Outside, finding a place where no one was around, she covered her mouth and cried bitterly. It was good news—she would soon see her brothers, but it also felt so distant, so difficult.
She was seventeen this year and had been living under an assumed identity for twelve years. At first, she had lived under others’ roofs, enduring cold glances. Later, she followed her master and, although she ran to the execution grounds and held the executioner’s blade, her days were more comfortable than before. What about the future? Things should get better! Once settled with a proper identity, she could live honorably. Her journey had been segmented—reaching a certain point meant bidding farewell to the people and affairs of the past, entering a new environment, meeting all sorts of people, and humbly maneuvering among them, endlessly.
She raised her head. The sun was blocked by the rooftop, and the sky was deep blue. Her face, soaked with tears, felt dry and rough in the wind. She wiped it with her rolled-up sleeve and took two deep breaths. Walking along the street, she passed a tavern where she bought a jin of erguotou liquor, a plate of sliced beef, and a dish of orchid beans, wrapping them up to take back to the compound. Fortuitously, Xia Zhi had gone to Mentougou to see his parents today, so she could have a private talk with her master.
Her master was an insightful person. She had been with him for six years, growing up under his watchful eye. Now that she was leaving, saying just a few words might make him feel she had grown too independent to be controlled, hurting his heart. But speaking too plainly also had its risks. Revealing everything might lead to unpredictable reactions. If something went wrong, regret would come too late.
The problem she had pondered for days was solved, and she should be happy, but she couldn’t feel at ease. She entered the door glumly, responding briefly to neighbors’ greetings. After sitting idle in the room for a while, she arranged the wine and dishes, covering them with a bamboo lid. It was still early, and she couldn’t stay idle, so she cleaned the room, wiping here and there, even polishing the blackened tin tea dipper until it shone.
With nothing else to do, she remembered the Twelfth Prince saying he liked mulberries. She picked up a basket and headed to the back of the courtyard.
Common folk always have various customs, such as “don’t plant mulberry in front, don’t plant willow in back”—a widespread agricultural practice. This mulberry tree grew at the corner between two courtyards, not bothering the neighbors, so it was fortunate enough to survive and thrive with abundant branches and leaves. The children around, when the fruits ripened, would focus on this tree, standing beneath it with small bamboo poles to knock the fruits down. Even if the fruits rolled in the yellow mud, it didn’t matter—they would gather them in their clothes to take home and wash. So after a summer, the children’s clothes were unbearably dirty, all stained with mulberry juice. Their parents would beat them, saying, “Look at your greed! Look how you’ve ruined your clothes!” Despite the chaos of beatings, it never diminished the children’s enthusiasm for the tree.
When Ding Yi arrived, several children were already there. Since the lower fruits had mostly been knocked down, they were all gazing upward longingly. The upper part was Ding Yi’s domain—she was good at climbing high, nimbly getting onto the roof to pick fruits effortlessly.
It had been some time since she’d last come. The fruits were fully ripe, plump, and purple-black. She unhurriedly climbed up the courtyard wall, standing on top to reach out. Without much effort, she filled a basket. As she came down, several children, fingers in their mouths, called to her in a drawn-out tone, “Brother Xiao Shu…” She laughed, distributing a handful to each of them. After checking the basket with a gentle toss, she confirmed there was enough for the Twelfth Prince.
Returning, she soaked the fruits in water—those hanging on trees in the wind and sun might have attracted insects. Crouching by the well, she changed the water several times. With something weighing on her mind, she stared blankly at the fruits.
“Is that all? Add some salt! If there are maggots inside, it will drive them out.”
Looking up, she saw her master had returned. The evening was stifling hot, and her master’s face was covered in oily sweat. She quickly fetched water and a towel, “Wash yourself, look at all this sweat.”
“What are we eating today?” Wu Chang Geng asked while wiping his face, as this was important to him. “Our cook has gone back to Mentougou. We can’t be like the long-necked birds in the pond just waiting. How about a bowl of noodles with fried sauce?”
Ding Yi said, “I’ve prepared everything—there’s wine and meat.” After a slight hesitation, looking at her master’s expression, she said softly, “Master, today… I have something to tell you.”
Wu Chang Geng glanced at her. His face showed little change, but his eyes dimmed. After a while, he responded, “The day you became my apprentice, I told you that one must walk one’s path, looking back after each step to reflect on whether you’ve gone astray.” He emptied the water from the basin, hung the towel on the edge, and stood silently for a moment. “Let’s talk inside; outside is not a place for conversation.”
He went inside. Ding Yi, looking at his back, felt increasingly distressed. The old man usually didn’t say much but was straightforward. Those few sentences he just spoke suggested he had long seen something coming. She sighed, thinking he must feel she looked down on the executioner’s job and was solely focused on climbing higher—an ungrateful wolf that couldn’t be tamed, wasting his five or six years of care. Thinking of this, her eyes reddened.
Following him inside, she found her master sitting at the table. He lifted the bamboo cover and looked, exclaiming, “Today’s dishes aren’t bad! The meat is secondary; the orchid beans look quite good. Are they five-spice? I don’t like salt-baked ones—too salty, choking if you eat too many.”
Ding Yi quickly handed him chopsticks and poured him wine, “They’re five-spice. I know you like that flavor. On the way back, I tried one—they’re fried well, not hard.”
Wu Chang Geng nodded, sipping some wine, “The erguotou is quite authentic.”
Ding Yi didn’t know how to begin, standing beside him. He made a sound and said, “Why not sit down? No matter how big the matter, sit down to discuss it.”
She responded with a “yes” but stood holding the wine pot, not joining in eating or drinking. Her master remained silent for a long time, looking at his wine cup with drooping eyelids. After a while, he sighed, “All feasts must end. Don’t feel bad; it’s not some extraordinary matter. After leaving my tutelage, you’ll still be wandering in the capital—we can still see each other if we want. People… not just apprentices, even daughters must marry when it’s time. There’s no reason to stay forever. It’s just that I… feel a bit reluctant to part. After all, you’ve been by my side for so many years. I regard you and Xia Zhi as my children.”
Hearing this, Ding Yi cried. She had been making plans behind people’s backs, but her master knew everything. All this time she had been running back and forth to the Prince’s mansion, and her master hadn’t reproached her because from beginning to end, he never intended to hold her back.
In the market, those who take apprentices have rules. Entering an apprenticeship is like signing a contract of indenture—when you complete your training, you must work for your master for several years. Only after your master has recouped his investment can you establish your practice. For someone like her, abandoning her duties midway—if the master’s house refused to let her go, she would have to remain, even if rotting away.
Her master was so kind, and her heart was filled with mixed emotions. She left her seat to kneel beside the table, choking with sobs, “I have my difficulties… Master, wherever I go, I will never forget that I am your apprentice.”
“Get up…” Wu Chang Geng patted her shoulder, “The two of us, there’s no need for this. People climb upward, water flows downward—this has been said since ancient times. As for me, I have no son or daughter. At my age, I don’t ask for anything else, just hope for your and Xia Zhi’s well-being. Xiao Shu, a noble household is different from other places. Once you enter, it’s difficult to leave. Get along well with those you serve with; they can help you in times of need. In a new place, enduring a few harsh words or even a few blows is nothing. You must remain steady—with steadiness, you’ll put down roots. A person needs roots; one can’t drift like duckweed, settling wherever one lands, right? You’re not young anymore; it’s time to think about yourself.”
She raised her face, tears streaming down, clutching her master’s leg, “I don’t look down on our profession. Even if others say what we do isn’t good, I can’t agree. Master, I have my reasons for entering the Seventh Prince’s service. I want to follow him to Changbai Mountain to find my brothers. You don’t know, I…”
“I know,” Wu Chang Geng said, taking a sip of wine. “Have you forgotten where your masterworks are? I’ve been in the Shuntian Prefecture for nearly thirty years. What kind of person, what kind of matter—I can discern roughly with just a glance. I only ask one question: have you thought about how to leave the guard position in the future?”
Ding Yi was dumbfounded. She had underestimated her master, thinking he only knew she wanted to enter the Prince’s mansion, but he even knew her background. Moreover, the question he raised was something she truly hadn’t considered. The Prince’s grand mansion—difficult to enter, harder to leave. She had been so focused on getting to Changbai Mountain that she had forgotten such an important matter.
Wu Chang Geng glanced at her, “You, everything else is fine, but you’re too young, lacking experience, attending to what’s before you but not what comes after—of course, you’re better than Xia Zhi. What’s wrong with you two? You seem clever, but you’re both a bit simple-minded. I suppose it’s because I haven’t taught well, why are you both like this… Now there’s no other way, we can only take it one step at a time. Go ahead and follow him, but remember one thing: don’t rashly acknowledge relationships, especially in front of the Prince. Think about it—you’re a guard, one of his close attendants, but you have several brothers in exile. What would people think?”
Ding Yi even forgot to cry, “Master, you know I’m Wen Lu’s daughter?”
Wu Chang Geng shifted his gaze to the rafters, crunching on orchid beans, “I’ve known for a long time. I’ve often thought that for a girl, seeing so much blood isn’t good. Now that you’re moving, I think it benefits you. ‘Trees die when transplanted, people thrive’—with me, you’ve learned the skills of execution, which won’t be useful in the future. After all, you’re a girl. Being a good wife and mother is the right path. Can you run to execution grounds your whole life?” He smiled, downing his cup of wine in one gulp, “I, Wu Chang Geng, taking in you two is like having a complete family with both son and daughter. In the future, if you rise to prominence, don’t worry about me—I’ll be fine. But if you fall on hard times, remember there’s a master in the tenement compound who will never turn you away, no matter when you return. Come back to your master, and as long as I have food, you won’t go hungry.”
Hearing him speak this way, Ding Yi felt as though she had been soaked in brine, her heart wrinkled with emotion. She wailed, “From now on, I’ll treat you as my father. If I succeed, I’ll buy you a house and hire maids for you.”
“That would be nice,” Wu Chang Geng laughed, “But it’s uncertain, my lady. Your success knows no bounds. Find a good son-in-law, and everything will be complete.”
Ding Yi’s tears turned to laughter. With her master supporting her, she felt she had no more worries behind her.
When San Qing Zi came over to visit and saw this scene, he exclaimed, “What show are you two putting on, crying and laughing?”
Wu Chang Geng, like most parents, loved to show off when his child had prospects, “Our Xiao Shu has been selected by the Prince and will become a geshiha at the Virtuous Prince’s mansion.”
San Qing Zi, holding a piece of beef in his mouth, clapped his hands, “That’s wonderful, bringing honor to your master. In our compound, we have executioners and firefighters, but never a guard. Xiao Shu is making a name for himself!”
Ding Yi hurriedly made a few modest remarks, then looked at her master and said, “Third Brother, with my departure, what concerns me most is my master. Please ask everyone to look after him in the future. I’ll come back to visit when I have time. I won’t forget everyone’s kindness.”
San Qing Zi sat down on the other side, pouring himself a bowl of wine, “As neighbors, living together for so many years, of course we’ll help each other. Serve well, and when you become a team leader, help promote my son. I’m bowing to you already.”
And so, she had settled accounts with her previous life.
Standing outside under the eaves, she looked up. The evening sky was filled with angry clouds. Dragonflies flew in groups close to the ground. From the alley came the wild, tuneless singing of children: “Old glazed tiles, fly over here…”