“Something feels off to me — keep an eye on him,” Feng Jiu’er said, picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

She set the cup down, and when she looked up, she met several curious gazes.

“Jiu’er, are you saying Big Brother Jian Yi really meant to…” Yue Qinchun frowned.

“No.” Feng Jiu’er cut her off. “Jian Yi would never hurt anyone. I’m just worried he’s dealing with something troubling.”

“Tonight, all of you spend more time with him. Just don’t let him be alone.”

“No problem.” Xiao Yingtao made an okay gesture. “Jiu’er, don’t worry about it!”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and nodded. “Good.”

“Hurry and eat — won’t we get to storm the bridal chamber later?” Gong Xing’er said with a smile.

“Is that all you’re here for?” Gong Xinyue glanced at her younger sister.

She knew full well her sister had no real understanding of what that tradition actually meant.

“Why not?” Gong Xing’er pulled out the red envelopes she’d just collected from inside her robe.

“One, two, three — this is the first time I’ve ever collected so many red envelopes. The Prince is so wealthy!”

“Sis, will we get more red envelopes when we storm the bridal chamber later?”

“Yes,” Qiao Mu said with a smile and a nod. “The more effort you put in, the more you get.”

“I can do that.” Gong Xing’er looked toward Qiao Mu. “Sister Qiao Mu, give me all the toughest jobs later.”

“I want to save up money for my dowry.”

“Ha ha ha…” Quite a few people at the table laughed.

Gong Xing’er looked around at everyone and laughed along.

She tucked her red envelopes away carefully and went back to devouring her chicken leg in big bites.

After the evening meal, a procession — with gongs and drums — made its way from the front gate of the estate all the way to the main hall, the east wing, and finally the bridal chamber.

Feng Jiu’er wasn’t like an ordinary woman of ancient times, forced to sit alone in the bridal chamber waiting.

Inside the bridal chamber, a dozen or so women gathered around a table, thoroughly absorbed in the tiles laid out before them.

“Nine of bamboo.” Feng Jiu’er, a piece of candy in her mouth, tossed out a wooden tile carved by hand.

Qiao Mu drew a tile and casually discarded it as well. “Why is my luck so bad today? Nothing’s coming together.”

“Are you alright?” Xiao Yingtao leaned forward and drew a tile too.

“Good thing Liu Yang and I are on the same side, or all the red envelopes we worked hard for today would’ve gone right back to Jiu’er.”

Xiao Yingtao glanced left and right at her tiles, and in the end discarded one anyway.

“My turn, my turn — I’ve been waiting on this hand forever.” Yue Qinchun drew a tile and jumped up excitedly.

“I won! Rong’er, we won again.”

Yue Qinchun happily laid out all her tiles and reached her hand out with a broad grin.

“Pay up, pay up.”

Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, and Xiao Yingtao each reached under the table for their bamboo chips and handed them over.

“Qinchun, are you really playing this for the first time? You don’t look like someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” Xiao Yingtao pouted.

Mahjong was Feng Jiu’er’s own design — she’d drawn out the pattern, and everyone had carved the wooden blocks together.

With many hands making light work, the whole set had come together quickly.

This kind of pastime, back in the Beimu Kingdom, they used to play from time to time.

Yue Qinchun had only met them after they came to the Feng Clan, so this really was her first time playing.

“Just good luck, that’s all.” Feng Jiu’er handed over her chips and pushed the tiles in front of her aside. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

Xiao Yingtao pulled out her remaining chips — their stakes — looked them over, then set them back down.

“Fine, let’s keep playing. Worst case, I’ll have wasted the whole night for nothing.”

“No risk, no reward.” Qiao Mu raised an eyebrow. “Come on.”

Yue Qinchun set aside the chips she’d won and curved her crescent-shaped brows into a smile. “A showdown till dawn!”