The two of them pressed their foreheads to the ground in the final bow. The woman of complete fortune and wholeness stepped forward to help the bride to her feet, and Hua Bailin crouched down once more before his eldest sister and lifted her onto his back.

From behind came the sound of weeping. Hua Zhi’s heart clenched. She forced herself to suppress the impulse to look back. The Great Qing had a tradition of the bride weeping at her departure. The Hua Family had intended to perform it as a formality, so as not to invite idle gossip — but the Prince Regent himself had put a stop to that, stating directly that the Grand Preceptor was not to be subjected to such an ordeal. The Hua Family had been only too glad to comply; even Zhu Shi, who was made of water through and through, had held herself together until today.

But once the weeping started, it could not be stopped. Her eyes had long since swollen beyond recognition. Hua Zhi’s heart ached for a mother like this. She was perhaps not strong; she had always placed her husband above all else, and was the most traditional of women in that respect. Yet she had also been a worthy mother. These two years, she had forced herself to grow, forced herself to take charge of matters — and had not realized, herself, that she was no longer the same woman she had been two years ago, the one who had only known how to wipe her tears and had not a single decisive idea of her own. She had become someone else entirely.

There were many people Hua Zhi had protected over the years — most of them incidentally, though a few were ones she had to protect. Yet without her noticing, she had also been protected in return. Even if that protection had never been strong enough to truly shield her, the intention behind it had been genuine beyond any doubt.

Her grandfather, bearing the grief of losing a wife, had not revealed a trace of guilt or self-reproach in her presence. While she recuperated from her illness, he had returned to court with a forcefulness he had never shown before, intent on standing in front of her to block every wind and rain that might come. He never spoke of how he intended to treat her well — he only came each day without fail to see her, speaking to her of court affairs without any reservation, affirming through his actions her place in the Hua Family.

Her father, who had never in half a lifetime raised his voice at anyone, would speak out sharply when others made pointed or inadvertent remarks about a father who fell short of his daughter. He had even said that if his very existence was a hindrance to her, he was willing to resign from his position. He had also given up a private treasure he had cherished for years, in exchange for a wedding gift of auspicious meaning for her.

Her younger brother, still only a young man, had already taken on a man’s sense of responsibility. He had been working hard to grow, hoping to become the one who would support the backbone she stood upon.

“Hua Hua!”

Hua Zhi pressed her face against Bailin’s shoulder and smiled through tears. And then there was this foolish girl — someone she had known for barely two years and more, yet who felt like someone she had known for an entire lifetime, who had given her every last bit of her trust and reliance. How fortunate she was. In this life, she had been given so much.

Shao Yao was somewhat disheveled — her pinned-up hair somewhat scattered, her clothes torn in a few places, mud caked on her shoes. She came running over, clutching a bundle and calling out with loud excitement, “Hua Hua, I found the main ingredient! You will be well again very soon…”

“Shao Yao!” Gu Yanxi’s voice dropped low in a sharp reprimand.

Shao Yao stopped dead, then gave a dopey grin and a hopeful look in Yan-ge’s direction. She had not forgotten what day it was — she had simply been too happy. She and her master had been working with an old formula together, and it was extraordinarily beneficial for Hua Hua’s constitution. The main ingredient had been maddeningly difficult to find, and yet she had gone ahead and tried to look for it — and somehow actually managed to find it. She had simply been, just a little bit, too thrilled.

Gu Yanxi shot her a stern look. “Get yourself back inside.”

Shao Yao obediently retreated from the courtyard.

Everyone tried to hold back their laughter. Shao Yao was the kind of person it was very hard to dislike. She was impulsive, and if she took a liking to someone, she would give everything she had for them without reservation — and even when she stirred up a little mischief, she only made people find her endearing.

The wedding rites resumed.

To the sound of festive music, Hua Bailin carried his eldest sister to the bridal palanquin. The woman of complete fortune and wholeness lifted the curtain, and amid the ceremonial chants, the bride was escorted inside.

Before stepping away, Hua Bailin said quietly, “Eldest Sister, Bailin will always be behind you. Always.”

Hua Zhi closed her eyes and smiled, her own voice equally quiet. “Eldest Sister knows.”

Hua Bailin’s eyes reddened. He stepped back two paces. The palanquin curtain fell, concealing the young bride who in this moment looked no different from any ordinary woman taking her leave. From this day forward, it was his turn to shield his eldest sister from wind and rain.

“Carry the palanquin!”

Amid the sound of firecrackers, the palanquin rose steadily. Behind it, Hua Bailin led the way, the Hua Family’s young men following in his wake. This time it was not only the younger children — every member of this generation of the Hua Family, dressed in the deep blue scholar’s robes distinctively worn by the family, followed behind. Yang Sui’an and Zeng Han were among them. They had come to see the Hua Family’s eldest daughter off. It was the younger generation’s own decision, and not a single elder of the Hua Family had tried to stop them.

The Hua Family had always kept to the middle path, it was true — yet in this matter, they were willing to be conspicuous. They wanted every person watching to know: every man of the Hua Family stood behind their eldest daughter.

Hua Zhi could not see any of this. She quietly lifted her red veil and raised a corner of the curtain, watching the familiar scenery slowly recede outside — slowly, to be stored away in memory. She was to be married. After this, this place would be her parental home, and whenever she returned, she would be a guest.

A guest. Such a heartbreaking word. Hua Zhi suddenly felt the weight of it. She did not want to be a guest of the Hua Family — this was home, clearly home, the home she had given so much to protect and preserve.

Yet she still had to go. More than her reluctance to leave any of this — she could not bear to let Yan Xi stand alone.

She let the curtain fall. Hua Zhi smoothed her hands over the jade ruyi resting on her lap and smiled gently. A guest it was, then. Come often enough, and any guest becomes a familiar face.

The grand procession moved out of Hualin Lane, taking on the return journey the same road along which the dowry had been sent — for in a wedding, taking the same path back is not permitted. Because of this, even more people lined this road than before. They were smiling, with no trace of hardship on their faces. It was the image of a prosperous and peaceful age.

“May the Prince Regent and the Grand Preceptor live a hundred years in harmony!”

Someone called this out first — no one knew who — as though a floodgate had been opened. The words gathered into a roaring tide that surged up to fill the sky. Gu Yanxi was also moved. From atop his horse, he clasped his hands together in gratitude toward both sides of the road.

It was not proper for Hua Zhi to show her face, so the several senior maids accompanying the bridal palanquin on either side performed curtsy after curtsy as they walked. Behind them, every member of the Hua Family’s young generation, regardless of age, performed the scholar’s bow. Those offering blessings did so with sincerity, and those returning the gesture replied with equal sincerity.

The Emperor watched all of this and smiled. The peaceful and thriving age his Grand Preceptor had yearned for with every breath could now be foreseen with certainty. The smiles on the faces of these ordinary people were the finest wedding gift the Grand Preceptor could receive.

At that moment, someone drew up alongside him. He turned to look — it was Shao Yao. He laughed. “Were you not told to go back first? Whoever heard of a younger sister-in-law coming along to escort the groom’s party?”

“There is an Emperor here escorting the groom’s party too — what is a younger sister-in-law compared to that?” Shao Yao shot back with a cheerful grin. “Besides, who said I am here for the escort party? I am clearly here to see the bride off — I am walking Hua Hua from the Hua Family all the way to the estate, and then we will all go home together!”

The Emperor burst out laughing at her completely unreasonable logic.

Walking at the head of the procession, Gu Yanxi heard this and shook his head with weary resignation. He turned and gave the two of them a warning look. Could she not lower her voice even a little?

The two of them simply grinned in unison and neither paid the groom any attention, turning instead to take in the spectacular and rarely-seen scene before them. The Emperor thought to himself: he would have the imperial historians record this wedding — a wedding blessed by all the world — as part of history, so that no one in any future age could ever question, in any way, the happiness of the Grand Preceptor.