His own little life… these words stirred a certain longing within him. Having reached the right age, there were pressing messages from Changchun Garden, and several notices had come from Langrun Garden, all urging him to start a family. He would certainly have to take a wife, but he didn’t know if he could find a suitable one. He didn’t expect excessive affection, but at least someone with whom he shared interests, to avoid becoming a resentful couple.

He looked down at her, “You seem to dabble in everything, even fortune-telling?”

“I’m different from you, Your Highness. You’re a prince, noble from birth. As for me, I roam outside and meet all sorts of people. When I see interesting skills, I like to learn them. Fortune-tellers set up stalls on the street with banners proclaiming ‘Hemp-Clothed Divine Physiognomist,’ offering a complete set of services—face reading, palm reading, character divination, and bone examination.” She invited him to sit down, smiling, “What I like best is when birds pick fortune cards. They arrange a large stack of paper cards, the fortune-teller opens the bird cage and says, ‘Let me tell your fortune, when will your luck turn?’ Then the bird comes out to choose. After picking through, it’s always ‘Cold cicada on willow’—bad luck. Then the fortune-teller makes people spend money on his lucky charms, all colored Chengde currency. It’s not an even exchange; the cheapest is two for one.”

While she chattered on, she was bolstering her courage. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly thought of reading the Twelfth Prince’s palm, but his hand kept waving before her eyes, which was quite tantalizing.

She glanced up at him; the prince was serene, and though he didn’t trust her, his face didn’t show it. She took a breath and placed her hand on the stone table, palm up, in an inviting gesture. The prince truly was good-natured—he extended his hand. His five fingers were long and slender, like spring onions. The blood vessels were visible beneath his smooth skin. How could this be a man’s hand? It was a woman’s, placed in the wrong spot.

Ding Yi’s heart pounded; this was the second time. The first time, she had been stupefied by thunder when he kindly pulled her up. This time, his hand rested in her palm—those delicate joints, with a gold-engraved ring on his little finger. Compared to him, she was utterly embarrassed. She felt completely awkward, afraid to speak lest her heart jump out of her throat. Had he been a familiar acquaintance, she would have teased him, but sitting opposite was a prince, and she dared not disrespect him.

She coughed once to gather courage and turned his hand over, “Has no one read your palm before? Palm reading examines the lines, not the back of the hand…” She made a show of admiration, “Oh, you have the golden flower imprint—what an excellent palm! Let’s first discuss the Mount of Mars. For many people, it’s concave, but not yours. The surroundings are flat, with the middle rising like a small mound, showing that you have spirit, don’t easily yield, and are quite persistent.” She pointed to the middle of his palm lines, “We determine intelligence by looking at this line. It represents the mind. Your brain works well—the line is long and deep, unlike my senior brother, whose line is like a forked reed plume—full of petty cleverness, but none of it righteous. You are single-minded, which is good and reliable. Combined with the first joint of your fingers, you are truly rare. If this line had flaws and the finger joints were short, then the person would be hopeless—nine chances out of ten they’d be arrogant and reckless… I should check the Seventh Prince’s palm sometime; I suspect he is questionable.”

Hong Ce chuckled, “If your master knew how you disparage him, he’d be upset.”

Ding Yi replied foolishly, “But I’m only with you, and I only tell you these things. Would you report this to him? My body serves Cao but my heart belongs to Han—you know that.”

He nodded with a suppressed smile, “Continue, what about marriage fate?”

To be honest, Ding Yi’s fortune-telling was amateur at best. Her enthusiasm was more than half driven by the desire to hold Prince Chun’s hand. What profound insights could she offer? But with the bow already drawn, it was too late to retreat; she had to keep going. She traced from his first palm line to the base of his little finger, stopping at that short line, “Let me see how many princesses consort you’ll have in the future. More lines mean more consorts…” Looking carefully, she exclaimed, “Oh! There’s only one line? It seems you’re a faithful person. It’s not about quantity but quality in marriage. You’ll find one good match and live a steady life. For someone of your status, that’s remarkably rare.”

The Twelfth Prince believed her words, “Can you tell where my marriage fate lies? When will the red phoenix star move?”

Truthfully, when a clever person spends too much time with a fool, their mind tends to dull. Ding Yi looked at the prince and felt he had been dragged down by her. She pursed her lips, saying, “That can’t be determined, but… it will be soon. Maybe this year, if not this year then next, or at the latest the year after…”

Wasn’t that just stating the obvious? The prince was already twenty-three; if he wasn’t anxious himself, his relatives and elders should be arranging matters for him.

Hong Ce withdrew his hand, “What is destined will come in time; there’s no rush. What about you? Have you read your fortune?”

Ding Yi shook her head, “I’ve never thought about taking a wife. A penniless person doesn’t deserve to start a family. I don’t even have a place to stay; I couldn’t support a wife.” Recalling what she had just done, she suddenly blushed. She had already touched his hand; why linger? Turning to look at the sky, she noticed the sun had risen high, and said hurriedly, “I’ve troubled you long enough. I should go; the steward at the Seventh Prince’s residence is waiting for my reply.” With that, she made a respectful bow, “Your Highness, please remain seated. This servant takes leave.”

He made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t move, his gaze drifting elsewhere. Ding Yi backed out of the pavilion and hurried away. After a few steps, she looked back at him—he was still sitting there, quiet and alone. The scenery and the figure would make a perfect painting. She lowered her eyes to look at her hand, grimacing as she slapped herself—resorting to street-performer tricks, what was she thinking?

Leaving Prince Chun’s residence, she headed straight for De Nei Avenue. The Asi gate of Prince Xian’s residence was half-open, with occasional dog barks audible.

She asked someone at the entrance to announce her. The gatekeeper had seen her before; her distinctive appearance was hard to forget. The man at the gate saluted, “Guard Mu, you’ve finally arrived. The steward has asked about you several times. Please go in quickly. He’s currently accompanying His Highness walking the dogs. Follow that path, walk to a hanging-flower gate, turn, and you’ll see them.”

This seemed deliberately challenging—a first-time proper visit without anyone to guide her? What kind of household rule was this? She cupped her hands and said, “Then I’ll be off. If I accidentally enter the wrong place and encounter the princess consort, you can’t blame me.”

“Go on, go on. The principal consort is still in some noble household somewhere, and the secondary and concubine consorts live in secluded courtyards. You couldn’t encounter them even if you tried.”

So this Seventh Prince also had no proper princess consort, with only a secondary consort managing the household. The second-in-command and the first-in-command were incomparable; the first lived in the main courtyard’s primary quarters, while the second could only reside slightly off to the side—why else would they be called side chambers?

Very well then. Ding Yi found her way in. Guards stood at various gates, all from the guard office. She bowed to each as she passed, “Pardon me, I’m a new guard called Mu Xiao Shu…” They all politely returned her greeting. Being personally promoted by the prince gave her some standing.

Following the gatekeeper’s directions, she went deeper into the compound, where the barking grew louder. After passing through the hanging flower gate, she indeed saw a slender dog leashed under a large phoenix tree in the garden. The tips of its tail and ears had flowing fur; it stood with its chest thrust forward and head held high, its mismatched yellow and blue eyes glaring fiercely at newcomers—a frightening sight.

Ding Yi swallowed and made a wide detour to approach the prince. She swept her sleeve in a respectful bow, “Master, your servant has come to report for duty.”

The Seventh Prince glanced at her without speaking, then picked up a piece of meat from a tray held by a eunuch and tossed it to the dog from a distance. He applied a bit of skill, deliberately choosing a tricky angle. The dog was almost miraculous—twisting its body like a pretzel, it leaped and caught the meat perfectly.

“Hey, well done!” The Seventh Prince clapped his hands and lifted his chin toward Mu Xiao Shu, “This dog was acquired by your Twelfth Prince. It’s a Shaanxi dog with mismatched eyes—quite rare. I should thank your senior brother for ruining my greyhound; otherwise, I wouldn’t have found such a pleasing little amusement.”

Ding Yi bowed even lower, “This dog must be fated to be with you…”

The Seventh Prince squinted at him, “So it’s your senior brother’s merit?”

“I wouldn’t dare say that.” She timidly replied, “It’s entirely our fault. From now on, your servant will serve you well to atone for my senior brother’s offense.”

Hong Tao gave him a side-eye, “This dog has a wild temperament and lunges at people when let loose. Why don’t you spar with it?”

“No, please.” She was startled, “Your servant can’t handle it. I tremble all over at the sight of dogs… Besides, I care for birds, and if I smell of dog, the birds won’t sing.”

The Seventh Prince considered this—frightening his beloved birds wouldn’t be good—so he stopped bothering him.

Na Jin seized the moment to report, “Master, your servant will take Xiao Shu to meet Shou Heng now. We’re departing the day after tomorrow and need to check how the carriages are packed and whether your winter clothes are properly prepared.”

The prince was busy playing with the dog and had no time for such matters. He waved his hand, dismissing them.

Only then did Ding Yi remember how cold it would be up north, and she hadn’t brought a single warm garment. She shuffled her feet, saying, “Chief Steward, I need to go back to my master’s place to get a padded robe. I forgot to bring it.”

Na Jin rolled his eyes, “Forget about your old cotton coat. Would serving the prince let you freeze to death? Your guards have special padded armor, so thickly lined with silk cotton that it’s like being wrapped in felt wherever you go.”

Ding Yi responded affirmatively and followed him to the guard’s office. After winding through several doorways, they reached the guard quarters outside the east corner gate of the prince’s residence—a row of gray-tiled houses with straight-latticed windows hung with large wooden signs. Na Jin entered the courtyard and called out, “Were the guns retrieved from the firearms camp as ordered? Prince Chun’s people have prepared everything properly, but what about you lot? Muddy pigs and mangy dogs, as hopeless as Liu Shan. Even with guns in hand, you look like you’re carrying firewood. Learn well and don’t fumble with the trigger mechanism when the time comes.”

A guard came out to respond, laughing, “Listen to you. Our Chief Shou is an expert marksman—one shot, and he can pierce a willow leaf at a hundred paces.” As he spoke, he looked at the newcomer, “Is this the one you mentioned?”

Na Jin acknowledged, “Called Mu Xiao Shu.” He turned to ask, “Which ‘mu’? The ‘mu’ for wood? Interesting name—both wood and tree. Perhaps you’re lacking the wood element in your five phases?”

Ding Yi smiled and explained, “No, it’s the ‘mu’ with three dots added, for bathing. A small tree needs water when planted, doesn’t it?”

“Not bad, that makes sense.” Na Jin pressed the medicine patch on his temple and introduced the man before them, “This is Liao Da Tou, the deputy of the guard office. If you have any questions, ask him. He’s an information broker—nothing he doesn’t know.”

Ding Yi greeted him respectfully. Liao Da Tou squinted, “What will he do in the guard office? Looking at his build, he can’t carry a knife or a gun.”

Na Jin clicked his tongue, “Look at his physique—does he look like someone who can intimidate? He’s not here to fight. He’s given a position but has a different assignment. Just tell him the rules—how wages are paid, how to collect seasonal shoes, hats, and clothes, and find him a place to sleep. That’s all.”

Liao Da Tou stroked his chin, giving the young man another look. His senior brother had been caught stealing a dog, but he had considerable connections, having persuaded the Twelfth Prince of Chun’s residence to intercede. It seemed he had substantial backing. He acknowledged with a “Fine,” then said, “Well, Xiao Shu, our guards work in shifts. Some serve at night, others during the day. Do you prefer night or day duty?”

Na Jin clicked his tongue again, “He has a different assignment!”

Liao Da Tou rubbed the back of his neck, “Right, a different assignment… Our guard duty differs from others. When off duty, we can’t sleep outside, in case the master summons us. When the prince gives an order, we must immediately respond. If you were embracing a girl in the pleasure quarters, among all those brothels, how would we find you?”

Na Jin’s fan created a flurry of wind, “What nonsense are you talking about? Always fixating on embracing girls—can’t you show some ambition?” Realizing the entire introduction was superfluous, he decided to be direct, “The monthly silver for a guard in our residence is two taels. If prepaid for a year, it’s reduced by half. Millet allowance is eleven dan, which converts to thirteen taels of silver. Food and lodging are provided, and all uniforms are covered by the prince’s household. You don’t need to worry about anything—just perform your duties well.”

“May I ask, where are the prince’s birds kept?” Everything else seemed fine, but the accommodation was problematic. The guard quarters were full of rough men who, in hot weather, went bare-chested. How could she manage? Ding Yi sought Na Jin’s advice, tentatively suggesting, “Since I’m specifically assigned to care for the birds, perhaps needing to give them water or food in the middle of the night, what if I stayed with the birds? That way I could better look after them if anything happens.”

Her suggestion enlightened Na Jin immediately, “Then why go to the guard office at all? Just go directly to the garden. Goodness, the heat has confused me. It’s only a matter of a day or two—why all this trouble? Go to the garden. I’ll have them send your uniform and light armor there. That settles it.”

A confused master breeds confused servants. The Seventh Prince managed his household loosely, and those serving under him deceived when they could. Liao Da Tou watched as the steward led the person away, thinking: What kind of guard is this? After all that, he turns out to be just a birdkeeper.