Pang Cheng had said the wedding would be simple, but the simplicity of this wedding—or rather, its perfunctoriness—still exceeded Tang Jiayu's expectations.
Pang Cheng chose an auspicious day half a month later, the second day of the eleventh month. That day, fine snow fell, the sky was dim, and the cold wind whimpered. A few red lanterns were hung casually in the corridor—that was Tang Jiayu's wedding.
Li Zhaoji changed into a crimson ceremonial robe. He was even more handsome than she had imagined, but he stood far away on the other side of the red silk, maintaining a silent distance from Tang Jiayu throughout. Tang Jiayu held a round fan and bowed her head. Even as she bowed, she still felt no sense of reality.
No invitations, no guests, no six rites—not even her parents were seated in the places of honor. How could this be a wedding?
Of course it wasn't. She had merely gained another target to pursue; she was not married.
After Tang Jiayu finished bowing to the memorial tablets of Pang Cheng and Lady Jiang, Pang Cheng put on a show of admonishing the newlywed couple briefly, and then came the final step: entering the bridal chamber.
The Tang residence was cold and quiet, hardly a place for wedding-night revelry. The customary rituals—the urging of the bride's makeup, the son-in-law's entrance, the lowering of the fan—were all omitted. Li Zhaoji and Tang Jiayu sat facing each other, while Zhenchun and Zhexia knelt on either side, offering the shared meal. Tang Jiayu took a shallow taste, and the person across from her set down his chopsticks even before she did. Zhanqiu and Zhandong stepped forward, handing over the nuptial cups.
Holding half a gourd, Tang Jiayu couldn't help but lift her eyes to look across the red thread. Li Zhaoji's Adam's apple moved slightly as he drained the wine in one gulp and set it down coldly. The red wedding robe hung on him tall and striking, elegant and austere. His double-lidded eyes were narrow and long, the outer corners slightly upturned, his pupils dark and deep—cold and handsome.
He noticed Tang Jiayu's pause and looked at her inquiringly. Tang Jiayu lowered her eyes and drank the nuptial wine to the dregs.
A maidservant brought a small pair of golden scissors. Jiang Chan parted a lock of hair from Tang Jiayu's bun and cut off the ends. Zhenchun handed over Li Zhaoji's hair. Jiang Chan twisted the two locks into a lover's knot and said, "The rites are complete. Bound together forever."
Immediately, a serving woman scattered gold paper and five grains over the two of them, chanting loudly, "Long life and wealth, many sons and much fortune."
The five grains struck their bodies, stinging somewhat, but neither Tang Jiayu nor Li Zhaoji dodged. Each harbored their own thoughts, while the serving woman forced a smile and spoke auspicious words. In this scene, a blessing like "many sons and much fortune" seemed far too ironic.
All the wedding proceedings were finished. The task was complete. There was no reason for Li Zhaoji to stay any longer. He rose, and the room's center of gravity seemed to shift abruptly upward. Tang Jiayu looked up. Gold paper scattered and fell from behind him—just like that day at the city gate, when she was struck by an arrow and fell to the ground, and he sat upright on his horse. The two of them shared the snow, growing white-haired together.
Li Zhaoji showed no emotion. He said, "Rest well. I'll be going now."
With that, he turned and strode away. The roomful of maids and serving women bowed their heads in salute. Tang Jiayu watched him walk out without the slightest reluctance. Suddenly she spoke: "Wait."
Everyone was startled. Jiang Chan frowned at her, displeased at her breach of decorum. Tang Jiayu ignored the gazes around her. With effort, she stood up, bearing the elaborate flower-tree bun and a head full of pearls and jade, and walked toward Li Zhaoji.
The maidservants watched this outrageous scene. Zhenchun frowned and wanted to hold Tang Jiayu back, but Zhanqiu quietly stopped them, signaling them to follow the Young Lord's arrangements.
Tang Jiayu walked up to Li Zhaoji. Li Zhaoji remained calm and composed, but inwardly he thought that if she had hidden a dagger, this distance was already close enough to assassinate him. Before his thought could settle, he saw Tang Jiayu rise on her tiptoes and reach for his shoulder.
Li Zhaoji lowered his eyes and only then realized that during the scattering of the tent earlier, gold paper had stuck to his shoulder. But the floral hairpin was truly too heavy; Tang Jiayu's body swayed, and Li Zhaoji had no choice but to reach out and steady her, lest she fall in her green ceremonial robes at her own wedding.
Tang Jiayu removed the gold paper and performed a wife's salute to Li Zhaoji with a curtsy. Her eyes were as limpid as water, seeming to hold a thousand words: "Husband, you should rest early too."
Li Zhaoji had no choice but to cup his hands in return: "Thank you."
After Li Zhaoji left, Tang Jiayu steadied her hairpin, too exhausted to say another word, and said, "Remove my makeup."
As the Young Lord, Li Zhaoji had long since ordered that he disliked being followed. When he walked out of the bridal chamber, no one dared follow behind him and invite annoyance. He stopped at the corridor, unfolded the note in his palm, and after reading it, his brow furrowed even tighter.
"The same time as before. Wait for me in your room."
Tang Jiayu let down her hair, took a comfortable bath, and changed into everyday clothes. Tang Jiayu ordered the lights extinguished. By custom, this meant Tang Jiayu was going to sleep. Aside from the maid on night duty, everyone else filed out. But Tang Jiayu took the initiative to call out to Zhanqiu, saying, "Zhanqiu, you'll keep watch tonight."
Zhexia stopped in surprise, and Zhanqiu glanced at Tang Jiayu, then silently accepted the order: "Yes."
Zhanqiu and Zhexia thus swapped shifts on the spot. Tang Jiayu sat inside the bed curtains, dissolving floral dew in her palms and carefully applying it to her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that everyone had withdrawn. She flung open the gauze curtains, jumped down, and said, "Zhanqiu, quick, help me change clothes. I'm going out."
Zhanqiu asked, "It's so late—where is Madam going?"
Tang Jiayu swiftly pulled on an outer robe and freed her hair from the collar. Her long hair flowed like water, gleaming in the candlelight like the finest silk: "To find my husband."
Even though Zhanqiu had anticipated that Tang Jiayu was up to something, hearing this still made her eyes widen: "Ah?"
At that moment, in Li Zhaoji's room, he stared at the leaping flames and found himself hesitating over whether to extinguish the lamp, his heart a tangled mess beyond words.
He did not know how a woman like Tang Jiayu could be so bold. Did she not know what day it was? Coming to his room at night to meet him… what was she thinking!
Li Zhaoji had not originally thought there was anything special about the wedding night, but after Tang Jiayu slipped him that note, something felt off, and now he was even hesitating over blowing out the candle.
If he did not blow out the lamp, sitting here felt like a neglected wife in a boudoir waiting to be graced with favor. If he did extinguish the lamp… a man and woman meeting in the dark—even he himself would not believe the two were innocent.
Time passed bit by bit. Li Zhaoji listened to the night watchman's clapper in the streets and felt an odd sense of relief.
The hour of Hai had finally arrived.
He casually did his own things and did not deliberately wait for Tang Jiayu. But after hanging his bow and arrows back on the wall and wiping down all his blades once more, he could not help looking out the window.
Why had she still not come?
Tang Jiayu had not deliberately arrived late; she simply had not paid much attention to the time.
After all, tonight was their wedding night. What else should Li Zhaoji be doing besides thinking of her? So she dressed herself both beautifully and warmly before unhurriedly setting off to keep the appointment.
If she had relied solely on herself, she could never have left Qinyu Garden without alerting anyone, but with Zhanqiu by her side, it was a different matter. Zhanqiu would help her avoid the guards. Tang Jiayu had already discerned that although Zhanqiu was foolishly loyal, her loyalty was not to any specific person, but to orders. Li Jichen had instructed her to follow Tang Jiayu, so she would risk her life to protect Tang Jiayu's safety. Now that Tang Jiayu wanted to see the Young Lord, as long as the Young Lord had not forbidden it, Zhanqiu would silently escort Tang Jiayu along the way.
Tang Jiayu had discovered this and exploited it without hesitation. It had to be said that the subordinates Li Jichen had trained were indeed highly capable. Along the entire path, Tang Jiayu did not encounter a single guard, and arrived at Li Zhaoji's courtyard safely and gracefully.
The courtyard Li Zhaoji resided in was called Songfeng Pavilion. Tang Jiayu gently pushed the door—indeed, the back door was unlocked. She took the lantern from Zhanqiu's hands and said, "Wait for me here."
Zhanqiu seemed to want to speak but hesitated, then finally obeyed in silence: "Understood."
Lantern in hand, Tang Jiayu strode openly toward the main house, not at all worried about being seen. She tapped on the window and asked softly, "Bingwen, are you asleep yet?"
After saying this, even Tang Jiayu herself was disgusted by the saccharine tone of her own voice, a shiver running down her spine. But sounds soon came from within, and then the window opened, revealing Li Zhaoji's cold, handsome face behind the frame.
Clearly, men always fell for this sort of thing.
Tang Jiayu, her face bare of makeup and her long hair unbound, smiled at him with gentle warmth. Her entire demeanor was languid and casual, clean and understated, as if she were a young lady who had slipped out before bed to secretly meet her lover, one reach away from falling into his embrace. This was a look she had meticulously crafted to appear as though she had not crafted it at all.
She was utterly different from her daytime appearance in full formal attire—now she seemed soft and utterly harmless. When Li Zhaoji saw her like this, his pupils dilated slightly, and Tang Jiayu knew that she had passed the test of his eyes as well.
Li Jichen was cunning and calculating, Wei Chengjun harbored wild ambitions, and Wang Rong was decent in many ways but could barely protect himself. The only one with both the ability and the power to take her out of this cage was Li Zhaoji. If she wanted more freedom, or even to get close to the Lingyun Chart, she would have to win him over—make him fall in love with her, or at least be fond of her, and let down his guard against her. Only then could she possibly get close to the center of power in Hedong.
Then, find the Lingyun Chart and her mother's secret letter, and leave Hedong forever.
Li Zhaoji was wary of her, and as the Young Lord born into a life of adulation, he had surely seen no shortage of women trying to curry favor with him. Winning him over would not be easy. So she would start by capturing his attention—that was why she had slipped him a note, only to delay coming until now. She wanted him thinking about her; the more he thought, the easier it would be for him to fall for her.
First the stick, then the carrot. Now, it was time for the carrot.
Tang Jiayu set the lantern aside, gathered her skirt, and began climbing through the window with utter familiarity. Li Zhaoji looked down at her, watching coldly to see just what she was up to. But Tang Jiayu's window-climbing posture was far too inelegant, and just as she was about to trip over herself, Li Zhaoji could no longer stand by and was forced to reach out and catch her.
Tang Jiayu, wrapped in her cloak, fell into Li Zhaoji's embrace like a warm, fuzzy piece of jade. With a cold expression, he set her down on the ground, and Tang Jiayu gave him an apologetic, pursed-lip smile before glancing out the window with feigned nonchalance to confirm no one had seen her, then closed it shut.
The wind suddenly died down, and all sounds receded into the distance, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. A man and a woman alone in a room—an ambiguous atmosphere quietly began to take shape. But Li Zhaoji remained as hard and unyielding as iron, unmoved as he demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Tang Jiayu reached out from beneath her cloak, unceremoniously spreading her palm before him. "Where are my gold jewelry?"
Li Zhaoji's eyes went wide, caught off guard by this woman once again. Tang Jiayu was nothing like other young ladies of noble households who felt too embarrassed to speak of money. Tang Jiayu, in contrast, was utterly self-assured in her claim: "That gold was my investment to fund your business. Now that we've smoothly gotten married, you don't need to do business anymore—you can return the gold to me!"
Nonsense—that was all her private savings. It was fine for a man to spend money on her, but as for her spending money on a man? No way!