Xiaolian steeled herself and slipped out of the bridal chamber, asking directions from everyone she passed until she finally found her way to the outside of Zong Duo's study.
Two red silk lanterns glowed softly beneath the eaves, while the study blazed with light. A handsome young eunuch stood guard at the door.
Xiaolian hesitated, then stepped forward timidly. "Is His Highness inside?"
The young eunuch glanced at her and said with a smile, "You must be the Princess's maidservant. His Highness still has matters to attend to. You should go back and help the Princess settle in for the night."
Xiaolian had been gently rebuffed, but having come all this way, how could she return empty-handed?
She took a deep breath and, catching the eunuch off guard, rushed to the door and shouted inside, "Young Master! My mistress said that the wedding night comes before the imperial examinations! Even if you placed first today, you still need to come back and consummate the marriage first!"
There was a moment of silence from within the study, followed by faint laughter.
Before long, the door slid open, and a handsome young man stepped out. He looked Xiaolian over and said with a chuckle, "His Highness has heard you. He'll return to accompany your mistress as soon as the discussion is finished. Yuan Yi, take this young lady to the side chamber to wait."
With that, he closed the door again.
Xiaolian had no choice but to follow the young eunuch to the side chamber.
She had thought it would only be "a brief wait," but after she yawned for the hundred-and-eighth time, Yuan Yi finally lifted the curtain and said to her, "Young lady, His Highness is returning to the bedchamber. You'd better hurry along!"
Xiaolian hastily rushed out to the corridor and saw a tall, upright figure walking ahead.
He was no longer wearing the crimson wedding robes, but a light blue casual garment with narrow sleeves and a cinched waist. Still, Xiaolian knew this must be the Prince of Yan. That noble bearing beneath the moonlight belonged to no one but the master of this estate.
She hurried to catch up. The half-moon had drifted westward in the night sky, its silver light spilling over the green foliage like a thin layer of frost.
Only then did Xiaolian realize it was already past midnight. Her mistress was probably fast asleep by now!
Zong Duo returned to the bridal chamber. The pair of dragon-and-phoenix red candles at the head of the bed still burned, their wicks crackling and popping. He picked up a gold hairpin scattered on the table and trimmed the wicks to brighten the flames.
He looked toward the bed dressed in crimson wedding quilts embroidered with mandarin ducks. She was indeed sound asleep, her hair cascading across the pillow like a bolt of black satin. Beneath the dark tresses, her snow-white cheeks resembled freshly peeled lychees—plump, soft, and faintly youthful.
Her eyes—he remembered them as large, clear, and bright, like two beads of black quicksilver. Now that they were closed, he noticed her lashes were long too, like two little fans, fluttering faintly in the dancing candlelight.
Mrs. Shi's beauty was somewhat unexpected to him. Of course, her recklessness was even more so.
She didn't seem to know much about propriety.
Zong Duo's long brows furrowed slightly. He removed his outer robe and hung it on the rack at the head of the bed, then gently lifted her by the shoulders and knees, tucking her into the innermost part of the canopy bed. He lay down on the outside, still fully dressed.
The gilded red candle gave a soft pop, making the summer night seem all the more still.
Baoying wasn't sleeping deeply—she was mindful that tonight was her big day. She turned over in her sleep and knocked her head against the bed frame with a dull thud, which immediately woke her.
Baoying rubbed her forehead. She had always been a restless sleeper, but this was the first time she'd managed to wedge herself all the way to the innermost edge. She looked around and was startled to see a young man lying on the outside.
His profile was sharp and handsome, the warm golden candlelight at its edges softening the austerity of his features. His face looked as though it had been carved from jade.
She was frozen for a moment before realizing this was her newlywed husband.
Tonight was her wedding night!
Baoying pounced over and shook his shoulder, calling softly, "Your Highness! Your Highness!"
Her loose hair brushed against his face like willow catkins in spring, and her breath, fragrant as orchid, drifted teasingly toward his nose.
Zong Duo found it impossible to ignore her. He opened his eyes and asked, "What is it?"
Seeing him awake, Baoying said happily, "Did you forget? We haven't consummated the marriage yet!"
"Consummated…" Zong Duo's long brows drew together slightly.
"Don't you know?" Baoying lowered her voice. "Didn't your mother tell you before the wedding? A newlywed couple must consummate the marriage before the rites are considered complete."
Zong Duo looked at the girl before him, radiant as a peach blossom. She was pressed almost against his side, her maidenly fragrance enveloping him from every angle.
He shifted away imperceptibly.
Seeing that he remained silent, Baoying assumed he truly didn't understand, so she kindly offered to enlighten him: "Consummating means…"
She pressed her two thumbs together, her own cheeks flushing slightly. "It means two people holding each other and kissing…"
"It's very late," Zong Duo suddenly spoke, cutting her off. "Let's rest."
"How can we?" Baoying grew anxious. She reached under the pillow and pulled out a plain white silk handkerchief, waving it in front of him.
"Tomorrow I have to give this yuan pa to Nanny Sun. If we don't consummate the marriage, how am I supposed to report back?"
This plain silk handkerchief was given to her by Nanny Sun, who told her it was the bridal cloth for a woman's wedding night—she must place it beneath her during the consummation and return it to her the next morning.
Baoying took it with vague understanding, but seeing how solemn Nanny Sun looked, she gathered it must be a very important step. So she treated it with extra care.
Zong Duo lowered his gaze to the plain silk handkerchief, then reached out and took it from her hand. "I'll handle the delivery," he said.
Baoying felt her hand come up empty, and saw him lie back down again, showing no intention whatsoever of cooperating with her. A surge of anxiety rose in her chest. She pressed both hands on his shoulders and leaned in, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips.
Before she could even reach him, her neck suddenly went numb, and her whole body collapsed limply onto the bed.
A full night of deep sleep.
The next morning, Baoying woke from her dreams and stared for a while at the treasure-flower patterns on the red gauze canopy above her.
She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed, looking at the red jacket and red trousers she wore, then at the large red double-happiness characters pasted on the screen stand and windowsill. Only then did she remember that last night had been her wedding night.
Her gaze drifted to the moon table beneath the casement window, where she saw her new husband already fully dressed—golden crown and jade belt—sitting in the pale morning light, partaking of his breakfast.
Remembering the events of last night, Baoying scrambled off the bed in her wooden clogs with a clatter, and rushed over to Zong Duo in three quick steps. "Your Highness, did we forget something important last night!"
He lifted his eyes to look at her.
She had run over in a hurry, her full bosom bouncing like a pair of little white rabbits, practically threatening to escape from beneath her sheer summer garments. He calmly averted his gaze, though his tone carried a hint of displeasure: "Who taught you to appear before others in disarray?"
Baoying belatedly covered her chest, but then thought—this man before her was her husband, after all. There wasn't really anything to be embarrassed about.
"There's no outsider here," she murmured.
"Attendants," Zong Duo called out toward the door. "Come in and help the Princess Consort wash and dress."
Bailu and the others filed in carrying trays, laying out basins, rinsing cups, salt and flower soap, gold and jade hair ornaments, and the Princess Consort's court attire on the table. Then they surrounded Baoying in a circle and deftly attended to her washing, combing, adorning, and dressing.
Xiaolian stood idly to the side, unable to find any opening to help.
Baoying had her hair styled into a high bun, adorned with pearls and kingfisher feathers, and wore layer upon layer of ceremonial robes. She found it all utterly novel, twirling once before the glass dressing mirror and saying with a smile, "Xiaolian, quick, look—don't I look like an opera performer?"
She had a sweet, clear-featured face, save for her round apricot eyes whose outer corners tilted slightly upward, lending her a hint of allure. The Princess Consort's ceremonial attire was dignified and elegant, tempering both her innocence and her charm.
Xiaolian praised her from the heart: "Miss is so beautiful—you look just like the princess in The Case of Chen Shimei!"
"Hahaha, then His Highness is Chen Shimei."
Zong Duo could no longer bear listening to this idiotic exchange between mistress and maid, and dismissed all the attendants.
"We'll be going to the palace shortly to offer tea to the Emperor and Empress." He rapped his knuckles on the moon table, signaling her to come eat. Seeing her still busy admiring herself in the mirror, he added, "Did your etiquette instructress not teach you this?"
Baoying nodded vaguely.
Of course she knew—on the second day after marriage, one offers tea to one's in-laws, and on the third day, one may visit one's natal family. It was strange, though, how he referred to her father and mother so distantly. But she didn't dwell on it; she was busy applying her flower ornaments.
Baoying had a small red mole at the corner of her left eye, which she disliked. Every time she went out, she liked to paste a silver-flaked flower ornament over that little mole, and if she put one on the left, she had to put one on the right too. They looked like a line of silver moonlight extending from her eye corners—sparkling and playful.
Once her ornaments were in place, she walked to the table and saw that his used breakfast had been cleared away, replaced with a fresh spread.
Thick lotus seed porridge, honey-glazed lotus root, steamed milk custard dusted with sugar, and light, refreshing Longjing shrimp… meats and vegetables alike, both savory and sweet, laid out on exquisite enamel and white porcelain dishes covering the entire table—more lavish than what she ate during festivals.
"Make do with a little. It's getting late," Zong Duo instructed her.
"Mhm mhm."
Baoying had excellent table manners—small bites, slow swallows—but she chewed quickly, her cheeks working nonstop. In no time, the bowl of lotus seed porridge was empty, and the rest of the food had been polished off completely.
Zong Duo looked at the Western clock that had barely advanced a quarter of an hour, then at the breakfast dishes scraped clean, opening his mouth several times as if to speak before finally saying nothing.
But once they were in the carriage heading to the palace, after hearing her belch for the third time, he could no longer hold back: "One should eat until lightly full. Leaving some food behind is perfectly fine—there's no need to force yourself."
"I'm not forcing myself at all." Baoying waved her hand. By her appetite, she could easily manage two more steamed buns on top of that.
She also felt that belching was somewhat impolite, and explained apologetically, "I'm not burping from being full—it's because I'm so nervous about meeting His Majesty."
That was the Son of Heaven himself! Baoying never imagined that the Emperor her father and uncle had never even seen would be met by her first!
Her heart was a whirlwind of excitement and nervousness, and an image of the emperor began to take shape in her mind: a man ten feet tall, with eyes like brass bells, a voice like a great bell, dressed head to toe in golden robes, like the gilded statue of the city god in the temple.
Zong Duo glanced at her, as if seeing right through her thoughts, and said in a calm voice, "The emperor is a man like any other. Just face him with a level head."
He raised his hand and poured a cup of hot tea, then pushed it toward her with the back of his hand. "Have some tea to steady yourself. When you stand before His Majesty, don't lose your composure. Remember: look more, think more, speak less, act less."
Baoying held the teacup and took small sips, and sure enough, her nervousness eased considerably, and she stopped hiccupping.
She stole another glance at him, only to see Zong Duo leaning back against the carriage wall, eyes closed in rest. He wore the ceremonial robes of a prince, a blend of green and bright yellow, and it was rare for such a young face to carry such a solemn color with such ease.
Last night, she hadn't gotten a clear look at him, but now, in the morning light, she studied him again. Indeed, his face was as fair as polished jade, more handsome than any man she had ever seen.
Baoying was thoroughly pleased, and her attitude toward him unconsciously grew more familiar. "Your Highness, my nickname is Bao'er. What's yours?"
"I don't have one."
"You don't even have a nickname?" Baoying was surprised. "Then how do your parents usually call you?"
Zong Duo paused for a moment, not opening his eyes to look at her, and only said, "In the palace, you cannot use the terms of ordinary households. You must say 'Imperial Father' and 'Imperial Mother.' Didn't your instructing nanny teach you that?"
His tone was reproachful, and Baoying pouted in displeasure. "Nanny Gui certainly taught me, but this is a private conversation between us. Do we have to be so rigid about etiquette even here? That's so tiring! And I think those terms feel so distant—how could they be as warm as calling them Father and Mother…"
"You talk too much," Zong Duo interrupted, half-opening his phoenix eyes to glance at her. "What I told you just now—have you already forgotten?"
"I haven't forgotten!" Baoying counted on her fingers. "Isn't it just: look less, think less, do more… uh, and talk more?"
Zong Duo was speechless.
He suspected she was doing it on purpose. But looking at her earnest, sincere expression, she might as well have had "not a single sharp wit" written across her forehead.