Song Qingqing had been named Noble Concubine by Imperial Decree and her entrance might properly be celebrated with guests. The honor of the Marquis Manor was at stake and as Mistress of the House, Zhou Du oversaw every detail with diligence.
On the twenty‑second day of the sixth month, the Manor was decked in lanterns and silk. It could not compare to Zhou Du’s own wedding but it was far grander than the reception usually accorded a concubine.
Song Qingqing dressed in peach‑red wedding robes. She had accepted her place in name yet as the day arrived, her heart burned with bitter resentment.
“Qingqing… look what has come.” Lady Song directed her servants to bring forward a tray. Upon it lay a veil of deep crimson, embroidered with paired mandarin ducks.
Song Qingqing’s face lit with joy. “Mother… did Brother Yanshan send this?”
Lady Song nodded, proud and satisfied. “Who else? He knows you bear a hardship. It matters not that you are not Principal Wife. So long as his heart is yours that is all that truly counts.”
Song Qingqing touched the veil gently, her expression soft and sure. “I understand, Mother. What matter if I am concubine? Zhou Du is nothing but a housekeeper. Brother Yanshan says we shall treat her as an ornament honored, yet set aside.”
“Wise child,” Lady Song patted her hand.
She watched her daughter painted and adorned, radiating beauty, and thought with quiet triumph: Sister… could you ever have imagined your precious son would go to such lengths for my daughter?
Second Brother Song burst in. “Father! Mother! I shall carry my sister to her wedding!”
Eldest Brother Song rapped him sharply upon the head. “Stand aside! I am Firstborn! It falls to me!”
“Must rank decide everything? Are we not all her brothers?”
Song Qingqing laughed, surrounded and adored.
Third Brother: “Qingqing, you are breathtaking today. That boy Yanshan is truly fortunate!”
Fourth Brother stepped forward quickly. “And may Fourth Brother have the honor of carrying you to the sedan chair?”
Fifth Brother was about to speak when his wife pinched him hard in the ribs. “Eldest, Second, Third, Fourth all before you. Stand in your place and be quiet!”
Fifth Sister‑in‑Law was the daughter of a butcher strikingly beautiful, bold and sharp‑tongued. Married barely six months, she already ruled her mild, soft‑spoken husband completely. She too had been cherished as the youngest daughter in her own home only to find herself expected to yield to this pampered little sister‑in‑Law.
She watched the entire household fawning over Song Qingqing as though she were a goddess even her own husband placing his sister above all else. She would not endure it. She refused to join the adoration and made Fifth Brother keep his distance.
“Today is her wedding!” Fifth Brother snapped. “Squabble as you please on other days but not today!”
Fifth Sister‑in‑Law glared, eyes bright and furious. “What have I done? You speak as though I have caused a scene and I have said nothing!”
Lady Song frowned. “Fifth Son! Fifth Daughter‑in‑Law! Why this shouting?”
Song Qingqing clung to Lady Song’s arm, smiling sweetly. “Mother, do not be angry. Fifth Brother and his wife are merely overjoyed their voices carry, that is all.”
She turned to them gently. “You have no children yet. Pray share my good fortune and carry me to my wedding, Fifth Brother.”
Fifth Brother stared, stunned that such an honor should fall to him. He beamed and pulled free of his wife’s grasp. “Gladly! Qingqing brings blessings to all! If this brings you a child… you shall owe her a debt of gratitude indeed!”
Fifth Sister‑in‑Law burned with rage. What had her fertility to do with Song Qingqing? Married barely six months was it so strange to be with child yet? If she bore none, it was her husband’s fault, not Song Qingqing’s! Did this girl presume to rule even their marriage bed?
“Do calm yourself,” Fourth Sister‑in‑Law whispered. “Guests are watching.”
Fifth Sister‑in‑Law breathed deep. She leaves today. Soon I shall be free of her. Yet it rankled they said the Heir’s Wife was a gentle, noble lady, and Song Qingqing would be protected and cherished still. The world was unjust.
Fifth Brother carried Song Qingqing to a modest sedan chair born through the side gate. Though but a six‑bearer chair, it was an honor Gu Yanshan had fought to secure for her. As a concubine, he could not meet her in person. There was no wedding ceremony. She was taken directly to the courtyard Zhou Du had prepared for her.
“Madam Concubine the Heir has sent refreshments and tea. Pray eat a little.”
Song Qingqing’s heart sank at the absence of Gu Yanshan and any wedding rite yet warmed again by his thoughtfulness. He is busy greeting guests yet he thinks of me. He does not wish me to go hungry.
“Do not eat too much,” her maid Shishu said softly. “Lest you be unable to wait upon the Heir tonight.”
Song Qingqing blushed. “Bold girl! Who taught you such speech?”
Gu Yanshan and Zhou Du received guests in the main hall.
“Why so few?” Gu Yanshan demanded. “Were the invitations properly sent?”
Zhou Du smiled with perfect composure. “Consult the Master of Ceremonies’ records. Many of the capital’s noblest houses sent gifts but did not attend in person.”
“A concubine’s wedding is not a Principal Wife’s. Do not make difficulties for me, my lord.”
Is he mad? Zhou Du thought. Did he expect the entire capital to attend a concubine’s feast?
Gu Yanshan stiffened. “You had best not have interfered.”
Zhou Du pushed him gently toward the guests. “Go and propose your toasts. I must attend the female guests.”
In fairness, Zhou Du had arranged everything with grace and dignity neither overly lavish nor mean. The Manor stood honored, and she stood its capable Mistress.
By afternoon the guests had departed. Gu Yanshan, though tolerant of wine, had been plied with cup after cup and was thoroughly intoxicated.
Chang Song sought Zhou Du’s instruction. Zhou Du waved her hand. “The Heir is drunk. Escort him to Madam Song’s courtyard. Bid Madam Song attend him.”
The guests had been lighthearted and disrespectful flooding him with wine, careless of the bride waiting alone.
Song Qingqing sat upon the bed, stiff and weary, her headdress heavy and straining her neck yet she would not stir or lose composure. She wished Gu Yanshan to see her at her most beautiful.