Tao held up her umbrella as she finally circled back to the rear corridor of the bridal chamber.
The Xie residence in Chenzhou was truly enormous. After accompanying Mother to the storeroom to inventory Lady Shen’s dowry, she had gotten so lost that sweat beaded on her forehead. Fortunately, the Xie household was teeming with servants, and after asking several along the way, she managed to find her way back.
She hoped she wasn’t too late. Lowering her umbrella, Tao couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.
Surely Ninth Brother wouldn’t be so useless?
Outwardly, Tao maintained a prim and proper demeanor, but inwardly, she was cackling like a mischievous imp.
If Mother knew what she was thinking, she’d surely yank her ear and scold her again. Tao sighed happily—such were the woes of having a mother. Those scandalous storybooks she secretly bought from the entertainment quarters now had to be read in secret.
Still, she was someone with a mother to discipline her!
Exchanging polite nods with the Xie maids she passed, no one stopped her. They all assumed she and Mother were part of Madam Shen’s dowry entourage, and Tao was content to let them believe it, offering no explanation.
In truth, Fu Xing, Tang Er, and the other shop assistants had to tend to the business and couldn’t come—after all, the Lady wasn’t even pausing operations for her own wedding.
She had declared that once the ceremonies were over, she’d return immediately to prepare for the Lotus Festival celebrations at the shops. She couldn’t afford to miss it.
For the festival, the Shen family’s shops had been bustling for over half a month. They were preparing special pottery, decorations, and dishes for the occasion, along with gifts for customers who spent three hundred, eight hundred, or even a full string of coins. Even the suburban farm would be adorned with lanterns and streamers. Even Zhuifeng had been fitted with several lotus-patterned collars.
Zhuifeng hadn’t come to Chenzhou because he was the farm’s star attraction, beloved by visitors. These days, he was busier than the Lady—he could herd ducks and sheep, shooing them from one end of the field to the other, and even leap over the sheep’s backs. Crowds flocked just to watch him.
He was also remarkably friendly with guests, allowing himself to be petted and carried without protest.
Thankfully, none of them knew about his peculiar habits.
As for Tao and Mother, they had come precisely because they were women, making it easier to escort the dowry into the inner quarters—after all, the Lady’s dowry wasn’t from her parents. Aside from gifts from neighbors and the Xie family, there were even court-made jewelry bestowed by the imperial household. Every single item had been earned by the Lady herself.
Naturally, she and Mother had to keep a close eye on things. Only after verifying everything against the inventory, watching the storeroom being locked, and securing the key did they finally leave. Soon after, Tao and Tao’s Mother were summoned by Mama Xi, Lady Xi’s attendant, to discuss the next day’s rituals—serving tea, paying respects to the ancestors, and other tedious formalities.
When to rise, when to bow, how many times to kowtow during the incense offering, what robes to wear—everything had its auspicious timing and strict rules.
Tao’s eyes glazed over, and she nearly dozed off on her feet. Seeing her useless in the matter, Mother shooed her away to rest instead of just standing there like a blockhead.
Obediently, Tao left Lady Xi’s courtyard—but the moment she was out of sight, her drowsy eyes sparkled with renewed energy.
Freed like a monkey unleashed, her boldness knew no bounds!
Rest? Not a chance!
She had been waiting for this day for ages. If anyone was anxious about the Lady’s two-year delay in marrying, it was her!
As the Lady’s "dowry maid," her status granted her unimpeded access. Cheerfully splashing through puddles, she soon crouched beneath a window adorned with a large red "double happiness" papercut.
The sudden rain had brought an early, dense darkness, the mist blurring the distant rooftops and walls of the sprawling estate. Soon, servants hurried along the corridors, replacing the lanterns with stormproof glass ones.
Even the lantern shades bore the "double happiness" symbol, their candlelight casting flickering shadows of the characters onto the ground.
Tao stared at the wavering silhouettes as the servants finished their task and withdrew. Only a few kitchen maids bustled about, boiling tea and water in case their masters required it, while firewood girls darted through the rain to fetch more logs. The rear corridor was far from quiet.
The summer downpour had arrived swiftly, the dim, swaying figures making the rain seem almost luminous as it fell.
With so much coming and going, Tao had no choice but to sit along the corridor. No sounds came from inside the chamber—likely, the Lady and Ninth Brother had already retired. She had hoped to exchange a few congratulatory words with the Lady.
Yan Shu and Qiu Hao were waiting in the servants’ quarters opposite the main gate. After a full day of labor, every servant in the estate was exhausted, all dozing off in their rooms.
As for wedding-night pranks—well, the Xie family, a centuries-old scholarly clan, strictly adhered to propriety. Chenzhou was their ancestral home, filled with conservative elders too embarrassed to make a fuss. As for the younger generation…
Ninth Brother’s branch of the family was sparse in numbers. The most unruly, Third Brother, was far away in the Western Regions, while the nephews from collateral lines were all too dignified to engage in such undignified antics. None dared provoke Lady Xi, the formidable matriarch overseeing the household. They had merely gathered at the door to glimpse the bride, offered a few lighthearted remarks, then retreated with proper decorum.
The only one bold and eccentric enough to stir up trouble was Uncle Xi Feijing—but alas, he had heroically sacrificed himself at the banquet, drinking on Ninth Brother’s behalf at his sister’s behest. Now he lay vanquished beneath a table, hugging a table leg and murmuring his wife’s name in drunken slumber.
The drunkard’s strength was formidable; no one could drag him out.
Lady Xi had no choice but to order Xi Feijing’s own guards to fetch a mattress and let him sleep right there under the table.
At least it was summer—no risk of catching a chill.
Tao gazed into the distance. The room was silent, the outside world hushed, save for the rain’s relentless patter on banana leaves.
A matron and a young maid with a lantern came by to inspect the drainage ditches. Soon after, someone else approached to ask whether the Lady would like supper—perhaps a bowl of bird’s nest porridge?
Before she knew it, Tao was pulled into the kitchen to chat, sip tea, and watch over the porridge. As she was dragged away, she glanced back once more. The dragon-and-phoenix candles inside cast a crimson glow through the window—the Xie family used the finest silk fabric for their windows, not mere mulberry paper.
The silk was thick, subtly embroidered with flowing patterns, and the servant responsible for pasting it had done an impeccable job—not a single gap, stretched flawlessly smooth. The light filtering through was breathtaking.
For common folk, such fabric would be reserved for clothing, if they could even afford it.
And the windows were just the beginning. She had seen the bridal chamber earlier while delivering the Lady’s clothing chests. It was vast, divided into three sections: the front chamber for receiving guests, a middle hall for dining, and beyond that, the bedroom.
The bed itself was astonishingly large—easily accommodating five people side by side without crowding. Its frame was exquisitely carved with dragons and phoenixes, complete with built-in cabinets and drawers beneath the retractable steps.
It wasn’t just a bed—it was practically a miniature house.
Tao had never seen such an extravagant house before—this was her first time stepping into such a grand mansion. When she followed Madam Shen’s wedding sedan inside, the Xie residence felt like a maze to her. They passed through gate after gate, turned down corridor after corridor, walking for what felt like ages without ever reaching the end.
The deeper they went, the cooler the air became.
Though many dreamed of marrying into such an illustrious family, Tao didn’t care much for these sprawling estates. She preferred Madam Shen’s smaller courtyard, where sunlight poured in unobstructed, tree shadows danced across the ground, and everything felt open and bright. Even the dog, Thunder, would lie by the gate at night, keeping watch so no one felt afraid.
Lost in thought as she held her tea, Tao suddenly realized she was surrounded by maids and servants, all chattering excitedly. They asked whether the Lady was beautiful, whether she was formidable, and whether it was true she did business with the imperial court.
One young maid even asked, "Miss Tao, have you seen the Emperor? What does he look like?"
Tao thought of the Emperor—his beard dripping with grease as he devoured roast duck, his face so dark it could disappear in dim lighting—and then glanced at the maid’s reverent expression. She could only reply vaguely, "The Emperor is… very majestic."
The maid gasped in awe. "Just as I imagined!"
Tao lowered her head and sipped her tea.
They chatted idly for nearly an hour, with people coming and going, water being carried in and out. Tao’s ears perked up as she counted how many times the servants had gone to fetch water, though she kept her expression carefully blank, pretending to know nothing.
Shortly before midnight, Tao’s Mother finally returned and dragged her back to their quarters to sleep—though not before Tao had stuffed herself full of tea and snacks.
Meanwhile, earlier that evening…
In the bridal chamber, the red candles had burned halfway down. Golden wax dripped over their gilded decorations, and after a spark from the wick, the room grew even dimmer. In this flickering half-light, the embroidered mandarin ducks on the bed curtains swayed gently, while the screen cast two elongated, distorted silhouettes.
A slender wrist adorned with a silver bracelet slowly rose, fingertips tracing the two bow-like collarbones beneath the man’s broad shoulders.
Breaths mingled with the sound of rain outside—heavy, rapid, and damp with hesitation.
The candle wax piled into a small tower, its flame trembling as it cast wavering shadows over the figures in the crimson canopy. Though the bed was spacious enough to roll around freely, the two sat facing each other, their robes still mostly intact.
"Ninth Brother, your face is so red…" The voice was soft and lingering.
The same fingers that had just traced his collarbones now moved upward with playful mischief, pressing lightly against his Adam’s apple.
Xie Qi tensed, his throat bobbing under her touch, her fingertip rising and falling with it.
Shen Miao arched a brow, smiling silently. Finally, Xie Qi couldn’t take it anymore—he jerked backward, his head lightly knocking against the bedpost. The beaded tassels on the canopy jingled wildly from the impact.
Shen Miao couldn’t help but laugh.
The sound froze Xie Qi in place. His eyes darted around helplessly before settling on his own tightly clenched hands.
Both had shed their outer robes, leaving only their undergarments. But ever since Shen Miao had pulled him behind the bed curtains, Xie Qi had stayed perched on the edge, head bowed.
She watched the fan-like shadows his lashes cast over his cheeks, the tips of his ears burning scarlet.
He seemed at a loss for what to do next.
Shen Miao tilted her head, leaning closer until her breath brushed his neck. "...Didn’t you say you’d studied in advance?"
She remembered earlier—how she had lounged against the pillows, watching intently as he removed his hairpiece and undressed. When his fingers fumbled with his belt, she had teased, "Ninth Brother, do you know what we’re supposed to do next?"
Xie Qi’s hands stilled before he forced out, "I know."
"…Do you know how?"
At that, she watched as the belt he’d nearly undone became hopelessly tangled into a knot. He stayed silent until she pressed again, finally hearing his stubborn, barely audible reply: "...I do."
"Really?" Shen Miao bit back a smile as he wrestled with the belt.
"Brother Gu… gave me a copy of The Book of Rites. I’ve read it all." The words struggled out of him, his neck flushing even darker.
"The Book of Rites?" Since when did Brother Gu read The Book of Rites?
Shen Miao’s eyes gleamed with sudden understanding. Given what she knew of Brother Gu, that book was likely not the orthodox text Xie Qi thought it was.
The mental image of him unwittingly opening it, then forcing himself to read on despite his shock, nearly made her laugh.
"Then come here. Put what you learned into practice."
Yet when Xie Qi finally untangled the knot and hesitantly moved closer, he simply stared at her, frozen. Shen Miao watched as his entire body turned redder than his underrobe.
And he claims he knows what he’s doing.
She was about to take matters into her own hands when Xie Qi suddenly grabbed her wrist—as if to prove himself—and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.
The kiss deepened before trailing down to her collarbone, his touch so careful it was as if she were delicate porcelain, something to be treasured. His hands trembled, his heated breath making her skin burn.
When his teeth caught the edge of her robe, Shen Miao felt the cool air against her shoulder—only to be replaced by the scorching heat of his body.
But just as he embraced her, Xie Qi stopped again, burying his face in the loose folds of her robe. His nose brushed the hollow of her collarbone, his voice rough with wine and emotion.
"A-Miao."
"That… The Book of Rites…"
"I didn’t like it. It was too… too…" He lifted his head, his gaze hazy with intoxication and desire, voice low and rough. "But when I thought of you, I shamelessly felt that even corruption would be worth it."
"This isn’t corruption. Lovers being intimate is only natural." Shen Miao smiled, lifting her arms to pull him closer. She kissed him, murmuring against his ear, "I want this. Don’t be afraid."
A thin sheen of sweat had formed on Xie Qi’s back, his blood burning beneath his skin. Her words shattered the last restraints of propriety clinging to him.
He closed his eyes.
Outside, the wind and rain grew fiercer, the downpour clattering against the eaves’ wind chimes. The garden’s trees and flowers rustled wildly in the storm.
Inside, the tassels on the bed curtains tangled together. A pale arm suddenly stretched out from the canopy, a silver bracelet knocking against the bedframe. A muffled whimper escaped as the hand desperately clutched the red silk fringe, knuckles whitening from the grip.
With a soft clink, a jade belt hook fell onto the footrest, half of the embroidered quilt slipping to the floor.
Then, abruptly, the hand went slack, dropping limply and sending ripples through the curtains.
Shen Miao’s vision blurred as she collapsed onto him, drenched in sweat, her hair cascading like a waterfall over his chest, her breaths quick and uneven.
For a moment, neither could speak. They clung to each other, eyes closed, like stranded fish with only their gills weakly fluttering.
After a brief respite, Shen Miao was kissed again.
The red candle finally burned out its last tear. The sheen of sweat on the young man’s back, the shadow of the screen door stumbling once more from their collision—all vanished into the sudden darkness of the storm.
By dawn, a pale light seeped through the gauzy curtains, stinging Shen Miao’s eyelids as she stirred awake. She tried to stretch but found her arms pinned—Xie Qi still held her tightly.
Glancing down, she saw his forehead pressed against her chest, his limbs coiled around her like a serpent. Shen Miao caught sight of the half-dried blood on his lip—likely from her bite the night before—along with the lingering fingerprints on his neck and shoulders.
Averting her eyes guiltily, she stared blankly at the melon vine pattern embroidered on the bed canopy, the dull ache in her bones slowly surfacing. Yet, after a while, she couldn’t help but look back at him.
The rain from the night had ceased, leaving only occasional drips outside. A crack in the window let in a damp, earthy breeze, cool against his sleeping face.
Ninth Brother is so beautiful, she mused inwardly. Her last coherent memory from the night had been lost in his eyes—dark, glistening, and hazy, like a star within reach.
Shen Miao adored it. She nuzzled his disheveled hair with her cheek. What to do? It made her seem shallow, but… there wasn’t a single part of him—his features, neck, hands, the dip of his waist—that she didn’t love.
The hour was still early, the post-rain tranquility perfect for sleep. Just as she closed her eyes for a nap, the man in her arms suddenly lifted his head and nipped her ear.
Shen Miao’s eyes flew open.
“A-Miao…”
The embers buried deep within her flared anew, scorching and surging as if to fuse their very bones and blood. Once more, her breath and clarity were stolen.
Xie Qi moved like a hunter kindling fire by friction, relentless and deep, reclaiming her.
Much later, morning light climbed the window lattice, casting shifting bars of light and shadow over them.
Her silver bracelet had long since fallen somewhere unseen. The beaded curtain, torn in their frenzy, scattered pearls across the floor. One rolled to her feet as she slumped weakly against him, only to be caught and lifted, pinned against the windowsill.
Outside, blossoms trembled on branches before the wind carried them skyward.
Gradually, only hushed whispers and ragged breaths remained.
People truly are fickle.
In the heat of the moment, Shen Miao bit Xie Qi’s shoulder, her mind wandering. That damned Book of Rites ought to be hidden away… All that talk of “heaven’s will” was nonsense. She’d been wrong. Even between husband and wife, some semblance of propriety was necessary—they couldn’t abandon it entirely.
Outside the door, Tao’s Mother hesitated mid-knock, her cheeks flushing at the muffled sounds within. Her thoughts tangled—This… this… The auspicious hour set by Madam Xie was approaching. Should she knock or not?
Days later, after meeting all relatives and paying respects at the ancestral hall in Chenzhou, Shen Miao and Xie Qi bid farewell to the Xie family—Grandmother Xie, Lady Xi, and Father Xie, who had lavished them with gifts—and prepared to return to the capital by carriage.
Xi Feijing, who had come briefly, was also returning to Youzhou. The Xie household held another feast, which ended with Xi Feijing vomiting and being carried to his carriage by his guards.
Xie Qi, too, was drunk.
Shen Miao watched as servants half-carried him, his steps unsteady. Fortunately, the Xie carriage was spacious and smooth, making the ride comfortable—if one ignored Xie Qi’s drunken refusal to let go of her, or Tao’s stern face as she pretended to read by the door.
Tao hadn’t wanted to intrude, but the gifts from the Xie family overflowed the luggage cart, leaving no room in Tao’s Mother’s carriage. Shen Miao had no choice but to let Tao join them.
Who knew a drunk Ninth Brother would be so unreasonable?
Shen Miao sat at an angle in the carriage. Xie Qi buried his face against her shoulder, his arm subtly tightening around her waist.
Across from them, Tao sat as far as possible, holding up her book like a shield, her back turned in exaggerated focus.
Yan Shu was also aboard, entirely unbothered. With Shen Miao tending to Xie Qi, he happily munched on a leftover chicken leg, grease smeared across his face, a stash of cricket cakes and egg custard pastries in his lap. He even offered Tao some, urging her to join.
With others present, Shen Miao cleared her throat and nudged Xie Qi. “Sit properly.”
But he only clung tighter, forehead pressed to her neck, his voice slurry and pitiful. “Dizzy… hurts.”
She sighed faintly. Since their intimacy began, he’d grown unbearably clingy. In private, he’d often pin her against doors or lift her up to kiss her.
Shen Miao had started setting rules: no sudden kisses in public, moderation at night, no more ear-biting…
But today… Seeing him pale, brows furrowed, throat rasping with soft coughs, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.
“Does it hurt that much?” she murmured.
“Mhm… Head aches…” His lashes fluttered shut, exhaustion etched across his face.
She adjusted, letting him lean more comfortably, even placing a cushion on her lap. Gently stroking his hair, she whispered, “Then lie down.”
Xie Qi’s grip loosened momentarily before he slid down, head pillowed on her thighs, arms encircling her waist, his face pressed to her abdomen. The restless puppy finally stilled.
Thud.
Shen Miao glanced up. Tao’s book had slipped from her hands. The girl scrambled to pick it up, using it to hide her irrepressible grin.
Blushing, Shen Miao stroked Xie Qi’s temples, feigning nonchalance. “Ninth Brother’s drunk. What else can I do?”
Tao, still facing away, coughed lightly. “Well… Lady… There’s something I’m not sure I should say…”
Shen Miao tilted her chin up slightly. "Go ahead, speak."
"My Lady has forgotten—on the day we watched the dragon boats, Ninth Brother didn’t even need General Xi’s help. He drank all the uncles, aunts, and neighbors under the table all by himself, and not only was he perfectly fine afterward, but he even took care of you the entire night."
She quickly raised the storybook to cover most of her face, though it couldn’t hide the crescent-moon curve of her smiling eyes.
"Actually… Ninth Brother has quite the tolerance for liquor."
