The two soldiers let go, and the mute boy fell onto the threshold. He knelt where he was, looking up at Hong Xiu.
There seemed to be something in his eyes.
It was the first time Hong Xiu had ever seen anything other than calmness in those eyes.
It was like something was burning inside them—hot and stifling—yet suppressed so tightly it couldn't escape, tinged with a blank, murky haze.
As Hong Xiu walked past him, she looked down at him.
“Don't follow me.”
“I don't want you anymore.”
With that, Hong Xiu calmly followed the Grand Preceptor away.
As Hong Xiu stepped through the moon gate, her draped scarf slipped from her shoulders.
The pale purple brocade, embroidered with entwining peonies and bordered with a row of tiny seed pearls, was a fabric gifted to her by the Grand Preceptor last winter—a unique treasure in the Music Registry.
But now, it was trampled into the mud by the passing soldiers.
The mute boy knelt behind the threshold, his face pressed against the floor tiles. Looking through the gaps between the soldiers' moving legs, he watched that pale purple scarf get stepped on over and over again.
He reached out, trying to grab it, but someone kicked him hard on the back of his neck. He collapsed entirely, his cheek slamming against the cold stone slabs, and he tasted the metallic sweetness of blood in his mouth.
He could only watch as the bright red dress receded further into the twilight, eventually turning a corner and vanishing from sight.
Suddenly, something welled up from the corners of his eyes.
“Why is he dripping white water?”
One of the soldiers took half a step back, finding it unlucky.
“Leave him alone. He's just a mute fool. Who knows if he's caught some strange disease? Stay away from him. We still have work ahead, hurry up.”
The footsteps faded into the distance.
The mute boy knelt by the pillar, tears streaming silently from his eyes, soaking his entire face. The drops from his chin fell one by one onto the blue flagstones, their damp patches merging into a small puddle.
He didn't know how long he knelt there.
The sky turned pitch black. The red silk lanterns under the corridor were left unlit, plunging the backyard into darkness.
A calico cat jumped down from the wall, rubbed against his leg, and then hopped away.
The moon rose, casting the swaying shadows of the old locust trees across the courtyard.
As for the present-day Hong Xiu, she merely sneered as she watched the memories of her past life. Covering her face with her silk fan, she murmured, “How dull.”
This was the price of being weak.
The memory continued to unfold.
The Grand Preceptor's men escorted Hong Xiu to an empty wing room in the backyard.
The moment she stepped inside, the door was shut behind her, and the bolt slid into place with a dull thud.
The room smelled of accumulated dust, which lay thick upon the table. The bed frame was bare, with only a few broken straw mat fibers sticking up.
Hong Xiu stood in the middle of the room and looked down at her bright red dress.
The dress had been newly made just last month, tailored from Cloud Brocade sent as tribute from Jiangnan, embroidered with entwining lotuses and twin peonies.
All the jewelry, money, and silks she had accumulated over her years in the Music Registry had been confiscated by the Grand Preceptor's men.
She had nothing left.
Hong Xiu found a relatively intact stool and sat down. She gathered her skirts, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
There were guards outside. Every now and then, one would clear his throat, serving as both a warning for her not to escape and a way to bolster his own courage.
She didn't want to do anything.
Escape? Where could she go?
As a courtesan from the Music Registry, sold into the establishment at the age of twelve, she didn't even have her own household registration or land.
The only people she knew—her sisters in the registry, the managers, and the patrons who used to frequent her parlor—must have caught wind of the situation by now. They would have long since fled as far away as possible.
She didn't have a single soul she could turn to.
Even the mute boy, the only one who would run errands for her, was probably packing his things to flee right now.
Hong Xiu opened her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.
She brushed the dust off her skirt, stood up, walked to the door, and tapped on the wooden panel twice.
“I want to see the Grand Preceptor.”
The guard outside hesitated. Footsteps receded and then returned; he had likely gone to pass on the message.
About half an hour later, a steady set of footsteps approached the door.
The bolt was drawn back from the outside, and the Grand Preceptor walked in alone.
He had changed into casual attire. He brought no soldiers, not even his personal attendants.
Hong Xiu sneered inwardly.
Bringing no one meant this conversation was not meant for outside ears.
Upon entering, the Grand Preceptor closed the door behind him. He did not slide the bolt back in, leaving it slightly ajar.
Standing three paces from the entrance with his hands behind his back, he sized Hong Xiu up. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment before dropping to her bright red dress.
“Nice dress.”
“It was a fabric gifted by the Grand Preceptor. How could it not be good?” Hong Xiu said.
The Grand Preceptor smiled, paced a few steps, and stopped before a chair. He didn't sit down, only raising his hand to brush the dust off the seat.
“Hong Xiu, you are a clever woman. Let's not beat around the bush.”
Hong Xiu leaned against the windowsill, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture completely composed.
“Please, speak, Grand Preceptor.”
“Do you know who leaked those matters to the public?”
Hong Xiu didn't answer.
The Grand Preceptor didn't press her for a response, continuing on his own, “Refugee riots, embezzled flood relief grain, consecutive years of drought, and the Goddess refusing her protection.”
“Do you think all of this is a coincidence?”
Hong Xiu smiled. “I am merely a lowly courtesan. How could I possibly comprehend such grand state affairs?”
“If the Grand Preceptor has something to say, you might as well speak plainly.”
The Grand Preceptor stared at her for a moment, then suddenly laughed.
“You truly are a sensible woman.”
He walked forward two steps, stopping three feet in front of Hong Xiu.
There were no lamps lit in the room. The twilight filtered through the window paper, casting a dim, yellowish glow over half of his face.
The Grand Preceptor kept his voice very low.
“I do know some inside secrets, but the matter is of grave importance and cannot be spoken of to others. However, to appease the public anger, we still need a scapegoat.”
“Hong Xiu, I can protect you.”
“At noon tomorrow, someone will be burned on the altar.”
“As long as I change her clothes so outsiders cannot recognize her, tie her to the pyre, and light the fire, no one will investigate whether the person burning underneath is truly you.”
Hong Xiu narrowed her eyes slightly.
“You'll find a scapegoat to die in my place?”
“I will find a girl of similar build, force a muting drug down her throat, drape your clothes over her, and send her to the altar.”
The Grand Preceptor's voice was low and steady.
“Once the fire starts burning, she will be unrecognizable. Who could tell the difference?”
“And then?”
“And then you change your name and come with me.”
The Grand Preceptor's gaze locked onto her face, his eyes filled with undisguised desire.
“I have an estate in the suburbs of the capital. Enter through the back door, and no one will ever know who you are.”
“You will no longer have to force smiles for a bunch of beasts in the Music Registry.”
“For the rest of your life, you will have no worries about food or clothing. Aside from not being able to go outside, it won't be any different from before.”
Hong Xiu listened quietly. Leaning against the windowsill, she tilted her head to look at the Grand Preceptor, a faint, fleeting smile playing on her lips.
Rate on N.U.
