Qun Qing sent out news of Prince Zhao’s confinement.

Among Great Chen’s imperial princes, only Prince Yan and Prince Zhao could lead troops in battle. Now that Prince Zhao had been deposed, Nan Chu was very satisfied with her achievements. The next day they sent a paper slip, assigned her ten more operatives, and included a letter from Weiran.

In the letter, Weiran said that her mother Zhu Ying had recovered from her injuries and awakened, though she was melancholy and listless, recuperating at Weiran’s home, telling her to rest assured.

Qun Qing continued reading downward. At the bottom of the paper slip, two birds of different forms were vividly drawn flying through clouds. Qun Qing’s heart stirred. She took a needle and traced along the outline of the drawing, letting window light pass through these hollow spaces to project on the wall.

Four winding characters: “Safe, seek not.”

Who else could communicate with her using this kind of cipher text besides Mother?

So Zhu Ying truly was alive, right there in Nan Chu. But Mother’s character was resilient and unyielding—unwilling to become a tool for Nan Chu to coerce her, she would rather be separated from her by heaven and earth, telling her not to attempt rescue.

Unfortunately, Zhu Ying underestimated her daughter’s stubborn nature.

Confirming that Mother was still alive on her wedding day at least brought some comfort to Qun Qing’s heart. As dawn broke, after bathing, Qun Qing swept her long hair forward over her neck, dried her body, and put on layers upon layers of auspicious garments.

Three matrons had already entered the room, smiling as they bustled about helping her. One said: “Congratulations on your wedding, young lady. This humble one was invited by Officer Qun to help the lady dress her hair. Just call me Matron Wang.”

Qun Qing raised her head and saw Qun Cang’s loving gaze in the mirror. Qun Cang held three copper coins in his hand, smiling gently: “Once you leave the door in a moment, Father will hang the wedding money on you.”

Qun Qing felt timid in her heart because she was not the real Qun Qing.

So as she lowered her eyes, she realized one benefit of marrying Lu Huating—at least she could use his hand to bring down Meng Guangshen as soon as possible and seek justice for the Qun family. Only then could she calmly accept this deep kindness.

“The lady’s hair is truly black and thick—she will surely be blessed in the future.”

“Her features are also delicate.”

One matron combed up Qun Qing’s hair while another applied makeup and painted her eyebrows.

Facing the compliments, Qun Qing cooperated like a puppet. The third matron stuffed a wooden box into her hands. Qun Qing opened it and stared at the two naked, entwined little figures inlaid on the box for a full moment before closing it with an unchanged expression.

That matron couldn’t help but greatly admire her: “Truly worthy of being a lady serving in the palace! In all this old woman’s travels through streets and alleys, I’ve never seen such a composed and generous bride.”

Qun Qing said nothing. She simply didn’t feel this item had any connection to her.

Matron Wang handed her a fan to cover her face. The mandarin duck needlework on this fan was shockingly crude. Qun Qing turned it to examine it, and under the matrons’ astonished gazes, pulled open a drawer, took out needle and thread herself, and quickly began supplementary embroidery.

Just as she was thinking this, clamor from outside the window entered the room. Matron Wang pushed open the window and exclaimed: “How did they arrive so early?”

Qun Qing looked out the window and saw that in the fine rain, a brilliant red bridal sedan chair was already waiting. Lu Huating wore red garments, a ceremonial crown on his head, sitting upright on horseback. Juan Su and the others had also changed into new silk clothes and followed behind him.

Rain threads clung to his clothes, making his countenance even more brilliant and beautiful, drawing frequent backward glances from common folk in the streets and alleys. Yet Lu Huating showed no reaction, one hand gripping the reins as that white horse, thoroughly bored, took mincing steps in place.

As if sensing something, he raised his eyes to look over. Qun Qing had already closed the wooden window, embroidered two more stitches, and bit off the thread: “Let’s go.”

When the flower sedan was carried into Prince Yan’s mansion, joyful sounds of music and firecrackers filled the courtyard, yet the sky darkened.

Shouxing said: “Look how thick those dark clouds are—if heaven doesn’t cooperate in a moment and heavy rain falls, it will be quite embarrassing.”

But the person in the sedan chair made no sound.

The Crown Prince’s sedan passed by Prince Yan’s mansion. He ordered the sedan stopped but forbade any announcement. So this gold-inlaid sedan quietly stopped outside the wall, watching as the flower sedan was carried into Prince Yan’s mansion.

Li Xuan lifted the sedan curtain and saw Lu Huating bending down to help Qun Qing out of the sedan.

Green auspicious garments, golden silk shoes, round fan covering her face.

The bride descended from the sedan but did not take the groom’s hand, instead walking directly ahead, then turning back slightly. The wind carrying rain意 blew their garment hems together in layers—it actually carried the意 of confrontation.

Following Matron Wang’s instructions, Qun Qing covered her face with the fan, only seeing six palace maids expertly bowing to spread felt mats on the ground, leading straight to the bridal chamber.

A moment later, the scent of citrus approached. Lu Huating arrived at her side, knowing her displeasure: “My lady wouldn’t think this one repays kindness with enmity, would she?”

Did this even need asking? Qun Qing did not speak.

“My lady’s actions have already offended Prince Zhao and the Meng family. Besides marrying this one and borrowing Prince Yan’s mansion’s power for protection, is there another choice?”

Qun Qing said: “That still doesn’t make marriage a joking matter.”

Lu Huating glanced at her, saw her serious expression, paused briefly, and smiled: “Does my lady have someone she wishes to marry?”

“Haven’t thought about it in detail,” Qun Qing said. “But the Chief Clerk’s future marriage prospects are also delayed together. This is an imperial marriage decree. Even if after success we divorce, wanting to remarry will likely be difficult.”

Lu Huating was silent for a moment, then said: “My lady thinks too far ahead. This one is a solitary boat traveling at night, only looking at what’s before me.”

Qun Qing lowered her eyes, looking at the brazier at her feet. Seeing her unwilling to move, Lu Huating took the lead, lifting his hem to step over it, then turned to look at her, extending his hand toward her.

The palace maids spreading felt mats immediately exchanged glances, and even Li Huan seated in the main position in the hall frowned, because this brazier was for the new bride to step over—what logic was there in the groom stepping over it first?

Just as Qun Qing was about to place her hand on Lu Huating’s hand, Li Xuan set down his wine cup, his phoenix eyes ice-cold. Through his sleeve, he caressed the hard mechanism within—the sleeve arrow he carried for self-defense. His fingers wandered for a long time before pressing down. Though it was clearly an extremely simple motion, he didn’t know how much force he had used, his fingers trembling.

That sleeve arrow broke through the air, shooting toward Lu Huating’s back.

In that instant, both Qun Qing and Zhu Su heard the sound of wind. However, Lu Huating’s grip on her hand only tightened for a moment before returning to normal. From above her fan, Qun Qing raised her eyes to meet Lu Huating’s black gaze. The expression on his pale face remained unchanged, containing a slight smile. The music in her ears also remained festive and lively.

For a moment, Qun Qing only suspected it was her own illusion as she stepped over the brazier amid the clamor.

“Return to the palace,” Li Xuan lowered the carriage curtain, instructing Shouxing. As if all his strength had been drained, his tone was extremely light.

This carriage departed silently, as if it had never been there.

On this side, palace maids and eunuchs clapped their hands in congratulation as the two finally arrived inside the bridal chamber. Within the hundred-sons canopy enclosed by silk, the etiquette matron from Prince Yan’s mansion was already thoroughly vexed.

These two seated opposite each other didn’t seem like newlyweds but rather like bitter enemies:

At the hair-binding ceremony, the lady spoke first, tentatively asking if they could avoid cutting her hair.

Learning this was not possible, she then allowed the palace maids to cut a length of her black hair as if she were a wooden or clay statue.

The two stared fixedly at the two locks of black hair tied together. Neither spoke, but the atmosphere was utterly unlike joy.

Next was the nuptial cup ceremony. The two raised their wine cups, but only after the etiquette matron had properly arranged their posture did they reluctantly interlock their arms.

Qun Qing only felt the two of them competing against each other. This cup of nuptial wine reached her lips but somehow could not be drunk.

She raised her eyes. Lu Huating had already dragged her arm over, forcibly drinking the wine first, his black eyes smiling with slight provocation as he looked at her.

Qun Qing then moved her wine cup away, extending her arm to forcibly press it against his lips: “Since the gentleman enjoys drinking, you drink this cup too.”

The etiquette matron was greatly alarmed: “That won’t do—the nuptial wine is meant to be drunk by both together!”

On this side, Lu Huating had already drunk the wine from her cup while holding her hand.

He gazed at her, his lip color tinged with deep red, carelessly wiping his lips. Qun Qing felt an indescribable feeling in her heart and picked up the fan to shield her face.