She watched him walk out along the covered corridor; the lanterns hanging under the eaves lit his figure as it moved through layer after layer behind the golden split-bamboo blind and gradually vanished at the far end of the wooden walkway.

The shoulders and back that had been braced for so long finally allowed themselves to relax. She glanced around; they were all people she had brought with her, so there was no need for as much reserve. Yun Pan rubbed her shoulders and sat back down on the bed, and said with a laugh to Nanny Yao and Qin Dan: “Getting married once is more exhausting than riding through the night all the way from Youzhou to the capital.”

It was the most immediate comparison she could think of. She still remembered that day — disheveled and wretched, emerging from the inspection office, the rain pouring down, her clothes wet and plastered against her skin. When the escort had brought them before Duke Weiguo, she had tried her best to appear composed — but in his eyes she must have looked thoroughly bedraggled.

Looking back on it now, she felt rather embarrassed. She had assumed their lives would never cross again — and yet here she was, it having come to this. Though it was not by her own choosing, and she had been maneuvered by others into this step by chance and circumstance, the marriage was real, the rites had been completed, there was no going back at all — going forward, she was to spend the rest of her life alongside that person.

Nanny Yao understood her thoughts and offered gentle comfort: “Everyone in the world goes through this — only the wedding day is this elaborate, and only the wedding matters this much. From tomorrow on, it will be better. Once Madam has paid her respects to the grandmother-in-law and the mother-in-law, there will at most be some visiting among relatives and acquaintances — nothing else to cause any worry.”

Yun Pan nodded: “Tomorrow I must meet with the senior family members, and I feel quite unprepared inside. I will need Nanny to guide me from beside me.”

Nanny Yao smiled: “Madam has always conducted herself with composure and steadiness. Having this servant beside her is merely to give Madam moral support — there is no need for this servant to guide her. The senior family members of this ducal household are all very fine — Madam may set her heart completely at ease. As long as she serves them with sincerity and care, no senior family member would have the heart to be harsh with her.”

These were the polished words of a diplomatic person — after all, in someone else’s household, every word had to be chosen carefully. The rites for paying respects to the senior family members on the following day, Nanny Yao would of course instruct her in. A new bride’s every step in someone else’s residence could not be taken carelessly. Not to speak of others — that Madam Hu alone would be formidable enough, and this was precisely why Madam Ming had sent her to serve as the senior attendant in the bridal party.

But now was not the moment to dwell on such things. Nanny Yao said: “Madam has been tired all day. Please rest a while — when the Duke returns there will still be a great ritual to observe.”

Yun Pan was taken aback. “Were not all the great rituals completed just now? Are there more?”

But the moment she said it, she understood from the smiles on the matrons’ faces — the “great ritual” they spoke of was naturally the ritual between husband and wife.

She grew a little uneasy. After the wedding date was set, Aunt and the instructing nanny had come to impart the knowledge of a wife’s duties to her; she had listened in a haze of confusion, but understood roughly what was involved. She had always thought that matter to be something remote and far away — and now that it was truly before her, the thought of sharing a bed with a man she had met only two or three times made her skin prickle all over, and a wave of anxiety surged through her.

Her expression grew gradually subdued. Nanny Yao and Qin Dan, seeing this, could not help but worry. Nanny Yao said: “The Duke is a gentle and fastidious gentleman — nothing like those rough men outside. Madam need not be afraid.”

Yun Pan felt that it was awkward to discuss such things openly, and she shook her head: “It is all right — I have simply arrived at a new place and am not quite settled yet. It will pass in a moment.” Seeing them all watching her with worried eyes, she actually found herself smiling. “I am perfectly fine — why is everyone looking at me like that? You have been busy all this long while and have not had a single thing to eat. Go out and have something — don’t go hungry.”

Outside on the covered walkway, refreshments had been prepared for these bridal attendants. But everyone in the ducal household had manners — going hungry for a night would not kill them, and to abandon the new bride and go stuffing themselves would reflect poorly on Duke Shuguo’s household and bring criticism down on the young mistress. And so not a single person left the inner chamber.

The servants were discreet; Yun Pan herself had even more reason to be composed and dignified. She pressed both hands onto her knees and sat with a straight back and upright posture. Even when her neck grew stiff, at most she would turn her head to take in the arrangement of the room — that was already the most casual gesture she allowed herself.

That said, the room itself was very much as she had imagined it. A richness befitting a noble household was certainly there — every object was of the finest quality, and beautiful to behold.

But magnificent as it all was, it was not garish. For instance, on the scholar’s writing table, what stood in the tall elegant vase was not freshly cut seasonal flowers — it was two sprigs of dried lotus blossoms with seedpods still attached. This collision of the refined and the simple had produced a quality of bare, returning-to-roots serenity.

Night gradually deepened. Listening carefully, she could still hear the boisterous sounds from the front courtyard. Yun Pan sat quietly in place; sitting so long, she truly began to feel drowsy.

At home she ordinarily went to sleep by the hour of Hai at the latest; tonight it had already stretched past almost the hour of Zi. She lamented inwardly, thinking that from now on she could no longer simply please herself — being someone’s wife meant fulfilling one’s duties, and she did not know what men ordinarily did in their socializing, whether it was always like this one night or whether they came home late every few days.

Her eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand catties, as if she could no longer lift them… drowsily drifting toward sleep, she suddenly heard Qin Dan call softly to her. She started and opened her eyes, and found that Duke Weiguo had somehow already arrived and was standing at the bedside, his eyes holding a glimmer of warmth. He said: “The young mistress has been kept up so late — you must be exhausted.”

He had called her “young mistress” again — it had slipped out without thinking; he realized it himself only after he said it, and through the slight haze of wine in those brow-and-eye features, a trace of embarrassment arose. “My apologies — I have drunk a little too much.”

Yun Pan had been somewhat embarrassed that he had caught her dozing; hearing him say this, she stood and said: “Let me ask someone to prepare a sobering broth for the Duke!”

He said it was unnecessary. “I am not yet truly drunk — a little rest will set it right.”

Rest? And where was he to rest? Surely not in the reclining chair — and the attendants waiting in the chamber would not permit it either.

So the moment came to untie the bridal tassels. The fully-blessed matrons came forward to help him remove his outer robe, while the tasseled sash at the new bride’s waist — naturally the bridegroom himself had to undo that.

He seemed uncertain how to go about it, each inch of his fingers betraying some hesitancy. In the end he delicately pinched one corner and slowly drew the sash away from her waist. After that, the matrons and serving women had no further role. They bowed and offered their blessings for a hundred years of harmony, and as they withdrew, they took down and removed the candles and lamps from the room, until all at once the wedding chamber was softly dim — only the red lanterns hanging under the eaves outside cast a diffuse glow over half the room.

Yun Pan’s heart began to beat urgently. Only now did she feel a twinge of fear. She had never been alone in close quarters with a man before — and in an enclosed space like this, steeped in darkness.

Darkness breeds fear. She reached down in bewilderment and gripped her skirt tightly. When her eyes could no longer help her, her ears grew extraordinarily sharp; she could hear his every breath, and the slightest movement startled her into stillness.

Yet he only sat beside her. The scent about him was clear and cool, without the slightest trace of wine. He asked softly: “Are you afraid?”

Yun Pan did not answer. In truth this question had no suitable answer — to say she was afraid would mean she had lost her composure on the wedding night, which would surely seem small-spirited and narrow of mind; to say she was not afraid, that an unmarried girl could be so wholly untroubled alone in close quarters with a man — what would that suggest?

So only silence was truly safe.

Yet the person beside her gave a quiet laugh. In that confined space, the low voice seemed to brush against something inside one, like fingers pulling gently at the heart.

“I myself am a little nervous — I hope you will forgive me.”

She had long heard that Duke Weiguo had no one of particular significance in his household. It was precisely because of this that the Empress Dowager had had no other angle of approach and had been forced to find her way through his new wife. In this day and age, when a young man reached the age of fifteen or sixteen, even if his own circle of friends did not take him to seek such entertainment, the elder men of the family thought nothing of bringing him to the pleasure quarters. The establishments lining the streets — the song halls — kept their doors open day and night, with performers and entertainers leaning on the balustrades, sleeves swaying. A man of twenty-four who had kept himself chaste — in the capital or in Youzhou, this would seem something of an oddity.

Yun Pan turned her head to look at him in puzzlement. In the dim light, he sat upright and still, with not the slightest improper manner.

It must be because of his poor health, she realized. “The Duke’s health is what matters.”

He merely smiled at this and said nothing in response. After a moment he said: “The young mistress has married me. I will treat you with a true heart. From now on, in glory or in adversity, we share the same path — and I ask that the young mistress also treat me with a true heart.”

This marriage was not born of two hearts drawn freely to one another — each of them had their own considerations, and so there was bound to be a certain distance. But frankly speaking, that was not necessarily a bad thing. Yun Pan said: “Duke may rest assured — the stakes involved are something I understand clearly.”

When fortune and fate are uncertain, wisdom is the most essential thing. No wife in the world willingly watches her husband fall. Short of being driven to the edge, a husband’s flourishing and a wife’s honor remained the time-honored way of the mortal world.

He turned his face slightly aside and looked outward, then said: “The hour is not early. Let us settle in for the night.”

He had washed and cleaned himself before entering the wedding chamber, not wanting any lingering scent of wine or food to disturb her. Yun Pan, while sitting in vigil, had also had a serving woman bring warm water for her to freshen up — after all, the summer heat was oppressive, and though the thick and layered ceremonial garments had pressed a sweat from her throughout, at least now that the night had grown deep and she had sat quietly for a while, she could begin to feel a faint thread of coolness drifting in through the night breeze.

Yun Pan looked at him. Looked at him reaching his hand out toward her — those long, pale, slender fingers, the same as she had seen when they first met in Youzhou.

Most couples, one supposed, passed through this — going from strangers to growing slowly familiar, always with these prescribed steps to be taken. But when his fingertips touched her neck, she shrank involuntarily; his hand paused for a moment, and then at last he helped her remove the deep-robe.

The heavy ceremonial gown came off and she felt an immediate relief, body and spirit — though in this environment, it was still impossible to fully relax.

Yun Pan sat there in a daze while he managed everything on her behalf. The instructions Aunt had given her the night before about helping the husband remove and untie his clothing — she had forgotten it all. Her mind only kept blanking, turning over and over: “How did I come to be married — am I truly going to spend my days together with this person?”

He paused and looked at her face as he gently undid the ties of her middle robe at the side. Her bewildered expression was nothing like the woman of that rain-soaked day — she only stared blankly ahead, leaving everything in his hands.

A warm sweat crept up quietly. He looked away, and settled her down onto the soft mandarin duck pillow. He removed his own inner robe and lay down beside her. This was a real and warm person — lying close, he himself was no longer quite so alone.

He bent and kissed her temple. She seemed greatly shaken, staring at him wide-eyed, as if he were some scoundrel. He braced himself up and looked at her — this soft and yielding young woman, who still seemed unable to accept any overly intimate closeness between a man and a woman.

The prescribed course of a wedding night should have no pause in it, yet she had gone completely pale, and she was surely frightened out of her wits.

He could only coax her gently: “Si Si, from today you and I are husband and wife. Whatever you are thinking, you can tell me.”

Yun Pan summoned all her energy to keep her body from trembling; she did not know how to answer him. She also despised herself for her own lack of composure — to be frightened to this degree on the wedding night would surely invite mockery from the bridegroom.

But he showed no displeasure, and was patient with her timidity. He laid his hand over the back of hers, slipping his five fingers through the spaces between her fingers and clasping them tightly, telling her not to be afraid.

His hand was slightly cool, yet dry and clean. In those perceptive eyes, something beautiful and soft resided.

Yun Pan comforted herself — this was a person whose heart was as clear as glass, not like those contemptible men… Look: he had not taken advantage of her in her helpless moment, nor had he looked down on her as a woman. He had thoughtfully arranged a reliable escort to see them through safely, and had even ensured there was water and food prepared for them… He was a good person.

This good person came to kiss her — moving slowly down from her forehead, to the tip of her nose, and then stopping before her lips, where they could each feel the other’s breath.

Both were people who held themselves to propriety. The wedding night should see what the wedding night should see done. Even with the heart thundering like a drum, one had to make every effort to hold steady. Hold the kiss… oh, Yun Pan felt her face might burst into flame. She could not breathe; she was so overcome with shame she wanted to pull away. Her heart knew perfectly well that he was her husband — but her mind told her, in truth he was still a stranger.

He smoothed the line between his brows. This kiss — he found the young woman was fragrant, and soft. He could even picture her, flushed and indignant, sitting there with puffed cheeks, and if you poked at her she would sway and spring back like a delicate confection — a charming and amusing image.

Moving on from the lips with measured calm, the next step should have been to find the graceful curve of her shoulder and neck. But even as he leaned forward, she instinctively pressed both hands against his chest.

He froze for a moment, and knew she was resisting. Perhaps the preceding series of intimate gestures had already pushed her past what she could endure. The kindled warmth cooled quickly. He drew back and put distance between them, and said, “Forgive me — I was too abrupt.”

And yet this particular abruptness was perfectly within the bounds of what ought to be permitted. Yun Pan was overcome with shame and panic, and she hastily pulled up the slipping edge of her robe and said in a rush: “Duke, it is I who have been improper.”

He pressed his palm to his forehead and said no. “I was only thinking of completing the rite, and forgot to ask how you were feeling. In any case, now that the wedding ceremony is done — if you are not comfortable with it, we can complete the consummation in a couple of days.”

Did this mean the evening could be passed over after all? Yet she felt some hesitation too — beneath the pillow lay that cloth square. Nanny Yao had said it was absolutely necessary. Beyond that, tomorrow it had to be presented to Princess Consort Liang for inspection — this was the most critical step in the wedding ceremony. If it was missing, she would be subject to criticism for the rest of her life, and if the senior family members took it as grounds for fault, being sent back to her family home in disgrace was entirely possible.

What was to be done? She reached under the pillow and drew out the cloth square, and with some agitation presented it to him: “This… tomorrow it must be shown to Mother…”

Even in the dim light of the room, she could make out the bewilderment on his face — though only for an instant. He took the cloth from her and set it casually on the small table beside the bed, saying only: “You need not worry about this. Tomorrow I will speak to Mother myself.”

But no matter what explanation was offered, the great rite would still remain incomplete. Yun Pan sat there in anxious uncertainty, her heart in knots.

He must have seen her apprehension. In the dim light he rose from the bed and went to the writing table. Yun Pan watched him in puzzlement; his inner robe was thin and fell softly, tracing out a lean figure against the light. All she could hear was the rustling of oiled paper, and then the small sounds of cup and plate being moved. Very soon he came back, pinching a tea cup and cradling a small paper parcel, and held it out to her: “I had someone prepare this. Please have a little something to eat.”

On the wedding night the new bride was generally not permitted to eat — for fear of embarrassing herself with the need to relieve herself in the middle of the ceremonies. Now that it was just the two of them, all of that could be negotiated.

Yun Pan opened the paper parcel and looked; inside, neatly arranged, were several pieces of honey-glazed pastry. She had never been able to resist these, and so she said: “Then I will help myself — if you don’t mind!” She smiled, her eyes curving with her brows, and carefully pinched one up and placed it in her mouth. To have a bite of something sweet in the middle of the night was genuinely cheering.

He held the oiled paper carefully for her all the while. In the inner chamber, there were no burdens of rank or status — just two people keeping each other company, brought together in perfect accord by something as simple as food.

Yun Pan ate to her heart’s content, but was afraid of being heard by those waiting outside, so she said softly: “I have heard that the activity noodles at Ban Lou restaurant are superb — there is also their signature drink called Qiong Bo, which is very popular among the people of the capital. When we have the chance one day, shall we go and try it?”

A young woman talking with you about food, about drink — nothing like the maneuvering among men in officialdom. It was the small, scattered intimacies of everyday life — a little trivial, a little tender, a little warm — like a copper bell hung out in the wind in spring, and once it began to sound, it filled the air with a lingering chime.

She spoke with complete sincerity; he found her still very much a child at heart, but played along indulgently and nodded: “Whenever you wish to go, just let me know — I will arrange a private room ahead of time so we need not sit among the common crowd.”

Yun Pan said good, and had another two pieces, then took the tea he offered and rinsed her mouth. With this she felt more settled when she lay back — her stomach no longer empty, and the delicate curtains of the canopied bed holding a faint fragrance of sweetness.

He could not perform the full rite of the wedding night, but they still had to lie in the same bed. He turned his head away, covered a cough with his hand, and then said with genuine apology: “In winter and in the deep of night, my throat tends to be irritable and I cough more — I am afraid I may disturb you.”

Yun Pan said it was all right. “When the Duke needs to cough, there is no need to hold it back. I sleep deeply at night and will not hear it.”

This was his new wife’s first attempt at accommodating herself to him. The manner of it was a little unpracticed — but it was a genuine thoughtfulness, and that was enough.

He smiled in response, and lay back on the pillow, gazing up at the canopy above. Every figure embroidered on the hundred-child canopy was rendered with lifelike care. The place beside him — always empty — now had someone lying there, and it felt a little strange.

She was likely truly exhausted, for her breathing soon grew even and steady, and there was no further movement. The deep night of the capital carried a hint of coolness; he reached over and drew the light blanket up to cover her. He saw she had taken down her hair, and the full sweep of black hair spread across the pillow. Worried it might accidentally be pressed under her, he reached out to smooth it gently aside.

The faintly cool strands of hair slipped through his fingers — as light and soft as a dream.

He let out a quiet sigh. This marriage of his, which had moved the entire court, had at last come to rest. The rest of their days — this, most likely, was how it would be.