she felt. Softly, she apologized, “I am just a useless person. It is like I cannot survive without you…”

After a brief silence, he said, “I’ve always regretted not being able to hear. To me, people feel incomplete.”

Dingyi gasped, her heart aching dully. “Do you want to hear my voice?” After a moment’s thought, she took two of his fingers and pressed them against her throat. “See? When I speak like this, you can hear me, right?”

The Twelfth Master’s gaze was clear, like the radiant glow reflecting on an emerald sea described in books. A flicker of vivid light passed through his eyes, and a faint smile spread from his lips to the depths of his gaze. Dingyi thought there was probably no one in the world with eyes more beautiful than his.