The dynasty newly established, the realm of Tianqi had only now passed to its second sovereign. The imperial house still stood in need of alliances with the great clans; the Marquis of Yong Ning stood among the Emperor’s most trusted confidants. Thus the imperial betrothal decree was issued not merely as a favor to the Marquis, but as a matter of statecraft.
Zhou Du said nothing. She thought only: are not Gu Yanshan and Song Qingqing just as we were?
Two who grew up together, two who loved only each other.
Gu Yanshan could not grant the woman he loved the rank of principal wife while she and Wen Zhao had been parted by death, never to meet again in this life.
Which of them suffered the more, she wondered?
Her mother held her weakly in her arms. “Du’er… do not do anything rash…”
It was as though her very heart were being torn asunder.
Yet Zhou Du had resolved to go. And so, with aching hearts and suppressed rage, the Zhou family set about preparing her dowry.
Several days passed.
“Master, Mistress the Marquis of Yong Ning requests audience,” the gatekeeper announced.
“That old fool! How dares he show his face here!” Lord Zhou was Prefect of Qinghe, a scholar renowned throughout Tianqi ever calm, measured, and gentle. Yet now his fury knew no bounds; he longed to strike the man responsible for this calamity dead where he stood.
The Marquis appeared to be in his forties, with piercing eyes and broad, powerful shoulders, his countenance stern and imposing. Stepping into the reception hall, he waved his attendants away. He moved as though entering his own home rough, unrefined, and utterly without ceremony. Before Lord Zhou could give voice to his anger, the Marquis threw off his outer robe, drew a bundle of thorny twigs bound at his waist, and knelt low before him.
“Marquis… what is the meaning of this?” Lord Zhou was stunned. He could not suffer such an act of penitence from so high a nobleman, and hastily stepped aside.
The Marquis shifted forward on his knees, keeping pace with Lord Zhou in a manner that verged on the absurd. “I have come… to beg forgiveness with thorns laid upon my back. Without your leave, I have borne away your precious pearl. The fault is mine. If it will ease your anger, then strike me strike me as you will.”
At hearing himself addressed as “kinsman,” Lord Zhou’s fury flared anew. He snatched up the twigs and struck the Marquis hard, again and again.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Father! What are you doing? Put that down at once!” Zhou Ze had come rushing over upon hearing of the Marquis’s arrival, intent on calling him to account. He stepped through the door to see his father beating the kneeling nobleman, and stood aghast.
“It is all my fault!” the Marquis cried. “Strike me, kinsman strike me as you will! Do not interfere, young master!”
The betrothal was sealed beyond undoing. However great his rage, Lord Zhou knew restraint: to maim a noble house’s head would turn alliance into blood feud.
And already the groom was untrustworthy. If Du’er could not even count upon her father‑in‑law Gu Wu’s protection, what kind of life would await her?
Lord Zhou sighed deeply, torn between wrath and sorrow. “Marquis what wrong has our house ever done yours, that you should cast my daughter into such misery?”
The Marquis bowed his head in shame. “My son is a fool, and a headstrong one. The wife of the Heir of Yong Ning shall be the matriarch of this house. How could a mere merchant’s daughter ever fill such a place?”
“Your daughter’s virtue is known far and wide. She is dignity and grace itself so gifted that Master Yuqing once sought to take her as his disciple. Should she deign to enter my house and rule its affairs, it would be a blessing beyond measure for me and for my unworthy son.”
Lord Zhou retorted hotly: “As though I do not know my own daughter’s worth! As though you alone see it and may therefore seize her!”
Zhou Du was the cherished daughter of an ancient and noble line. Even in childhood, suitors had thronged. And Master Yuqing himself had once declared her marked by extraordinary spiritual grace. Was she desired only by the Marquis? Nay only he had been shameless enough to reach for her. And because he had crushed the Northwest and earned merit beyond all reward, the Emperor had granted his wish.
Knowing full well the wrong he had done, the Marquis pledged: upon Zhou Du’s arrival, all authority and wealth within the Yong Ning household shall be hers. She shall answer to no one.
“My daughter does not enter your house to be tormented!” Lord Zhou snapped.
He and Zhou Ze exchanged a glance and saw the anger in each other soften.
They had all seen how deeply Zhou Du had loved Wen Zhao. To wed a man whose heart belonged to another might not, in truth, be so terrible a fate for her.
She was being sought and welcomed by the head of the house itself. She would wield full authority, command great wealth, suffer no mother‑in‑law to rule over her and stand upheld by the full might of her birth family. She should not, at least, want for comfort or dignity.
“Master the Young Lady has arrived.”
The Marquis looked toward them, hesitant and hopeful. “Since we are to be family in time… might I steal but a glimpse of my future daughter‑in‑law?”
Lord Zhou shot him a sharp look. The Marquis hastily backtracked: “Or not! No hurry at all! I… I shall retire behind a screen and peep from there?”
Zhou Ze stepped forward to smooth things over. “Pray do not stand on ceremony, Uncle. Since she has come, it is surely her wish to meet you as well.”
There was no mistress in the Yong Ning household. The Marquis stood in place of both father and mother meeting his future daughter‑in‑law was his right.
“Pray let her enter.”
Zhou Du stepped forth, clad in a gown of pale blue silk that shimmered like mist above clear waters. The fabric was light as fog, as though woven from mountain springs. Upon it bloomed lotuses stitched in silken thread, each petal so lifelike they seemed to shift and glow as she moved as though she carried a whole summer’s lotus pond upon her sleeves.
Her raven hair was bound simply with a ribbon the hue of her gown, flowing loose and unadorned, graceful as an immortal’s.
Her beauty was like the flowering of the hibiscus noble and serene. A brow of ivory, eyes like those of a phoenix sharp, clear, and proud. Most arresting of all was a tiny crimson mole set between her brows, like a drop of vermilion before the image of a Bodhisattva enthroned in hallowed light.
She did not possess the fragile, beguiling beauty of a common beauty. There was about her something pure, distant, divine one might gaze upon her, but never dare lay a hand upon her.
“I greet the Marquis of Yong Ning,” she said.
She inclined her head with perfect grace every gesture, every word, the very embodiment of high breeding.
The Marquis stared, awestruck. His heart swelled with delight. That such a maiden peerless in virtue and beauty should soon be his son’s wife, and as a daughter to him… pride surged unbidden in his breast.
He was a rough soldier, and could hide nothing. Lord Zhou saw the glow upon his face and felt a fresh pang of vexation.
That old fool!
“There is no need for such formality, child,” the Marquis said, beaming.
He had come chiefly to fix the wedding date. Once agreed, he rode hard back to the capital intent on assembling a bridal gift worthy of such a bride.
“Father are you determined to empty the entire treasury?” Gu Yanshan watched in dismay as his father directed chest upon chest to be carried from the storehouse. His heart ached at the sight. “What shall become of Qingqing?”
The Marquis snorted. “Even all this together scarce suffices to show her proper respect! I have resolved: your late mother’s entire dowry shall be added to the betrothal gifts. Only then might we stand unashamed.”
Gu Yanshan started, then flared with anger. “What? I forbid it! You may dispose of household goods as you please but my mother’s dowry was promised to Qingqing as her marriage portion!”
The Marquis glared at his son, fury rising hot. He itched to strike sense into the boy’s thick skull. “While I yet draw breath, this house answers to me not you.”
“Your mother on her deathbed gave strict command: of her dowry, a portion shall be yours and the rest shall belong to the principal wife of this house, and to her sons. Who is this Song Qingqing, that she should lay claim to your mother’s legacy?”
Gu Yanshan would not be cowed. “Qingqing is Mother’s own niece! Why should she not have it? And had you not interfered Qingqing would already be my wife!”
The Marquis could contain himself no longer. He struck his son hard across the cheek, sending him staggering. “You insolent fool! The union of man and wife is determined by the parents’ word and the matchmaker’s bond! What nonsense is this I interfered? Ungrateful wretch! Get out of my sight!”
Hatred flared in Gu Yanshan’s eyes. Never having met her, he loathed this Lady Zhou all the more.
Before she had even crossed his threshold, all the world seemed to take her part. What would become of his Qingqing?
He would have to find a way.