Volume One, Chapter Three: The Wedding Ceremony

A bridal procession spanning ten miles in crimson splendor.

The streets were thronged with people, weaving together like a tapestry. Idle whispers from the crowd drifted on the wind, falling unbidden into attentive ears.

“The eldest daughter of the Marquis of Dingyuan married into the imperial palace and became a favored consort. Now the third daughter is to wed the heir of Prince Ning. The Marquis’s household certainly overshadows all others.”

“But I heard that this third daughter was raised outside the family for many years, only brought back at the age of thirteen.”

“They say she is ill-favored, her manners coarse as a peasant woman. There was even a scandal about her consorting with men at a temple.”

Outside, music blared and festivities roared, but in Mei Lingxi’s heart, all was still and silent as a tomb.

From the depths of her wide sleeves, she drew out a small wooden carving, caressing it with care for a long while. Her red lips brushed softly against it, leaving a faint crimson mark upon the yellowed wood.

“The bride may alight from the sedan.”

Mei Lingxi stepped out, supported by the matron of honor, and took up the red silk ribbon.

First, they bowed to Heaven and Earth. Second, to the ancestral hall. Third, the couple bowed to each other. Then she was led into the bridal chamber.

The groom appeared at the doorway, said not a word, and returned to the banquet. Mei Lingxi kept her head lowered, seeing only the black, gold-embroidered toes of his shoes.

Within the chamber stood more than a dozen servants, arrayed in two neat lines, their postures upright and demeanor solemn.

The matron smiled and said, “Your Ladyship, you must be thirsty. Please, have some tea with dates and longan to soothe your throat.”

After a day of fasting, Mei Lingxi’s throat was indeed parched. Bishi, her maid, accepted the tea on her behalf, and Mei Lingxi thanked her before sipping slowly.

Half a cup was enough; the delicate sweetness calmed her anxious spirit.

She sat in silence, her back straight, for nearly two hours. When night deepened to ink, the sound of steady, forceful footsteps echoed from outside.

“My lord,” the servants greeted, lowering their eyes with deference.

Ye Jianxun had been plied with copious drink. Though his usually cool eyes now held a glint of inebriation, his gait was steady—he was known for holding his liquor well. He made his way to the bride.

At the matron’s cue, he took up a jade ruyi scepter and used his slender, well-defined fingers to lift the red veil.

The golden tassels swayed gently; the dim chamber brightened in an instant.

Mei Lingxi instinctively clutched her dress with both hands, her palms growing slick with sweat. She slowly lifted her head, her gaze falling upon the man before her.

He stood tall and straight, like a pine on a cliff, the red wedding robes lending him an even more commanding presence. His lips were pressed in a thin, cold line; his brows arched sharply, his phoenix eyes half-narrowed.

His eyes were deep, unfathomable pools, within which flickered both suspicion and displeasure.

At last, Mei Lingxi beheld the heir’s face. She blinked, thinking, he is indeed a handsome youth.

But that look in his eyes... It made her heart clench, unease spreading within.

The matron, watching the heir’s expression in secret, had hoped that such a lovely bride might stir some joy in him—but instead, his face betrayed not a hint of happiness. On the contrary, a storm seemed to gather.

She forced a smile to ease the tension. “My lord, my lady, please share a cup of nuptial wine. From this day on, may you be united in harmony and bliss.”

“Husband and wife?” Ye Jianxun gave a cold laugh, as if he had heard something amusing. The last trace of drunkenness vanished from his eyes.

The matron was alarmed but could only steel herself and present the cups with trembling hands.

Mei Lingxi rose from the bed, accepted the cup, and took two steps forward. Only then did she realize she barely reached his chest.

Ye Jianxun stared at her with an inscrutable expression, as if boring a hole through her. Mei Lingxi suppressed her fear and waited quietly for his next move.

The matron, after a long pause, finally prompted, “My lord.”

Ye Jianxun took a step closer, surrounding her with a wall of oppressive force, so thick she could hardly breathe.

At last, he reached past her arm and swiftly drank the wedding wine with her. When finished, he set the cup down with a loud bang, turned, and strode out, throwing the door open behind him.

The matron was left flustered, muttering a few words of blessing before ushering the servants out one by one.

The crimson bridal chamber fell into silence so complete that a pin drop could be heard.

Bishi, as the attendant maid, stood to one side. Once certain the heir was gone, she pressed a hand to her chest and said, “Heavens, that look in the heir’s eyes just now was murderous.”

Mei Lingxi said nothing, only sighing inwardly. With the bride having been switched, the fact that he hadn’t drawn his sword was grace enough.

After bathing, Mei Lingxi donned the red nightgown prepared by Lady Wang—a sheer gauze, embroidered with gold birds and blossoms.

She was unaccustomed to such attire but sat quietly at the edge of the bed, waiting for the heir to return.

At that moment, Chunwu, another of Lady Wang’s maids, approached with a small green bottle and whispered, “Madam instructed that you add this powder to the tea. Once the heir drinks it, he will be overcome with passion and overlook your… less than perfect innocence.”

A chill flashed through Mei Lingxi’s eyes. Her voice was cold: “That will not be necessary.”

Chunwu tried to argue but was quickly dismissed by Bishi.

Time passed; the dragon-phoenix candles burned low, but no one came. Mei Lingxi relaxed, understanding the situation, and finally lay down to rest.

The heir’s bridal chamber was in Luoyu Courtyard on the east side of Prince Ning’s residence. Before it stretched a lake, beside which stood a pavilion called the Pavilion of Long Winds.

Ye Jianxun fetched a jar of wine from the kitchen and drank in the pavilion, gulping down mouthfuls with reckless haste. Wine spilled, running down his throat and across his chest. The red wedding robe clung to his body; the chill wind bit at his collarbone, but he seemed not to notice, sitting in silence for an hour before slowly returning to the bridal chamber.

He flung the door wide. Now only two dragon-phoenix candles remained, their flames flickering violently in the draft.

His eyes, too, flickered with sudden intensity.

On the bed lay a woman, sleeping peacefully. Realizing this, Ye Jianxun paused in silence, then swiftly retreated into the washroom.

The instant the door opened, Mei Lingxi awoke. She remained motionless, lying flat with her right hand gripping a dagger, warm from her grasp, anxiety gnawing at her heart.

Half an hour passed before Ye Jianxun emerged. He approached the bedside, deliberated, then fetched a quilt from the wardrobe, spread it on the floor, and lay down.

Mei Lingxi waited a while; when he made no other move, she finally relaxed her sweaty grip and allowed her tense body to rest.

The dragon-phoenix candle crackled, plunging the room into a long, dim silence.

As she drifted toward sleep, a cold, sharp voice cut through the quiet like an arrow: “Where is Mei Lingyi?”

In the end, that question could not be avoided. Mei Lingxi’s eyelashes trembled, but she forced herself to remain calm, feigning sleep in the hope of escaping notice.

But the man beside her suddenly rose, leaning close until his face was just above hers. A powerful reek of wine enveloped her.

Mei Lingxi felt a burning heat at her side and could no longer pretend. She opened her eyes wide.

Moonlight, cold and bright as mercury, streamed in. By its pale glow, she saw the towering fury in his eyes, as if in the next instant, a blade might fall upon her throat.