The preparations for the evening wedding rites were proceeding in an orderly fashion. The masters of ceremony that Madam Ming had engaged had presided over the joyous affairs of many wealthy and distinguished households, and seeing Madam Ming going back and forth in a flurry, one of them said: “The Duke’s Lady need not be anxious — with us here, all arrangements will have their place, and everything will be conducted beautifully. Madam need only set her heart at ease.”

Madam Ming laughed with some embarrassment, and said jokingly: “Truly, a child’s wedding has left me more flustered than I was at my own. When I was married, I cannot recall being half this worried.”

The master of ceremony tucked his hands in his sleeves and smiled: “That is only natural — when you were married, the one rushing about in a flurry was Her Highness the Grand Princess Imperial. All parents in the world are the same — who among them does not worry over their child? ‘Raise a child for a hundred years, and for ninety-nine of them you will be anxious’ — time flies so quickly, and in an instant one has arrived at the years of sending one’s own child out the door.”

Indeed, in a blink, twenty years had gone by. They shared a moment of feeling the swift passage of time, and then it was the auspicious hour for the bride’s face to be prepared.

The face preparation was a rite marking the end of girlhood. The fine, soft down on the face was the sign of childhood; once it was removed, one had truly grown into full adulthood.

The master of ceremony stood to one side reciting words of good fortune while Yun Pan sat facing the matron who would perform the rite, leaning forward as the matron dusted her face thickly with a powder puff.

The cotton thread in the matron’s hands was twisted taut, and when it was pressed against the skin it rolled rapidly across the surface. Yun Pan heard crisp snapping sounds, bursting across her face in quick succession.

Whether it was painful or not — it was not too bad, only a sensation like a wave of tugging and pulling spreading across the skin, sweeping across in broad strokes. At the temples and cheeks especially, that decisive swiftness gave one something of a feeling of sudden clarity.

The matron’s hands were busy while her mouth was not idle either, chanting in bright, clear tones: “First stroke — granaries filled with gold; second stroke — a hall full of sons and grandsons… a blessed daughter enters a great and noble household; in days to come may she bring flourishing to her husband and children, with good fortune flowing on without end…”

After roughly the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the hairline and brow edges were at last perfectly clean. Yun Pan’s face burned with a tingling heat; she quickly took the cool damp cloth a serving woman handed her and pressed it against her face, until gradually the sensation subsided.

Madam Ming bent down and leaned in, examining her face carefully, then said with great satisfaction: “Your brows and eyes look even cleaner and brighter than before.”

Yun Pan, upon hearing this, looked into the mirror. The bronze mirror reflected a face that was unchanged — apart from her cheeks being slightly flushed, there seemed to be no great difference at all.

There was a lengthy series of customary ceremonies to be completed after that, during which she also had to receive the noble ladies and young women who had come to observe. Since the formal wedding procession would not come until dusk and early evening, they did not linger too long, and drifted in and out in groups at intervals — by the time the last had been seen off around the hour of Shen, things were more or less settled.

Only the matter of dressing and arranging her hair remained. Yun Pan had a stretch of time now that was entirely her own. Throughout the day she had not seen Cousin Mei Fen, who had surely stayed away to avoid the unfamiliar guests. As for seeing her off at the door — that would likely not happen. But she could go and see her now, thank her cousin for looking after her all this while, and say farewell to the girlhood years of the inner chambers.

The gate to Zi Lan Garden was perhaps latched shut to keep people from wandering in by mistake — she could only knock on the ring to call for someone to open it. The little maid keeping the gate inside heard her voice, came and lifted the latch, and turned to call inside that Yun Pan had come.

Ba Bao came out to receive her and guided her toward the main room; Mei Fen, upon hearing the news, came to wait for her at the end of the covered corridor, reaching out her hand from a distance: “You are so busy today — why have you come here?”

Yun Pan reached out and took her hand. “The lady guests have all been moved over to the great courtyard on the west side, and I no longer need to receive them, so I came to let A’Jie have a look at me.”

She was wearing the formal dark going-away gown — the black silk ceremonial dress worn when a bride takes her leave of parents and elders with tea and prostrations before departing — the color was deep and grave, not something one would ordinarily put on, and wearing it truly gave one the feeling of soon being someone’s wife.

She had not come to show off her attire, but leaned in to let Mei Fen look at her face. “The matron threaded my face — look how clean it is now. That cotton thread plowed across my face like it was cutting through deadwood, and I was genuinely afraid she might take off my eyelashes along with everything else.”

Yun Pan had not a trace of sorrow about her — she was exactly as she always was. Mei Fen looked at her in the daylight; her skin was indeed more luminous and clear than usual.

They chatted and laughed as they usually did. But Ba Bao, standing to one side, was consumed with anxiety. Her young mistress was too timid; if those around her were also without resolve, then the day something truly happened, there would not be a single person to turn to.

“Young mistress…” Ba Bao called Mei Fen in a plaintive tone, gesturing for her to tell Yun Pan what had happened the day before.

Mei Fen paid her no mind and went right on talking with Yun Pan about the evening’s wedding rites — asking when the young master would arrive, and what time the auspicious hour for departing had been set.

Ba Bao was on the verge of tears. “Young mistress, won’t you say something?”

Mei Fen clearly did not wish to trouble Yun Pan at this moment; she frowned: “Am I not talking with Yun Pan right now? What is all this fuss about?”

Yun Pan noticed that Ba Bao seemed a little off, and raised her eyes to ask: “What is it? Does Ba Bao have something to tell me?”

Mei Fen deflected with ease. “I cannot bear for you to be married and gone, and was saying as much to her last night — how cold and quiet it will be without Yun Pan, and how I would like you to come back and stay a few days when you have time. But I am also wary of Princess Consort Liang and Madam Hu — I am afraid their rules are strict and they will not let you go out. So the girl is worried about my loneliness, and in a hurry for me to say so to you. Now that I think about it, how many people have been kept in worry by this temperament of mine — even the serving women beside me are put to trouble.”

Ba Bao, hearing her cover it up so completely, knew she had truly decided not to speak — all her own anxious rushing about had been for nothing. She could only resign herself, and retreated sullenly to one side.

Yun Pan, unsuspecting, took it entirely at face value, and said: “Once you are inside someone else’s household, things are indeed not as free as in your own family home. But A’Jie, do not worry — whenever there is a chance, I will certainly ask permission from the senior family members and come back to keep you company for a few days.”

Mei Fen said good, good, and gave a sigh: “I can begin to feel something of what a parent must feel sending a daughter off — a perfectly good girl, and in a blink she has become someone else’s family…”

Yun Pan, hearing this, nestled into her arms and made a good show of being affectionate and a little spoiled, then laughed: “Aunt and A’Jie think of me, and I have a family home to return to — if I had been in the Youzhou marquis household, I fear the road home would have been cut off the moment I walked out the door.”

She said a few more heartfelt words, and then Nanny Yao sent someone to the courtyard gate to call for her.

Yun Pan could not stay longer. She rose and said: “A’Jie, I am going.”

Mei Fen said with a sense of guilt: “I cannot see you off. Take care of yourself in all things, and remember what I told you.”

She nodded, and returned arm in arm with Qin Dan to Yi Peng Xue. Inside, the masters of ceremony and the matrons were already standing in full readiness. Nanny Yao said: “The hour is nearly upon us, young mistress. Please go and bid farewell to the senior family members first — the procession from the Duke’s residence will be arriving shortly.”

And so, surrounded and escorted by a great train of attendants, she was ushered to the front hall. Entering the room, she saw that Father, Uncle, and Aunt were seated in the place of honor — though their stations differed, the joy on each face was the same.

Jiang Heng’s eyes were a little red at the rims. He watched his daughter, dressed in her formal going-away gown, step in one pace after another, and only in this moment did he suddenly realize that this child he had watched grow up had truly come to the day of becoming someone’s wife.

Yun Pan raised both hands to her brow and made a full deep bow to Jiang Heng: “I thank Father for the grace of raising and educating me all these years.”

Jiang Heng extended a hand to help her rise — though in truth he felt he did not deserve it. If raising was what he had provided, then it was the County Princess who had poured her whole heart into the child; he himself had not really fulfilled his duty as a father. If education was what was meant — from the time she began her studies, he recalled only having taught her to recite one poem, “Song of a Wandering Son” — could that truly be called education?

Yet the ritual required it of him, so he could only stiffen himself and accept it. While the young master had not yet arrived and there was still a moment to say something warm, he called her name: “Si Si — your father has had many failings in the past. I am truly sorry to you. I hope you can forgive your father.”

The matron helped Yun Pan to her feet; she smiled gently and said: “The Kaiguo Marquis Household will always be daughter’s home. Even after I am married, I will not sever ties with my family — Father need only set his heart at ease.”

Jiang Heng nodded, and hearing those words, the lingering parting sorrow was considerably washed away. He began to turn over the meaning of what she had said — even after marrying into someone else’s household, she would still involve herself in her family’s affairs — was that what she meant?

Duke Shuguo and his Lady harbored none of this father’s weightier thoughts; they had organized this wedding entirely without private motives, wanting only to see the child sent off in a dignified and honorable manner.

Yun Pan prostrated herself, pressing her forehead to the cushioned mat: “I give heartfelt thanks to Uncle and Aunt for their generous care — for managing this great affair on my behalf as if I were your own daughter.”

Madam Ming rose from her seat and came forward to help her up, and said gently: “Good child — as long as you go forward smoothly and without hardship, that is all Aunt could hope for.”

As for her heart — there was always a slight ache of guilt. What winds and waves this marriage might bring, no one yet knew. Si Si was receiving in Mei Fen’s place what should have been Mei Fen’s lot; she felt a thousand, ten thousand apologies, and yet felt she had wronged her nonetheless.

But the words could not be spoken — more said, more mistaken. A thousand things were left unsaid, contained entirely in the tight press of their joined hands.

Yun Pan, having paid her respects to the senior family members, returned to her own courtyard to change her clothes and prepare for the departure.

A folding screen stood behind her. Beyond the screen, her young women friends and Madam Ming’s acquaintances among the noble ladies came and went; within the screen, Yun Pan sat before the dressing table, painting and refining her brows and eyes.

The matron for hair-dressing pinned up her hair. From this day forward, she would no longer wear the style of a young unmarried girl. Fringes and loose flowing hair — all of that had parted from her now. The matron wound that head of black hair into a neat and precise bun and inserted the bridal hairpin; it brought out a different kind of refined and graceful elegance.

Makeup applied, hair dressed, then the changing of clothes — a layer of underrobe, a layer of formal deep-robe, the waist sash tied, the pendant ornaments hung… Yun Pan stood before the mirror looking at herself, and seemed not to recognize the person she saw.

Nanny Yao stood to one side and said with a smile: “From today onward, young mistress is the mistress of the household.”

Yun Pan felt a little dazed. All her life she had heard the household servants address her mother as “Madam,” and now it was her own turn — she was going to another person’s house to be that Madam.

Suddenly outside there was a commotion, and the sound of pipes and drums drifted faintly into the inner courtyard. A serving woman hurried in to report: “The young master has come to receive the young mistress!”

Yun Pan looked out through the arched moon window — through the half-rolled bamboo blind, she could see that the stars had spread wide across the four corners of the sky, and the brilliant lanterns had already been lit. To say her heart was calm and without a ripple — that would not be true. She heard her heart beating, thump after thump. Not for who she was marrying, but simply for the wedding ceremony itself. She was a little apprehensive — afraid of not doing well, afraid of mis-stepping, afraid her bearing would not be suitably dignified. So many guests watching; from now on she was managing herself — she was no longer the treasured daughter of this or that noble household.

Madam Ming placed the silken round fan — sent from serving women — into her hands, and gave careful instructions: “Whatever happens — whether the wind rises or the rain falls, whether the guests create a clamor, even if the whole world is turned upside down — you must not lower the fan from your face. Do you understand?”

Yun Pan said yes, and looked down at the fan in her hands — it was made of fine patterned silk, with a beautifully embroidered pair of lotus blossoms growing from one stem in the center, and beside them two mandarin ducks.

Madam Ming still found it hard to let go, and said with tearful eyes: “Our Si Si is truly grown up now. Your mother, watching from heaven, must be overjoyed.” The sad words could not be dwelt upon. Hearing the urgent sounds of calling the bride to come, she turned and called out to the escort of serving women and matrons to form into procession, and see the young mistress off.

The master of ceremony began to chant: “Gates fashioned of beaten gold, rings hammered of polished gold — unhook the golden lock and step beyond the sandalwood pass…”

And with that, one embroidered, cloud-tipped shoe stepped across the moon gate of the inner courtyard.

Outside, the sky was clear and the ground bright, and the lantern light illuminated the road ahead for the bride, stretching into clarity. Down the central path of the outer courtyard, a crimson felt carpet had already been laid; stepping onto it, not a sound rose.

Ten fully-blessed matrons guided her forward. Through the thin, cool gauze of the fan, she saw someone standing in the brilliant light ahead — dressed in the ceremonial cap and dark formal robe, that grave and deep-colored garment setting off a face pale and composed; even through the haze, the brow and eyes were visible, still and serene as the sea.

The earlier fluttering anxiety gradually settled as she drew near. Under so many watching eyes, she was no longer alone — at least she had a companion.

There were not too many elaborate formalities on the bride’s family’s side. The wild goose ritual was completed, and then there remained only the formal bowing farewell to her father and to her uncle and aunt. The three senior family members, in full view of all the guests, received the new couple’s deep bow of greeting with great solemnity. In this moment Jiang Heng’s heart was satisfied — whatever had happened, the daughter was his daughter, the son-in-law was his son-in-law. With this bow, no one in the court above or below would mock him behind his back again.

Madam Ming took the ceremonial sash from the serving woman and tied it at Yun Pan’s waist. This was ordinarily a mother’s duty, but since her younger sister was no longer with them, she performed it in her place. As she tied it, she offered her guiding words: “From this day you are another’s wife. You must respect and serve the senior family members, restrain your temperament, and not be as indulged as you were at home. Before you speak, think three times; observe the proper distinctions of rank in all things.” She then looked toward Duke Weiguo with a warm smile: “May you, husband and wife, be harmonious and respectful to one another, and joined together always in one heart. Ji Fu — Si Si is now in your keeping.”

Li Chenjian said yes, and with both hands raised to his brow, bowed once more to Madam Ming. He turned and looked at the person with the silk fan covering her face — blurred and indistinct, her features were not yet visible — but from her silhouette alone he knew it was her.

He pressed his lips into a slight smile and said softly: “Si Si — come with me.”

That word, Si Si — it landed on the heart. A name one had long since grown used to hearing seemed, in this moment, to carry a different flavor entirely — one worth savoring for a while.

Yun Pan gave him a small nod. Beyond the gates, the drums and pipes swelled again. A concubine of Duke Shuguo’s supported her as she stepped across the threshold of the Duke’s residence, and at the foot of the steps, solemnly placed into her hands a silk pouch filled with the five grains: “May the young mistress never forget the kindness of her parents — whenever you look upon this pouch, remember your parents’ teachings.”

Yun Pan said she would, and dipped her knees slightly.

Looking back — the decorated wedding carriage sat waiting at the foot of the steps, bright with fresh ornamentation. The accompanying procession stretched forward and behind. Serving women held aloft gilded incense burners, and the air was suffused with the rich and mellow fragrance.

The escorting serving women helped her into the carriage. She settled in steadily, and only then could she breathe out a little. It was still the height of summer; the heavy, layered ceremonial garments had pressed a full sweat from her body. Fortunately two ice basins were placed in the carriage, their openwork tops letting a cool breath flow down through, and she began slowly to extricate herself from the heat.

The two residences were separated by some distance — one in the east, the other in the west, spanning nearly the entire breadth of the capital. Since Li Chenjian had served in the military in his early years and now oversaw the Imperial Guard, many of those who came to block the procession were military men of forthright and boisterous temperament; along the way, they encountered colleagues who had set up barricades and demanded to see the bride, or that the groom sing a song, or that he hand over an ox or a sheep.

Li Chenjian rode on horseback and cupped his hands in greeting: “On this day of great joy, I ask everyone to be lenient — when all is done, I will host a banquet to properly thank you all.”

He was both imperial kin and refined in bearing; those who blocked the procession were only in it for the festivity and had no intention of truly making things difficult. After working his way past one obstacle and through another, they finally arrived at the residence gate. The curtain on the carriage door was drawn back, and Li Chenjian came to the carriage side and bowed in invitation for her to alight. The household matrons of the Duke’s residence hurried forward holding felt mats and spread them out before the carriage — this was the rite of the rolling mat.

What did the rolling mat rite entail? The new bride walked forward as those behind her quickly took up the felt mat she had just trodden upon and laid it again on the path ahead, over and over with the fixed number of mats, covering the distance from here to the gate of the residence — and this was called “rolling the mat.”

Yun Pan was entering Duke Weiguo’s residence for the first time. The residence had formerly been the Prince Liang manor, and after Liang the Loyal and Devoted Prince had passed away and Li Chenjian was elevated to the rank of duke, the signboard had been changed to that of the ducal residence. By standing then — this residence was ranked two full grades above Duke Shuguo’s, which was the most visible difference between titles granted to members of the imperial clan and those awarded for meritorious service.

Passing in through the main gate, there was no need to linger in the front hall — one could proceed directly to the wedding chamber. Of course the bridegroom still had to come and formally invite her, and Yun Pan watched as the man across from her made a long, deep bow toward her: “Madam, please enter the bedchamber.”

She was already “Madam” now. Yun Pan heard this and found it slightly amusing — fortunately the round fan covered her face, so the flush of color rising in her cheeks was not seen by anyone.

The wedding customs following the Zhou rites were somewhat more elaborate than those of an ordinary wedding. After going through round after round of ceremonial observances and sacrificial rites, Yun Pan was so tired she felt nearly in a trance. Finally came the moment for lowering the fan — the fully-blessed matrons recited words of auspicious omen: “On this propitious night, two families unite in marriage; through a thousand years and ten thousand ages, preserved in good fortune and glory; with five sons and two daughters, and servants filling the halls…”

Nanny Yao came forward and curtsied, saying please lower your fan, young mistress. The person kneeling formally opposite watched intently as behind that exquisite round fan a clear and fine brow and eye gradually emerged — then a delicate and well-formed nose… the lips carried the trace of a smile; even if that smile was merely a matter of courtesy, it gave one the feeling of standing in a warm spring breeze.

Li Chenjian’s heart was settled and at peace. He looked for a long moment, then lowered his eyes. In the lamplight, his long and dense lashes swept downward — carrying with them a quality of fragile beauty.

After such a long and busy time, they could finally have a little something to eat. A low table was brought in from outside with white meat and fish set upon it. Of course one could not eat too much — only three bites, and it was immediately taken away. Matrons came forward with wine ladled with split gourds and held them to the couple’s lips, asking them to cleanse the palate and receive the offering — this was the most essential rite of the wedding, known as the shared-gourd rite. Once the wine was drunk, the two halves of the gourd were tied together with a red cord and placed on the table beside them. With this, the great wedding had reached its conclusion, conducted from beginning to end smoothly and with complete propriety.

The bridegroom could not linger long in the bridal chamber — there were still many friends and relatives outside who were waiting to be thanked. He rose to his feet and gave a small inclination of his body toward her: “No one will enter the wedding chamber. You may rest a while — you need not be constrained. I am going out to attend to the guests and may return rather late. If you are tired, please go ahead and sleep.”

Yun Pan rose to see him off. Looking at him again, she saw he had removed his ceremonial cap, revealing a clear and distinct hairline on either side. The deep-robe he wore was unlike his everyday clothing — the dark silk surface moved with subtle patterns beneath the light, making the person within seem all the more elevated and composed. He gave her a slight bow of the head, turned, and went out.