Ever since Madam Xiahhou’s attitude toward Shen Wangshu improved, the remaining half month had passed far more comfortably. The entire residence practically treated her as a legitimate young lady, and Xiahhou Fu visited the Falling Petals Courtyard even more frequently—she seemed to wish she could live with Shen Wangshu altogether.
At last, the wedding day arrived. Red silk hung from the eaves and corridors throughout the Xiahhou estate. Plum branches and osmanthus trees were decorated with bright scarlet fabric, and even the large peach tree outside the east wing glowed fiery red.
The bridal attendant stood behind Shen Wangshu fixing her hair. In the bronze mirror, the beauty reflected back had delicately painted brows, lightly tinted lips, skin like snow and features like blossoming flowers. A small decorative mark lay between her brows; rouge swept across her eyes and cheeks. Her crimson wedding gown was adorned with layers of exquisite peony embroidery. She looked more beautiful than the flowers—so beautiful it made one reluctant to look away.
The lavish phoenix coronet sat on the dressing table beside her. Xiahhou Fu rushed in from outside and stared at her blankly, forgetting entirely what she came to do. “Cousin Nian-nian… you’re so beautiful.”
But remembering that such beauty was not being married off to the man she liked, but to that ill-reputed General Who Stabilizes the Nation, her excitement quickly vanished without a trace.
Shen Wangshu glanced at her through the mirror and asked, “What are you holding?”
Xiahhou Fu gave an “oh,” then hefted out a plump-looking little gold pig and reluctantly placed it before her. “This is all the New Year money I’ve saved since I was little. It’s for your dowry.”
“You’re marrying that man in my place… I’m sorry.” The girl looked guilty. “This is all I have. I hope you’ll live better in the Duke’s residence. If you don’t… then you should run away. Take this money and run far, far away.”
Hearing her childish earnestness, Shen Wangshu almost burst into laughter. If only it were really that easy.
Granny Jiang helplessly reminded her, “Young lady, don’t speak nonsense.”
Xiahhou Fu pouted. “I know…”
When everything was finally ready, Granny Liang entered from outside. “Miss, the bridal escort has arrived.”
The bridal attendants placed the phoenix coronet on Shen Wangshu’s head and lowered the bright-red veil embroidered with mandarin ducks frolicking in water. Granny Liang supported her as she stepped out of the Xiahhou residence.
Outside the main gate, the groom sat atop a tall horse, dressed as well in crimson robes. Although he had sword-like brows, star-bright eyes, and a handsome face, he showed none of the joy one would expect from a man fetching his bride. His expression was excessively calm. When he saw his bride approach, he hesitated briefly before dismounting to help her into the bridal sedan himself.
He did not seem happy, but neither did he seem unhappy. He greeted the Xiahhou family with perfect courtesy. The eight-bearer sedan and ten-mile wedding procession were grand and magnificent—no less ostentatious than when he fetched noble young ladies from the capital in previous years.
With a ceremony this proper, Lord Xiahhou had no idea what to say. The man showed no clear emotions, his actions flawless… his attitude impossible to read.
But not the least bit discourteous.
Once seated in the flower sedan, the hand that had helped Shen Wangshu earlier came to mind—encased in a black mysterious-iron gauntlet, cold and broad.
She remembered that in Heaven’s Mandated Phoenix Girl, this powerful minister was known for one peculiar habit: his hands were never exposed before others. He never removed the gauntlets—not even in sleep. Where the man goes, the gauntlets go.
What secret hid beneath them? Many were curious, but all who attempted to find out had died. Even Shen Wangshu, after finishing the entire novel, still didn’t know what the author had intended.
The gauntlets’ fingertips were extremely sharp—rumored to slice through metal like mud. One careless touch could injure someone. Shen Wangshu decisively suppressed any further dangerous curiosity.
Each time the General married, the procession was grand—though five out of seven attempts had ended with no bride delivered. Still, the people of Moyun City always gave face. Children chased after the sedan picking up sweets and gold-leaf peanuts thrown along the route. The atmosphere was lively and festive.
Where there were crowds, there was noise—lots of it. Seated inside the sedan, Shen Wangshu was forced to listen to the excited thoughts of the townsfolk. Her head buzzed from the overload.
Not only commoners—she heard the bearers, the escorting soldiers… all their thoughts were loud. With nothing to do on the road and no one to talk to, Shen Wangshu listened, hoping she might hear something useful.
“This bride is light—easily the easiest one I’ve carried.”
—one of the sedan bearers.
“It’s close. We’ll reach the Duke’s residence in at most an hour. And with the General personally escorting, nothing could possibly go wrong this time!”
A thick, irritated voice—likely one of Chen Ting’s subordinates, probably one who had escorted brides multiple times already.
“Oh heavens, I’m going to the Duke’s residence with Miss… The General doesn’t look old at all! But compared to Miss, he is a bit older… but really, he doesn’t look old. Just a little fierce. But he doesn’t seem unhappy. His build is… intimidating. Can Miss handle him tonight…?”
These rambling, increasingly inappropriate worries belonged to Taohong. Outwardly calm and steady, the little maid’s inner thoughts were shockingly wild.
Amused, Shen Wangshu kept listening.
“Heavens, why are all his soldiers so fierce-looking? I’m scared… And Miss Fu wants Miss to run away? With these people guarding the gates, even growing wings wouldn’t help…”
“And the matrons who came for the wedding look so strict! Will they bully us later? Can Granny Liang beat them?”
“Even though the General has no principal wife, he must have had bedroom maids, right? He might even have children! Once Miss marries in… will those women be promoted to concubines? Oh heavens, won’t Miss become a stepmother on day one—?”
The more Taohong thought, the more terrified she became. She was already trembling outside. Shen Wangshu quickly shifted her attention away before she herself started crying in sympathy.
After enduring Taohong’s endless monologue the entire way, Shen Wangshu was completely drained by the time they finally reached the Duke of Rong’s estate.
The sedan stopped. Granny Liang helped her out and handed her a length of red silk.
Its other end was held by her future husband—the General Who Stabilizes the Nation, Chen Ting.
Ancient ceremonies had far too much ritual. Shen Wangshu actually found herself growing nervous. She instinctively moved closer to him—and at that moment, all the clamor and noise around her abruptly vanished.
Like someone had pressed a mute button, the world fell silent.
The man beside her had absolutely no stray thoughts.
Shen Wangshu leaned a little closer, intrigued.
The next second, the man—the one she had just praised inwardly for having no stray thoughts—finally had one, sounding rather bored.
“Her hand is so small.”
Chen Ting looked at the pale, slender hand gripping the red silk and thought exactly that.