Since Mingyi moved into the palace, Situ Ling rarely saw her. Whenever he came to Chaoyang City, he always had a case to handle, preventing him from meeting her. Even on her recent birthday, he was tied up and couldn’t personally deliver his gift.
He thought this arrangement was for the best. He didn’t have to witness her closeness with Ji Bozai, nor did he need to harbor false hopes like Zhou Zihong.
Situ Ling considered his life as if he had already been married; he would spend the rest of his days focused on his cases.
However, Ji Bozai was truly annoying. Situ Ling had just solved a major case and submitted a report for Ji Bozai to deal with the people he had personally promoted. Ji Bozai’s response was merely an “Approved,” followed by a long string of unnecessary words.
It was just a wedding, yet one might think Ji Bozai was ascending the throne again.
The flames had consumed half of the memorial before Situ Ling finally calmed down and used a stick to rake it out.
On the charred memorial, Ji Bozai’s flamboyant handwriting was still faintly visible: “I and my dear Yi are to be wed. I am overjoyed.”
Situ Ling recalled how Ji Bozai used to be reluctant to marry, fooling Sister Ming in circles. Now he was like a lovesick boy who had found a treasure, seizing every opportunity to express his joy to everyone.
Situ Ling didn’t want to admit that Ji Bozai now genuinely liked his Sister Ming, nor did he want to attend their grand wedding.
He put away the half-burned memorial and nonchalantly instructed Fu Yue to prepare a wedding gift. Then he buried himself in the case files on his desk.
However, after a long while, he raised his head, looked at the memorial on the antique shelf, and heaved a deep sigh.
Mingyi had imagined the grand wedding to be boring. After all, Ji Bozai was now the emperor, bound by elaborate ceremonies and ancestral rules. She thought it would be enough if they could bow to each other and enter the bridal chamber after the ritual.
But she hadn’t anticipated that Ji Bozai had spent half a year planning everything, from the carpets on the ground to her wedding dress. He had personally overseen every detail. On the wedding day, Qingyun was more lively than ever before.
Xuanlong and the white cat wore red silk ribbons around their necks, proudly leading the wedding procession, drawing amazed crowds. One hundred and eight eunuchs, alongside one hundred and eight guards, escorted ninety-nine maids, scattering red paper-wrapped coins along the way.
Amid the thunderous gongs, drums, and firecrackers, Ji Bozai rode on horseback in the middle of the procession, his smile nearly reaching his ears.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty!” a bold commoner shouted.
The surrounding people hurriedly covered his mouth in panic. How could anyone dare to address the tyrannical emperor so casually?
However, glancing up, they saw that His Majesty on his tall horse didn’t seem angry. Instead, he happily cupped his hands towards the person who had called out: “Thank you.”
The crowd was astounded, then began to boldly shout congratulations.
As they cheered along the way, Ji Bozai kept expressing his gratitude, making no effort to hide his joy over this marriage.
Originally, according to the Ministry of Rites, a ritual official was supposed to lead Mingyi directly into the palace for the ceremony, citing ancient traditions. Ji Bozai had coldly laughed at this: “I am the first emperor of Qingyun in thousands of years. Whose ancient traditions are you referring to?”
The Ministry of Rites, frightened, dared not speak further, allowing him to follow common customs in welcoming his bride.
However, the clever emperor hadn’t considered that according to folk customs, there was also a tradition of “blocking the door.”
Zhou Zihong stood outside the old city manor’s main gate, smiling insincerely at him: “We have prepared twenty questions. Please answer them before entering, Your Majesty.”
Ji Bozai’s mouth twitched.
Of all the people to block the door, it had to be Mingyi’s former harem members. Each of them looked at him with daggers in their eyes, clearly not intending to let him pass easily.
Lowering his eyelids, he smiled: “Very well.”
But behind his back, he waved at Bu Xiu.
Luo Jiaoyang understood and immediately led a group to circle to the side door.
While these thirty or so people blocked the main entrance tightly, making it difficult even to force entry, Ji Bozai answered questions at the front while Luo Jiaoyang led people through the side door to sneak in and drag away the door blockers one by one, covering their mouths.
By the time Ji Bozai reached the fifth question, there was a gap at the entrance. Fan Yao shouted, “Charge!” and dozens of brothers behind him pushed their way in, cheering.
Zhou Zihong had prepared more difficult questions for later. Seeing them force their way in, he angrily waved his sleeves: “Barbarians!”
“A wedding is not the time for a reason,” Chu He patted his shoulder. “Brother, it’s clear you didn’t put your heart into it when you got married.”
An eager groom has no time to answer questions; he just wants to embrace his bride as soon as possible.
Zhou Zihong was stunned by his words.
What was he like at his wedding?
He remembered being blocked at his wife’s door for a long time, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He just slowly exchanged poems with people until those inside couldn’t wait any longer and opened the door to welcome him in.
Miss Xu had smiled then, calling him honest, but he hadn’t taken it to heart.
Now, Zhou Zihong suddenly understood that Miss Xu wasn’t praising him at the time, but rather giving him a way out, knowing his heart wasn’t with her and forcing a smile.
Now, Miss Xu had divorced him.
Ironically, when she wanted to be with him, Miss Xu visited his mansion daily. Later, when she wanted a divorce, she also came to him every day, pulling him to sign the divorce papers.
He tried many ways to avoid it, dragging it out for three months before angrily signing.
He knew Miss Xu had feelings for him; even after the divorce, she didn’t immediately seek another husband. Her fuss was just a plea for more of his attention.
Zhou Zihong finally understood. He came to personally send Mingyi off to be married, to bid farewell to the past, and then he would return to welcome Miss Xu back, to make up for what he owed her these seven years.
The sound of firecrackers exploded, bringing him back to reality. He smiled and entered, telling those inside not to let the bride out too easily.
Mingyi, dressed in her phoenix crown, saw Situ Ling standing before her through the pearl curtain hanging from her crown.
She was surprised: “Didn’t your letter say you weren’t coming?”
Situ Ling smiled and turned his back to her, crouching down: “Uncle Ming’s back isn’t good, so someone has to do this. I call you sister, so it’s only right that I carry you out.”
Mingyi noticed he had grown taller again, now half a head taller than Zhou Zihong. His crouched back looked broad and sturdy.
She smiled and leaned on him: “I’m not heavy, but all these decorations weigh quite a bit.”
Situ Ling grunted under the pressure, his eyebrows furrowing: “His Majesty did this on purpose. He knew I’d come to carry you, sister, so he piled mountains of gold and silver on you!”
Mingyi’s eyes curved with laughter.
She felt Situ Ling trembling, knowing he lacked Yuan Power to bear such weight. So she secretly used her Yuan Power to support her phoenix crown and wedding dress.
However, even with the weight reduced, he still trembled, his spine shaking like a rain-soaked bird.