“First bow, to Heaven and Earth—”
“Second bow, to the elders—”
“Husband and wife bow to each other—”
“…”
On the ninth day of the fifth month in the nineteenth year of the Yongkang Era, the groom of the Pei family from the capital city married the daughter of the Jiang family of Jinling as his second wife.
Inside the bridal chamber, red candles burned brightly, scarlet silk draped from above, and festive carpets covered the floor.
On the wedding bed lay embroidered mandarin duck quilts stacked neatly together. The carved wooden table displayed every variety of celebratory fruits and sweets, while the double-happiness characters pasted on the window lattice danced like dragons and phoenixes.
At a glance, everything overflowed with festivity.
Jiang Yao wore a brilliant red wedding robe, a golden phoenix crown upon her head, and a ceremonial xiapei draped over her shoulders. Holding a round silk fan before her face, she sat at the edge of the bed with her knees together and posture perfectly proper, the pearl-adorned tips of her embroidered shoes peeking from beneath her skirts.
She looked disciplined and dignified.
Yet as time passed, she casually set the fan aside, twisted her slender waist slightly, and leaned lazily against an embroidered pillow. Rubbing her sore wrist bones, she let out a yawn.
The dowry maid Zi Shan hurried in from the outer room and quickly stopped her. “Madam must not do that. It’s improper!”
Jiang Yao did not care in the slightest. Her crimson lips parted gently. “What is there to fear? There’s nobody else here.”
Her waist relaxed slightly as she extended a hand. When she lifted her eyes, they shimmered like water, brimming with seductive charm.
Zi Shan bent down, cradled her hand against her chest, and gently massaged it while explaining anxiously, “This servant fears offending the Goddess of Joy. It would be unlucky and bad for you.”
Jiang Yao merely replied, “The Goddess of Joy would not mind.”
If she minded, then she would not be the Goddess of Joy.
Covering her lips lightly with her fingers, Jiang Yao yawned repeatedly. A faint glimmer of tears gathered in her eyes, and every movement she made carried a languid elegance.
Zi Shan’s eyelids twitched violently. She hurriedly poured a cup of warm tea and held it to Jiang Yao’s lips while coaxing softly, “My good miss, this is your first marriage after all. Please endure a little longer, alright? This servant is begging you.”
She truly feared that once the hour of Hai arrived, Jiang Yao would simply remove her robes and go to sleep, completely ignoring both the remaining ceremonies and the groom himself.
With her mistress’s temperament, she was entirely capable of doing such a thing.
Just imagining the scene made Zi Shan feel as though the sky were collapsing.
On such an auspicious day, she dared not wear a mournful expression, so she forced her lips upward into a smile and gazed pleadingly at her mistress.
Jiang Yao raised the corner of her eyes slightly and tapped Zi Shan’s forehead with her fingertip. Her tone carried faint helplessness. “Fine. I shall listen to you this once.”
Hearing this, Zi Shan immediately broke into a genuine smile from the bottom of her heart.
After several rounds of wine, night had grown deep.
Leaving the front hall, Pei Zheng headed toward the rear courtyard.
Under the moonlight, he wore a crimson wedding robe woven with gold patterns. A dark ceremonial crown rested atop his head, and a belt of gold and jade circled his waist. His tall figure stood straight and imposing as he strode beneath the moonlight through the courtyard gates, down the corridor, and finally stopped before the bridal chamber.
The servants at the entrance bowed respectfully.
Hearing movement outside, Zi Shan and Lü Fei hurriedly stuffed the round fan back into Jiang Yao’s hand and quickly adjusted her clothing and hair ornaments. After confirming everything was in order, they retreated to the outer room.
Jiang Yao had already regained her proper composure. Holding the fan before her face, she sat upright once more.
A moment later, she heard the creaking sound of the door opening. Candle shadows flickered, and a tall figure fell before her, accompanied by the faint scent of wine.
Through the gauzy fan, Jiang Yao vaguely saw the silhouette of a man. Judging by his build, he was tall and broad-shouldered.
Her new husband had arrived.
“May the groom compose a poem for the bride—” the matchmaker announced cheerfully from the side.
In the Great Yong Dynasty, when women married, compared to the custom of covering the bride’s face beneath a red veil and waiting for the groom to lift it with a jade rod on the wedding night, many women preferred the ritual of removing the fan.
In this ritual, the groom composed a poem for the bride. If the bride was satisfied upon hearing it, she would lower the fan and reveal her true appearance.
Naturally, Pei Zheng understood the custom.
And composing poetry was well within his abilities.
His gaze fell upon the exquisitely luxurious round fan inlaid with gemstones before him. Through the thin silk, it seemed he could already make out the delicate features of a young beauty.
Pei Zheng lowered his eyes slightly. After a brief pause, he calmly recited the first two lines in a low voice:
“A silken fan cut round as the moon,Pearl curtains reflecting gauze drapes.”
For various reasons, marrying the daughter of the Jiang family had been a decision forced by circumstance. He had never imagined sharing a deeply loving marriage with her, nor becoming an enviable couple bound by affection and devotion. He only hoped that in the future, they could follow propriety, treat each other with mutual respect, and maintain a dignified household.
As for love, Pei Zheng regarded it as nothing more than reflections of flowers in water and the moon in a mirror—illusory and intangible.
He was no longer some hot-blooded youth of sixteen or seventeen.
His heart had long since become still as water.
A marriage in name alone would suffice.
That was what Pei Zheng had believed.
Then suddenly, movement at the edge of his vision caused him to look up, and his eyes unexpectedly crashed into a pair of misty, water-like eyes.
The moment he spoke, his deep and magnetic voice had already drawn Jiang Yao’s attention. Her curiosity toward this high-born and powerful new husband only deepened.
Thus, she lowered the round fan in her hands, revealing her beautiful eyes as she stared directly at him. Within her dark, gleaming pupils reflected the man’s handsome face.
His features were refined like polished jade, with sharp brows and star-like eyes dark as thick ink. Between his brows lingered an aura of cold solemnity and natural authority.
Standing with his hands behind his back, his figure was tall and elegant. His temperament carried both refinement and distant restraint, calm and steady like years of accumulated experience. Even the bright red wedding robes could not conceal his noble bearing.
With a single glance, one could easily tell the age difference between them.
It was the mark of years and experience.
Her gaze was bold and unrestrained, as though she were appraising some treasured object. Looking more closely, there even seemed to be satisfaction hidden within it.
As for the poem he had recited, Jiang Yao had not listened to a single word.
The instant she raised her eyes to look at him, even the candlelight filling the room seemed to pale in comparison.
Pei Zheng’s heart trembled.
The final two lines slipped from his lips instinctively:
“…Lowering the fan reveals charming brows,Only now do two hearts become one.”
As the final word fell, Jiang Yao slowly moved the fan aside.
In that instant, everyone’s eyes brightened. Sharp intakes of breath rose one after another throughout the room.
Neither the matchmaker nor the servants of the Pei family had expected the Marquis’s new second wife to be so breathtakingly beautiful.
Her brows and eyes were painted like a masterpiece, her hair piled like clouds. Her lips resembled vermilion petals, and she looked like a blooming peony of wealth and prosperity—radiant and graceful, every smile and glance utterly captivating.
Dressed in crimson robes and adorned with phoenix crown and jeweled ornaments, even the dazzling brilliance of pearls and gold could not overshadow her unrivaled beauty. Instead, they enhanced her innate elegance.
Upon her milk-white flawless cheek rested a tiny cinnabar mole, vivid as blood and dazzlingly red, so beautiful that no one could look away.
Even sitting there quietly, she resembled a feast for the eyes, showing everyone what it meant for a humble home to shine with glory because of a single person’s presence.
Seeing everyone’s reactions, Zi Shan and Lü Fei exchanged a glance, both filled with pride.
Their young miss had long been famed as one of the great beauties of Jinling.
Suppressing the strange disturbance in his heart, Pei Zheng withdrew his gaze and regained his calm expression before turning away.
Yet just as he lifted his foot to leave, he felt a tug on his sleeve. At the same time, Jiang Yao’s voice sounded beside him.
“Am I very ugly?”
Her voice resembled jade beads falling upon a plate—cool as snow, sweet as honey. The lingering softness of the Jiangnan dialect curled at the end of her words like the first hidden hook of temptation.
Pei Zheng stopped walking and looked at her in confusion. “Why would you say that?”
Jiang Yao slightly lifted her chin and stared directly at him without avoidance. “Then why won’t you look at me?”
Or rather, why had he only looked once before turning away?
Jiang Yao had always been extremely confident in her appearance, so she was clearly dissatisfied with Pei Zheng’s reaction.
Not expecting such a question from her, Pei Zheng glanced at the sleeve she was casually clutching in her hand, now wrinkled from her grip. His gaze slowly rose until it settled on her face.
With a face like hers, no normal person could force themselves to call her ugly.
Unless he himself was abnormal.
Pei Zheng was naturally no exception.
He shook his head and answered with extreme brevity. “Not ugly.”
“Only not ugly?” Jiang Yao frowned delicately, clearly displeased. Her hand continued gripping his sleeve as the corners of her eyes lifted proudly, vibrant and radiant.
Pei Zheng’s brows slowly furrowed.
Everyone had claimed that the legitimate daughter of the Jiang family was virtuous and gentle, quiet and shy…
Was this what they called quiet and shy?