Love in Red Dust – CH 035

Chapter 35.

Dingyi was as if struck by lightning, his eyes widening in alarm. “Master, I am a man. I cannot be your concubine.”

“I know,” said Seventh Master, clearly disappointed in himself, his eyelids drooping. “I was just speaking offhand. How could I make you a concubine? It is not like all the women in the world have died.”

She rubbed her nose sheepishly. “Then what did you mean by saying that? Just to make fun of me?”

“Not exactly.” Seventh Master paced to the window, pushed it open, and looked out. The bright moon hung high in the sky, casting a desolate shadow over his heart. He said, “Xiao Shu, has your master arranged a marriage for you? How many wives do you plan to take in the future?”

Dingyi hung the bird on its perch and laughed. “This servant is a poor man. How could I support several wives? Would not the whole family starve to death? I just want to find one person to share life’s hardships with. If he sells bean juice, I will sell fried dough rings. As long as we have food to eat and do not quarrel, living in harmony is enough for me.”

He smacked his lips thoughtfully. “‘One life, one love’—it’s a beautiful sentiment, but probably only common folk can achieve it. As for us, the court arranges our marriages. Ever since His Majesty took on a new Empress, he’s washed his hands of the matter. The imperial consort selection still happens, but he does not keep any for himself, giving them all away instead. I think he’s a bit henpecked. Do not be fooled by the Empress’s constant smiling face and agreeable demeanor—she’s actually quite cunning! She’s strict with her sons. The Sixth Master treats his father like a brother but avoids his mother out of fear. The Empress is fierce—she probably scolds her husband in the bedroom too, which is why the Emperor has not even chosen a low-ranking concubine lately. Poor man. There are two types of men in the Yuwen family: those who love one person until death, and those who love none at all. I do not know which type I am.” He turned to ask, “Which do you think I resemble?”

The question was too difficult. Dingyi said, “I cannot tell. Do you not already have several King’s Consorts?”

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“Ah, yes,” the Seventh Master seemed a bit confused. “How many were there? Let me count… one second-rank, three third-rank, totaling four. Still missing the head wife. Next spring, there will be another selection, and it will probably be arranged then. Not just me—Twelfth Master and Thirteenth Master are due as well. The Emperor truly has his hands full—after arranging our generation’s marriages, it will be his sons’ turn. Let me tell you, the greatest matchmaker in the world is the Emperor. Whoever he pairs you with, you cannot refuse. If he says this one, then it is this one—no bargaining. Do you not think we imperial relatives are pitiful? We have no say in our own marriages. Even if he matches you with a cripple, you’d have to kneel and kowtow in gratitude for his boundless grace.”

Listening to him, Dingyi finally understood how these noble marriages were decided. “I always thought lords like you could quietly report to the palace if you fancied a girl, and then an imperial decree would be issued as a formality. So it is not like that?”

Seventh Master said, “Such things do happen. In the palace, you need reliable confidants. For instance, if your mother can speak up for you, or if you have deep connections with the Emperor and Empress, then pulling some strings might get you preferential treatment. But hearts are separated by ribs—sometimes, if someone takes a dislike to you, they might assign you a terrible match, ruining your life. Take Empress Kun, the one before the current Empress. She had a younger brother from her maiden family who inherited his father’s title, making him a duke of some rank. And what kind of match was arranged for him? A King’s Consort with a lame leg—all because back then, he and the Emperor were rivals for the same bride. Originally, the Empress Dowager had already issued an edict betrothing the Empress to the young duke, but the Emperor snatched her back. In the end, they foisted the Empress’s lame younger sister on him. What kind of arrangement was that? Clearly meant to make life difficult for him.”

Dingyi wore an uncertain smile. “Master, these are royal secrets. If you tell me, my ears might get chopped off later.”

“Not likely,” said Seventh Master. “It’s no secret—everyone knows about it. I just wanted to say that people like us sometimes have no choice. What we desire in our hearts may never come to pass, and living like that is exhausting. But I am someone who takes things in stride—I do not obsess over what I cannot have. I choose to live the good parts of life.” He seemed to be talking to himself, then glanced at Xiao Shu. “I know how to talk myself out of things. If something’s impossible, I let it go and stop thinking about it. That usually works, but if it is something that’s gotten into your bones, it is harder to shake. I wonder if this has gotten into my bones… When we return to the capital, I will give you a house. You can marry a good wife and live a stable life.”

Dingyi was taken aback. “Master, what’s gotten into you today? Have you been drinking outside?”

Seventh Master shook his head. “Drinking? I sat down and called for two top courtesans—they looked fine from afar, but up close, their faces were creased with wrinkles. Their makeup was caked on, layer upon layer. I sat there worrying that if they spoke, the powder would flake off into my wine cup. Those seasoned professionals even had a special trick—they grew their pinky nails two cun long, scooped wine into them, dipped the cup, and offered it to drink. Scared me half to death… Who knows if they’d been picking their noses earlier? Drinking that would make anyone vomit up yesterday’s dinner.”

Dingyi burst into laughter. This lord was so amusing—being around such a cheerful person made all her worries vanish. Covering her mouth, she said, “They wear finger guards, or else the nails would break.”

“Still unacceptable! Fingernails are filthy—what a way to insult someone!” He looked at his own hands and made a sound of surprise. “Time for a trim… Shu’er, fetch the grooming box from the high cabinet and trim my nails for me.”

When a master ordered a servant, it did not matter what the task was—if you were called, you did it! Dingyi acknowledged with a “Yes, sir,” and as she walked, she added, “This servant is clumsy. If I mess up, please do not blame me.”

Seventh Master said, “Can you not think positively? Demand better of yourself first. If you always assume you cannot do something, you will never rise above the mud in this life.”

Dingyi murmured her agreement and brought over the carved rosewood box. Opening it, she saw brass scissors of varying sizes neatly arranged inside, each polished to a shine. Seventh Master sat in an armchair, and she knelt beside his legs, looking up to ask, “Should I lay out a white cloth to wrap the clippings?”

“Watch carefully; do not clip my nails too short.”

She pursed her lips in a smile. “I will not. I am being very careful!”

And so, Seventh Master leisurely let himself be tended to. Mu Xiao Shu was meticulous, applying just the right amount of pressure. He squinted slightly as she held his hand, tilting her head and focusing intently on the trimming. Seventh Master closed his eyes again—this was quite nice, more comfortable than drinking outside with courtesans. Watching the world’s gaudy, colorful entertainers, yet only one person lingered in his mind. Might as well come back honestly and look at him.

However, the King was troubled. What should he do? Hongce was acting strangely. If both brothers fell into the same person’s hands, would not that just be adding to the chaos? He knew Twelfth Master was unusually fond of Mu Xiao Shu. At any rate, Hongce was a bachelor, so it was not a big deal. But what about himself? He had a family, yet still harbored such worldly desires—utterly improper.

Did this boy have some kind of sorcery? He narrowed his eyes and studied him. Nothing special—just a bit handsome, resilient, and good-tempered. What else was there? A country bumpkin, a rustic, bowing and scraping like a sycophant, lacking backbone and spirit… But that was due to his background, not his fault. Seventh Master pondered. He could not do anything to him, so perhaps he should look out for him a little more. Promote him so his descendants could enjoy some benefits and not have to bend their backs as he did.

He was thinking far too thoroughly—Seventh Master had never considered himself so farsighted before. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes again, creating problems for himself. Of all people, why did he have to fancy a boy? Did he not plan to have sons in the future? Without sons, who would inherit his title? Who would care for him in old age and send him off in death?

It was fine to play around, but he should not take it seriously—that would only hurt himself. The Seventh Master was good at self-consolation. As Xiao Shu busied herself with his nails, he half-opened his eyes to glance at the bird in the cage and said leisurely, “Later, have Najin bring three thousand taels in silver notes. Go to the Twelfth Master’s place and settle all the previous debts. No owing favors—remember that?”

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Dingyi held his fingers, muttering to herself that once a debt of affection was incurred, it could not be settled with money. But aloud, she replied, “Understood. I will say the dog money is settled, too. If Twelfth Master thinks it is not enough, he can ask you for more, alright?”

Seventh Master raised an eyebrow. “Do not cheat me. Two thousand five hundred taels is more than enough for a dog. With that, you could even buy a dozen little actors—enough to stage The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea without missing a role.”

Dingyi said, “For The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea, would ten people not make two extra?”

Seventh Master clicked his tongue. “Can they not be assigned roles? One can play Zhang Guolao’s donkey, and the other can be Iron-Crutch Li’s gourd. Problem solved.”

She had nothing to say to that and could only agree. “The master’s arrangements are truly reasonable.”

A nobleman’s hands felt pleasant to the touch. After trimming the nails, she used a small file to smooth them, back and forth, tidying them up nicely for Seventh Master. When she finished, he brought his ten fingers together and examined them carefully, noticing a neat arc on each nail. He asked, “What’s this about? Why are they not clipped clean?”

Dingyi packed away the box. “Clipping them too short makes handling things inconvenient. Leaving a little looks better.”

The Seventh Master took his explanation of “looking nice” as perfectly acceptable. As long as it looked good, a little leftover did not matter. “Alright then,” he said, “keep it this way from now on. It is getting late; you may go.” Turning to the birdcage, he added, “Take the money to Twelfth Master, or else all these birds will be set free tomorrow.”

Dingyi hesitated, mouth half-open. “Go now? What if he’s already asleep?”

“Go even if he’s asleep,” Seventh Master said. “Settle today’s debts today. Tell Twelfth Master we appreciate his kindness, but we will not trouble him anymore—our household affairs can be handled by ourselves. And remember this: keep your distance from Twelfth Master. You are a servant of the Seventh Master’s residence, registered under the Feather Banner, not his Merchant Banner. Once you are in a banner, you acknowledge its lord—not just you, even your sons will be my hereditary servants! Do not go cozying up to outsiders. Your master has sharp eyes and despises those who cannot tell kinship from strangers.”

This was drawing a line in the sand—alive, she belonged to Seventh Master; dead, she’d be his dead servant. Dingyi did not dare argue and respectfully assented, backing slowly out of the hall. As she shuffled along the corridor, she ran into steward Najin.

Najin stood leaning against a pillar, sleeves tucked together. Spotting her, he hurried over and peeked toward the hall, whispering, “How did it go? Has His Lordship cooled down yet?”

Dingyi thought back. The Seventh Master had been furious at first, but later it was as if the storm had passed. When she trimmed his nails, he looked perfectly content, with no lingering anger. “It’s all settled,” she said. “You know how His Lordship is. He just ordered me to collect three thousand taels in silver notes from you to repay the debt.”

Najin nodded. “I heard everything outside.” He pulled out a roll of dragon-head notes from his sleeve and handed them to her. “Three thousand taels exactly. Keep them safe.”

Dingyi took them hesitantly. At this hour, the Twelfth Master was likely already asleep, but she did not dare delay the Seventh Master’s orders. Fortunately, the palace gates here were not as strict as the Forbidden City—this area was not locked at night, and it was just past two moon gates.

Clutching the silver notes, she hurried forward under the glow of an ox-tendon lantern. Entering the Twelfth Master’s Jisi Room, she found the halls spacious and quiet, with only the faint light of wind lanterns hanging high under the eaves.

She stopped at the side chamber door and rapped on the window lattice. “Is the chamberlain here?”

A broad shadow stretched across the window paper, then shrank as the door bolt clacked open. Sha Tong stuck his head out. “Xiao Shu? You are still up this late?”

Dingyi hesitated. “I am here on Seventh Master’s orders to see Twelfth Master… It is late, but the Seventh Master insisted it be done today. I was not sure what to do.”

Sha Tong finally stepped out, his feet freshly washed, his robe tucked into his belt, and his trousers rolled up high. Standing in the light, he asked, “So urgent? Is it important?”

“It’s about the birds bought today. Seventh Master scolded me for troubling Twelfth Master and told me to return the silver notes.” She held them out. “What should I do? Could you take them and present them to the Twelfth Master tomorrow morning?”

Sha Tong shook his head and refused. “Settling accounts between brothers is no simple matter. If I accept this, the master will surely reprimand me later.” As he spoke, he headed toward the main hall. “The lights are still on—likely reading. Why not wait a moment? Let me go in and check. If he has not retired yet, I will pass on your message. You can enter once the King summons you.”

Dingyi smiled and clasped his hands in gratitude. “Thank you, Anda. I feel terrible troubling you so late at night.”

Sha Tong waved it off, straightened his attire, and approached the hall doors. He cracked them open slightly before slipping inside.

Dingyi waited quietly under the eaves. The night wind carried a biting chill, seeping in through his collar and sleeves. He tightened his robe around himself, pondering how to broach the subject with the Twelfth Master. As Sha Tong had said, when brothers reached the point of settling accounts openly, even good relations could turn sour. Just as he was wrestling with uncertainty, the hall doors opened again. Sha Tong stood at the threshold and called out to Xiao Shu, “The King was about to retire, but has a moment now. He bids you enter and speak.”