Changning General — Chapter 18
Jiang Hanyuan remained where she was. After a short while, she saw Shu Shenhui return alone. He stopped before her, smiling gently: “His Majesty has gone back to the palace. Tonight, I must trouble you. Let’s return to the room.”
The two of them walked back toward the bridal chamber, side by side, though a small distance apart. They passed through one courtyard, then a gate, another courtyard, another gate—yet all the way, not a word was spoken. Finally, as they crossed the waterside, he turned his face slightly, stealing a glance at her. Seeing her gaze fixed straight ahead, he spoke, pointing out the scenery as if to introduce it: “This pond garden is nothing much to look at now. But when the weather warms, in June and July, the lotuses bloom, fragrance drifts in the air, and it carries a touch of Jiangnan’s delicate charm. If you like, you may even take a boat upon it…”*
Jiang Hanyuan turned her head, glanced at the dark, indistinct mass of water he indicated, and gave a noncommittal hum.
He seemed about to continue, but seeing her lack of interest, he fell silent. Thus, they passed quietly through the pond garden, along a long corridor, and finally returned to the bridal chamber. Closing the door, crossing the outer room, entering the inner chamber—they had come back to where they began.
Perhaps because of that circuitous walk, the initial strangeness between them had eased somewhat. His expression was calm again. With a faintly apologetic smile, he said: “Tonight is our wedding night, yet all this commotion was unexpected. You’ve been put to trouble. It’s late—rest now.”
For the third time that night, he stood before the rack, loosening his belt. This time it went smoothly. He quickly removed his sash, shed an outer robe, and remained in his inner garments. He turned slightly, glancing at her. She still stood there, as if watching him, yet her eyes seemed unfocused, lost in thought. After a moment, he walked toward her, stopping directly before her, only an arm’s length away. It was the closest they had been all night.
As his footsteps ceased, silence filled the chamber once more. Even the faint hiss of the candle flame seemed audible. In the red glow of the bridal canopy, their two shadows appeared almost intimate.
“Lady Jiang,” he called softly, testing her.
Her lashes stirred, and she lifted her gaze.
“If not for His Majesty’s arrival earlier, there is something I wished you to know…” He held her eyes, continuing.
She said nothing, only looked at him.
He seemed to understand her temperament—that she would not speak unless necessary. Without waiting for her reply, he went on: “Whatever the cause, you and I are now husband and wife. This is for life. From now on, I will honor you. Whatever you desire—if it is within my power—I will see it done.”
Twice he said “I will,” his tone solemn.
The chamber glowed with candlelight. He finished, still smiling faintly, watching her. She remained silent. After a pause, his hand lifted, tentative, reaching toward the golden hairpin that bound her coiffure.
He meant to unfasten her hair.
As the pin slid out inch by inch, her full bun loosened. He did not stop, slowly removing the bridal ornaments.
In the candlelit canopy, the scene grew increasingly tender, indescribable.
Just as the pin was nearly withdrawn, her hair about to collapse, she suddenly moved—turning her head, slipping from his hand, stepping back slightly.
“Your Highness, the words you just spoke—are they true?” she asked.
Shu Shenhui looked at her, slowly withdrawing his suspended hand, and nodded.
“Then it is well. I have something to say.”
“Speak.”
“I wish to return to Yanmen as soon as possible.”
Her directness swept away the awkwardness of having avoided his touch moments before.
When she made this request, he did not seem surprised. His smile remained, and after a brief pause for thought, he nodded readily: “A year from now—let us speak of it again next year. You know well, our marriage has drawn the eyes of the entire court.”
“One month!” Jiang Hanyuan countered immediately.
His smile faded. He fixed his gaze on her.
Her expression was calm, unshaken.
“Half a year then! After six months, we will arrange it.” He hesitated, conceding a step.
“Two months!”
At that, he seemed amused, shaking his head lightly, saying nothing, only looking at her.
She met his gaze, unwavering: “Your Highness, the marriage is sealed. If you trust me and my father, I see no reason it cannot be done. This body is but a shell—what does it matter where I reside? Besides, I am a frontier general. Why should leaving the capital be bound by gossip?”
Whether persuaded by her words or by her firm tone, he pondered, then finally raised his eyes: “My mother is resting in her old home for her health. Here is my proposal: remain here for now. When my affairs in the capital allow me some respite, I will accompany you to visit her. Afterwards, under the pretext of military matters, you may return directly to Yanmen. How does that sound?”
“Rest assured, I will arrange it quickly. At most three months—sooner if possible. I will not delay you long.” He added.
Truthfully, this outcome exceeded Jiang Hanyuan’s expectations. Even before entering the chamber tonight, sitting in the bridal carriage, she had already been turning over this most pressing question in her mind. She had prepared herself to be trapped here for at least half a year. Now, with the time cut in half, her mood lifted. Looking at the man before her, he even seemed more pleasing to the eye.
So long as she could return—and so soon—nothing else mattered.
She nodded: “Agreed.”
With her words, silence fell again. The earlier moment with the hairpin could not be repeated. They stood facing each other a while longer, the night deepening, until inevitably the bridal night pressed forward toward its unspoken conclusion.
His gaze flicked to the hairpin at her temple—the one she had turned away from his hand before. His shoulder shifted, still hesitant, when suddenly Jiang Hanyuan herself raised her hand. She pulled the pin free in one swift motion. Her loosened coiffure collapsed, dark hair tumbling wildly over her shoulders. Without a glance, she tossed the pin aside. It clattered onto a desk ten paces away.
Then she bent, lifted her skirt, and from the band strapped to her thigh drew a dagger. With the same casual motion, she flung it onto the desk as well. She explained evenly: “Your Highness, be at ease. I mean you no harm. It is simply a habit. In the palace, I understand the rules.”
With that, she deftly untied her belt, shed her outer robe, and stood opposite him in nothing but a thin silk undergarment. Slowly, she spread her arms, revealing arms marked with scars, hands calloused and rough—laying her entire self bare before his eyes. At first, he only watched silently as she unpinned her hair. When she produced the dagger, he seemed only mildly surprised. But as she stripped down and opened herself so boldly, his composure faltered, his expression turning uneasy.
“Plain as I am, Your Highness, you see me clearly now. I grew up in frontier camps. Aside from this female body, I am no different from a man. If you truly wish to share the bed, I have no objection.”
She finished, waiting for his reply. He remained silent.
She nodded slightly: “It’s late. Let’s rest.”
She even spoke the words he had been about to say, then turned, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes. After a moment, sensing no movement, she opened them again—he was still standing there, staring, motionless, as if dazed.
She had not expected him to be this way in private—hesitant, dragging things out. It surprised her.
In her Camp, a man this slow would not even be fit to serve as a cook.
“If Your Highness has no such intent, it’s fine. I’ll sleep in the outer room.”
That suited Jiang Hanyuan perfectly. She rolled over and sat up.
By the window in the outer chamber stood a beauty couch—narrow and low, meant for daytime naps. But it was more than enough for one person to sleep.
“No, no—you misunderstand! Husband and wife must share the bed. Besides, I sought this marriage myself—how could I refuse? Let us rest together!”
As if waking from a dream, he spoke quickly, stopping her. He moved toward the bed, but when he saw the row of candles blazing, their light falling directly upon the couch, illuminating every detail of skin and hair, he paused. Then he turned back, lowering the heavy curtains before the bed, shutting out the light.
The heavy curtains fell, shutting out the light completely. The narrow space was plunged into dimness.
“Lady Jiang, move inward a little, so I may lie down…” He stopped before the bed, speaking softly.
It was not that the bed was too small for two, but that she lay on the outer side. This was a habit formed from years in the army—always sleeping on the outside, ready to rise at the sound of an alarm.
She gave him a look, then shifted inward. He slowly removed his boots, climbed onto the bed, spread the quilt, first covering her tightly up to the neck, then tucked himself in, and lay down.
At first, it seemed both had fallen asleep. Jiang Hanyuan closed her eyes, truly wishing to rest. But after a while, she felt a hand reaching toward her, fumbling at the ties of her inner robe. She lay still, waiting, but his hand lingered awkwardly at her waist, unable to manage even a simple knot. At last, impatient, she pushed his hand away and undid it herself in a few quick motions. The man beside her was silent for a moment, then pressed down over her.
Jiang Hanyuan felt extreme discomfort, suppressing the urge to kick him off the bed. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift. She recalled the old matron in Yunluo City, who had whispered advice before her departure. She hadn’t listened closely, only caught the gist: “Endure it once, and afterward you will know the joy of husband and wife.”
Then another memory surfaced—when she was a teenager, she had once stumbled upon a horse-breeding scene near the barracks. She had been horrified then, never imagining how grotesque and monstrous a stallion in rut could appear compared to its usual self. Later, she grew indifferent. In idle nights without battle, the soldiers would gather, trading crude jokes. Heaven’s creatures are alike; men and horses, what true difference is there?
Enough. Pointless. She stopped thinking of it, turning instead to matters she must attend to in the coming days.
Time passed—long, or perhaps only a moment. She realized he had not gone further. He lay atop her, moving a little at first, then gradually stilled, as if lifeless. The promised “endure it, and it will pass” never arrived. Suspicious, she opened her eyes and pushed his shoulder.
“Hurry up!” she urged.
He stirred, voice weak: “I… I am sorry…”
His tone was like a soldier forced to drill on an empty stomach—thin, fading, until it nearly vanished. After a pause, he muttered, haltingly: “Perhaps… another time…”
His voice was heavy with shame: “Truly, tonight I don’t know why… perhaps I am simply exhausted…”
He explained further, almost apologetically: “The court granted leave for my wedding, but before that, there was much to prepare. I have not slept well for several nights.”
Jiang Hanyuan understood. It was like a soldier in battle whose weapon failed to rise. She had offered herself openly, yet he was still incapable. She believed he was not feigning—it was simply that she had failed to stir his desire. Her mind flashed back to the beautiful Wen family maiden she had seen at Huguo Temple. She understood then, and felt oddly relieved, even pitying him.
Everyone bears their own burdens. Commoners have their misfortunes; princes and nobles have theirs. This man’s sacrifice was pitiable indeed—marrying her, and still forcing himself to play the part.
In the dim light, she could see him clearly enough: head bowed, face full of shame, shoulders slumped, a sheen of sweat on his brow.
“It’s fine. I am tired as well. Let’s rest.” She spoke, adding comfort.
Hearing this, he seemed regretful, hesitated: “Wait a little longer… perhaps I can try again—”
“Your Highness!” Jiang Hanyuan could bear no more, cutting him off.
“You need not force yourself! I know you mean me no disrespect. Only let me return soon, and I will be grateful beyond measure.”
Her tone was earnest. It was the truth of her heart.
The man withdrew silently.
Jiang Hanyuan felt relieved. She straightened her disheveled clothes and turned onto her side. The night passed without further words. She did not know how her bedfellow slept, but for her, the greatest worry of this journey was lifted. She slept soundly for once, until movement beside her woke her.
She was a light sleeper, able to rest anywhere, so long as nightmares did not intrude. She opened her eyes suddenly, seeing him rise from the pillow, lifting the quilt as if to slip away quietly. Catching her awake, he paused, then said: “It is still early. We need only reach the ancestral temple by dawn. Sleep a while longer. I have another matter—I must rise first.”
His face was indistinct in the dimness, but his voice was dry, hoarse. He dressed quickly, not lingering a moment, then lifted the curtain and left.