What was there left to see? Her gifts had already been taken. Since the Seventh Prince had spoken, the Twelfth Prince couldn’t upset his brotherly relationship over such a small figure as herself. This time she felt settled—the Seventh Prince’s methods were indeed superior. With just a slight movement of his little finger, he had resolved all the problems that had troubled her for so long.
She handed the umbrella to Guan Zhao Jing and bowed deeply, “Thank you, Manager, please convey my gratitude to the Prince for his repeated care. As you’ve seen, things have turned out this way…” She hung her head dejectedly and shook it, “No more to say, I’ll go back now. The funeral ceremony isn’t finished, and it wouldn’t be right for me to abandon it midway.”
Guan Zhao Jing blinked, “Leaving so soon?”
She sighed, “There’s no way out. I should go back and serve my master well!” With that, she made a deep bow, “Please stay, I’ll take my leave.”
Her heart was heavy, with a sigh reaching down to her heels. As she straightened up to leave, Guan Zhao Jing suddenly turned and ran, his black boots thumping on the ground. She was surprised and looked up to see someone approaching along the corridor. He wore a plain dark blue-green robe, with a set of seven items hanging from his belt. Though his manner didn’t appear hurried, his steps were quick, quite gracefully so—it was the Twelfth Prince.
Ding Yi forgot to move aside, watching him approach from a distance, wondering if he had learned of her arrival, and was rushing to meet her. She grinned, laughing at herself for such presumption. As he came close, she shifted to the side.
“You’ve come?” The Prince stopped in front of her, “I was just about to go to your office. Let’s go together.”
Instead of an audience, they’d become traveling companions—what a coincidence! Ding Yi responded with an obedient “Yes,” and asked, “Is Your Highness going to the Shuntian Prefecture on official business?”
He didn’t answer because he had already gone ahead and couldn’t see her lips. She quickly followed. The Prince got into his sedan chair while she stood respectfully nearby. As the sedan was hoisted onto shoulders, she followed at a moderate distance. The sun burned her face, yet suddenly she felt that no matter how big the troubles were, things weren’t so bad—she was quite happy.
Hong Ce sat in his cool sedan chair, frowning, his fingers slowly tapping on his knee. Having reported back to the Emperor, the departure date had been moved up by more than half a month, and before leaving, some files needed to be reviewed again. In this scorching heat with no rest, who wouldn’t have a bit of fire in their heart? But carrying out imperial duties allowed no slackening. These people of theirs—spoken of kindly were imperial relatives but spoken harshly were high-class servants. Everyone saw them traveling in eight-bearer grand sedan chairs, but who saw them waiting for imperial orders outside Xihua Gate under the scorching sun? Hong Tao had come earlier to vent his anger at him for reporting the whereabouts of Wen Lu’s son. Originally, they had planned to depart after the Mid-Autumn Festival, after all, there was still a long journey out of the capital, baking on the yellow earth mounds—for the pampered Virtuous Prince, it was hardly a way for humans to live. It had been well-planned, but unexpectedly he disrupted things midway, so the Seventh Prince blamed him, saying he was obsessed with his duties, causing them both to “eat sand.”
He recalled this and smiled crookedly, the taste unclear. Everyone has their position; not everyone can muddle through. To establish oneself in court, who doesn’t have some backing? If the Khalkha were obedient and law-abiding, he would be the most secure among the princes. But now? He had always felt himself to be a criminal, and if he didn’t exert himself, he might be exiled again for ten or twenty years… In a person’s lifetime, how many decades can one afford to waste? He was only twenty-three, yet had a feeling of having experienced all of life’s vicissitudes—such an experience that Hong Tao probably would never have in his entire life.
When criticized, he would respond with a smile, and no matter how stifled he felt inside, he would remain outwardly humble. A person must be polished, and once polished and thrown out, even with just a bowl-bottom-sized platform, one can rotate smoothly—the Grand Tutor had said such words more than a decade ago. Now that he understood, looking back, it had indeed cost him greatly.
Leaning against the sedan wall, he sighed, his tense limbs gradually relaxing. Turning his head to look outside, he noticed an additional person following the sedan. The cotton clothes were ordinary, a bit whitened from washing, but clean and tidy. With no covering on the head, a pair of curved eyes, and a faint smile climbing the cheeks. Though of lowly birth, the skin was quite good, with a misty sweat glow, like high-quality rice paper sprinkled with gold dust—translucent and pure under the sunlight. Hong Ce looked carefully a couple of times; this appearance and stature somehow didn’t match the name. On second thought, everyone in the world was struggling to live; a small figure rushing about was somewhat laughable but mostly pitiable.
He lifted the curtain and asked in a gentle voice, “How long have you been here?”
Ding Yi quickly replied: “I’ve been here for a while. I met the Seventh Prince and, following his instructions was delayed for some time.”
He made a sound of acknowledgment, “Are you a Beijing native?”
The Prince asked this because his ears weren’t good and couldn’t catch the accent. She felt her Beijing accent was quite standard. Although she had been away for six years and picked up a bit of Hebei flavor, after returning to Beijing for another six years, it had almost been corrected.
“No, my roots are in Shanxi. I traveled to various places with my parents before settling in Langfang. I stayed in Beijing for a while as a child, then moved away. It was only after I became my master’s apprentice that I returned to Beijing with him.”
Hong Ce nodded, “Did you come to Beijing alone? Do you have any family?”
Ding Yi, squinting in the sun, formed a canopy over her eyes with her hand and said slowly: “My parents passed away early, leaving me in the care of my godmother. Later, my godmother also passed away, leaving just my godfather. I don’t get along with this godfather, and we rarely interact. When he runs out of money, he comes to find me in the city. I give him a large portion of my savings, and he takes the money and leaves.”
“Giving him a large portion—what about yourself? Don’t you need to eat and drink in Beijing?”
How considerate the Prince was of the commoners’ hardships! He sat behind the carved window, head slightly tilted, with two small hollow gold seals hanging from his hat, clicking against the ebony window frame, producing a dull, muffled sound. Including previous encounters, this was the fourth time she had seen him. He had always been peaceful, of good character, and well-educated. Speaking with him was comforting. Previously, just hearing about the Yu Wen family would make her liver tremble—once bitten, twice shy. But after meeting this lord, setting aside his background, he was truly exceptional. Among the capital’s noble descendants, who would be willing to chat about everyday matters with the lower classes? He was different from them; whether he respected her or not, at least he engaged with her, which was already quite remarkable.
Ding Yi smiled, “I was quite young when I went to live with them. Now that I can earn something, it’s only right to support him. As for myself, with my master and senior apprentice looking after me, not to mention anything else, I won’t lack food. My master and senior apprentice are good to me, and when I succeed in the future, I will repay them.” She tilted her neck embarrassedly, “That’s why when my senior apprentice got into that situation, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I recklessly came to your mansion to plead, which now thinking back, is truly shameful. It was your mercy—I originally didn’t dare hope too much, but unexpectedly you were willing to help, truly resolving my urgent crisis. My senior apprentice went to your mansion last time wanting to kowtow to you but was stopped by the geshiha at the gate. He came back quite regretful, muttering constantly, not knowing how to properly thank you.”
Hong Ce didn’t care much about such things. Everyone said a prince was precious, but the preciousness was in being a royal son. In fact, after establishing their mansions and offices, and interacting daily with the common people, that sense of superiority had long faded. Living, one cannot avoid the smoke and fire of the human world; even phoenix sons and dragon grandsons eat the five grains. In the outside world, they associated with those they found agreeable, from all walks of life. In the mansions of his brothers, opera performers and Western-style painters were treated as honored guests upon arrival. Fundamentally, the establishment of an heir was like a battle, with only one victor. As for the rest, whether one truly had royal talent or was merely peddler material at the core, it no longer mattered.
“As you people say, another friend means another path.” He slowly rotated his thumb ring, revealing a faint smile, “What’s past is past, no need to dwell on it. I just think that for a dog, it’s not worth losing a human life.”
“Your Highness speaks wisely,” she responded with a bow. Thinking of the Seventh Prince made her feel awful—he did whatever would make people unhappy. She wanted to talk about today’s encounter, but then considered that they were brothers after all, though not born of the same mother, their relationship was much closer than hers. How could she say, “I don’t want to move flower pots for the Seventh Prince; I want to be your guard”? It wasn’t appropriate.
She let out a long breath, looking once more at the Twelfth Prince. He was an unsullied person; there was no need to trouble him with such small matters. She spoke in a relaxed tone, asking: “What fruits does Your Highness like to eat? I don’t have money to buy expensive things, can only select some small trifles. Before coming today, I bought water caltrops and sheep-horn melons by the lake, but unfortunately met the Seventh Prince, who took them away…” Her face showed sadness, “Though not worth much money, they were meant as my respect to you. Now I’ve come empty-handed to return the umbrella, how embarrassing!”
The Seventh Prince taking his fruit—this sounded quite amusing coming from her mouth. Hong Ce said: “You owe the Seventh Prince; rather than him taking them, you should have bought them to give to him. Having failed in etiquette, he’s understandably unhappy. As for me, I don’t often eat those things, so you needn’t trouble yourself.”
Ding Yi said: “You speak rightly. I mentioned apologizing to the Seventh Prince to my senior apprentice, though I don’t know if he’s done it. I’ll ask him when I get back. We were discourteous at first, and it’s not good to slight someone. But why don’t you like to eat fruit? My senior apprentice, for instance, is quite gluttonous—whatever he sees in my room, he eats. Last time I climbed a tree and picked a bowl of mulberries, washed them clean, and left them there. Just as my master called me away for a short while, when I returned, the bowl was empty!”
Hong Ce murmured: “Mulberries… I haven’t eaten them for more than ten years. I was always posted to Khalkha, where the climate isn’t suitable, with few fruits and melons. The most memorable was sea buckthorn, that kind of sour and sweet small fruit. When I first arrived there, I found it quite delicious, carrying strings of them and sitting on an earthen slope, able to eat a basketful in half a day. But eating the same thing over and over, after a while, I gradually tired of it.”
Ding Yi’s eyes brightened, “Do you like mulberries then? I’ll pick some for you. Behind our courtyard is a large mulberry tree,” she gesticulated upward, “that tall, and the taste is excellent, not at all sour when fully ripe.”
When he was happy, his eyes had a warm light; when he smiled, his eyes narrowed, leaving just a circle of golden light.
“There are rules in the palace; princes begin their education at six and leave their foster mothers to live in the royal residences. At that time, I lived in the South Third Residence, which adjoined the Upper Four Courtyard, where there was a small mulberry garden, said to be prepared for the Empress’s silkworms. I was young then and didn’t understand. After school, I followed my brothers to pick mulberries. I was short and could only pick what others left behind—berries not yet ripe, with a hint of red. Without washing, just blowing on them before eating—how sour they were!” Recalling his childhood brought a unique flavor to the telling. Back then, he wasn’t picky, because being with his brothers made even the sourest berries taste good. He had always valued loyalty and affection, but “I direct my heart to the bright moon, yet the bright moon shines on the ditch”—his sincerity might not have seemed trustworthy or reliable to others. After his mother fell from favor, they all became reluctant to be too close to him, calling him by name in public but referring to him as “the Tatar” behind his back.
“Haven’t you eaten them since? So in your memory, mulberries are sour?” Ding Yi didn’t realize that small mulberries could evoke so many feelings in him. She had always thought that an emperor’s sons just sat there, directing eunuchs to “come, feed this to the master, feed that to the master,” then opened their mouths wide and waited.
Hong Ce shook his head, saying with regret: “I didn’t get to pick many times. The Fifth and Seventh Princes got into a fight, and when news reached the ears of the Great Emperor, he decreed that the mulberry garden be fenced off.”
“Then I’ll bring you some when I have time. The trees in our place are old, almost becoming spirits, and the fruits they bear are especially sweet.” She asked with a smile, “When are you leaving? I heard Manager Guan say at the beginning of next month?”
He made a sound of acknowledgment, “In about ten days.”
She felt a bit forlorn, with drooping corners of her mouth, muttering: “So soon. I had hoped to go along, but now it’s not possible.”
He had forgotten that he could read lips, so even when she didn’t make a sound, he could see clearly in her eyes. This person was quite interesting; after speaking several times, he felt different from the usual flattery and bootlicking. Though there was some minor cunning, there was also simplicity in her character. So perhaps giving her a small position to serve at his side, to chat when bored, to pass idle time, might not be bad.