On the eve of the wedding, Qu Chen Shi’s spirits, which had been running high for quite some time, suddenly plummeted. She could not focus on a single character of the gift list, had no heart to discuss the banquet menu, and could not even bring herself to settle down and tend to all the miscellaneous arrangements for tomorrow’s escort.
Forcing herself to convey a few remaining undecided odds and ends to Yeolü Daniang and the other loyal servants, Qu Chen Shi found she could not sit still any longer. She decided to go and look in on her daughter’s small courtyard.
Qin Yao had been instructed by her mother to rest early, and was already in bed when she heard her mother arrive. She sat up groggily, blinking. “Mother.”
Qu Chen Shi came and sat down on the edge of the bed. By the light of the horn lantern beside the bed, she studied her daughter’s face — sleepy-eyed, her black hair falling loose over her shoulders, her flower-petal face flawlessly fair, her features still carrying a trace of childlike softness. Her heart wrenched, and she drew her daughter into her arms. “My precious child, tomorrow you’ll be married. How can your mother bear to let you go…”
Qin Yao’s drowsiness vanished in an instant. She promptly sat up out of her mother’s embrace, steadied her by the shoulders, and looked at her closely. Sure enough, her mother’s eyes were glistening with tears.
Qin Yao was startled, and her own nose immediately began to sting. “Mother…”
The emotion Qu Chen Shi had been suppressing for days suddenly crumbled all at once. Tears fell like pearls slipping from a broken string as she pulled Qin Yao close and said, “Good child, your mother isn’t sad — it’s just that I can’t bear to let you go. These years we’ve had together have been so few. Think of it — when you were only three years old, your father and I sent you away to Qingyun Temple. When you had just begun learning your skills from your master, you couldn’t even hold a horse stance without wobbling — you took tumble after tumble, and I stood watching from the side, and oh, how my heart ached. Your mother has been filled with bitterness — bitterness at not knowing what sins I committed in a past life, that both my children were born so frail and ailing. Bitterness at my own helplessness, at not being able to fall ill in your place — leaving such a small child to suffer so.”
Qin Yao kept wiping her mother’s tears away, crying herself as she said, “Mother, please don’t say such things. How could any of this be your fault?”
Qu Chen Shi shook her head, a great weight pressing upon her chest, her tears beyond stopping. “Later, when you had learned your full set of skills and were always going out with your master to subdue demons, every time you left, my heart would clench tight with worry, afraid something would go wrong. I couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t eat during the day — I had no peace until I saw with my own eyes that you had returned safely. A few years ago, your master told me that once you had your coming-of-age ceremony, you would no longer need to follow him around to deal with malevolent spirits. And so your mother counted the days until you came of age. But barely a few days have passed since your coming-of-age, and now my child is already to be married. When I think on it carefully, the days your mother and I have truly spent together these years have been pitifully few. How could I not feel pained?”
Qin Yao wrapped her arms around Qu Chen Shi’s neck, her forehead pressed against her mother’s cheek, weeping. “Mother, please say no more. I can’t bear to leave you and Father either.”
Qu Chen Shi had cried out her grief and then turned to look at Qin Yao. Seeing her daughter’s little nose and face all red from crying, even her eyelids tinged with a faint rosy blush, she was struck with a pang of remorse. “Look at me — all wrapped up in my own sadness, making you cry along with me. Your face is like this — how will you do your hair and makeup tomorrow? Good child, your mother isn’t truly grieving, only overjoyed for you. Stop your crying now.”
Even as she spoke, she gently and carefully dried Qin Yao’s tearstains, then asked A’Ping to have one of the servants fetch some well water, which she wrung out into a damp cloth and pressed over Qin Yao’s eyes.
After several changes of the cloth, when she saw that the swelling in Qin Yao’s eyes had subsided somewhat, Qu Chen Shi finally felt relieved. Then, recalling one crucial matter, she retrieved a picture album wrapped in a book cover from behind her, set it before Qin Yao, dismissed A’Ping and the others from the room, and addressed Qin Yao with great gravity: “Good child, tomorrow you’ll be wed. There are some things your mother needs to teach you in advance.”
Qin Yao was curious. She opened the album and took one look — then let out a startled exclamation and snapped the pages shut as though she’d been burned, diving headfirst under the covers and wrapping herself from head to toe.
It took Qu Chen Shi considerable effort to extract her daughter from the cocoon of blankets. “Foolish child, the union of husband and wife is perfectly natural and proper. Tomorrow you’ll be married — do you think you can hide from this? If you don’t take the time to study properly, you’ll be the one suffering tomorrow night. What’s more, the Young Lord is still so young, and he looks the way he does — if you know nothing at all of bedroom matters, mind you don’t give someone else an opening to take advantage.”
Qin Yao had been covering her face with her hands, but at these words she lowered them, caught somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. “Mother, he’s not that sort of person.”
“All right, all right — he’s not that sort of person.” Qu Chen Shi pushed the picture album back in front of her daughter without another word. “And precisely because he isn’t that sort of person, you ought all the more to know something of bedroom matters. Don’t shy away — listen to your mother. Whether you two can live a sweet and harmonious life together going forward — there is a great deal of artistry in that. Just look — don’t be fooled by how modest this album seems. The illustrations inside are truly excellent. Word has it they were smuggled out by a palace painter — genuinely priceless and near impossible to come by. Your mother only managed to obtain it after asking a great many favors.”
Qu Chen Shi spoke with such conviction and earnestness that Qin Yao, despite herself, felt her curiosity stir. After hesitating for a moment, she finally, through sheer force of will over her own embarrassment, quietly opened her eyes.
The next day, before dawn had even broken, Qin Yao was pulled out from under her warm blankets by Qu Chen Shi and a band of serving women, and her hair was dressed, her makeup applied, and she was helped into her wedding garments.
Qu Ziyu had fetched Qing Xuzi and A’Han to the Qu manor the day before. The master and disciple pair — one weighed down with unspoken feelings, the other grinning broadly — were both waiting in the main hall.
Qu Ziyu had tossed and turned for half the night and had not slept soundly. In the morning, he had wanted to go and see his sister one more time in her small courtyard, but the Qu manor was already overflowing with guests from early on, and he was kept so busy receiving them all that he entirely gave up the idea.
Shortly after morning, the wedding procession from Prince Lan’s household arrived. Besides the groom Lin Xiao, resplendent in his brilliant red wedding attire, there also came the Crown Prince, Prince Wu, and others serving as escorts — a company of spectacularly distinguished and prestigious figures, unprecedented in the splendor of any wedding procession before it.
Dozens of civil officials accompanied as well, headed by Mo Cheng and Wang Yikun from the Hanlin Academy, both men of tremendous renown in Chang’an. All along the way, they had composed no fewer than ten bridal summons poems, and those who saw them pass were moved to admiration, as the people of the time held literary talent in the highest esteem. Onlookers in the street exclaimed: “Chang’an hasn’t seen a wedding this lively in ten years. What a rare thing — all the attendants are people of distinction, and yet cultured and charming too. Nothing like those wealthy households that care only about making a show of splendor.”
The surrounding crowd voiced their agreement.
Lin Xiao rode a great white Ferghana horse with a reddish-purple sheen, with red silk tied around every saddle and stirrup. His wedding attire blazed red — a shade that might have looked garish on anyone else, yet on him only added to his dashing beauty and elegance. His expression at this moment was still relatively composed, yet the smile and anticipation shining in his eyes wrote the words “radiant with happiness” in unmistakable clarity.
Arriving at the gate of the Qu manor, Jiang Sanlang and the others called out with laughter, “The bride! The wedding escort is here!”
The main gate of the Qu manor remained firmly shut. From inside came a chorus of cheerful voices: “No bridal summons poem, and you shan’t lay eyes on the bride!”
Mo Cheng dismounted, cleared his throat, and recited aloud:
“The jade water-clock drips on, the Silver River runs clear; the Magpie Bridge newly built, a new road made. For the bridal summons poem is called, let the phoenix pipe and the simurgh song welcome her early. The jeweled carriage halts amidst parted clouds of color, arriving by mistake at the very peak of Penglai. Once the jade chamber is entered, the blossoms may be plucked — forever shall the mortal frame be borne away on the wind and thunder.”
From inside came the sound of scattered laughter, and then more clamoring: “One bridal summons poem is nowhere near enough — if you want to take the bride out, you’ll need at least eight or ten!”
Wang Yikun smiled and also dismounted, continuing with a verse of his own:
“From the Northern Garrison comes the dust of the Southern Commandery — do not let sweet intentions linger and delay. Though they say time in the heavens is set apart, yet in the world below, the water-clock does not cease to press. Smoke-hazed trees hang low, conjoined-stem apricots; painted boys bear up together the cups of union-joy. To play the flute is not the music of immortals — yet still it draws Qin E down from the phoenix terrace.”
After more than ten poems had been composed, the main gate of the Qu manor still showed no sign of opening. Someone called out with a laugh: “What if the groom himself composes one? If it’s good enough, let him in — if not, he can stand outside a little longer.”
The Crown Prince, hearing this, laughed heartily and called over to Lin Xiao, “Weijin, it seems unless you personally compose one, you won’t be seeing your bride for quite some time.”
Lin Xiao touched his nose, dismounted with unhurried courtesy, stepped up to the gate, clasped his hands in salute, and recited:
“Do not take up the painted fan and come out from behind the curtain, letting its shade delay the talent waiting on the steps. If you would have it round as the bright moon, then here the plum blossom must be set free to bloom.”
When those inside heard the groom was willing to compose a verse himself, laughter erupted like thunder, and the gate was flung open at once.
Jiang Sanlang and the others surged forward through the gates, still laughing.
Yeolü Daniang, upon hearing the news from the outer courtyard, quickly addressed those inside the room: “The groom and his party have already come in — quickly, help the young lady to the main hall.”
The hand-fan adorned with pearls was placed in Qin Yao’s hand, and the serving women carefully supported Qin Yao and escorted her out.
Qu Ziyu went ahead to clear the way, leading Qin Yao forward to the main hall.
As the bride emerged, the crowd fell momentarily silent, then erupted into animated sound — exclamations of awe and admiration rising from all sides.
Through the gaps in the fan, Qin Yao could dimly make out that everywhere in the courtyard was adorned in the auspicious red of celebration and happiness. The center of the path was covered with a red felt carpet — the custom of “keeping the bride’s slippers from touching the earth.”
At the far end of the red carpet stood a lone figure beside a horse, waiting in stillness. The moment he saw Qin Yao emerge, Lin Xiao’s face broke involuntarily into a smile. He swung down from the saddle and strode forward to meet her.
The moment Qin Yao laid eyes on Lin Xiao, the anxious restlessness she had felt before instantly settled. This man was so outstanding, so steady and reliable — someone to whom she could entrust her heart and soul without reservation. Whatever lay ahead, as long as the two of them stood by each other, moving forward and back together, what was there left to worry about?