“This person’s eight characters bear the Imperial Ascension Aspect. Unfortunately, they are inherently flawed—great fortune yet a thin fate, dragon-like bearing and phoenix-like grace, but with a body frail and broken.” Zen Master Fajia said slowly as he looked at the paper.
“As for this girl, she is like the Phoenix Perching on Wutong, Strong Wood Obtaining Support.”
The phoenix is a yang bird, symbolizing strength, while the wutong wood is soft and beautiful, representing the weak.
Her fate is hard and carries a baleful aura, yet it perfectly complements the former.
When hardness and softness balance each other, the baleful aura transforms into authority.
In the Zen master’s view, these two destinies each have their shortcomings when considered separately, yet together they are a match made in heaven.
“Most auspicious!”
“Has the young lady woken up yet?” The sky outside the window was still dark, and a soft voice sounded from beyond the room. Ye Su, lying on the canopied bed, remained motionless.
“Not yet. Biqing, why don’t you go and wake the young lady?” Another female voice said.
“Alright.” Biqing approached the edge of the canopied bed with light, careful steps.
Today was a rather important day—the old lady’s seventieth birthday, which both the Eastern and Western mansions had been preparing for since a month ago.
In a while, everyone in the household would need to go to Shoukang Courtyard in the Eastern mansion to pay their respects to the old lady, then wait together for the imperial decree from the palace.
Biqing carefully lifted the gauze curtain and called softly, “Young lady, it’s time to get up. The old lady is still waiting.”
The woman on the bed was buried deep beneath thick quilts, only her face—more beautiful than any flower—visible, with jet-black hair scattered across the pillow.
She was about to call again when the voice of a serving woman sounded from outside the courtyard.
Seeing that Hongyu, who had been here just moments ago, was now nowhere to be found, Biqing had no choice but to hurry out.
She was somewhat surprised to see the visitor: “Mama Huang, why have you come in person? Has the madam taken ill?”
Mama Huang was a senior servant by the madam’s side. For her to come so early in the morning, Biqing feared the madam might have some instructions.
Mama Huang did not speak immediately. Instead, she first glanced at the still-dark room before furrowing her brows slightly: “The young lady hasn’t risen yet?”
Biqing shook her head: “Not yet. I was just calling for her—I wouldn’t dare delay today’s important matters.”
Mama Huang nodded: “I’m here for nothing much. The madam was worried the young lady might oversleep, so she sent me to check, and to tell her to come to the main courtyard for breakfast.”
“Very well, I’ll relay that to the young lady,” Biqing said.
With that said, Biqing was about to return to the room to continue waiting for the young lady to wake, but Mama Huang pulled her back.
This time, the other woman’s expression softened considerably. Seeing this, Biqing guessed what she was about to say and a look of difficulty immediately surfaced on her face.
The sky was still dark and the courtyard dim; Mama Huang did not notice Biqing’s troubled expression. Seeing no one else around, she lowered her voice and asked, “Have you considered the matter I mentioned to Biqing earlier?”
“At your age, marriage truly cannot be delayed any longer. Though my nephew has lost his wife, he is a man of the utmost ambition. The senior madam of the Eastern mansion even said earlier that she would promote him to second manager of the pharmacy.”
Biqing pressed her lips together: “Mama Huang, I’ve thought it over. I can’t bear to leave the young lady.” She declined tactfully.
“Ah, I know Biqing is a loyal one, but the young lady… ah!” Mama Huang did not dare speak ill of her mistress directly, but Biqing understood her meaning.
The young lady was already twenty-two years old, yet still unmarried. Such a thing would be hard to find not just in the capital, but perhaps anywhere in the world.
Everyone in the capital knew that the Ye residence had an old unmarried daughter.
But this was unavoidable—who could blame the young lady for her misfortune of having two consecutive fiancés who were both short-lived?
The Ye residence was a family of the highest rank in the capital, with two marquisates in one household: the Eastern mansion was the Jiayuan Marquisate, and the Western mansion was the Anle Marquisate.
While the title of Jiayuan Marquis was hereditary, Anle Marquis had been personally conferred by the Emperor upon his ascension—for the current Empress Dowager bore the surname Ye, and the Ye family’s old lady celebrating her birthday today was none other than the Empress Dowager’s own mother.
The Emperor currently on the throne was also the two marquises’ own maternal cousin.
As the Emperor’s maternal relatives, the Ye family’s standing in the capital had risen dramatically overnight. Ye Su’s marriage prospects became the focus of attention for many in the capital, with suitors coming in an endless stream—fine young men from good families were so numerous one could be spoiled for choice.
Fortunately, the Marquis and his wife kept their heads, knowing that their family only held the title of the Emperor’s maternal uncles. They wanted to seize the moment to carefully select a good marriage for their daughter.
After much deliberation, they finally chose one: the heir apparent of the Zhenguo Duke’s mansion, the future Duke of Zhenguo.
Not only was his family’s standing higher than theirs, but he was also only a year older than Ye Su, and was said to be exceptionally skilled in martial arts and horsemanship.
When the engagement was settled, both sides agreed that after Ye Su turned seventeen and the young man turned eighteen, he would come to present the betrothal gifts and marry her.
But unexpectedly, just before Ye Su was about to turn seventeen, devastating news arrived—the Zhenguo heir had fallen from his horse during a sparring match, broken his neck, and died on the spot.
With the man gone, the marriage naturally fell through. After a period of grief, the Marquis and his wife began scouring the capital’s young men once more.
But such a match was not easy to find—Ye Su was already seventeen.
Late marriage was fashionable in the capital; doting parents generally kept their daughters until seventeen or eighteen before marrying them off. But the actual matchmaking began much earlier, and children of good families were betrothed early.
After half a year of searching, the Marquis and his wife finally found another candidate.
It was the household of Marquis Jinhuan, another marquisate in the capital. That family had a second legitimate son whose mother had passed away two years prior. Because he had been observing mourning, no marriage had been arranged for him—and he happened to be the same age as Ye Su.
Marquis Anle found an opportunity to meet this man twice, and felt that although he was not as outstanding as the heir of Duke Zhenguo, he was nevertheless well-read, refined, and courteous.
Most importantly, this man had the ambition to advance through the imperial examinations on his own merits—a rare quality among sons of noble houses.
After the heir of Duke Zhenguo had fallen from his horse and died, the marquis and his wife also came to feel that a scholarly man was not a bad choice—at the very least, he would have no interest in galloping about on horseback. So they sent someone to propose the match.
When Marquis Jinhuan heard that the Ye family had sent someone to discuss a marriage alliance, he was overjoyed.
Given Ye Su’s family standing, she would have been more than a suitable match for his eldest legitimate son—but unfortunately, the eldest was already married. The proposal now concerned his second son, who would not inherit the title, meaning the other party was truly marrying beneath her station.
With this in mind, he agreed without the slightest hesitation.
Because the young man was still in mourning, and the Ye household also wished to show consideration for the grief that the Duke Zhenguo’s household had just suffered over the loss of their son—not wanting word to spread that they had already found a new match for their daughter the moment they turned around—the two families tacitly agreed not to make any public announcement.
They first exchanged betrothal documents, agreeing only that once a year had passed and the young man had completed his mourning, the engagement would be announced.
A year passed. By the time the young man had finished his mourning and cast off his mourning garments, Ye Su was already nineteen. The Ye family felt it could not be delayed any longer, and Marquis Jinhuan was equally decisive. The two families simultaneously let word slip to the outside, preparing to have the young couple married half a year later.
Then the unexpected happened once again.