As expected, the night passed in utter stillness. Earlier, Chun Liu had fussed over her mistress, urging her to put the phoenix crown and veil back on. But as the hours dragged on, the noise outside faded, and still there was no sign of the groom.
At last, Nanny Tao entered, looking troubled, words hovering on her lips but unsaid.
“Speak,” Yun Shuyue said, her smile faint.
It was precisely that smile that made Nanny Tao hesitate. Her young mistress had always been delicate, sentimental, and prone to sorrow. If she learned that her husband had left her alone on their wedding night, how long would she grieve?
Yun Shuyue’s lashes trembled. “Is it that the Prime Minister drank too much and cannot come?”
Nanny Tao seized on the excuse, lying quickly: “Yes, madam. The Lord drank heavily tonight and vomited several times. I fear he will not come.”
Yun Shuyue nodded calmly. “Then let him rest. Chun Liu, help me change.”
Both women stared, stunned. Was this not the moment for tears, for a handkerchief soaked in sorrow?
Yun Shuyue lowered her head, fumbling with the intricate fastenings of her wedding robe. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but the buttons were devilishly complex. Even everyday garments here were difficult to undo, though not nearly so many as on this bridal gown.
Seeing Chun Liu frozen, Yun Shuyue urged, “Quickly.”
Nanny Tao waved her forward. “Go on, help her.”
Once the cumbersome gown was removed, Yun Shuyue exhaled in relief, stretching her limbs and pacing the room. The chamber was simply furnished, a screen dividing off a small space for changing clothes.
Chun Liu, still sulking, moved to hang up the gown. Yun Shuyue stopped her. “This dress won’t be worn again. Put it away.”
The words struck both women with sudden sadness. A bride’s wedding attire was her most beautiful moment—yet her groom had not even seen it.
Nanny Tao studied her mistress. To her surprise, Yun Shuyue showed no trace of sorrow. Her own unease eased; after all, the days ahead were long. As long as the Prime Minister treated her well in time, all would be well.
But Chun Liu, hot-tempered, muttered as she folded the gown: “What was the master thinking? Who spends the wedding night outside? Miss has never suffered such humiliation. He’s too—”
Her complaint was cut short by Nanny Tao’s sharp slap on the back. Wincing, Chun Liu looked up to see her elder’s warning glance. She swallowed her words, though her heart still burned with indignation.
Meanwhile, in the study of the Prime Minister’s residence, Jiang Chengyuan sat at his desk, writing memorials for the throne—matters concerning disaster relief in Rong County.
His aide Chen Ping, who had been waiting two hours, could bear it no longer. “My lord, it is already past the third watch of the night.”
Jiang Chengyuan looked up. “Is there something?”
Something? It was his wedding night—the greatest of occasions.
Chen Ping replied, “My lord, the lady has been waiting in the bridal chamber since she was brought home. Perhaps you should go and lift her veil first.”
Setting aside the memorial he had been drafting, Jiang Chengyuan finally remembered the matter of his marriage. Outside, the night was deep and still, broken only by the faint chirping of early spring insects.
After hastily dismissing the guests who had come to offer congratulations, he had rushed back to his study to finish the memorial left incomplete. In his busyness, he had forgotten the hour.
He had intended to spend the night in a guest room, but Chen Ping’s words gave him pause. Though this marriage was not of his choosing, the bride had already been brought into the Prime Minister’s residence. To leave her sitting all night in her veil and wedding robes would be improper.
With that thought, Jiang Chengyuan rose, his scarlet robe gleaming in the moonlight, and made his way toward Jinglan Court.
When they arrived, the windows were dark. Chen Ping hesitated. “My lord, shall I call to her?”
Jiang Chengyuan frowned slightly. “No need.”
Chen Ping tried again, “Perhaps you should remain here tonight, my lord.” He spoke out of concern—if the lady asked tomorrow, how could he explain that the Prime Minister had spent his wedding night in the study?
But Jiang Chengyuan’s sharp gaze silenced him at once.
Tall and straight, Jiang Chengyuan stood in the moonlit courtyard, his deep eyes fixed on the darkened windows. He had not expected the Yun family’s daughter to be so easily appeased. He had not come, and she had simply gone to sleep. He had thought she would send for him—but this spared him the trouble.
The next morning, Jiang Chengyuan left early for court. Meanwhile, a maid from the old Madam’s quarters came to invite Yun Shuyue to breakfast.
In the main hall, Madam Gu Lanfang, wife of Jiang Chong, sat with a displeased expression. When her husband entered, she spoke before he could sit: “Did you listen carefully to what I told you this morning?”
Unlike her anxious tone, Jiang Chong was unconcerned. “These are matters for the children. We need not meddle.”
“Meddle?” Gu Lanfang’s face darkened. “Why does a son marry, if not to continue the family line? Last night was his wedding night, yet he stayed in the study. Clearly, he has no interest in Yun Shuyue. How can I not be worried?”
Her words carried reproach. Had he not arranged this match years ago, none of this would have happened. She had long awaited her son’s marriage, dreaming of grandchildren. But the attendants she sent to watch the bridal chamber reported that her son had not even gone there. How could she not be distressed?
Jiang Chong, however, was satisfied with Yun Shuyue. Though she was not counted among the capital’s famed beauties—her frail health kept her from appearing at social gatherings—he believed that if she were compared to those so-called noble daughters, she would outshine them all. His son should be content to have such a bride. Thinking thus, he said, “Perhaps he drank too much last night. There will be plenty of time ahead. Don’t dwell on it.”
Gu Lanfang disagreed. She had never once seen Yun Shuyue before the wedding. Though her husband praised her beauty, rumors said she was weak and sickly. That alone made her reluctant to accept the match.
She was about to argue further when a young woman entered, clad in a goose-yellow embroidered gown. Her cheeks glowed with health, her skin smooth as jade, and her smile radiant.
This—this was not the look of a bride who had spent her wedding night alone.