Chapter 7

With steady preparation, the seventh day arrived, and the wedding proceeded as scheduled. By custom, the ritual of urging the bride had begun. A green canopy of patterned cloth was stretched using bamboo poles—known as the Qinglu—within which Yaoyao knelt in full ceremonial dress, holding a fan before her face.

As the sun began to dip westward, nearing the hour of the rooster, the sound of footsteps stirred outside—it was the Li family.

Arriving at the Qinglu, they called out as tradition dictated: “Bride, please come forth!”

Xin Zhu and Mu Lan stood on either side of the canopy, lifting the curtain with long-handled gilt copper hooks crafted from sourwood. Golden sunlight streamed into the chamber.

Wedding attire of the time varied in style—white, red, green, or purple.

Madam Qian, fond of lively occasions, had overseen Yaoyao’s ensemble according to northern customs, assisted by Nanny Zheng. Her hair was styled into a trailing bun adorned with a pearl-studded golden coronet, and she wore a violet-green gauze dress. Her elegance was striking.

As she slowly lowered her fan, a delicate face was revealed—a plum blossom ornament at the center of her forehead, eyes limpid as clear water, gazing softly, with blush-tinted lips like ripened peach.

The Li family’s entourage was modest. Aside from Madam Qian and Aunt Li from Luoyang, only a few distant relatives lodging in the Bingzhou residence were present, fewer than ten in all.

Though Madam Qian and Aunt Li were prepared, they were still pleasantly surprised. The rest of the Li family, unfamiliar with the woman who would become mistress of the house, had only speculated. Now, upon finally seeing Yaoyao, they couldn’t hide their amazement.

After leaving the Qinglu, Yaoyao boarded the wedding carriage. Citizens lined the route in welcome. Soon, the carriage reached the Li residence, where Li Shan awaited in a broad black robe embroidered with gold, standing solemnly at the entrance.

Assisted by Xin Zhu, Yaoyao stepped down. The newlyweds stood side by side and entered the Li household together.

Inside, the guests were all Bingzhou officials. Most were already aware that Li Wang intended his son to marry a noblewoman, hoping to enter Luoyang’s elite circles.

Though the Xie family had faded from prominence in recent years, their foundation was deep, and they remained well-regarded among the literati. Traditionally, noble and humble families did not intermarry. The Li family’s humble origins had long been criticized. That Li Shan could marry a Xie daughter symbolized their rise—it was indeed a joyous event.

Several officials who had served under Lord Xie Fei during his tenure defending Shangdang approached Li Wang to offer congratulations: “To gain such a fine wife is a blessing for the Li family!”

Back when Lord Xie Fei defended Shangdang, several officials serving under him remained in office. They now gathered around Li Wang, offering their congratulations: “To marry such a fine woman—this is a blessing for the Li family!”

Li Wang had long awaited this day. He declared with genuine pride, “It’s also a joy for my son!”

Yaoyao and Li Shan proceeded to the ceremonial hall. A maid brought over a ritual platter with small portions of food. The couple took their chopsticks and shared the meal. Afterward, a gourd was cut into two halves, into which wine was poured.

They stood face to face. This was the first time in so long that Yaoyao had looked directly at him. He towered over her, a far cry from the polished beauty popular in Luoyang. His features were rugged—strong jawline, dark eyebrows, skin not quite fair. But objectively, he was striking. Beneath his ink-black brows, his eyes were deep as pools, his nose sharp like a mountain ridge, his lips thin and cold. His ceremonial robe, heavy and ornate, only added to his distant air. Even now, as he looked at her, his gaze was the same as before—devoid of joy or warmth for this wedding.

Yaoyao lowered her eyes. From now on, he would be her husband. Yet she hadn’t grown accustomed to his sternness. As for the future, she could only take it one step at a time.

Once the wine was poured, the maid handed them their shared gourd. Yaoyao held hers with both hands, drinking in small, careful sips. Li Shan raised his with one hand and finished it in a single draught.

The rite was complete. Amid a chorus of well-wishes from the guests, Li Shan’s expression remained indifferent. Yaoyao smiled but didn’t speak. Just by appearances, they looked like a perfect couple—graceful and well-matched.

…

By the hour of the dog, in the wedding chamber, thick candle flames flickered like a baby’s arm. Yaoyao had changed into a new outfit and was seated at the edge of the bed, faintly hearing laughter and drinking games outside. But she had no idea when Li Shan would return.

Yaoyao closed her eyes to rest. The wedding had begun in the evening, yet she had risen even before the hour of the rabbit to start trying on her makeup.

Not long ago, she’d had a bit of wine. Though it was the gentle Autumn Dew White that doesn’t intoxicate easily, her tolerance for alcohol was naturally low—just a little was enough to flush her cheeks and lull her into a sound sleep.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Yaoyao forced her eyes open to see Nanny Zheng holding a tray, with a bowl of polished rice porridge set upon it. She said quietly, “Miss… you must be hungry. Please have a little.”

Yaoyao responded with a faint hum and took the bowl, spooning the porridge into her mouth, one bite at a time.

Nanny Zheng hesitated, wanting to speak. She remembered showing Yaoyao the ‘first night’ diagram last night, how her face had turned rosy and flushed, steaming with shy discomfort. Her girl was thin-skinned, after all.

Nanny Zheng sighed silently, saying nothing more, only wishing that Li Shan would treat her gently tonight.

After eating a little, Yaoyao’s body began to process the food, and sleepiness overtook her. Her mind turned foggy, her head slowly dipped, drifting toward dreams.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from outside: “Greetings to the Marquis.”

Before Yaoyao could even register the words, the door pushed open.

Li Shan stepped inside in his six-stitched boots, his posture steady and imposing. Apart from the strong scent of alcohol, he looked no different than he had earlier during the wedding procession. He entered, shut the door behind him, and sat down on the couch beside her, pressing a hand against his brow and closing his eyes to rest.

After a moment, the faint rustle of movement stirred. A soft, feminine voice came from a few steps away: “Husband… shall I prepare some sobering soup?”

Li Shan lifted his gaze. The young woman was standing off to the side, her head slightly bowed, revealing a slender, jade-like neck.

“I’m not drunk,” he replied.

In truth, he had drunk quite a lot that night. One more cup and he might not have been able to walk straight. But he still retained enough clarity to notice her reaction when he entered: startled, her shoulder instinctively tensed under the warm candlelight, her eyes lifting, wide and still dazed, cheeks flushed pink from deep within.

To say she was bold would be too generous—like a newborn deer. And yet, despite her nerves, she had stepped forward and spoken, like a kitten testing with its paw. When he gave no further response, she quietly bit her lip.

Li Shan was a man—he couldn’t help but notice her beauty. Especially up close, even the fine downy hairs on her peach-soft cheeks were visible. But he also knew that she was a woman of noble birth.

He stood up, no longer looking at Yaoyao, and walked straight toward the canopy bed. “You’ll sleep on the couch,” he said.

Yaoyao replied, “Alright.”

Her response came quickly—too quickly. Her voice even lifted slightly, unable to hide a trace of relief. Li Shan raised an eyebrow and glanced at her.

Yaoyao stepped to the bedside as well. Meeting his gaze, she stammered, “I—I’ll get the bedding.”

Li Shan stepped aside to make room.

The blanket was large, with pillows bundled in as well. Yaoyao had to make two trips to carry everything, puffing softly as she hurried back to the couch in small steps. Her green sash cinched her waist tightly, as though it could be encircled by a single hand. Unaware, she leaned forward, back to him, laying out the bedding with a gentle curve to her spine.

Li Shan slowly turned his gaze away and looked at his bed. The bridal chamber was, after all, just his own room—only the bedding had been replaced. Suddenly, he noticed a slight indentation where Yaoyao had just sat.

Reaching out, he smoothed it with his hand.