Everyone was greatly startled and hurriedly bowed respectfully, “Twelfth Master.”

The usually gentle and refined man, who never raised his voice even to servants, had now shouted so loudly that everyone was shocked into silence. He strode with a stern face and cold eyes, “You are the prince’s guards, the Guosha who protect your master while traveling. You gather to make mischief—is there no law? With so many eyes watching from above and below, uninformed people might think they’ve entered a brothel. Do you acknowledge your wrongdoing?”

No one had ever seen him like this. The roughhousing among the men had started as a joke, and no one had taken it seriously at first, but it had gradually gone too far and caught the attention of those in charge. Now the situation had become difficult. After all, he was of imperial lineage—while usually easy to get along with, when displeased, he was a Wang, a Prince of the Blood, actually a Hesuo Qinwang, one rank higher than their own master. Who would risk their life to offend him? The troublemakers were so frightened they fell to their knees, kowtowing repeatedly like pounding garlic, “It was our fault for not knowing our place, causing the Twelfth Master distress. Our crime is great, please punish us.”

He looked down contemptuously at the servants prostrated on the ground, then turned to look at Xiao Shu. The child looked pitiful, biting his lip with large tears welling in his eyes, wanting to cry but not daring to, only swallowing his sobs. Seeing such a free-spirited person reduced to this state by their bullying made him furious. To punish them, it wouldn’t be difficult to drag them away for a military flogging, but they weren’t his servants—even when beating a dog, one must respect its owner. Gradually calming down, he frowned and said, “I won’t punish you. When you commit offenses, your own master will discipline you. I’ll only say one thing: when away from home, military discipline is as firm as a mountain. Joking and roughhousing must have limits. Six or seven people surrounding one person to strip off clothes, forcing them when they’re unwilling—what kind of behavior is this? Today is a warning. Listen well, all of you. If there’s a next time and I find out, you can imagine the consequences yourselves.”

Everyone agreed in chorus, then stood up with hands at their sides and retreated. He then glanced at Liao Datou, “You’re their squad leader, leading the trouble—your crime is unforgivable. Go to your master to receive punishment. Explain everything in detail. Whatever punishment the Seventh Prince decides is entirely up to him.”

Liao Datou’s face fell as he glanced up. The Twelfth Master looked resolute, showing no signs of leniency. He cursed these sons of dogs in his heart, glaring at them, but had no choice. Bowing, he accepted the order first and would settle accounts later!

As for Ding Yi, she was so choked she could hardly breathe. But she knew she couldn’t make a scene here. Rough handling was a matter of dishonor for women, but for men, touching or grabbing was nothing significant.

Her legs trembled inside her trousers, her heart pounding uncontrollably. She felt utterly humiliated. She told herself to be more casual—after all, the Twelfth Master had already stood up for her—but the terrifying experience had burned itself into her heart, impossible to dismiss. Through her years of hardship, previous grievances were quickly forgotten, but this time she felt genuine despair.

With great effort, she suppressed her panic, needing to deal with the immediate situation. She bowed to the Twelfth Prince from a distance, “Thank you, Prince. I’m fine. Everyone was just joking, nothing serious…” Her voice trembled beyond control, and fearing she would reveal too much if she continued, she quickly bowed, “This servant will go wash up now. The meal will be ready soon.”

“No hurry,” Hong Ce said. “Bring your clothes and come to my quarters.”

She looked up at him in astonishment, thinking she’d misheard. “What did the Prince say?”

He glanced at her without repeating himself, then turned and walked toward his quarters with his hands behind his back.

Bring clothes to his place… Ding Yi mulled over his words, feeling uneasy. At this moment, Qian Chuanzi clicked his tongue in admiration, “The Twelfth Master has his reasons. No wonder!”

Ding Yi turned to glare fiercely at him. If he hadn’t stirred up trouble, how could she have been put in such a difficult position? She hated him, wishing she could devour him in one bite. “Many people are listening here. Say that again?”

The men immediately became sheepish. Having just escaped danger, they were approaching trouble again, playing with their lives! Liao Datou, having suffered enough, scolded in a low voice, “Keep your filthy mouths shut! Haven’t I got enough trouble already? You had your fun, and I’m the one who suffers!” Then he turned and said, “Xiao Shu, brothers were just playing around, we didn’t maintain proper boundaries. Don’t take offense. But you’re also at fault—being so sensitive to jokes is rare. It’s not that big a deal, yet you alarmed the Twelfth Master. We’re all servants of the Seventh Prince, and what happens within the family stays there. Now we’ve all lost face in front of outsiders. If the Twelfth Master asks again, please put in a good word for us! After all, he’s in charge of the imperial mission, and we all must follow his directions.”

They were still resentful, blaming her for making a big deal out of nothing, believing that any grievance should be resolved privately. But having pushed her this far, what room did she have to back down? If she hadn’t struggled, they would have stripped her naked! Her face flushed red, with grievances she couldn’t express. After suffering greatly, she still had to endure their blame—which law dictated this?

Liao Datou could see from her expression that he shouldn’t pour oil on the fire and sighed deeply: “Fine, you’ve all heard the Twelfth Master’s words. I must go face our master’s punishment. As for you all, be more cautious in the future. Some people are generous and can take a joke, others are thin-skinned, and going too far will cause trouble.”

People in the courtyard exchanged glances, all feeling that Mu Xiao Shu was being uncooperative. Their dagger-like stares cut into her countless times before they spat “bad luck” and strode away.

Ding Yi felt deeply wronged, standing there like a wooden block, her limbs weak, unable to even take a step. After a long while, she recovered enough to feel the buttons at her collar—one had been torn off. She was on the verge of tears; the sky seemed to have lowered, pressing down until she could barely breathe.

The postal station manager was a good person. He had watched everything from beginning to end but was too insignificant to intervene. Only after all those guard gentlemen had left did he dare approach, mumbling, “Those fellows are too heartless. Let me see… even torn it… Let them swagger, the Prince will deal with them. Um… if you don’t mind, I can mend it for you?”

His thick accent was somewhat difficult to understand, but Ding Yi could grasp his meaning. She wiped her eyes and said, “No need, thank you. Just lend me a needle and thread, and I’ll fix it myself.”

The manager agreed and turned to get a sewing basket.

When she entered the Twelfth Master’s room, he was sitting by the lamp reading. He glimpsed her from the corner of his eye and put down his book.

Ding Yi had her clothes tucked under her arm and a needle pinned to her chest. Once again, he had rescued her, making her more grateful than ever before. She knelt and kowtowed, “Thank you, Twelfth Master. Time and again, you’ve helped me, and I don’t know how to thank you properly. My life has been unfortunate; I’ve been bullied since childhood. Later, with my master and senior brothers protecting me, times were peaceful. Now… traveling is difficult, I understand that now. Fortunately, I have you. You are my savior—without you, what would have become of me?”

He spoke with a smile, but it was stiff, looking worse than tears. He was not feeling well; crying would have been acceptable, but this forced smile was more distressing. Hong Ce turned around, pressing his knee, and said, “Rise. I’m not just helping you but also enforcing military discipline. I’ve been observing all along the journey and was looking for a way to make an example. They ran onto the blade’s edge. How are you? Are you injured anywhere?”

“No, Prince, I’m not,” she replied, standing unsteadily and retreating to one side, forcing a smile. “You see, last time I said I wouldn’t worry you again, but after just a few days, such a slip-up occurred.”

What she had said before, Hong Ce hadn’t taken to heart at all. Everyone has narrow passages in life; no one can guarantee smooth sailing forever. As for worry, it wasn’t worry, just habit becoming second nature. Whenever something happened, he felt compelled to act, like a triggered mechanism. Why? Perhaps because when you save someone’s life, having given them a second chance, you want to see them live on without trouble.

But this child truly had it difficult—stumbling at every step, even being teased by those assigned to the same post. Hong Ce moved his elbow resting on the table edge, slowly closing his five fingers, and said softly, “This matter is not your fault. It was caused by them; you have nothing to feel guilty about. I’ve had water prepared. Today you can wash up here in my quarters. But I must advise you: traveling isn’t as convenient as being at home. Don’t be too particular about everything. Getting along with colleagues values harmony above all. Perhaps it’s difficult at first, but after a while, once you integrate, things will improve.”

Ding Yi’s face showed her embarrassment, half dejected and half sad. Even he thought she was being oversensitive. Perhaps to others, it seemed so, but only she knew the true reasons, and who could she tell? Everyone said she was petty and uptight. The only girls who could remain composed in such situations were those working in brothels.

There was no need to explain; the more she explained, the worse she would feel. However, the Twelfth Master was truly kind, lending his princely quarters for her to bathe. No wonder Qian Chuanzi and the others had made those suggestive remarks. When he had earlier told her to bring her clothes, she knew why. Initially, she wanted to decline, but on further thought, decided to accept the favor despite her embarrassment. Now that her situation was difficult, with people everywhere, where else could she tidy herself up? If she undressed, she would be exposed to others’ eyes; if she didn’t wash, after a day of sweating, her clothes wet then dry, dry then wet, would likely be crusted with salt, extremely uncomfortable.

She bowed and answered, “I know my shortcomings. I’m too sensitive and have troubled the Prince. In the future, I will get along better with them, please don’t worry. So this time I’ll impose on you—I’m not comfortable stripping down in front of them.”

Hong Ce had always thought that common people mixing in the marketplace weren’t so particular. Not just them, but even the nobles on the archery field would loosen their clothes after heavy sweating without deliberately avoiding others. This young man lived meticulously, probably related to his young age. But speaking of youth, in just over a month he would be eighteen—was that still young?

Since their encounter at the execution ground, their lives have become intertwined in countless ways. As a prince overseeing the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate, he had many matters to handle, yet he could still spare energy to deal with this person, which even he found remarkable. Perhaps it was an unexpected diversion in his monotonous life. After all, even his brothers had never thought to pick mulberries for him, yet this youth had brought some. For this reason alone, he should look after him.

He nodded, “Go ahead. By the time you finish washing, it should be time for the meal.”

She responded affirmatively. The Prince’s attendant, Sha Tong, came to guide her, gesturing behind him, “The Prince just finished using it, and the window curtains haven’t been taken down yet. Look at your good fortune, enjoying the Prince’s grace all to yourself.”

This was still about bathing in the same room, and upon careful consideration, Ding Yi’s face turned crimson. Laughing nervously, she said, “I’m making the best of misfortune. Thank you for your trouble.”

Sha Tong merely smiled, “Do you have a towel? Soap? Using the Prince’s might not be appropriate.”

She said she had everything, taking out the items wrapped in her clothes as they walked, “I’ve prepared everything myself. Borrowing the Prince’s room is already overstepping. I wouldn’t dare use his items.”

As they walked toward the side room, Hong Ce was pacing over to open the western threshold window. Earlier, the room had been fumigated for mosquitoes, and a faint smell of burned wormwood lingered, clinging to the sleeves and remaining for a long time, causing dizziness when inhaled too long.

The postal stations along the official road were never lively, open, and spacious with no obstructions. Opening the window, the last ray of sunset glow from between the clouds shone directly into his eyes. He shielded them with his hand, and as he turned around, he happened to see something fall from Mu Xiao Shu’s arms. One end touched the ground while the other remained attached to his arm, rolled up like a sweat towel, getting longer as he walked until it was about five or six feet long.

Finding it curious, he approached. Just as he got close, the object was suddenly pulled away. He stood there stunned, not having seen it clearly, but it appeared to be a roll of white cloth about five inches wide. He was familiar with such items. The imperial concubines each kept silk under their pillows, not for anything else, but like foreign envoys carrying poison—staying vigilant in peaceful times, ready to sacrifice themselves in critical moments.

Why would Mu Xiao Shu, a man, be hiding such a thing? What exactly was he planning to do?