On the second day of the second lunar month, when the dragon raises its head, starting from the hour of the rabbit, rain fell upon the Qing Di Palace. Half of Mount Tai was once again shrouded in misty water vapor.

Each divine official rose early—some busily instructing divine servants to arrange the Pale Moon Pavilion, others occupied with checking the wedding banquet’s wine and beverages. All the trees along the lakeside avenue had been trimmed, the grass gleamed emerald green, and the distant waters stretched out, creating an especially elegant and refreshing atmosphere.

Today was the grand wedding ceremony of the young Qing Di who had just recently ascended to his position. Although His Majesty Qing Di had always been low-key and disliked clamor, this was still a wedding after all—it absolutely had to be executed with the utmost meticulous care.

A divine official brought a tea and refreshments list to consult Qi Nan, a divine official who had specially come from Zhongshan to help: “Divine Official Qi Nan, the Princess’s requested ice lotus crushed snow cake—is this the appearance?”

Qi Nan’s temples were now silver-white, which instead gave him an even more transcendent immortal bearing, radiating more kindness than before. Compared to these young divine officials who were anxiously uncertain about the future Qing Di consort’s temperament, he appeared completely at ease. After glancing at the illustration on the tea refreshments list, he nodded: “Yes, that’s the appearance—wait a moment, the filling for the agate white jade cake must not contain bean skin, use tea leaves that ripen once every thousand years for the Nine-Nine Return to Origin tea, and the Radiant Flying Scenery tea absolutely must not be doused with boiling water…”

Seeing him rattle off so many particular requirements without even catching his breath, the faces of several young divine officials from Qing Di Palace turned green. Not daring to be negligent in the slightest, they recorded each item, filling nearly half a booklet. The older divine officials who were already familiar with the Princess’s ways laughed: “The Princess is only particular about tea and refreshments.”

As they were speaking, divine officials at the mountain gate urgently called out: “They’re here! They’re here! Quickly tidy up the lakeside avenue!”

The ceremonial carriages of the Zhuyin Clan and Huaxu Clan had already landed at the mountain gate. Qi Nan had already gone to greet them. The young divine officials of Huaxu Clan looked somewhat timidly at the two figures emerging from the Zhuyin Clan’s carriage—they were the previous generation and current generation Zhongshan Dijun. Just as rumored, each had a pale complexion and cold expression, looking extremely unapproachable.

From the Huaxu Clan carriage also stepped a figure in dark blue robes, tall and jade-like in bearing, dignified and handsome, with the azure Heavenly Treasure Sword perpetually at his waist—this was their young Qinghua Dijun, His Majesty.

The newly appointed Zhongshan Dijun, who possessed an extraordinary imposing aura, wore robes woven with black and gold. After exchanging a few words with Qinghua Dijun, he suddenly raised his hand and lifted out another radiant red figure from the carriage. The young divine officials suddenly felt that the sunlight partially obscured by water mist seemed to concentrate entirely upon her.

It was said this wedding dress was painstakingly crafted by the Weaver Maiden Ziyuan. The Princess loved the particular shade of red that peony petals reflected under the setting sun, and matching that color had utterly taxed her ingenuity.

Originally, everyone felt the Princess was being far too demanding, but now, seeing such an elegant and beautiful red complementing the Princess’s countenance, they felt she absolutely should have been demanding—most likely only she could wear this distinctive color so beautifully.

The Princess reluctantly clung to Divine Official Qi Nan’s arm, looking up and saying something. The divine officials guessed she must be speaking some sentimental words of parting. Though they would still be able to meet frequently in the future, after all, once married, her status would be different—she could no longer freely return to live in the Purple Palace at Zhongshan.

However, the actual conversation went like this—

“Qi Nan, is there anything to eat? I’m hungry.” She had barely slept last night, having been dragged up at the hour of the ox to bathe, change clothes, and have her hair and makeup done. Probably afraid she would smudge the rouge on her lips, they hadn’t even given her a sip of tea. How cruel.

All she ever thinks about is eating—getting married and still eating. Qing Yan glared at her: “Wait until the banquet starts and there will be food. Endure for now.”

Xuan Yi sighed. Ever since Qing Yan became Dijun, he had become increasingly stern. Baize Dijun even praised him for having the bearing of previous Zhuyin Clan emperors. Was being fierce the defining characteristic of Zhongshan Dijun?

Qi Nan supported her as they slowly walked along the lakeside avenue, saying gently: “This happens only once in a lifetime. Princess, please don’t be careless today. I never imagined that in my lifetime I would see the Princess in her wedding attire. Right now, I’m truly happy.”

What he had feared most before was that the Princess would spend her entire life alone.

Xuan Yi held his hand in return: “Who asked you to come busy yourself with these tasks? I already told you to rest properly. Later, move to Qing Di Palace—it’ll save Father and Qing Yan from having to manage things.”

Qi Nan laughed helplessly: “You scheming little thing—you want to keep this old man around to continue managing things for you, don’t you?”

The Princess twisted his sleeve into a spiral: “I can’t bear to part with you.”

How could he bear to part with her? Qi Nan gazed quietly at the Princess, who today was pure and beautiful beyond compare. In the blink of an eye, that once secluded and distant little Princess had grown so much, become so wonderful, and was even marrying her beloved Dijun. He felt both gratified and somewhat melancholy.

Qing Yan supported him from behind: “Qi Nan, today you absolutely must hold it in—don’t cry.”

Alright, he would try his best. Qi Nan forcefully held back his tears.

Seeing that it was nearly noon and the guests were about to arrive, the young Qinghua Dijun swept his long sleeves, and the Qing Di Palace mountain gate opened wide. Ten thousand golden flowers fell from the void, scattering everywhere. The water mist pervading the mountains and waters seemed to be parted by a pair of giant hands in an instant, and brilliant sunlight poured down in torrents, causing points of golden light to dance upon Chengjiang Lake.

Xuan Yi leaned against the railing of the Pale Moon Pavilion, her chin propped in her hand as she stared blankly at the bronze bell before her. Suddenly, a hand stroked her hair, and a small food box was brought before her as Fucang’s voice sounded softly: “Hungry, aren’t you?”

Opening the food box, inside were two rows of peach blossom hundred-fruit cakes. She looked at the refreshments, then raised her head to look at this newly appointed, spirited Qinghua Dijun. She smiled gently and instead closed the lid: “I won’t eat it—otherwise, my rouge will be gone.”

Fucang sat beside her, pinching his chin as he examined her exquisite makeup, chuckling softly: “Mm, today you do look somewhat different.”

What do you mean “somewhat different”—clearly very different, alright?

Xuan Yi helped him tie the silk cord on his chin more attractively. Actually, over these years, they hadn’t been together all that much. Back then, she had stayed in Chunjun for less than ten years before growing her first dragon scale, and was immediately retrieved by her daughter-obsessed father to Zhongshan. After her dragon scales fully grew in, the long-waiting Wangshu Shennu tossed the position of Wangshu to her, and since then she had lived in Wangshu Palace.

The divine position of Wangshu was unlike others. Though leisurely, one could not be negligent even for a day. Fucang could only come to Wangshu Palace to see her after completing his war general duties. Subsequently, due to various troublesome matters like rampaging fierce beasts and restless subjugated great lords, they had always spent little time together and much apart. Now that he had ascended to the position of Qinghua Dijun, he could finally have some leisure.

“The guests are about to arrive. Isn’t His Majesty Qing Di going to greet them?” Xuan Yi blew gently on the silk cord at his chin, her voice soft and coquettish.

Fucang grasped her hand and pulled her up to stand, gracefully stepping out of the Pale Moon Pavilion: “My consort should naturally accompany me.”

The grand feast began, and music played. The newly married Dijun and his consort moved gracefully through the guests, toasting them. It was said that because the Dijun’s consort could not tolerate the smell of alcohol, the wine used today was the extremely mild Luofu Spring, which unexpectedly suited the ancient, simple, and elegant scenery of Qing Di Palace.

Qi Nan, who had accidentally drunk too much, was muttering something to the previous generation Qing Di; the new Zhongshan Dijun was drinking with the Ninth Imperial Son, also talking about something unknown; Gu Ting, the third son of Hua Huang, had been cornered by the lonely previous generation Zhongshan Dijun, talking about who knows what; his wife, the Chi Di Princess, was energetically trying to introduce suitable divine lords to her fellow disciple Zhi Xi; Baize Dijun stared entranced at the scales of the golden carp in Chengjiang Lake; the long-married Xihe Shennu drank cup after cup, sobbing in her husband’s arms; Crown Prince Chang Qin was laughing and drinking heartily with his old comrades from the Dingmao Division.

No matter how refined, a wedding banquet was inevitably clamorous. After finishing a round of toasts, Fucang, who had stolen half a day of leisure from his floating life, led the Dragon Princess by the hand to the edge of Chengjiang Lake to watch the two golden carp, now much larger in size.

Xuan Yi spoke leisurely: “Senior Brother Fucang, after the wedding banquet ends, let’s go out and have fun.”

She had already grown moldy from boredom being the Wangshu Shennu, yet Fucang still wouldn’t select a new Feilian Shenjun for the Wenhua Hall. He probably couldn’t accept her living in Wangshu Palace together with another divine lord and driving the moon carriage together every night. Before, she had stayed at Zhongshan for so many years without feeling bored, but ever since being with him, she seemed to easily feel lonely when alone.

Now she finally had three hundred years of leave because of the grand wedding—this time she absolutely had to play to her heart’s content.

“Where do you want to go?” Fucang drew her into his embrace. After waiting for quite a while with no response, he looked down only to see her concentrating on rolling a small snowball, which she then pressed against her forehead. He had just carelessly let her drink a few cups of Luofu Spring—this Dragon Princess with absolutely no tolerance for alcohol must be getting dizzy again.

“Elder Brother told me he has no intention of marrying.” Fucang stroked her hair as if petting a cat. “He also said that if it doesn’t work out, he’ll find a goddess willing to bear children for him to continue the Zhuyin Clan bloodline.”

What doesn’t work out? The intoxicated Dragon Princess’s reactions were a bit slow.

Fucang looked at her hazy eyes and couldn’t help smiling. He leaned down and gently kissed her lips painted with bright rouge. The taste of the rouge wasn’t bad at all. He licked away the fragrance from his lips and continued: “I’m hoping the first will be of Huaxu Clan blood. I’m afraid the Zhuyin Clan blood will have to be wronged to wait a bit longer.”

Xuan Yi was quite dizzy, yet still managed to put on an expression of trying hard to think. Fucang removed the snowball from her forehead, and she leisurely rolled another one to press there.

It seemed she was truly drunk. Fucang touched her feverish face and said gently: “Hold on, don’t sleep—you’re the host today, after all.”

But if she really couldn’t hold on, then sleep—just leave everything to him.

*

On the second day of the second lunar month, when the dragon raises its head, the wedding banquet of Qinghua Dijun and the Zhuyin Clan Princess lasted three days.

What left the deepest impression on the guests was not the ceremony’s refinement or grandeur. When they entered the Qing Di Palace mountain gate—the Princess’s red robes and raven hair, the Dijun’s dignified and handsome elegance, this pair of lovers greeting guests hand in hand—they truly eclipsed even the colors of the entire mountain landscape.

Mortals often speak of “divine immortal couples”—these four characters, when applied to them, were remarkably apt.

Stories about them from days past were also unearthed, becoming topics of relish among the gods.

“That shade of red on Princess Xuan Yi’s wedding dress was truly beautiful.” Amidst the chirping and chattering, a goddess suddenly expressed her sentiment. “I wonder what I’ll look like when I marry.”

Among the wildly reveling and dissolute gods in the colorful flower gardens, everyone laughed: “Marry? That’s probably not quite suitable for us. Which divine lord could we look at for a hundred years without getting tired of him?”

After speaking, the alluring goddesses turned their heads toward the Dijun who reclined languidly on the jade platform, chin propped in hand, drinking: “Dijun, guess how long before they separate?”

The fiery red jewel on the Dijun’s forehead flickered. His features were handsome and beautiful, as compelling as strong liquor and sharp blades.

He tilted his head and thought for a moment: “I guess… probably they’ll never separate for all their lives.”

The goddesses laughed coquettishly: “Why does the Dijun say this? Could it be you’re also an infatuated romantic?”

The Dijun laughed out loud with a “tch,” not answering this question. He tilted his head back to drain the wine in his cup, then beckoned to them with a gesture that was leisurely and elegant.

Soft jade and warm fragrance filled his embrace once more.

Upon the golden latticed windows, the clear and brilliant sunlight blazed like flames. A delicate and distinctive white snow phoenix was sealed within a transparent crystal box, its long silk ribbons seeming ready to take flight.

Never melting for ten million years—Zhuyin’s white snow.