"More... bring more wine!" Wenliang shouted, swaying dangerously on his feet. He staggered sideways, slamming his shoulder directly into an ancient decorative vase sitting on a wooden stand.
The vase wobbled violently, and a servant scrambled in terror to catch it before it shattered.
"Young Master, please! We are in the middle of the ancestral bows!" Lady Chen hissed in panic, trying to pull her son’s arm to keep him upright.
"Get off me!" Wenliang slurred loudly, shoving his own mother away so hard she nearly stumbled into Madame Zhang. His breath smelled of cheap, sour sorghum liquor. His red wedding robe was stained with spilled alcohol down the front, his collar was completely open, and his eyes rolled loosely in his head.
He turned his bloodshot eyes toward An Yulan, looking her up and down with disgust.
"Is this... is this the rich bride?" Wenliang laughed loudly, hiccuping in Yulan’s face. "Why does she look so ugly? Where is the gold?! Mother, you promised me a mountain of treasure! Why did you give me a crying girl in a beggar’s dress?!"
An Yulan’s face went from pale to a deep, humiliating red. The surrounding aunts immediately burst into louder, unrestrained laughter at her expense.
"Silence, you shameful drunkard!" Old Madame Bai barked, slamming her dragon-head cane onto the floor with a terrifying CRACK.
The hall instantly went quiet. Even the rooster stopped squawking.
"Complete the bows!" Old Madame Bai commanded coldly, her face dark as a thundercloud. "Get this disgraceful ceremony over with before I have the guards throw both branches into the ancestral courtyard to freeze!"
Under Old Madame’s terrifying glare, the servants forced the sloshed Wenliang to bend his waist, while An Yimei calmly, gracefully completed her three bows alongside the rooster.
By the time the family rules were delivered and the dark night fully set in, the noise of the main estate had died away into an eerie, suffocating silence.
Qinqin carried a small, flickering oil lantern as she guided Yimei deep into the Northern Courtyard.
The air here was noticeably colder than in the main compound. High stone walls blocked out the moonlight, and dead leaves scraped softly against the unpaved ground in the chilling wind. There were no red lanterns hung on the doors, no cheerful servants, and no warmth.
In the center of the dark yard stood the main chamber. A thin sliver of candlelight flickered behind the paper window frame.
Standing outside the closed wooden doors was a young, sharp-eyed maid dressed in dark blue cotton... one of the few servants assigned to the Northern Courtyard.
An Yimei stopped a few paces away. "Inform your Young Master that his wife has arrived and wishes to enter his chambers."
The maid looked at Yimei’s golden bridal crown, her face completely expressionless. She bowed slightly, turned, and knocked softly on the wooden door.
"Young Master," the maid called out quietly. "The new Young Madame is outside. She asks to enter your room."
Silence stretched across the cold courtyard.
Qinqin held her breath, staring at the candlelit window.
After several long, agonizing moments, a cold, flat voice echoed from inside the room—not from Bai Zhengyu himself, but from his stern head guard standing inside the door.
"Young Master is unwell and resting," the guard announced coldly through the wood. "He does not wish to see anyone tonight. Young Madame should leave."
The blue-robed maid turned back to Yimei, her voice flat and indifferent. "Young Madame heard the orders. Please return."
Qinqin’s eyes widened in panic. She looked around the dark, empty courtyard, then leaned close to Yimei, whispering anxiously, "Miss... what do we do? Should... should we go to the side room they assigned us? It’s over there in the corner. It’s cold, but at least there is a bed."
An Yimei stood still in the freezing wind, her eyes fixed on the locked wooden door. Her mind worked at lightning speed, analyzing the board.
If she walked away tonight and slept in a separate room, the entire estate would know by sunrise.
Madame Bai, Old Madame, and those scheming aunts like Lady Chen and Madame Liu were watching her every move. They were testing her. If she backed down on the very first night, showing that she couldn’t even stand her ground at her husband’s door, they would immediately brand her as useless. They would treat her like a disgraced outcast, strip away her authority, and push her into a corner.
More importantly, Bai Zhengyu was testing her too. He wanted to see if she was a weak, timid doll who would run away at the first cold shoulder.
Love Rate: 0%.
She couldn’t afford to lose this position.
"No," An Yimei said softly, her voice steady and absolute.
Qinqin blinked, confused. "Miss?"
"If I sleep in a separate room tonight, my mother-in-law and the Old Madame will see it tomorrow," Yimei said, her dark eyes glittering with sharp intelligence under her red veil. "They want to see if I am truly committed to staying in this marriage, or if I am just a useless piece of decorative cloth. If I walk away now, we lose all standing in this house before tomorrow morning."
"But... but he won’t open the door!" Qinqin whimpered, looking at the tightly shut wooden frame. "We can’t break it down!"
"We don’t need to break it," Yimei replied calmly. She turned to Qinqin with a cool, unbothered expression. "Qinqin, go to the side room. Fetch a thick cotton blanket and a cushion."
Qinqin gasped, her jaw dropping. "Miss... you... you can’t mean—"
"I am sleeping right here," Yimei declared, adjusting her heavy golden sleeves as she looked directly at the locked door. "Outside his threshold."
"Miss! It is freezing out here! You will catch a deadly chill!" Qinqin cried out in horror.
"I won’t die from one cold night," Yimei murmured, a subtle, sharp smile touching her lips in the dark. "Go get the blanket."
Qinqin ran off to the side room, tears stinging her eyes.
Inside the quiet, candlelit chamber, behind the thick wooden door, Bai Zhengyu sat in his wooden wheelchair near a low table.
His sharp, handsome face was bathed in dim lamplight, his long black hair falling loosely over his shoulders. A thick dark blanket covered his useless legs.
His black-armored guard, who had just delivered the refusal, stepped back toward the table, frowning slightly.
"Young Master," the guard whispered, listening closely to the faint voices outside. "She... she didn’t leave."
Bai Zhengyu didn’t lift his head from the military tactics book he was reading. "She will leave once the cold hits her."
"No, Young Master," the guard said, a strange hesitation in his voice as he looked toward the door. "She just sent her maid to fetch a blanket. She says... she is going to sleep right outside your door."
Bai Zhengyu’s slender fingers froze on the thin page of his book.