Concerned about Prince Hui's privacy, Yao Huang didn’t reveal the true purpose of the female physician’s visit to her mother, only mentioning that the physician had conducted another examination of her health. Putting herself in others' shoes, if Yao Huang had any unspeakable troubles, she certainly wouldn’t want people whispering and speculating behind her back.
Seeing her daughter in good spirits, Luo Jinhua set the matter aside and returned to preparing the banquet.
The Yao family had few relatives and friends. In the past, celebrations required no more than five or six tables. But ever since the imperial decree of marriage was announced, even distant relatives and acquaintances insisted on sending gifts. Colleagues of Yao Zhenhu from the military camp—some barely familiar lieutenants or captains—also came bearing presents, each more enthusiastic than the last. Unable to refuse, the Yao family accepted the gifts and promptly sent out wedding invitations in return.
Adding in close neighbors, the final count reached over fifty tables!
Fortunately, the Ministry of Rites, aware of the Yao family’s circumstances, specially requested Emperor Yongchang to grant them a thousand taels of silver for the banquet. At the same time, Prince Hui discreetly sent another thousand taels in banknotes to the family. The former, accompanied by an imperial edict, became public knowledge, while the latter was quietly delivered to Yao Zhenhu and his wife by Zhang Yue, remaining unknown to outsiders.
The Ministry of Rites also made it clear that for a royal wedding, the cost per table at the prince’s residence would be around five taels of silver.
Luo Jinhua understood—their own banquet shouldn’t surpass the prince’s in extravagance, but neither should it appear too shabby.
Thus, she budgeted four taels per table, totaling over two hundred taels for fifty tables. With such a grand feast to be held three times, plus two smaller banquets and additional expenses like hiring chefs and renting tableware, Emperor Yongchang’s grant was soon reduced to just over a hundred taels.
On the eve of Yao Huang’s wedding, Luo Jinhua prepared to give her daughter the remaining hundred taels along with the two banknotes from Prince Hui.
Yao Huang accepted the banknotes and said, "We haven’t used Prince Hui’s kindness, so it’s only right to return it. As for the hundred taels, Mother should keep it. The prince will at least accompany me back home once, so our meals must be lavish. Also, there are the extra social obligations incurred because of me—those need to be repaid gradually. And you should make a few more fine outfits for yourselves. From now on, appearances will matter when attending gatherings."
Luo Jinhua saw the sense in this and didn’t insist.
Yao Huang, worried that even a hundred taels might not be enough to maintain the dignity befitting a prince’s in-laws, whispered, "For now, we can’t touch the betrothal silver. Once I’ve established myself in the prince’s household, I’ll find ways to support you further..."
Luo Jinhua cut her off. "No. As a princess consort, your expenses—clothing, social obligations—will only grow. The bulk of what the imperial family gives you is in the betrothal gifts, so you must budget carefully and avoid extravagance. As for our family, your father and I aren’t vain. We’ll uphold decorum when needed, but otherwise, we’ll live as we always have. So long as we conduct ourselves with integrity, frugality is a virtue—it won’t shame you or the prince."
They wouldn’t adopt the lavish airs of high officials just because their son-in-law was a prince.
Such grandeur required money, which the Yao family didn’t have—nor would they ask their princess consort daughter for it.
"Enough. Both of us know how to manage finances, so neither needs to worry about the other. Get some rest now—tomorrow will be busy!"
On the twenty-first day of April, Prince Hui’s wedding took place.
Banquets were held in the morning and at noon, with the auspicious hour for fetching the bride set at dusk.
The residence of Prince Hui was located in Chongren Alley to the west of the imperial city, surrounded by the mansions of nobles and high-ranking officials. When the master and servants went out to attend ceremonies, appearances mattered greatly.
As the wedding procession left the affluent district and entered the streets where commoners lived, the crowds who had gathered to watch grew livelier, chattering excitedly among themselves.
"Wasn’t Prince Hui crippled in the legs? He doesn’t look like it—see how straight he sits on that horse."
"Being crippled in the legs doesn’t mean his waist is useless. Of course he can sit straight. Look, his boots aren’t even touching the stirrups—that means his legs have no strength. He was probably lifted onto the horse."
"Ah, what a pity. I still remember three years ago when Prince Hui led troops into battle, clad in armor, looking so imposing."
"He’s so handsome—at least his bride won’t suffer too much."
The commoners were cautious, not daring to loudly mock a prince’s misfortune, only whispering among themselves. Yet with so many voices, repeated words still reached the ears of the wedding procession—among them the groom Prince Hui, the accompanying officials from the Ministry of Rites, and the prince’s fiercely loyal guards.
The guards shot sharp, dagger-like glances into the crowd.
Those who met their stares immediately clamped their mouths shut, while others who hadn’t yet felt the guards’ glares continued craning their necks, scrutinizing Prince Hui as if watching a spectacle, their lips still moving in hushed murmurs.
A nearby guard stole a worried glance at the prince, only to find him as composed as when he had first left the residence—his expression calm, neither feigning joy nor suppressing resentment.
This version of the prince reminded the guard of a tree—an old, withered tree that would never sprout new buds again. Unmoved by wind and rain, unbothered by climbing children, it simply stood still, waiting to rot and collapse.
The guard looked away, his eyes reddening.
Today, the prince had at least put on a facade of serenity. But in truth, within the seclusion of his residence, he carried an air of lifelessness.
As the wedding procession crossed most of the capital and arrived at Changshou Alley in the southeast, the music grew louder and more jubilant.
Outside the Yao family’s gate, two red-clad servants strained to lift two thick coils of firecrackers as thick as a waist, while another lit them with incense.
Clouds of white smoke erupted with crackling explosions, and the procession paused at a distance, waiting amidst the clamor.
Yao Lin should have been happy. But as he watched his soon-to-be brother-in-law, Prince Hui, sitting motionless atop his horse in the distance, his heart grew uneasy. He couldn’t imagine how the prince had mounted the horse—or how he would dismount later. If his movements were too awkward, would someone laugh? And if they did, would the prince take offense and vent his humiliation on Yao Lin’s sister?
Turning his head, Yao Lin spotted his good friend Li Tingwang standing like a lost soul among a group of sturdy young men.
Yao Lin sighed inwardly. If it were up to him, he would have preferred his sister to marry Li Tingwang. Li was full of vigor—if he ever mistreated her, Yao Lin could beat him up without hesitation to defend her. But with Prince Hui, even the thought of raising a hand against him filled Yao Lin with guilt.
Finally, the firecrackers burned out, and the choking white smoke dispersed. The wedding procession arrived at the main gate of the Yao residence.
Guests and onlookers alike fell silent at this moment, their gazes fixed on Prince Hui, curious to see how he would dismount.
Prince Hui leaned forward slightly, his left hand gripping the saddle, his right hand stroking the horse’s cheek.
The sleek, jet-black steed obediently knelt down.
At that moment, a guard pushed forward an ornate wheelchair crafted from sandalwood, while two others carefully supported Prince Hui by his shoulders and arms, transferring him onto the seat.
As the crowd murmured in sympathy, the ceremonial official began presiding over the wedding procession.
The bride and groom were to bow in farewell to the bride’s parents. Yao Huang was finally escorted out.
The phoenix crown adorning the princess consort was laden with jewels, unbearably heavy, and her wedding robes were equally opulent and cumbersome. Yao Huang had to take slow, measured steps, her neck and shoulders stiff with tension, not daring to tilt even slightly.
The red veil obscured her vision. Once guided to Prince Hui’s side, she could only see half of his wheelchair.
As a prince, he was exempt from kneeling before her parents. Instead, he bowed four times from his seated position. Yao Zhenhu and Luo Jinhua accepted two bows before returning two of their own.
Once Yao Huang had also paid her respects, the prince and his bride prepared to leave the Yao household, proceeding next to the palace to pay homage to Emperor Yongchang and the imperial consorts.
Yao Huang walked beside Prince Hui’s wheelchair before boarding the bridal sedan. She didn’t witness how he mounted his horse, but the silence outside told her all eyes were fixed solely on him. She could only wonder what expression he wore.
Would he be pleased?
With his legs already crippled, he could have secluded himself in his palace for peace. Yet because of this marriage, he was forced into the public eye, exposing his vulnerability.
From a lofty, spirited prince to an object of pity or ridicule…
Yao Huang felt a cold sweat break out, fearing Prince Hui might vent the humiliation of this journey onto her—his bride—the one who would endure his presence the longest tonight.
Compared to this heavy unease, the tedious rituals in the palace were mere physical exertion.
After their round of palace formalities, the wedding procession finally returned to Prince Hui’s residence under a sky ablaze with crimson sunset clouds.
Yao Huang was escorted to the inner courtyard, while Princes Kang and Qing, along with the Fourth Prince, surrounded Prince Hui in his wheelchair. Noting the faint flush the sunset cast on Zhao Sui’s handsome face, Prince Kang grinned and congratulated him, “A sky painted with auspicious hues—this bodes well! You and your bride are surely a match made in heaven, destined for marital bliss and boundless happiness.”
Prince Qing and the Fourth Prince added their own blessings.
Only then did Zhao Sui smile faintly, accepting his brothers’ kind words.
Meanwhile, Yao Huang traversed the winding corridors to the inner courtyard, noting the absence of thresholds in the doorways—clearly designed for Prince Hui’s wheelchair.
Once the bridal chamber was prepared, a eunuch wheeled Zhao Sui inside.
Among the female guests observing the chamber rites were Princess Fucheng, the emperor’s sister, and Duchess Chengen, a relative of the late empress dowager and cousin to Emperor Yongchang. Both had brought their daughters-in-law, while Prince Kang’s two concubines also attended, along with the Eldest Princess (born of Empress Zhou) and the Second Princess (born of Imperial Consort Du).
These were the women Yao Huang would frequently interact with in the future.
Prince Hui’s leg ailment dampened the guests’ smiles, but the court lady’s flowery words kept the chamber lively.
Zhao Sui lifted the veil from his wheelchair.
Yao Huang had glimpsed Prince Hui during the imperial selection and now met his gaze only briefly, while his glance at her was as indifferent as still water.
Strangers under the same roof, they shared the ceremonial nuptial wine amid the guests’ sincere or perfunctory praises. Once the rites concluded, Zhao Sui returned to the front courtyard to entertain guests, while Yao Huang changed into lighter ceremonial attire and joined Princess Fucheng and the others for the evening banquet.
It was a joyous occasion, and no one deliberately poured cold water on the festivities. Yet, Yao Huang couldn’t shake the feeling that Princess Fucheng and the Second Princess shared some unspoken little secret in their glances—most likely concerning Prince Hui.
They didn’t say anything, and Yao Huang didn’t bother guessing. Having missed proper meals in the morning and at noon, she was now ravenous. With the refined manners she’d learned in the palace, she delicately polished off a bowl of rice and emptied the two dishes placed before her down to the last drop of sauce.
Princess Fucheng: "…"
Out of respect for the newlyweds’ big day, the female guests took only a few polite bites before tactfully excusing themselves. As for the male guests, even the most enthusiastic drinkers dared not force alcohol upon Prince Hui, who remained seated in his wheelchair. After a few light toasts to express their congratulations, everyone focused on enjoying the banquet and lively conversation—and they made sure to release the groom early.
Freshly bathed and changed, Yao Huang sat on the edge of the bed draped in crimson wedding quilts, her hands fidgeting nervously.
The court physician had taught her everything she needed to know. The real question was—could Prince Hui actually perform?
Yao Huang wasn’t particularly curious or eager about the matter. Even if Prince Hui proved incapable, the lifelong wealth and status this marriage afforded her would be more than enough to satisfy her. What worried her was whether Prince Hui, if indeed unable, would see her as a threat for knowing his most shameful secret—one that might wound his pride even more than his crippled legs.
For the sake of marital harmony, Yao Huang sincerely hoped Prince Hui could rise to the occasion. If not, she prayed he’d give her some advance hint—she certainly wouldn’t be reckless enough to test the waters!
"My lady, His Highness is coming!"
Aji tiptoed in from outside, whispering the warning.
Yao Huang’s heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath and went out to greet him.
Festive lanterns hung along the corridors and eaves, casting swaying patterns of light. As Yao Huang reached the entrance of the main hall, she saw Prince Hui being wheeled through the flickering glow. His striking red ceremonial robes accentuated the pallor of his handsome face—whether from discomfort or exhaustion after the day’s events, she couldn’t tell. Either was fine, as long as he wasn’t harboring some hidden resentment.
When the wheelchair arrived at the door, Huamei and the other three maids curtsied. Yao Huang, with Aji at her side, bowed respectfully as well.
Zhao Sui nodded, first introducing the eunuch pushing his chair: "This is Qingai. He and Feiquan take turns attending to my daily needs."
A noblewoman might need time to adjust to eunuchs serving in her private quarters, but given Zhao Sui’s condition, he had no choice but to bring them into the bridal chamber.
Yao Huang nodded in acknowledgment.
Zhao Sui then addressed the maids: "I prefer quiet. Unless summoned, you may wait outside."
Aji, Huamei, and the others replied, "Yes, Your Highness."
Zhao Sui glanced toward the inner chamber, and Qingai, understanding his unspoken command, wheeled him inside.
Yao Huang followed alone, observing cautiously.
Once in the bedchamber, she noticed no subtle gesture or verbal cue from Zhao Sui, yet Qingai—as if reading his mind—steered the wheelchair straight to the canopy bed.
The chair’s back pressed against the bedside. With a flick of some hidden mechanism, the backrest lowered, allowing Zhao Sui to brace himself against the bed and shift onto it.
Yao Huang watched intently, only to flinch when Zhao Sui suddenly lifted his gaze to hers. She hastily averted her eyes.
"Dismissed."
"Yes."
Qingai bowed, positioned the wheelchair sideways by the bed, then saluted Yao Huang before departing.
The canopy bed was divided into the inner sleeping area and an outer walkway. Yao Huang stood nervously by the railing, awaiting her husband’s instructions.
Zhao Sui had never been one for conversation, and after the incident, he had even less patience for unnecessary words. But the young woman standing before him was his newly wedded princess consort, a full six years his junior. If she was already frightened enough on her own, Zhao Sui had no intention of making it worse.
He sat with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out flat, leaving a gap of two palm-widths between himself and the edge of the bed.
Glancing at Yao Huang, he patted the bedside and called softly, "Come, sit."
Yao Huang approached timidly and perched sideways on the edge, half-seated, half-hovering, careful not to brush against his legs.
The candlelight filtered through the carved lattice windows of the canopy bed, casting half of the princess consort’s face in a warm, rosy glow while the other half remained in shadow, her skin smooth and luminous like fine jade.
Her lashes were long and thick, fluttering faintly from time to time.
Her lips were a lush red, glistening and soft-looking.
Even with her head slightly bowed, the slender, pale curve of her neck was unmistakable. The luxurious silk gown clung to her figure, and where it rose, it seemed to radiate the delicate warmth of a maiden’s fragrance, drifting toward him.
Zhao Sui finished his observation and returned his gaze to her lashes. "During the selection ceremony, did you forget the rules and look around carelessly, or did you already intend to marry me?"
Yao Huang glanced at him and answered truthfully, "I was there to marry you, Your Highness."
Zhao Sui: "Why?"
Yao Huang hadn’t expected Prince Hui to ask such a question on their wedding night. Now, with him staring at her from such close proximity, she had no time to craft a clever excuse—nor could she speak an unpleasant truth. Her face warmed, and she lowered her head further, mustering the courage to admit, "Because Your Highness is very handsome. I liked you at first sight."
Zhao Sui: "..."
He wasn’t entirely convinced, but her bashful demeanor didn’t seem feigned.
In truth, it didn’t matter. They were already wed—husband and wife from this moment onward.
"It’s late. Go extinguish the lamps and rest."
Yao Huang obeyed at once.
After putting out the row of candles, leaving only the pair of wedding candles burning quietly, she turned back toward the canopy bed and noticed that Prince Hui had already pulled up the covers and lain down. A pair of red silk trousers rested on the wheelchair beside him.
Her heart skipped a beat. He’d already undressed—did that mean he was capable?
Even if the thought of it made her nervous, Yao Huang couldn’t help but feel relieved. If he could manage it, she wouldn’t have to take the lead with both words and actions!
The court physician’s instructions echoed in her mind: His Highness’s legs are weak—you mustn’t be shy. You must be proactive to spare him the trouble.
Since the prince had already taken the initiative to remove his trousers, Yao Huang, well-prepared, climbed in from the foot of the bed. Sitting with her back to him, she first removed her own matching red silk sleeping trousers, then her inner robe, leaving only a small undergarment designed for ease—something a prince with limited mobility could undo without difficulty.
The dim light inside the canopy bed was just enough to reveal what should—and shouldn’t—be seen.
Zhao Sui had turned his gaze away the moment Yao Huang began silently undressing, guessing that she must have received some guidance due to his condition.
When movement rustled beside him, he caught a glimpse of her shifting closer. He turned his head and stopped her in time. "Lie down properly. Don’t move around."
He may have been crippled, but he wasn’t so helpless that his princess consort had to do everything for him.
Yao Huang, who had mustered the courage of one facing certain death, was instantly doused by that low reprimand. Glancing at Prince Hui’s displeased expression, she obediently lay back down, puzzled, and quietly pulled the extra blanket beside him over herself, covering up to her neck.
Zhao Sui commanded, "Turn over. Lie on your side."
The prince’s word was law. Yao Huang dutifully turned onto her side.
An arm slid between her neck and the pillow, while a broad, firm chest pressed against her back. With a heavier exhale from him, a weighty leg was flung over hers.
Neither of them wore trousers, and Yao Huang was startled by the cool, almost watery temperature of Prince Hui’s leg against her skin.
Just then, a large, warm hand reached around from the front, cupping her flushed face.
