Love in Red Dust – CH 066

Chapter 66.

The moon climbed to its zenith. After blowing out the oil lamp, the moonlight outside squeezed through the gaps in the curtains, casting a hazy glow that swirled through the room.

Still too dim. The Twelfth Master could not see her lips moving, leaving them unable to communicate. But that did not matter—there were plenty of other interesting things to explore.

She toyed with his fingers, lifting his hand high until the moonlight pierced through them, casting shadows on the kang’s painted border depicting Diaochan worshiping the moon. His hands were different from others—slender-jointed but not bony. Though calluses had formed at the base of his fingers from gripping reins and drawing bows, his palms remained soft.

When she was little, her wet nurse had said that soft hands meant good fortune. With a teasing lilt, she bent his fingers into all sorts of delicate poses—the gestures of qingyi and huadan in opera, all fifty-three variations of the orchid fingers. He indulged her, letting her manipulate his hands within that slender band of light—moon-facing, rippling waves, vying in beauty, petals unfurling… His long fingers lent an unexpectedly maidenly grace to the gestures. She could not help giggling, muffling her laughter in the quilt to avoid being overheard, her shoulders trembling silently.

They lay side by side, free of restless thoughts, wrapped only in quiet tenderness. He could not hear, but she could, so he took advantage, whispering in her ear, “I will come every night from now on to sleep beside you. You will rest better this way.”

Dingyi rolled her eyes. How smooth—he was the one who could not sleep soundly, yet here he was, turning the tables. She poked his chest with a slender finger, demanding honesty. Understanding, he raised an arm to cover his face. “It’s me. I am always afraid you will run off again… That day at Suifen River is burned into my memory. I never want to relive it.”

Yes, the pain of that day was unbearable to recall. When she left him, stepping through the doorway, half of her had already died. Emotion and reason had coexisted, yet she’d torn them apart. Afterward, every day felt hopeless. They had tried to flee beyond the borders, but he had ordered that not even a fly escape. The Squad Leader who’d taken their bribe backed out, refusing to bend, urging them south instead. Left with no choice, they disguised themselves and joined a merchant caravan returning from Korea to Xi’an.

Silent but far-reaching, his influence stretched long. The Governor of Shaanxi was his bondservant, a servant so eager to please his master he’d had torn out his own heart. Like master, like servant—the governor was equally discreet, relentlessly searching day and night. City gates were interrogated, inns offered no peace, their relentless pursuit leaving no room to breathe. They traveled far, never staying long in one place, the strain wearing on them.

Fortunately, the Governor of Shanxi did not belong to the Merchant Banner. Though inspections occurred, they were mostly for show—superficial formalities with no follow-through, allowing them to finally settle somewhere long-term. But it had not lasted long—perhaps a month or two—before Rujian’s business took off, and he descended upon them like a sudden storm.

No matter what, they could not escape his grasp. She had her own selfish hopes, too—Rujian was stubborn and hard to reason with, so she quietly pinned her hopes on him. She trusted that he would not harm Rujian for the sake of his own future. If they could turn conflict into harmony, that would be the happiest resolution of all.

She turned over, draping her leg over his, finding comfort in the soft cushion beneath. His tolerance for her seemed boundless, and only now did she realize how wonderful it was to have someone close—someone who did not mind her tantrums or demands, who let her take and take without complaint. Even when she bullied him, his eyes would well up with tears, looking as pitiful as a wronged bride. This was her Twelfth Master, the man she had once revered from afar, now trembling beneath her… Her thoughts ran wild, and she could not help but let out a soft, delighted laugh.

His underrobe was as white as snow, the collar slightly open, revealing a glimpse of his fair chest. Such a beautiful sight was truly mouthwatering. She pretended to casually press against him, pleased to hear his sharp intake of breath, her smugness growing.

Men should not be provoked—this was a lesson he had not explicitly taught her, perhaps because words were not necessary. Actions alone would suffice.

At first, she had been lying flat, taking advantage of him, enjoying the little pleasures of their intimacy. But then, without warning, he suddenly moved, flipping her onto her stomach with surprising force. She let out a startled shriek, too late to cover her mouth—the sound escaped, leaving her sprawled awkwardly over him like a lid. He adjusted slightly, flashing a row of neat teeth in the darkness.

Perhaps her cry had drawn attention. Rujian’s attendant, who had shared life and death with him, was utterly devoted to her. The sudden scream in the dead of night startled him badly, and he rushed to the steps below, calling out, “Miss, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

Afraid they might barge in, her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She quickly feigned a drowsy, sleep-laden voice, saying it was nothing—”If you keep acting like this, Rujian will skin you alive!”

Truth be told, it was rather embarrassing—a young lady, not yet married, already leading a man to her embroidered bed. How improper! But at this point, her resolve felt as unshakable as iron. He and she were of one mind, having weathered storms together. She would even entrust her life to him.

He was clever, always able to read her thoughts, never indulging his own whims unchecked. His fingers traced slow paths along her spine, ignoring the tension and ache in one part of his body, softly whispering, “I will not touch you. I will not cross that line again until our wedding day. I know what’s in your heart—you have your dignity, and I will not wrong you under the guise of love. Once the case is resolved, we will return to the capital. I will take you to the palace to meet the right people. If the decree can be issued this year, we will prepare for the wedding next spring. Then you will enter my manor openly, carrying the treasure vase, and everyone will bow to you, addressing you as the Twelfth King’s Consort. How does that sound?”

She had not expected him to say this. Just moments ago, she had been torn, but now he had made the decision for her. She lifted her head, resting her pointed chin on his collarbone before moving up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Such mutual understanding could only come from a bond forged in a past life. Now, she focused only on listening—in the darkness, she was mute, refusing to speak, unwilling to let his inability to hear frustrate him.

So be it. She would follow his lead. A man’s respect was a blessing—far better than one who sought only his own pleasure, draining passion and love until only the woman suffered.

That night, they slept entwined, peaceful and untroubled.

Rujian had been heavily drunk the day before and did not rise until the sun was high the next day. Opening his door, he saw his sister hanging clothes in the courtyard and asked in surprise, “Are you not going to the shop today?”

She hummed in response, “I will go later. I’ve thought about what you said yesterday—it’s not good for me to keep showing my face like this… Once the goods are mostly sold, I will sell the shop.”

Rujian glanced at her and nodded, “That’s how it should be. A young lady like you is better off reading or embroidering than doing business. It is not like our family is starving—we do not need your small earnings to get by. Once the northern mountain property is properly managed, it will earn enough for several lifetimes.”

She smiled, turned to fetch water for him to wash his face, and after everything was ready, went inside to set up breakfast.

Having experienced life and death, Rujian was very particular about his health. He practiced a set of martial arts in the courtyard and finally came in, clicking his teeth. Sitting down, he was not in a hurry to eat, just clicking his upper and lower teeth together loudly.

“New neighbors in the alley?” he asked through his teeth-grinding, “What’s their background? Have you visited them?”

He looked somewhat comical, but tooth-clicking was a common health practice among Beijing gentlemen, advocated by Sun Simiao—click your teeth 360 times, and you would live to 99. Early in the morning, he was already there clacking away.

Dingyi pretended it was normal, serving porridge as she said she did not know, “They’ve been here for a while, but I have not seen anyone coming or going. Maybe it is different here from Beijing. Beijing folks love bustle and visiting, but people here prefer to keep to themselves.”

Rujian tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’ve been busy outside lately and have not paid much attention to things around here. Since you are planning to sell the shop, you will be bored alone at home. I will ask someone to buy a maid for you—poor families who cannot raise their daughters would be willing to send their girls out to work.”

But she refused, “Why buy a maid? I was often ordered around by myself after the age of six. Now ordering others, I cannot bring myself to do it. As for you, I heard someone proposed a match for you. Marry a sister-in-law early to keep me company—that’s better than buying any maid.”

Rujian, rarely embarrassed, turned his head away, the sound of his tooth-clicking much softer now, “Nonsense, do not listen to rumors!”

She knew he was worried about his current situation—afraid that marrying might bring misfortune to his wife. Having suffered himself, he did not want to burden an innocent person. She sighed and handed him chopsticks. “We are quite stable now, and things will gradually get better. If the Twelfth Master stops searching for us everywhere, and if they say the three Wen brothers are dead in Changbai Mountain, we can live incognito like ordinary people. Why can you not marry then? You said you wanted to glorify our Wen family. If you marry me off, I will leave home to bear children and take my husband’s surname. But you—the future of the Wen family rests on you. Hurry up and take a wife to continue the family line. Do not keep busy with business and delay yourself. You are already twenty-eight this year. Wait a couple more years, and you will be an old man with no market value.”

He remained silent for a long while before finally speaking, “The year the old master fell from grace, I was fifteen. My family had arranged a marriage for me. The girl lived in Qinlao Back Alley. Her father managed the imperial treasury—a wealthy family. Imperial merchants from places like Zhaoyuan and Zunhua would deliver cartloads of gold nuggets as tribute to their household. It was a lucrative position, though the rank was not high—only a fourth-grade official eager to curry favor with the Grand Council. Back then, the match was sincere—two sisters intended for two brothers. Later, my second brother took a liking to the Sixth Princess of the Ding King, so the first arrangement fell through, while mine went ahead with the betrothal gifts exchanged…”

He paused, seeming somewhat despondent. “Manchu girls were capable, even helping their parents manage the household. She was fourteen then, a year younger than me; we secretly met a few times. Thirteen years have passed in the blink of an eye—everything has changed… I’ve stopped thinking about marriage altogether.”

So he, too, had once loved someone. Even after all these years, he still could not forget her. Dingyi suddenly felt sorry for him. His best years had been wasted in Changbai Mountain, while the girl he’d grown up with had married someone else. No wonder he harbored such deep resentment toward the Yuwen clan.

Because of this, she could not bring herself to urge him to forget the past and hurry into marriage. Dingyi understood that feeling all too well—when your heart was not in it, no amount of persuasion helped. He’d have to come to terms with it himself. Once he figured things out, or if fate brought someone new into his life, he’d naturally take care of it.

After breakfast, they went their separate ways. Rujian headed north to inspect the newly acquired mountain—still fresh with excitement! Dingyi returned to the shop. The customer who had bought hair oil the other day and asked her to teach hairstyling had returned, this time to buy some silk thread for braiding crafts. The moment she entered, the woman exclaimed, “Oh! Young lady, has your hairdresser come back?”

Before leaving that morning, the Twelfth Master had tied her hair into a small double bun with tassels dangling on either side, playful and lively with every step. A girl looked lovely with her hair neatly styled, and Dingyi’s neck was especially graceful—slender and elegant. The swallowtail braid resting against the high collar of her cloud-patterned vest only accentuated her striking beauty. Though it was amusing to compare him to a hairdresser—what kind of hairdresser was that?

She did not bother correcting the customer, simply smiling and saying, “Yes, my hairdresser has come from my hometown. She’s quite skilled—her hairstyles never come loose.”

The customer grew enthusiastic. “That’s wonderful! Since you run this shop, why not have her help out? Business would boom even more!”

Dingyi chuckled teasingly. “With just a few strings of money in daily sales, splitting the work between two people would not even cover costs. My nanny only styles my hair—she will not come to the shop for the bustle. Even if I invited her, she would not come. Ah, why not pick a few more items today? I will be handing this shop over to the neighbor for storage soon—it will not be open much longer. Take more, and I will give you a discount.”

The customer gasped in dismay, saying, “What a pity,” then suddenly brightened. “Ah, the young lady must be preparing for marriage! Closing the shop is good—being a young mistress is better than running your own business. Though it will be hard for me, I will have to go all the way to the West Market for hair oil from now on. Such a long walk for these tiny bound feet…” Sighing, she picked out two more silk flowers before leaving, her mood tinged with melancholy.

Dingyi was quite pleased with wrapping up the shop. In just three or four days, all the small miscellaneous items were sold off, half at price and half as giveaways. Counting the silver, she had not suffered a loss—better than she’d expected. That little storefront, originally bought for fifteen taels, was sold for eighteen and a half, netting a profit of over three taels. On her way home, she stopped by the market, bought two fish, had a few quails freshly slaughtered, and headed back to cook.

Now she was idle. Rujian was seldom home during the day, busy negotiating deals, supervising work, and urging laborers to open the mountain for coal mining. He usually did not return until dusk. With nothing to do, Dingyi grew bored and took to visiting the north house to pass the time. Though the Twelfth Master was in Shanxi, he still managed affairs in the capital.

Of course, members of the Imperial Clan could not leave the capital at will, so he feigned illness to avoid guests. To the Emperor, his excuse was simply two words: “on duty.” This allowed him to roam freely across the land, relying on carrier pigeons for communication. While he worked, she sat beside him. Occasionally, he’d glance up and smile at her. Even without a word exchanged, her heart felt at ease, as though time stood still in perfect tranquility.

Yet it was hard on him. Since their reunion, he’d been toiling day and night, arriving under cover of darkness and leaving before dawn. Sometimes, upon reflection, she could not help but sigh—what was it all for? It was not just about sharing a bed, but also because they could not bear to part. He was truly a scoundrel; twice he’d overslept, nearly running into Rujian, which had frightened her half to death.

However, his stay in Shanxi could not be prolonged. The case was rooted in the capital and involved the salt trade in Jiangnan. Issuing orders from afar had its limits—his reach could only extend so far. High King Zhuang was a High King, holding the same rank as him. A seasoned official in the court, he was as slippery as an eel. To uproot him entirely would require drastic measures.

She did not inquire about the progress of the case. The weight on his mind often kept him awake at night. Afraid of disturbing her, he’d lie still, staring until the window paper turned pale with dawn. She pretended not to notice, fearing that bringing it up would only add to his stress. He was already exhausted enough.