Ding Yi looked at him as if he were a night demon, her voice trembling as she said, “You’re good in every way except for one thing—you don’t like to ask others for their opinion. That’s your shortcoming. What proposal? What marriage? You can’t decide these things on your own. Although I have no family left, I still have my master’s. Marriage matters should be discussed with the old man, showing that I respect others.”

The Seventh Lord was stunned. “What do you mean? You’re just unwilling, aren’t you?”

She said yes, “We don’t understand each other. It’s too early to talk about marriage.”

“How is it early? How do we not understand each other? I know you’re Wu Changgeng’s disciple, that your family all died, and you had no choice but to take refuge under an executioner. Isn’t that enough? What else is missing?”

His so-called understanding was all superficial. How could any of it be considered truly knowing someone’s heart? Ding Yi slowly shook her head. “Understanding is not just about one’s background and identity, but also about mutual observation, seeing if we can converse well together and if our temperaments are compatible. It’s not just about a man and a woman being thrown together and blindly living day to day.”

The Seventh Lord felt she was being too particular. “There are plenty of arranged marriages where people don’t even meet before the wedding, and don’t they live quite well? As for conversing well together, I think we get along splendidly. We always have endless things to talk about. Regarding temperament compatibility, I may not be polite to outsiders, but I’m very considerate to those in my household. You can ask my secondary consort if I’m a good man.”

Continuing to discuss this topic became pointless. Ding Yi smiled and said, “I know you’re a good person, but not all good people are suitable to be husbands. I need to find someone I’m willing to entrust myself to, to live harmoniously for a lifetime. You said you wouldn’t force me, so will you let me choose for myself? I might not necessarily choose between you and the Twelfth Lord. I might meet a guard, a farmer, or an orchard keeper. If I feel he treats me well and we’re compatible, I’ll marry him.”

“I think you’ve gone mad. Marry a farmer or orchard keeper? Haven’t you had enough of a hard life? If that’s the case, I’d rather you marry old Twelfth. At least he’s a prince, and you won’t have to worry about food and clothing…”

“The master cares for me. With what you’ve just said, I feel so reassured.” Before the Seventh Lord could finish, she hijacked the conversation, cheerfully bowing slightly. “Please carry on with your business. Remember to wear your great cloak when you go out, and don’t catch cold. The weather here is too cold, and it’s difficult to treat a chill.” After patting here and there, she finished speaking and ran off like a gust of wind.

The Seventh Lord hadn’t yet come to his senses before she was already far away. He felt somewhat bewildered, patting the back of his neck and muttering, “What did I say to make her so happy?”

Na Jin, with both hands tucked in his sleeves, said softly, “Your love is so deep that even though she won’t have you, you don’t want her to suffer by marrying those commoners. You’d rather she be with the Twelfth Lord—isn’t that exactly what they want? If she doesn’t thank you, heaven won’t tolerate it.”

The Seventh Lord made a sound of surprise, reacting a bit late. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I was just saying that, not being serious. Where would she go to marry a commoner? No matter how she turns, she’s still in my palm.”

Na Jin had nothing more to say and just asked, “Will you still hold your banquet? If she’s unwilling to come, how will you manage with a table set for her?”

The Seventh Lord said he would. “When the time comes, I’ll bind her and bring her if I have to. My original plan remains unchanged—I’ll take her as my consort here in Ningguta. If the dish in my plate flies away, then I, as the banner lord, am too weak. Hong Ce keeps poking me in the eye. Even if just to make him suffer, I must take Mu Xiaoshu as mine.”

Sometimes the Seventh Lord was just like this. When he spoke of love, he loved deeply and constantly thought about it; when he spoke of not loving, it wasn’t that he didn’t love at all. He was childlike, with a naturally pure disposition. Things that others fought over, even if they were like rotten cabbage heads, seemed good to him. When something had nothing to do with him, he still wanted to get involved. If he lost, he would sigh deeply with his hands on his knees; if he won, he could make others envious. That was his starting point.

Na Jin saw through it—he was still the same as before, going through a struggle only to end up with a glorious defeat. If one truly considered what was best, Little Tree would be better off with the Twelfth Lord. Having observed from the sidelines for so long, he could see that the Twelfth Lord was a steady and faithful person, unlike the unreliable Seventh Lord who would lift you to the heavens when he liked you but cast you aside carelessly when he didn’t. Eunuchs were physically closest to men but psychologically closest to women. Speaking from the heart, the Twelfth Lord’s affection was like a gentle, imperceptible moistening rain. There were no visible huge waves, and perhaps his most intense moment was limited to that one shout at the Seventh Lord. But the more calm and composed one was, the more it showed that he was a person to whom one could entrust a lifetime. In daily life, simple tranquility was enough; it wasn’t like performing as a painted-face character on stage where being majestic would only tire oneself out.

Na Jin understood this, and of course, Ding Yi understood it too. She paid no attention to the Seventh Lord’s banquet invitation and, having agreed on a time with the Twelfth Lord, got up before dawn. After tidying her room and feeding the bird, fearing that no one would take care of it while she was gone, she entrusted the bird to Sha Tong, asking him to help feed it. As for the Seventh Lord, she should have reported back to him, but she feared that word would leak out and she wouldn’t be able to leave. Additionally, his mention of marriage the day before had frightened her to the core. Leaving now would be like avoiding disaster; she could return after the storm had passed and the Seventh Lord had calmed down.

In the darkness, she approached the corner of the corridor and looked toward the Seventh Lord’s quarters. There was a wind lantern hanging in front of his door, with no movement except for two guards. Crouching low, she slipped out the door, her boots making a rustling sound as they stepped on the ice chips. Her heart was joyful, and she didn’t feel the cold despite the chill wind on her face; instead, the crisp air made her feel refreshed and clear-headed.

In the Twelfth Lord’s courtyard, only one ox-tendon lantern was lit, and she could faintly see figures moving. As she got closer, she saw they were all wearing thick black sheepskin cloaks. Seeing her arrival, no one spoke; instead, someone took a cloak and threw it at her from a distance. They raised the lantern and walked toward the stable at the back, where someone was already waiting. After taking the whip, they mounted their horses and, with a pull of the reins, left the inn in succession.

At the end of the year in Ningguta, the days were noticeably short and the nights long. It was difficult to travel in the pitch darkness, and it wasn’t until nearly the hour of Chen that a faint light appeared on the horizon. Ding Yi raised her eyes to look into the distance. Near the horizon, the color was a deep crimson, gradually blending upward into lilac. She had never seen such a layered change before, perhaps it was a meteorological phenomenon unique to the northern regions, giving her a sense of mystery that was difficult to judge.

The Suifen River was not far from Ningguta city, but due to the cold weather and thick snow on the road, progress was difficult. A small horseback team moved slowly in the morning sunlight. Out of respect for the master, no one spoke, not even a cough was heard. Ding Yi turned to look; the Twelfth Lord was beside her, the fur trim of his fox fur coat covering half his face, revealing only a pair of eyes that, unlike his usual gentleness, appeared sharp like those of a stranger. She felt strange, momentarily believing she had mistaken someone else for him. Looking more closely, under the sunlight, those eyes were full of brilliant light. After a slight pause, his gaze turned toward her, meeting hers directly.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she awkwardly looked away, but he called out to her, asking if she was cold. She said she was fine, “This place indeed requires sheepskin coats; no wonder the market price is so high.”

“Fur isn’t considered expensive; books are the most valuable. The Koreans revere Central Plains culture. One copy of ‘Cao Tang Chi Du’ can be exchanged for a cow, a rate you wouldn’t find in the capital.” As he spoke, he looked up at the sky. “We should arrive in about half an hour. The market opens at the hour of Si, and we should get there just in time. Later, find a place to settle down and wait for me to finish my business before coming to find you.”

She frowned and said, “I wanted to come to help. What’s the point of just being placed in a teahouse? I want to go with you.”

He smiled slightly, “Listen to me. The crowd is full of crude and rough hunters and farmers who smell of sheep. Would you like to smell that? Besides, not knowing people’s backgrounds, if there’s any conflict or trouble, you won’t be able to protect yourself. It’s better to find a place and wait for me. After seeing the human market this morning, we can’t return immediately; we’ll need to stay for a couple of days to observe. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. I’ll take you to the market to buy clothes and have a proper celebration.”

Such gentle, tender words were the language between lovers, showing care and comfort. Ding Yi felt quite embarrassed. She looked around; the guards seemed not to have heard, but the flush on her face gradually rose, becoming dazzlingly beautiful in the morning glow.

His smile deepened. “Why are you blushing? I didn’t say anything special.”

The more he behaved this way, the more embarrassed she became. After all, they were surrounded by outsiders, and such intimate words were embarrassing for others to hear. The Twelfth Lord was very particular about his troops; his guards were well-trained, their words and actions appropriate, their expressions well-controlled. She feared being laughed at, but they were like open sacks, allowing anything to be poured in, bearing it all without fear of leaking.

But still, her face was inexperienced. She gave him a resentful look and pouted, “You didn’t say anything, so why would I blush?”

“Then I must have been mistaken.” He smiled with self-satisfaction, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, surprisingly showing a hint of roguishness.

She quickly changed the subject, asking, “When we go to Suifen, did you leave a message for the Seventh Lord? After all, he’s also an imperial envoy. If we act behind his back, he’ll complain again.”

He made a sound of acknowledgment and said, “That burial ground we visited during the day wasn’t a mass grave. The people who die on the imperial estate each year are buried there, and each grave has a name tag for verification. Finding people is easier than in Changbai Mountain. Yesterday I discussed with him about summoning Lu Yuan to meet us and having Lu Yuan lead troops to check each area one by one. He wouldn’t need to lift a finger, just stay at the site to hear the reports. But he was unwilling, overturning the cart of walnuts and rambling on with a bunch of superstitious nonsense. Since that’s the case, I didn’t say anything more and decided to handle the Suifen matter first before going myself. He has always been a peaceful prince who doesn’t concern himself with affairs. It’s difficult to suddenly make him take on responsibilities. It’s better to bypass him on everything and handle matters myself, which is more convenient.”

The court sent the Seventh Lord this time to establish his career. After the Emperor’s ascension, the brothers were successively enfeoffed, but not everyone could become a Prince of the First Rank. Many with military achievements and contributions were still only titled Princes of the Second Rank. If he ate without working and occupied the princely position for nothing, what would others think? The Emperor was a man of depth who didn’t explicitly tell him to assist but had discussed it intentionally during the family banquet at Changchun Garden. Assigning the Seventh Lord was merely a formality, wasn’t it just because he had been posted to Khalkha for over ten years, making it difficult to assign him elsewhere?

Ding Yi only knew that he was working too hard, personally handling everything, yet when they returned to the capital for rewards based on merit, the Seventh Lord would still get his share. She sighed, “You do more work because you’re capable. Sometimes, suffering a loss is a blessing.”

He nodded with a smile, “Indeed, the blessing is deep this time. Even if all the credit goes to the Seventh Lord, I’m at peace. The Prince of the First Rank is already of the highest rank, with so much property in his mansion. Even if he ate the ground and tiles, his life would be more than abundant. There was only one thing lacking before, but now it’s complete. What more could I ask for?”

This man, relying on being surrounded by his trusted confidants, spoke without mincing words. Ding Yi was too embarrassed to respond to him. She pulled up her hood to cover her face, leaving only a pair of eyes that glanced around, as lively as the shimmering light on glazed tiles.

Walking on and on, the timing was just right. They arrived at Suifen just as the market was opening. People from all directions gathered—traders from the north and south, as well as merchants from surrounding tributaries. Various cultures collided and converged, making the market much more prosperous than Ningguta.

He settled her in a tavern near the human market, found an east-facing seat, ordered tea and snacks, and left a guard to look after her. Ding Yi leaned forward to look; from here, she could see the human market. It was just as she remembered—a high platform made of broken planks with more than a dozen slaves linked by straw ropes, driven onto the platform by whips, their feet stumbling, their faces dirty, and features indistinct. First, they would be inspected by potential buyers. Those not chosen after inspection would be driven down, and another batch would be brought up. Usually, twenty to thirty people would be cycled through in one morning.

“Why are there women too?” she said with a drooping mouth. “If they’re not home-born slaves, it’s suspicious. For labor, you need strong workers. Are these girls all being trafficked to Korea?”

He said not necessarily, “Those with good looks are valued everywhere, fetching prices even higher than strong laborers. Some people have broken heads fighting over a pretty girl. The local customs here are fierce, so one must be careful when walking outside.” He looked to the guard, “Take good care of her; if anything goes wrong, you’ll be held responsible.” Then, pressing on her wrist through the sheepskin coat, he said, “Don’t move around; wait for me here.”

Ding Yi watched him leave, then turned back to look into the distance. On the platform opposite, several girls looked young, in their teens or twenties. Poor things, they were shivering from cold and fear. The buyers, like selecting livestock, checked their teeth and eyelids, euphemistically calling it “checking the fat,” grabbed their chests, and casually felt their legs and arms. The girls couldn’t resist; resistance would result in a severe beating. Ding Yi’s nose stung with emotion, inevitably putting herself in their place. She was considered fortunate; at that time, she had a wet nurse protecting her. Otherwise, if she had fallen into the hands of human traffickers, her fate would be worse than theirs.

The tavern was a two-story building, allowing a clear view from this height. The Twelfth Lord and his men approached, like a stream of clear water flowing into murky currents. Even though they were surrounded by all kinds of people, they could still be distinguished at a glance.

The market was bustling with noise, with various hawking and selling sounds echoing in the ears. After watching for a while, she turned and poured tea for the guard who had been left behind. Although they weren’t from the same household before, she was sociable and knew almost everyone inside and out. Later, she changed from male to female overnight and became involved with the Twelfth Lord, causing the guards to feel awkward when they saw her, unsure how to treat her. She was quite embarrassed; when someone looked at her, she would just smile foolishly, making the other person uncomfortable.

While waiting, with nothing to do, her gaze continuously followed the Twelfth Lord, watching him push through the crowd to the spot closest to the platform. On the platform, they were still calling out prices, pulling a girl over and gesturing from head to toe, “Beautiful face, long legs, slim waist, and full hips—good for bearing children. Quick with housework, and excellent at warming the bed… Come, come, if you have cattle, trade with cattle; if not, twenty taels…” At this moment, a person was just an object, to be sold, regardless of what they would be used for.

The crowd below jeered and joked, asking if she was a virgin, and how big her breasts were. A buyer went up, circling like a fly. When they reached the front, two hands grabbed the person’s collar, with a ripping sound, tearing open the chest. Immediately, the buyer buried his head in, sniffing under his arms. Accompanied by the girl’s screams, the crowd grew more excited, and the buyer’s emotions ran high, repeatedly saying, “This one suits my taste, smells good. I’ll take her, and later I’ll bring cattle to your estate.”

One transaction was completed, and it was time for the next. Hong Ce, having difficulty with his ears and fearing he might miss something from the fragmented conversations, assigned his men to investigate. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking around. In the large marketplace, he only saw goods being brought up, with both buyers and sellers keeping silent about the source of the slaves. It wouldn’t be easy to find out their origin in just a few words. Only after closing a deal, and a big one at that, would they not complete the transaction on the spot but discuss it privately with the leader. People would die for money; money was a good thing, and no mouth couldn’t be pried open with it.

He pushed through the crowd toward the back of the platform, where there was a staircase, and several black burly men with large knives were driving the slaves. He stood there briefly, then called out, “Who is in charge here?”

Everyone looked over. A pockmarked man stretched his neck and asked, “Sir, what business do you have with our manager?”

He answered crisply, “To inquire about prices and take people.”

From the shed behind, a man with clear eyes and handsome features emerged. He was about the same age as Hong Ce, wearing a large wolf-skin cloak, with his hair neatly tied. Although his skin was dark, it couldn’t hide that air of looking down on everything in his eyebrows and eyes. Hong Ce sized him up; this man was intriguing. His features had the delicacy of the Central Plains, and his demeanor was distinctly at odds with his surroundings. He must be an unusual opponent.