Many girls have probably imagined what they would look like on their wedding day—finding a good man and living harmoniously together from then on, in peace and joy. Wanwan had also anticipated this, though not in great detail. Her general direction was simply to live a good life without upheavals, much like her time in the palace. But she wanted more freedom than she had in the palace—no one to control her, able to go out and walk around as she pleased.

So what she wanted was never complicated, but unfortunately, the less complicated it was, the harder it became to achieve. Her birth had long determined that she could never have the happiness of ordinary people. Perhaps she would have to struggle through great storms her entire life, without even a chance to catch her breath.

The Prince Consort entered—refined and cultured, with magnificent bearing. Wanwan looked at him through the vermillion gauze veil. She had once thought there was some basis to the saying that one’s appearance reflects one’s heart, but now she found it worth questioning. Someone who appeared upright and honorable was actually nothing more than this.

She tucked her hands together, placing them properly over her lower abdomen. Sensing her shoulders and back had relaxed, she armored herself again. Tonight was their first direct confrontation, and she absolutely could not lose face.

She was somewhat nervous after all. She still couldn’t understand how she had come to marry like this. Her marriage began with conspiracy; how it would end was still unknown. Looking back, reaching this point felt like a dream, as if she might wake up at any moment from a clap of thunder. Unfortunately, this nightmare was real—she could see the bright colors in this bridal chamber, feel the elaborate embroidery on her dress, and hear the sound of his approaching footsteps.

He came before her. The veil covering her face blurred her features, showing only the small, crystalline earlobes beneath her elaborate coiffure. Even without seeing her face, he felt no panic—he knew it must be her.

A maid brought the ceremonial scale. He gripped firmly the section wrapped in red paper. He lifted the veil with the scale’s hook, and the edge of the head covering slowly rose, revealing her delicate chin and small red lips… A faint smile appeared on his face, gradually expanding into undisguisable joy.

To marry a princess was every man’s dream. While others might seek such honor, he, to a great extent, was truly following his own heart’s desire. Of course, he couldn’t say he had no ulterior motives—being both a feudal prince and a Prince Consort, along with the princess’s dowry came that golden-embroidered yellow jacket, meaning he would no longer be restricted when entering and leaving the capital… But setting politics aside, he still wholeheartedly longed for the princess’s arrival.

Though he was in Jiangnan, he was aware of everything in the capital. Initially, she occupied only a small part of his secret correspondence, but unknowingly, the content about her grew larger and larger, until he had to dedicate an entire volume to her, no longer mixing it with current affairs. He understood clearly in his heart that power and love should be distinctly separated. He needed such a nobly-born wife to accompany him day and night and bear his children.

But her temperament was too strong. Just looking at her—gentle and compliant—it was hard to connect her with loyalty to the sovereign, devotion to duty, or concern for the world. Her smile was shy, her jade hands delicate; she should have been content with her fate in the women’s quarters. Yet she had such a name—thunderously powerful, hurting others and herself. Emperor Xiaozong had still demanded too much of her.

His gaze flowed over her face. From now on, this should be a new beginning. Even if she was unwilling, over time, she would gradually come to like him, wouldn’t she?

He bowed with cupped hands. “Your Highness has had a hard journey. Liang Shi should have chosen another auspicious day to welcome Your Highness’s descent, but Taoye Ferry is some distance from the Princess Manor. If I hadn’t come to escort you, I couldn’t have felt at ease.” When he spoke, he tried his best to control his emotions, fearing any impropriety might frighten her.

She slowly lifted her eyes. There was no warmth in them. After a slight pause, she said, “The journey was smooth. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The politeness contained distance. She wouldn’t blush shyly or act coquettishly—completely unlike other new brides. Being different was good; he remained satisfied.

Someone brought wine and golden cups. He poured a cup, took a sip first, then handed it to her. She stood up, frowning at the golden cup. After the nuptial wine, they would truly be husband and wife.

She still felt bewildered in her heart, but what could she do at this point? She reached out to receive it. The cup was different from ordinary wine cups—if it were a regular cup, she could turn it around to avoid the spot he had touched, but this cup wouldn’t allow it. She had no choice but to steel herself and press the spout to her lips, taking just a small sip before returning it to him, who then drained it in one gulp.

This process had to be repeated once more, but with the wine-pourer switched to symbolize mutual respect. Wanwan wasn’t good with alcohol—she had once gotten drunk from eating wine-marinated shrimp. That earlier sip had already taken all her courage, and she would probably have to drink half a cup next, which was truly unavoidable. She was prepared to go all out. But it turned out well—he drank most of it, leaving only enough to wet her lips, showing considerate care in these subtle details to save her from embarrassment.

After the nuptial wine, they had to eat fertility dumplings, usually symbolically dipped in boiling water and removed while still raw, impossible to swallow. The wedding attendant would ask if they were “raw,” and the couple had to say “raw” in unison, ensuring a house full of descendants. Nanny Jingqi had taught her these customs beforehand, so she knew what to expect. But somehow the dumpling she bit into was actually cooked. Not wanting to make an issue of it, she vaguely said “raw” and spat the dumpling into a spittoon.

The status of Prince Consort and princess was, as he had said before, that of minister and sovereign. Even after the nuptial ceremony, they still had to perform formal courtesies. Someone came to help her rise and take her seat. She sat down on the westward-facing throne, and the Prince Consort adjusted his ceremonial robes and bowed twice to her. She rose and stood on the footstool to return two bows. With this, the wedding ceremony was complete.

Imperial families generally didn’t hold banquets on the wedding day, so he didn’t need to entertain guests or get drunk. After someone arranged for them to sit side by side, the attendants all bowed and withdrew from the bridal chamber.

Once everyone left, the room felt empty. Finding herself in a strange environment, Wanwan felt only alarm, not joy. The nanny had previously given her a general account of what happened in the bridal chamber—apparently an extremely mysterious affair. At the time, she had listened in confusion, but knowing that her companion would be him had made her feel safe. Now this person was completely different from what she had imagined. Besides fear, what else could she feel?

She felt very uncomfortable and quietly shifted to one side, putting some distance between them. She had imagined how she should vent her dissatisfaction when she saw him, at least demanding answers sternly. But when the moment actually came, she felt everything was pointless—she was too lazy to even speak.

He seemed conflicted too, turning to look at her with a hesitant expression. After a long while, he said, “It’s getting late. Your Highness… should rest.”

The marriage between a princess and Prince Consort was different from ordinary marriages. The Princess Manor had a Chancellor’s Office with a bureau equivalent to the Imperial Clan Court’s responsibilities, which strictly recorded when the Prince Consort was summoned to see the princess and stayed overnight. So the Prince Consort’s entry to the Princess Manor wasn’t casual—if he offended the princess, the stewardess nanny could scold and dismiss him. Of course, this was when the Prince Consort had no power at all. On Nanyuan’s territory, these weren’t major concerns. Compliance was due to respect for her, making their meetings very precious.

Wanwan’s heart pounded like thunder, each beat almost piercing her eardrums. After marrying, she would have to be intimate with the Prince Consort and bear his children. She was unwilling, but remembering the Emperor’s past instructions, after weighing everything repeatedly, she realized that keeping her distance would make him suspicious and obstruct her actions. She didn’t know how she could be so fearless—that at such a moment her mind was thinking of these things. It was truly because there was no escape, and she felt self-destructive.

Dragging her trembling legs, she walked to the bronze mirror. At first sight of the heavy makeup that made her features indistinguishable, she gave herself quite a shock. Looking more carefully, she realized the nanny must have applied layer upon layer of makeup, creating this appearance. This person was her, yet somehow strange. She raised her arm, and the person in the mirror raised her arm too. She sighed and removed the phoenix crown and elaborate coiffure.

Wearing wedding attire for so long was exhausting work. Yin Luo had once weighed her headdress with a scale—it was a full ten-plus pounds. Besides the visible hairpins and rings in front, there was a considerable portion attached to the back of her head that she had to slowly figure out herself.

The pure gold pavilion was so heavy! With each piece she removed, the pressure on her neck lessened. Her head had never hurt this much before. He walked over, and the dim mirror reflected his face. His eyelashes lowered, he helped her remove those peach-heart hair ornaments, glancing at her hesitantly. “I know you’re not used to this yet, and perhaps you have many prejudices against me. But there are long days ahead. Now that you and I are husband and wife, Liang Shi vows to treat Your Highness well with his life.”

Wanwan hadn’t expected him to say this. If she hadn’t heard those words from Yin Ge back then, today she might have been very moved and truly devoted herself wholeheartedly to life with him. But now there was already a scar, and no matter how much patching was done, it wouldn’t work. Why bother with this show of tenderness?

She still wasn’t used to being so close to a stranger. In a while, they would share the same bed—she didn’t know how to face that. In any case, having him stand behind her made her feel like there were thorns in her back. She didn’t want to make things awkward between them, but not speaking didn’t mean she didn’t understand.

She avoided him inconspicuously, stepping back two paces. “Your Majesty’s words are too serious. On such a joyous day, why speak of this? I’ve been on the road for a month, and my head is still dizzy. If there are any discourtesies, please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

She didn’t make a fuss at all, didn’t even speak a harsh word, which made him even more uneasy. Over ten years of rigid constraints had long transformed her nature. For example, seeing a flower, a girl who loved beauty might pick it to wear in her hair, but she wouldn’t. She might look from afar, not even approaching to smell its fragrance, before casually walking away.

He wished she would voice her displeasure and doubts, but she refused to, making things difficult. He couldn’t bring it up directly, lest he confess without being accused and make her aware that his spies were always around her. He could only pretend ignorance, appearing baffled by her dissatisfaction. This way, the wound was covered up, festering deeper without seeing daylight.

She resisted him, her movements and tone unconsciously building a high wall. Even if he used all his skills, he couldn’t leap over it. She retreated behind a screen to wash her face, cleaning off the thick layers of rice powder and rouge. When she reappeared, it was with a plain face—so naturally beautiful that it formed a sharp contrast with the magnificent, solemn wedding dress.

She still looked as she had during last year’s feudal princes’ banquet—with touching eyebrows and eyes that sparkled when she looked around. In her presence, he appeared shabby and humble. So what if he had married her? Unable to be intimate or loving, her heart was thousands of miles away from his.

“Does Your Highness detest me?” He stood before the red candles, frowning as he asked her. “Coming to Nanyuan must be very unwilling, isn’t it?”

A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, quickly calming. “What does Your Majesty mean by this? I’ve already arrived in Jinling. Whether willing or not, does it matter?”

He removed his ceremonial crown and placed it on a nearby hat stand, turning his face slightly. His dark temples were sharp as if cut by a blade. He seemed disappointed by her answer, lowering his head without saying another word for a long time.

His silence made Wanwan feel even more awkward. Such a wedding night, with such an inauspicious beginning. Being husband and wife while hearts apart was almost laughable.

She lay down fully clothed, pulling the blanket over herself to lie stiffly. He looked at her strangely. “Your Highness, the ceremonial sash and cloud-patterned cape will be tangled and uncomfortable to sleep in… you should remove them.”

She said, “Your Majesty need not worry. I prefer to sleep like this. Please do as you wish.”

His experience was considerable, but in her presence, he couldn’t employ any of his usual methods. He walked to the bedside and stood there anxiously for a while. She closed her eyes, unwilling even to look at him anymore.