Hong Xiu suddenly let out a laugh.
She bent down, picked up the handful of berries, and plucked one to put in her mouth.
It was very sour, making her teeth feel soft.
But it was indeed tastier than cloying pastries. She didn’t spit it out, slowly chewed and swallowed it, then spoke.
“You can follow me from now on.”
“I need someone to run errands.”
The boy looked up at her.
A ripple finally appeared in his eyes, but it quickly subsided.
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to the ground, bowing his body like a dog truly claimed by its master.
Hong Xiu stood under the corridor, the evening breeze stirring the loose strands of hair at her temples. She looked down at the boy’s bony spine.
Good.
Couldn’t speak, quiet, and knew how to be grateful.
Keeping a dog by her side, as a diversion, could also relieve boredom.
She never thought of herself as a good person, but she wasn’t rotten to the core either. She was just casually picking up a life. If this life ever caused her trouble, she would just discard him.
Days passed, and because of the Grand Preceptor’s words, “I would shorten my lifespan by ten years, for a single smile from you,” they spread throughout the entire Southern Tang.
At first, it was just a drunken topic of conversation at provincial banquets.
Later, even the tea houses in the streets and alleys were talking about how the Music Registry had produced a peerless beauty capable of toppling kingdoms, and that the Grand Preceptor had written such a line for her, truly showcasing her charm.
Hong Xiu herself didn’t have any particular reaction.
The Grand Preceptor’s words were meant for all the guests. She sat behind the pearl curtain, plucking the zither strings, a smile on her lips, but in her heart, she was calculating how much leverage that poem could bring her.
The Grand Preceptor’s prestige, the attention of other court officials, the Music Registry steward’s even more polite demeanor, and the queue of people who wanted to see her extending to the street corner for the next six months.
This was exactly what she wanted.
Hong Xiu’s status in the Music Registry grew day by day.
The Music Registry’s business visibly improved.
Every night’s banquets were fully booked, and nine out of ten guests came for her.
Some wanted to hear her play the zither, some wanted to see her dance, some wanted her to share a few drinks, and some harbored more direct intentions.
But Hong Xiu never gave anyone the chance to speak plainly.
She always managed to make people feel like they had a chance, only to subtly withdraw at the crucial moment.
She navigated various social situations with ease, offering smiles when appropriate and showing a cold shoulder without hesitation when needed.
Those noblemen couldn’t figure out her temperament, which only made them more willing to spend lavishly on her.
The Grand Preceptor treated her exceptionally well, sending gifts that filled half a side room: silks, gold and jade, rare medicinal herbs. Once, he even sent a pair of live white peacocks, claiming they were rare birds from Nanzhao, the only pair in the entire capital.
Hong Xiu accepted them, then immediately had the mute boy take the peacocks to the backyard to raise, assigning two young maidservants to feed and clean for them daily.
She wasn’t particularly concerned with these things.
The powerful and wealthy praised her and flattered her to treat her as a rare object for their amusement.
She knew this very well.
Hong Xiu’s life, in the eyes of others, was glorious.
Fine clothes and rich food, an entourage wherever she went, people praising her at a word, and panicking at a frown.
But she knew that these things were suspended in mid-air; she was treading on thin ice, and when the ice broke, she would fall headfirst.
Every time a banquet ended and she returned to the backyard, she would sit at her dressing table, removing her hairpins and bracelets, watching her heavily made-up face in the bronze mirror, her smile slowly fading.
The mute boy waited outside her door every day.
Quietly, after completing the tasks she assigned, he would squat under the corridor pillar, his thin arms wrapped around his knees, silent but loyal.
Hong Xiu, when in a good mood, would occasionally throw him a few boxes of pastries.
They were all gifts from others; she didn’t like sweets herself, so giving them away didn’t bother her.
The mute boy always ate them quickly, but he never ate alone.
One time, Hong Xiu saw him from her back window, squatting by the woodshed door, breaking half a plate of osmanthus cake into pieces and feeding them to the scrawny stray cats in the courtyard.
The stray cats circled him. He squatted among them, slowly breaking the cake bit by bit, his expression gentle.
Hong Xiu watched for a moment, then closed the window.
Later, he fed those stray cats until they grew plump, and they would squat by the woodshed door every day, waiting for him.
He didn’t find it bothersome. Every morning, he would go to the kitchen to beg for leftover food, mix it, and bring it over.
Hong Xiu saw him once and scoffed, “You can barely feed yourself, and you’re raising cats?”
The mute boy heard her, lowered his head, then raised his face. His clear black-and-white eyes gazed at her calmly, and his lips moved, curving into an extremely subtle arc.
Hong Xiu fanned herself and said nothing more.
She had never given the boy a name.
The servants in the Music Registry all called him “Mute” or “Doggy,” because everyone knew how he had grown up.
Hong Xiu never called him by name. When she needed him, she would simply lift her chin or point her fan in his direction, and he would understand.
He was indeed a good dog.
But what Hong Xiu didn’t know was that some things she thought she could hide from others were actually being watched over by someone else.
That autumn, there was a girl named Yun Niang in the Music Registry who had started at the same time as Hong Xiu and had also come up under her.
Yun Niang had always harbored resentment towards Hong Xiu, hating that Hong Xiu overshadowed her, hating that despite starting at the same time, Hong Xiu became the Courtesan Queen while she couldn’t.
Around that time, a military governor who had been stationed elsewhere returned to the capital to report on his duties. He was generous with money and showed some interest in Yun Niang.
Yun Niang had hoped to rise through the ranks with the help of this military governor. However, after he stayed at the Music Registry for three days, on the third evening, he changed his mind and specifically requested Hong Xiu’s company.
Yun Niang gnashed her teeth in hatred.
She found a steward in the Music Registry, intending to tamper with the incense powder Hong Xiu usually used, to make Hong Xiu embarrass herself at the banquet.
They did this very secretly, meeting only once in the middle of the night and exchanging a few private words.
But the steward, after a few cups of wine, drunkenly passed by the woodshed door in the backyard. The mute boy, squatting under the corridor pillar, overheard a few words.
“Hong Xiu… incense powder… Angelica dahurica… the third day of next month…”
The mute boy sat quietly in the darkness, his eyes glimmering faintly in the moonlight for a moment.
On the evening of the third day, Hong Xiu prepared her makeup as usual.
The mute boy entered from outside, carrying a lacquer tray. On the tray lay rouge, face powder, and eyebrow pencil—all the cosmetics Hong Xiu usually used.
Hong Xiu was drawing her eyebrows in the mirror and didn’t turn her head. “Put it down.”
The mute boy placed the lacquer tray on the dressing table and withdrew.
Hong Xiu paused when she picked up the box of incense powder.
The texture of the powder was slightly rougher, a little coarser than the box she usually used.
She brought it closer to smell it; there was nothing unusual, but she still put it down and picked up another box.
That evening’s banquet proceeded normally. Instead, it was Yun Niang, seated at the lower end of the table, who suddenly broke out in an itch all over her body after three rounds of wine. A red rash appeared on her face and neck, itching and hurting so much that she couldn’t sit still. Eventually, her maidservant helped her leave the banquet early.
Everyone simply assumed she had eaten something bad and didn’t think much of it.
Hong Xiu sat behind the pearl curtain, idly plucking the zither strings, and suddenly remembered the box of incense powder she had put aside that morning during her makeup routine.
She glanced towards the moon gate.
The mute boy was squatting in the shadows outside the door, his hands clasped over his knees, quiet and still, unnoticed by anyone.
From that day on, the covert tasks around Hong Xiu found someone to handle them.
Rate on N.U.
