On the eighth day of the fifth lunar month, the Head of the Yin family wed into the Fu Lu Prince’s Mansion, becoming the Prince’s primary consort.
Prince Fu Lu was a man of leisure, holding no real power in the imperial court. However, he was still of royal blood, and the Yin family served as the imperial merchants of Great Xing. Naturally, the occasion was grand. Yet, mindful of the precedent set by Qu Lingyu’s marriage into the palace, Yin Zhuli strictly controlled the scale of her dowry. While the ceremony was magnificent, it did not exceed the pomp of Shen Tingyao’s coronation of his Queen.
In those days, people were exceptionally particular about wedding dresses. A maiden would typically sew her own gown, stitch by stitch, while a Princess Consort would have her official ceremonial robes. Yin Zhuli, however, clearly had other plans. The wedding dress she wore for her marriage to Prince Fu Lu—not even counting the gown itself, but merely its embroidery patterns and replicas—was destined to turn a massive profit.
She wore a gown of fiery red Misty Cloud Brocade, embroidered with gold thread in patterns of peacocks and drifting clouds. The design was intricate without being cumbersome. On the right side of the robe, the fabric was gathered from the chest downward into the shape of a single peony. The folds resembled cloud patterns, perfectly contouring her figure and accentuating her graceful curves. It avoided the typical bulkiness of wedding attire without losing an ounce of regal elegance.
Needless to say, this was the masterpiece of Yun Tianyi. From the initial sketches to the embroidery, and down to every single pleat, he had crafted it entirely by hand.
The bridal veil was embroidered with auspicious clouds and lilies, symbolizing a harmonious union for a hundred years. The tassels at the corners were tipped with glass beads. With every step she took, the beads caught the candlelight, flashing like fleeting shadows.
Having traveled widely since childhood, Yin Zhuli had inevitably picked up the uninhibited air of the martial world. Now that Madam Yin was confined to the Pavilion of Listening Waves, Yin Zhuli was the sole arbiter of her own affairs, and she cared little for excessive etiquette. She stripped away all unnecessary formalities, performing only enough to maintain appearances for the public.
During the "hair-combing" ritual on the eve of the wedding, the "Matron of Honor" followed tradition by bringing offerings of lotus seeds, sweet soup balls, and red dates. As the woman lit the candles and incense, instructing her to bow to the heavens, Yin Zhuli tossed a red date into her mouth with her left hand and stirred the soup balls with a silver spoon in her right.
"I don't like sweets," she said bluntly. "Take them away."
The Matron of Honor was caught between laughter and tears. She opened her mouth to protest, but Steward Hao stepped in and politely escorted her out, sparing everyone further unnecessary fuss.
The phoenix crown was excessively heavy. Leaning on Qingwan for support, Yin Zhuli went to bid farewell to Tang Yin. His expression was as calm as still water; he offered a few brief instructions before telling her to go to the Pavilion of Listening Waves to say goodbye to Madam Yin. Yin Zhuli, naturally, did not go. The head maid at the pavilion had been replaced by Yuegui, and the guards kept a strict watch; Madam Yin’s freedom was currently restricted.
Yin Zhuli was a pragmatic person. It was her wedding day, after all—why go looking for trouble?
The Yin family’s wedding banquet lasted until dusk, when the Ninth Prince arrived to fetch his bride. His skin was as pale as jade, and he wore the purple-black court robes of a Prince, adorned with *jiao*-dragon patterns. A jade belt cinched his waist, and he wore the Far-Reaching Crown. The solemn dignity of the royal attire only served to highlight his peerless, ethereal beauty.
His complexion was as white as polished jade. As he sat atop his horse, the evening breeze caught his sleeves, making him appear even more slender and frail. Throughout the journey, his eyes remained slightly downcast, his long lashes veiling his gaze. He looked neither happy nor sad.
Xiao He, knowing his master’s poor horsemanship, followed closely by the horse’s side, terrified that something might go wrong.
The bridal sedan reached the Yin estate. Yin Zhuli allowed Qingwan and the matchmaker to guide her into the sedan. Her wedding dress was a red so vibrant it made the blood race. The onlookers whispered and marveled in hushed tones. Yin Zhuli felt a sense of satisfaction—it seemed the embroidery patterns for this year’s wedding gowns at the House of Heavenly Raiment would sell for a very high price.
Shen Tingjiao did not see Madam Yin. After the maids led him to pay his respects to Tang Yin, he prepared to take Yin Zhuli back to the Fu Lu Prince’s Mansion. As he watched her enter the sedan, a spark of brightness finally touched his cold eyes, reflected from that sea of festive red.
The Fu Lu Prince’s Mansion was at the height of its festivities. Yin Zhuli’s vision was obscured, so after stepping out of the sedan, she was led by a young girl in ceremonial dress. She stepped over the red-lacquered saddle and onto the vibrant red carpet. Guided forward by a red silk ribbon held by Shen Tingjiao, she listened to the endless stream of congratulations from all sides. She laughed inwardly: *I’ve truly become a piece of livestock being led along.*
Because of Shen Tingjiao’s grand wedding, the King had granted Consort Dowager He special permission to leave the palace for one day. Today, she was dressed in her full finery. Having lived a life free of toil, her beauty remained as radiant as a young woman in her prime. Shen Tingjiao led Yin Zhuli to the main hall. Before long, the servant responsible for announcing guests shouted at the top of his lungs: "General Qu Tianji arrives to congratulate the Ninth Prince on his joyous union!"
Behind her veil, Yin Zhuli did not turn her head. Qu Tianji entered the hall and exchanged the usual pleasantries with the crowd. He had never been one to socialize with court officials, so his presence today was quite unexpected. Those who held a place in the imperial court were all cunning foxes, and many began to speculate privately about his motives.
On the dais, Consort Dowager He looked up at him. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a round of polite, measured greetings that were neither too warm nor too cold.
In comparison, Yin Zhuli had it much easier. Many of the great merchants from across the land had come to offer their congratulations, but as the bride, it was inconvenient for her to see guests. Steward Hao and Mr. He handled everything on her behalf.
The couple was moved about like marionettes, performing the grand ritual of three kneels, nine kowtows, and six bows. Yin Zhuli’s heart itched with annoyance, but fortunately, the veil hid her expression.
Once they had bowed to the elders, they were finally sent to the bridal chamber. It was Yin Zhuli’s first time entering such a room, and she felt a touch of novelty. She lifted her veil slightly. Everything in sight was a festive red—the gauze curtains, the carved bed, the silk quilts. Scattered atop the bed were auspicious fruits: lotus seeds, red dates, and longans.
Bright red "Double Happiness" characters were pasted on the walls. The plates of wedding cakes and fruit on the table were all decorated with red silk. It was a scene of pure, jubilant celebration.
She didn't wait for assistance, seating herself directly on the edge of the bed. She turned to Qingwan, who stood nearby. "Go out and tell Mr. He that the Ninth Prince has a low tolerance for alcohol. Have him block the drinks for him."
Qingwan obeyed and left the room. When she relayed Yin Zhuli’s words outside, the crowd erupted into a fresh wave of laughter. They swarmed Shen Tingjiao, teasing him relentlessly, while a frantic He Jian scrambled to intercept the wine. He Jian was a meticulous man; realizing that Yin Zhuli hadn't eaten a grain of rice all day, he had the kitchen discreetly prepare two or three dishes and some wine to tide her over.
This gesture suited her perfectly. She sat at the table, sipping wine and eating. When she finished, she pulled the small porcelain bottle from her waist, took out two pills, and swallowed them with half a cup of clear wine.
Since a moment of a wedding night is worth a thousand pieces of gold, the young Prince did not linger outside for long. Before long, the matchmaker led him into the bridal chamber.
Shen Tingjiao had drunk more than his fill, but thanks to He Jian’s interference, he was only slightly tipsy. The matchmaker lifted the veil and served the nuptial wine. The two cups were tied together with a red ribbon, and they drank the cross-cupped wine in the traditional fashion. Yin Zhuli took the cup and drank with him, their arms entwined.
The matchmaker tied the hems of their robes together, recited a string of auspicious blessings, and finally withdrew.
The noise outside gradually faded. Occasionally, the dragon-and-phoenix candles would crackle, their festive glow casting a rosy hue over their faces, making them appear more beautiful than peach blossoms.
After a period of silence, Yin Zhuli stood up to remove the heavy phoenix crown. Her voice was steady. "Are you tired?"
The crown was quite complex. Shen Tingjiao stood up to help her unfasten her hair. "I'm alright."
She placed the crown on the dressing table and stripped away her jewelry and hairpins. Using goose-fat soap and fresh water, she washed her face before turning to slowly approach Shen Tingjiao. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk. In her trailing red robes, her slow approach made her look like an enchanting spirit who had strayed into the mortal realm.
The young Prince instinctively took a step back, looking down as he began to unbutton his own robes. "It is late. Let us rest."
"Mhm." Yin Zhuli lowered her head and helped him undo the complicated fastenings. She removed his ceremonial robes and tossed them onto the floor, then pulled back the brocade quilt and pulled him onto the couch. Shen Tingjiao was dressed in his white inner robes. Seeing her eyes as deep and dark as water, he felt a moment of trepidation. "Zhuli?"
"Mhm?" Yin Zhuli slowly shed her own vibrant red wedding dress, answering him with the same calm composure.
Shen Tingjiao opened his mouth slightly but found himself speechless. Yin Zhuli climbed onto the couch, bracing her hand beside his pillow. She leaned down, looking at him from above. "What is it?"
Lying flat on the couch, Shen Tingjiao felt as though he were drowning in a sea of red. Yin Zhuli was so close he could smell the faint scent of wine on her breath. Her intense gaze made him feel inexplicably uneasy, like a small animal facing a predatory tiger. He swallowed hard. His jade-like cheeks were flushed with wine, his eyes were like polished black lacquer, and his nose was as delicate as a carved flower. His lips were full and lush; as he swallowed, the movement of his throat was breathtakingly alluring.
Yin Zhuli propped herself up on her left elbow, moving even closer. He shrank back slightly. He could feel her breath—unusually warm and moist, yet pure. He felt a strange tension. Yin Zhuli’s nose brushed lightly against his cheek, while her right hand slowly untied the silk sash of his inner robes.
His skin was a translucent white, smooth and tender to the touch, like the finest Misty Cloud Brocade from the House of Heavenly Raiment. As Yin Zhuli’s fingertips wandered, occasionally brushing against him, he trembled slightly, his long black lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. When she reached for the drawstring of his trousers, he suddenly reached out, hesitantly grasping her sleeve. When she looked at him, his red lips parted, but after a long moment, he let go, closed his eyes, and turned his face away.
That submissive posture—half-resisting yet inviting, waiting to be plucked—was like the most delicate and delicious of delicacies.
***
**Glossary**
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