Chapter One: The Wedding

Qin Muchuan had been in quite a melancholy mood lately.

For no other reason than the fact that he was about to marry a proper wife—a woman well-versed in literature and decorum, gentle and virtuous. Yet such women, he felt, were always dull and rigid, little more than puppets tending to their elders and urging their husbands to strive. Speak to them of anything amusing, and all they would say, in the most earnest tone, was, “Husband, you ought to be studying.” There was not a spark of wit in them, only the stench of ambition and money.

The prospect of this marriage had left Qin Muchuan troubled for days, unable to rest, and his lips bore the marks of his distress.

Outside the gates of the Duke of Founding’s residence, there was a bustle of carriages and crowds, drums and gongs resounding. Everywhere was draped in vibrant red, guests gathered from all directions, the atmosphere lively and festive.

Qin Muchuan, however, lounged lazily against the wooden railing beside the lake, staring at the carp swimming to and fro, his face clouded with gloom. Around him, a group of attendants waited on edge, led by Steward Zhao, who urged him repeatedly, “Young Master, you must hurry to the Minister’s residence. Today is your grand wedding—if you miss the auspicious hour, no one can bear the consequences!”

Qin Muchuan impatiently dug at his ear. “Uncle Zhao, you’ve repeated that eight hundred times. I’ll say it again: whoever wants to marry, let them do it. I won’t have any part in it!” With a swish of his sleeve, he prepared to leave, but found himself surrounded by young attendants, unable to escape. Frustrated, he returned to the railing and glared at the lake, venting his anger.

Just then, an excited voice broke through—“Young Master! Young Master!” Leshan rushed in from the gates, sweat pouring from his brow, calling out to the crimson-clad Qin Muchuan, “Young Master, I’ve heard—they’re almost here!”

“Who’s almost here?” Qin Muchuan asked, uninterested.

“It’s Miss Yinyin!”

At the mention of the name, Qin Muchuan’s eyes lit up, a smile blooming across his face.

Steward Zhao, seeing Qin Muchuan so delighted by a courtesan, was furious but dared not show it. After all, Qin Muchuan was the young master of the household.

“It must be about the courtesan contest,” Qin Muchuan paced excitedly.

The courtesan contest, like the imperial examinations, was held once every three years, scheduled for the seventh day of the seventh month—the day the Cowherd and Weaver Girl met. Miss it today, and you’d have to wait another three years to witness such a spectacle. Qin Muchuan would not allow it. This year, his beloved Yinyin was competing. If he didn’t attend, he’d surely be outdone by his friends!

With this thought, Qin Muchuan couldn’t help but resent Minister Gu. Of all the days to marry off his daughter, he had chosen today—ruining Qin Muchuan’s plans. He was sighing deeply when a powerful voice rang out from nearby. “I see you’re itching for trouble! Get yourself to your father-in-law’s, or if you miss the auspicious hour, I’ll skin you alive!”

Startled, Qin Muchuan stumbled back a few steps.

The Duke of Qin, seeing his son’s ceremonial attire askew and his spirit listless, grew angrier and raised his hand to strike. Qin Muchuan retreated, a seven-foot-tall man shrinking in fear, pleading, “I’m going, Father, don’t hit me!”

His mother, Madam Zhou, arrived just then, seeing her son’s frightened state, and quickly pulled the Duke away, scolding, “He’s about to start a family, why chastise him before everyone?”

“Start a family? Look at him—what a lazy, frivolous scoundrel! Not a trace of ambition!”

With his mother present, Qin Muchuan found a bit of courage and muttered, “It’s not me who wants to marry; you chose this, and now you blame me.”

Hearing this, the Duke was enraged, raising his hand again. Qin Muchuan darted about like a startled rabbit. Madam Zhou intervened between them, saying, “Don’t upset your father! Hurry and go welcome your bride! I’ve met Minister Gu’s daughter—she’s a proper lady.”

“Ha! With a son like this, it must be the merit of our ancestors that someone will have him!” The Duke panted, believing his unfilial son was a curse from a past life.

Protected by his mother, Qin Muchuan stewed in resentment. He had no liking for this match. Every prominent lady in the capital, if attractive and talented, was known by reputation, but Minister Gu’s daughter was silent and unseen—likely plain and unattractive. The marriage was merely arranged by the elders. To think he’d spend his days with someone ugly and dull made him all the more unwilling to welcome the bride.

Madam Zhou, seeing her son’s stubbornness, anxiously signaled him. Just then, the head maid of the old Madam approached and bowed to the three. “Master, Madam, the old Madam says the auspicious hour approaches. When will the young master depart?”

The Duke glared at Qin Muchuan, who replied, “Grandmother, I’m going now to welcome the bride.”

The maid smiled and congratulated him. Madam Zhou departed with her to the old Madam’s quarters. With his mother gone and his father not yet ready to strike, Qin Muchuan quickly straightened his clothes and set off with his retinue for Minister Gu’s residence.

Despite some delay, he managed not to miss the auspicious hour.

The Minister’s residence was just as lively. Minister Gu had three sons and one daughter, and today his only daughter was to wed—a joyous occasion. Gu Qiulan was carried in the bridal sedan by her eldest brother, fireworks cracking outside.

Qin Muchuan, though reluctant, wore a smile. His handsome features made him especially charming. He greeted his in-laws, exchanged a few words with the eldest Gu brother, and prepared to escort Gu Qiulan home.

Though guests filled the Gu residence, the second brother was absent. Qin Muchuan paid it no mind; he was still disgruntled that Minister Gu had chosen the seventh day of the seventh month for the wedding, so he cared little for who in the Gu family attended.

Now, Qin Muchuan rode atop a fine steed, his crimson robes lending him an air of grace. His features were delicate, but his frequent visits to places of pleasure had endowed him with a hint of rakishness. In formal attire, he appeared more like a gentleman. With just a glance, he made the young women watching from the roadside blush and clutch their handkerchiefs to their chests.

Behind him, the eight-carriage sedan moved steadily. Servants and guards played music, bridesmaids scattered petals, and dowries flowed into the Duke’s residence like water. Onlookers were amazed—such a grand wedding was a rare sight.

Qin Muchuan was intent on returning home, when he noticed a gaze upon him. Turning, he saw among the crowd a young woman in plain dress, pitifully standing there. Only a white jade hairpin adorned her head, with no other ornament, slender as a willow, eyes glistening with tears.

Qin Muchuan panicked; it was Yinyin from Drunken Fragrance Pavilion. Today was the day of the courtesan contest, and he had promised to support her. Yet now, with his beloved before him, guilt surged within, and he began to resent the woman in the sedan.

Yinyin, tears in her eyes, gazed at Qin Muchuan. He was her great benefactor; she still hoped he would take her as a concubine. But now, with the minister’s daughter entering the household, who knew if she’d be a shrew? Just as resentment filled her heart, someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to see a dashing young man smiling coldly, his words icy: “If you wish to live, stay away from the young master of the Duke’s residence…”

Yinyin’s heart trembled, catching the glint of a dagger in the man’s hand…

Meanwhile, Qin Muchuan had returned to the Duke’s residence with his bride.

The newlyweds dismounted. The bride’s veil still covered her face, and the rest of the way she was led by the groom’s hand. Qin Muchuan deliberately squeezed her hand, intending to intimidate Gu Qiulan. Yet the bride’s face remained hidden.

Throughout the ceremonies, Qin Muchuan wore a sour expression. In the crimson bridal chamber, the maids kept quiet. Night had not yet fallen, and Qin Muchuan still had to return to the banquet to thank the guests.

Not until darkness settled did Qin Muchuan, slightly tipsy, return. Seeing Gu Qiulan seated quietly by the bed, adorned in lavish red, bracelets on her wrists, a jade lock on her chest—every piece worth a fortune—he was reminded of Yinyin’s forlorn face in the crowd, and anger flared within him. All because of this woman, Yinyin had been left alone and would surely be bullied!

Seeing the groom’s unfriendly look, the bridal matron quickly spoke auspicious words and handed over the wedding tray. Qin Muchuan lifted the veil impatiently, revealing an exquisite face.

She was smiling.

Smiling beautifully, her eyes crescent-shaped.

To marry into the Duke’s household—such fortune, of course she should smile! Qin Muchuan thought.

The matron hurried through the remaining rituals and left, eager to escape the tense atmosphere. No sooner had she gone than sounds came from within.

Qin Muchuan eyed his wife—her looks were acceptable, but the hour was late, and he needed to find a way to slip out. “Since you’re my wife, there’s something I must make clear.”

Gu Qiulan replied softly, “I am yours to command.”

Her gentle manner pleased Qin Muchuan somewhat, but he still intended to assert his dominance. He clapped his hands, and three pretty maids entered, each shyly glancing about.

“These are my three maids. They are not ordinary servants. They have served me faithfully. Managing the household alone would be hard for you; let them assist you.”

“Are these my sisters?” Gu Qiulan’s smile deepened, her lively eyes scanning the maids.

The maid Qiaoyun brought a tray, and Gu Qiulan gifted each maid a purse. “You’ve served the master longer than I have; I hope you’ll guide me in the days ahead.”

The maids were surprised by the new mistress’s amiable demeanor. Though Qin Muchuan had said he would raise them to concubines after the wedding, if the mistress objected, there would surely be trouble. Seeing her gentle manner and young attendants, hearing she brought only an old nurse, they felt at ease and happily accepted their gifts, congratulating the couple: “May the young master and mistress enjoy a hundred years of harmony, united forever.”

“Rise,” Gu Qiulan instructed.

Qin Muchuan waved them off, and the maids left, one daringly casting him a flirtatious glance, which Gu Qiulan ignored.

Qin Muchuan was somewhat satisfied with his wife’s conduct—not jealous or quarrelsome. If not for today, he might even have liked her more. But one final test remained. If she could accept this, then perhaps… he might treat her well.

“Qiulan, to be honest, a friend has come to seek refuge with me from afar. He has no kin here, and recently fell ill. Leshan told me this morning that he might not survive the night. Life is precious, but today is our wedding day…”

Gu Qiulan touched Qin Muchuan’s lips lightly. “Husband, I understand. Matters of life and death are grave, especially for your dear friend. Do go see him. If you need money or a physician, let me know.”

Qin Muchuan was delighted—he hadn’t expected Qiulan to be so easily deceived. But then again, a sheltered woman would believe whatever her husband said. He replied, “The doctor is already there; I’ll be back soon.” He paused, uncertain, “You’re not angry?”

Gu Qiulan lowered her head. “I am married now; we have a lifetime ahead, no need to rush.”

Qin Muchuan was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. “Rest assured, I’ll treat you well.” Then, “What about Father and Mother?”

“Husband, today’s secret is between us alone,” Gu Qiulan said gently.

Qin Muchuan relaxed completely. The hour was late, and he hurried off with Leshan, slipping out through the side gate and scaling the wall.

The bridal chamber fell quiet again.

Gu Qiulan changed clothes, Qiaoyun helped her with her hair. The phoenix crown and robe had weighed on her all day, her neck aching. “Miss, you just let the young master leave?” Qiaoyun’s voice was calm, as if she felt no injustice.

Gu Qiulan stared at her own fingers, her gaze growing tender, a smile curling on her lips, tempting anyone to take a bite. “I’ve finally met him!” She glanced at the mirror, then at the red-draped room, admiring, “He truly lives up to his reputation as the capital’s most handsome man—far better than the rumors. I’ve waited so long, and at last, he’s mine. Such a beauty must be handled carefully.” She shot Qiaoyun a look, “Behave yourselves and tuck away your bandit airs!”

Qiaoyun was silent.

Gu Qiulan continued, “Look at those other three—have we ever seen such beauties in Yan Prefecture? That Yinyin from Drunken Fragrance Pavilion must be even more stunning,” she swallowed, flexing her fingers, “I’d love to… touch her myself.”

Gu Qiulan had come from Yan Prefecture for the sole purpose of capturing the capital’s most handsome man. Now that she had him… Qiaoyun couldn’t help but shiver.