Ten days later, on the long streets of Shengjing.
The auspicious hour had arrived.
Two bridal sedans, one after the other, were slowly carried out from the vermilion gates of the Shen Manor. They meandered along the bluestone street toward the Marquis Weiyuan's Mansion. The bright sunlight spilled onto the red silk draped over the sedans, reflecting a dazzling brilliance.
The sedan in the front was visibly extraordinary at first glance.
The body of the sedan was framed with speckled bamboo and covered in true-red soft satin embroidered all over with golden twin lotus patterns. As the sunlight hit it, the flowing gold shimmered brilliantly, as if a piece of the evening sky had been tailored to drape over it. Tassels woven from pure gold threads hung from the four corners, swaying gently in time with the bearers' synchronized steps and rippling like a pool of fragmented, glittering gold.
On top of the sedan were stacked peonies fashioned from bright red silk. The layered petals looked so fresh and lively that they seemed newly plucked and still wet with morning dew. When a gentle breeze passed, the peonies even seemed to quiver, looking incredibly lifelike.
Even more eye-catching was what followed the sedan—a vast, endless procession of dowry.
A full sixty-four loads.
Boxes covered in red silk and tightly fastened with golden locks were each carried steadily by two sturdy servants in green tunics. Their steps were heavy and measured, winding like a silent yet dazzling river of brocade slowly flowing through Shengjing's most bustling street. The sun shone on the red silk of the trunks, creating a warm, almost majestic halo.
Silks, antiques, jade wares, jewelry, land deeds, storefronts...
There were even two trunks of rare ancient texts.
The Shen family had included every bit of the betrothal gifts given by the Second Branch and matched it with an equal amount of their own. The arrangement was both grand and dignified. This was the Shen family's silent declaration, gentle yet clear: Although Shen Ninghuan was marrying down, she was by no means settling. Standing behind her was the dignity and backing of the entire Shen clan.
The commoners watching the procession by the street stood on their tiptoes and craned their necks, their discussions buzzing like a tide:
Look at this dowry! They must have emptied half the Shen Manor!
She is only marrying the son of the Second Branch, yet such a grand display... Tsk, tsk, the Shen family truly dotes on their daughter.
What do you know? The more grand it is, the more it shows how much the Shen family values this girl. In the future, no one in her in-laws' house will dare to slight her in the least. They are backing her up!
The bridal sedan in the back, however, was dull and lacklustre, as if all its color had been sucked away by the radiance of the one in front.
Though also red, the material was far more ordinary. The sedan body was bare, without any embroidery or patterns, merely perfunctorily adorned with a few strips of red silk. Only eight loads of dowry followed behind it. The trunks were small and flimsy, and the servants carrying them were few, giving off an air of haste and shabbiness.
That was Shen Ningyue's sedan.
A concubine entering the household.
She was never entitled to any glory.
The betrothal gifts from the Marquis Weiyuan's Mansion were merely a formality, and the Shen family was even more unwilling to add a single piece of jewelry to the dowry of this disgraceful illegitimate daughter. Those eight loads of dowry were barely scraped together by her biological mother, Concubine Fang, who had emptied her own savings and pawned many of her treasured pieces of jewelry.
Inside the sedan, Shen Ningyue tightly clutched the hem of her wedding dress. Her fingertips dug deeply into her palms, leaving several crescent-shaped red marks.
Though she could not see, she heard everything clearly—the deafening gongs and drums ahead, the noisy crowds, and the whispers discussing how rich and honorable Shen Ninghuan's dowry was...
Every word was like a needle, piercing into her ears and stabbing into her heart.
The fire of jealousy grew wildly like a poisonous vine, entangling her chest until it ached, leaving her almost breathless.
Why?
In their previous life, when Shen Ninghuan married, although it was also glorious, when had she ever had such an eye-catching display? In this life, she had clearly exhausted all her schemes to steal her sister's destined marriage. Why could Shen Ninghuan still be so flamboyant? So... dazzling?
Shen Ningyue bit her lower lip tightly until she tasted a faint, metallic sweetness spreading in her mouth.
She could not help it.
She lifted the sedan curtain just a tiny fraction.
Her gaze passed over the bobbing heads of the crowd, watching helplessly as the incredibly magnificent bridal sedan ahead landed steadily before the towering main gates of the Marquis Weiyuan's Mansion.
Pei Cijing, dressed in a bright red wedding robe, stood before the white marble steps. His posture was as straight as a pine, his brows and eyes soaked in the festive joy, bearing a gentle and warm smile. He reached out and steadily held the slender, jade-white hand that emerged from the sedan. The moment their fingertips touched, his movements were gentle yet firm as he lightly supported her...
Shen Ninghuan, wearing a phoenix coronet and a cape of sunset hues, slowly stepped out.
Although the bridal veil hid her face, her demeanor—as serene as autumn waters and as noble as a peony—silently permeated through her straight back and elegant gait.
She rested her hand peacefully in Pei Cijing's palm. Side by side, the two stepped over the vigorously burning vermilion brazier before the door, treading on the brocade carpet laid on the ground, and entered step by step through those magnificent main gates.
Festive music filled the air, and congratulatory words poured in like a tide.
Meanwhile, her sedan quietly turned a corner at that moment, winding toward the dusty, narrow side door of the mansion.
A concubine entering the household could not use the main gate, could not bow to heaven and earth, and could not have a noisy ceremony. A small sedan and a side door were all she got.
Silence and desolation were the only footnotes to her wedding.
Shen Ningyue abruptly dropped the sedan curtain.
Darkness instantly descended, swallowing up that blindingly painful scene.
She remained silent in the cramped sedan for a long time, with only her heavy breathing rising and falling in the dark. After a long while, the corners of her lips slowly curled up into an arc as cold and venomous as a snake.
It does not matter.
She told herself.
Thinking of Pei Cijing's coldness and disregard toward her in her past life, and thinking of his later worthless appearance, she became even more convinced that her choice was right.
Latching onto the Heir.
That was the true path to glory and wealth.
That incompetent husband, that superficially glorious position of an official wife... Sister, just enjoy it well. Let alone the future, you might not even be able to smile tonight.
...
That night, in Anle Residence.
This was the courtyard specially renovated by the Second Branch of the Marquis Weiyuan's Mansion for Pei Cijing's marriage. Located in the east of the mansion, although not as spacious and imposing as the Heir's Courtyard where the Heir lived, it won in its quiet elegance, forming a world of its own.
A small courtyard with three enclosures, featuring white walls and black tiles. Newly pasted silk lanterns hung under the corridors, casting warm yellow light and shadows.
The old osmanthus tree in the courtyard was in full bloom. Fine, golden-yellow blossoms adorned the branches, and their sweet fragrance was refreshing, drifting through the carved window lattices with the wind and filling the bridal chamber.
Inside the main room, red candles burned high, their wax tears slowly accumulating like festive coral.
Shen Ninghuan, wearing a red veil embroidered with golden mandarin ducks, sat upright on the edge of the bed draped with a brocade quilt symbolizing a hundred sons and a thousand grandsons. The light from the dragon and phoenix wedding candles shone through the thin veil, casting a warm, hazy orange-red halo that illuminated her hands resting folded on her lap, making them look as white as jade.
She could hear the approaching footsteps outside the door.
Neither fast nor slow, steady and composed...
It was him!
However, the inner voice that came through clearly and without any disguise revealed a rawness and hesitation entirely different from his footsteps:
So... I am really taking a wife? First time in two lifetimes...
How should I lift the veil? From left to right? Or just lift it straight up? Will I scare her if I lift it too hard? Mother seemed to have mentioned it this morning, but I forgot...
The system did not even issue an Ancient Newlywed Guide for emergencies. Bad review!
Will she... think I am clumsy?
The corners of Shen Ninghuan's lips curled up almost imperceptibly, then she quickly pursed them, leaving only a trace of a soft arc. This husband of hers, who looked casual and composed on the outside, actually had such a... rich and vibrant inner world.
Truly interesting.
With a soft creak, the door was pushed open.
Pei Cijing walked in.
He had already changed out of the heavy, elaborate wedding attire he wore during the day. Now, he was dressed in a soft, dark red casual robe with wide, gently swaying sleeves. His dark hair was loosely tied up with a simple white jade hairpin. A faint scent of wine lingered around him, yet his eyes remained clear and bright, showing no signs of drunkenness.
In his hand... he was surprisingly carrying an exquisitely carved mahogany food box.
He stopped before the bed, his gaze falling upon the quiet red figure seated there, and paused.
Shen Ninghuan remained seated with impeccable posture. However, she could hear the subtle, unfamiliar nervousness in his heart, rippling outward like a small pebble tossed into a tranquil lake.
Pei Cijing steadied his nerves.
He walked over to the table.
He picked up the jade weighing rod, which was wrapped in red silk.
His fingertips paused slightly on the smooth rod, as if recalling the proper movements. Then, he slowly slipped the tip of the rod under the bottom edge of the bridal veil, held his breath, and gently lifted it upward.
The red silk slipped away.
It fell to the ground like a drifting rosy cloud.
The warm candlelight filling the room immediately danced into her eyes without any obstruction.
Shen Ninghuan raised her eyes at the perfect moment. Her gaze was clear and moist, as if steeped in autumn waters and starlight. She looked at him quietly, her eyes holding just the right amount of shyness expected of a new bride.
Today, her eyebrows were delicately drawn, and her lips were painted a beautiful crimson. Her makeup was bright and elegant, not overly heavy, perfectly preserving her innate, refined grace. The delicate golden tassels hanging from her phoenix coronet swayed gently by her forehead and temples. Bathed in the dancing, warm candlelight, her jade-like face resembled a weeping crabapple blossom just beginning to bloom in the depths of a quiet night, both breathtakingly beautiful and deeply serene.
Pei Cijing was stunned.
In both of his lifetimes combined, he had never looked at a girl so closely and so earnestly, let alone his newlywed wife, whom he had just bowed to heaven and earth with. The floating sense of unreality in his heart suddenly landed with a soft, reassuring thud.
It felt warm and light, carrying a subtle, tingling affection that he had yet to fully understand.
Shen Ninghuan lowered her eyelashes slightly, avoiding his blank stare and assuming the bashful posture of a new bride, even though she was actually listening with great interest, word for word, to the chaotic muttering in Pei Cijing's heart, finding it all incredibly amusing.
Pei Cijing suddenly snapped out of his daze. The tips of his ears grew faintly hot, and he gave a light cough to cover up his embarrassment.
He turned around to open the food box.
Inside were several light, warm, and nourishing dishes he had specifically instructed the kitchen to prepare: crystal-clear shrimp dumplings, glossy and sweet osmanthus lotus root, warm and refreshing silver ear mushroom and lotus seed soup, and a plate of exceptionally delicate pastries shaped like blooming roses.
Are you hungry? His tone was as natural and gentle as he could manage, though it still carried a hint of youthful awkwardness. You have been busy all day, so you probably haven't eaten properly. Have something to fill your stomach first.
As he spoke, he took out the warm plates one by one, arranged them on the round table draped in red silk, and pulled out a chair for her.
Though his movements were not entirely practiced, they were gentle, thoughtful, and full of careful tenderness...
