“The auspicious hour is almost upon us — all of you, be swift and nimble!”

Zhang Shangong issued the command with a stern face, and the palace maids hurrying back and forth through the small courtyard immediately quickened their pace.

No one dared underestimate this old attendant who was past the age of fifty. Seventy percent of the imperial family’s weddings had passed through her hands. After Her Majesty the Empress restored the system of female officials, Nanny Zhang had become one of Da Yan’s Shangong officials.

Nanny Zhang’s seniority was deep and her prestige high — becoming a Shangong was the unanimous expectation of all.

“Li Shangong — Her Majesty the Empress’s grand wedding is upon us, and everyone is occupied beyond measure. Where did you disappear to?” Nanny Zhang looked with displeasure at Li Qingman, who was walking quickly in from outside the courtyard.

That Nanny Zhang and the one other Shangong were on poor terms was common knowledge.

Perhaps it was resentment that someone so young could stand on equal footing with her; perhaps it was distaste for her smooth and socially adept manner. In any case, Nanny Zhang competed with the other Shangong at every turn.

When the other Shangong had first taken up her post, many had looked down on her because of her delicate, beautiful appearance. Some even said that the Li Shangong had only been able to rise so dramatically in rank because the new emperor had taken a liking to her.

Very quickly, Li Shangong used an iron-fisted resolve that bore no relation to her appearance to make those who had been wagging their tongues understand how foolish they had been.

She used her intelligence and ability to prove to everyone that she had more than sufficient capability to hold this position.

“I went to retrieve something,” Li Qingman said with a faint smile, unhurried and unperturbed.

Nanny Zhang still wished to question her further, but Li Qingman had already lowered her head and entered the main hall.

Li Qingman’s figure disappeared behind the doorway curtain at the corner. Nanny Zhang’s gaze fell without thinking onto the simple wooden table and chairs.

According to what people said, this was the residence where the new emperor had lived during his time as the hidden dragon — and also the place where the new emperor and Her Majesty the Empress had met for the first time. Although after the flood, the new emperor had brought in the original crew to renovate it from scratch, no matter how thoroughly it was renovated, in the eyes of Nanny Zhang — who was long accustomed to the splendor of the imperial palace — this was nothing more than a crude nest where a commoner had lived.

Nanny Zhang was well past the age when most enter the ground, and of the imperial weddings she had presided over, if not a thousand then certainly a hundred. Yet this was the first time she had ever stood in such a place.

For someone as rigid and set in her ways as Nanny Zhang, every aspect of the new emperor’s “unconventional” grand wedding jabbed at her nerves.

She furrowed her brow, forced her gaze away, and tried to imagine herself standing on the expensive black tiles of Jiaofang Palace.

“…Your Majesty.” Li Qingman walked quickly to the wooden bed in the inner chamber and drew something golden and gleaming from within her sleeve.

Shen Zhuxi sat upright on the bed. The moment she saw what lay in Li Qingman’s palm, she broke into a smile: “You alone truly understand me.”

Li Qingman said: “Allow me to put it on for Your Majesty.”

Shen Zhuxi gave a small nod.

Li Qingman leaned forward and carefully inserted a golden hairpin into Shen Zhuxi’s hair bun, then took up a bronze mirror and held it before her.

Shen Zhuxi was dressed in wedding robes adorned with radiant golden phoenixes. Her hair, swept up into a soaring immortal’s coiffure, was laden with elaborate ornaments. The golden hairpin lay concealed among them, unremarkable in appearance, yet to her it held an irreplaceable significance.

“Your Majesty, the auspicious hour has arrived. Let us proceed to the carriage,” Nanny Zhang said, entering the room and performing a proper bow.

Li Qingman helped her to her feet, and they walked slowly toward the door.

Gazing at everything so familiar, Shen Zhuxi’s eyes reddened even before the ceremonial veil could be placed over her head.

Memory after memory rose before her, vivid and clear. The days she had spent here teaching Li Wu to read from the Thousand Character Classic seemed as though they had happened only yesterday. And yet today was already the third time she was marrying the same man.

They had walked through so many storms together, and every promise he had made to her — not a single one had he broken.

The splendid and precious wedding veil was draped over her head. Shen Zhuxi was helped into the phoenix palanquin waiting outside the courtyard. At Nanny Zhang’s command, six blood-sweating horses sent as tribute from the Western Regions set the phoenix palanquin in motion.

Ten thousand imperial guards in golden armor escorted her ceremonial procession, stretching out like a great dragon as it wound its way toward the heart of Da Yan — the place where she had been born and raised.

The grand wedding procession set out from Jinzhou, and at each place it passed through, commoners came out of their own accord to cheer and bid them farewell. Shen Zhuxi, showing consideration for the commoners who had traveled over mountains and rivers just to see them off, not only rolled up the pearl curtain so those outside could catch a glimpse of her seated figure beneath the wedding veil, but also instructed the two Shangong officials to distribute lucky fruits and dried provisions among the people around them.

After a journey of one day and one night, the grand wedding procession finally arrived in the capital at the break of the second day’s dawn.

Li Wu, resplendent in the imperial wedding attire, rode his fine horse with high spirits. Li Que rode along, grinning and following close behind. Through the faint shimmer of the silk veil, Shen Zhuxi caught a glimpse of that face — once sunken on one side — restored beneath the rosy morning light to smooth and beautiful perfection. Behind the broad-shouldered, upright Li Wu came face after face that Shen Zhuxi knew well—

Sui Rui, her hair arranged in a married woman’s bun, riding alongside Li Kun. When Sui Rui had once turned down many young and talented suitors who wished to marry into her household, choosing instead Li Kun — a man of diminished intellect — Shen Zhuxi had worried whether she had made the choice out of deference to Li Wu’s power.

She still remembered Sui Rui’s answer.

“I have dealt with too many men to know what they are made of. Asking me to trust a man — I would sooner trust silver. Only silver never lies; only silver knows nothing of betrayal.” Sui Rui had smiled and gently clasped Shen Zhuxi’s hand. “Do you know what I said to my father on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony?”

“What did you say?”

“The man I marry into my household must have good looks, a strong body, be gentle and obedient — and most importantly—” she said, “better a simple man than a clever one.”

Shen Zhuxi had been taken aback.

Sui Rui smiled as she continued: “I know what you were worried about. But truly, there is no need… If the big, simple fellow were not the way he is, perhaps I would not have dared to choose him.”

Now they were happily married and living a contented life. Just half a year ago, they had welcomed their firstborn son. The little one took after his father — not yet large, yet already showing signs of remarkable strength.

The Commandery Princess of Qingyang, stationed far away in Yunnan, had also made a special journey back, bringing along her husband and eldest son. Though her husband was of Yunnan’s minority peoples, he was handsome and considerate of the Princess to an exceptional degree. Shen Zhuxi had also sent people to make inquiries — this marriage had come about by a stroke of serendipity, yet had turned out to be wonderfully content.

Jiu Niang, who had married Niuwang and set off to take up her post in Shu, had made a special trip back to attend Shen Zhuxi’s wedding. At that moment she was nestled clingingly against the tall and broad Niuwang, and in a manner quite different from her usual style, she threw Shen Zhuxi a flirtatious wink in greeting.

Beneath her wedding veil, Shen Zhuxi could not help but smile.

The magnificent, solemn phoenix carriage rolled slowly from the Chaotian Gate and wound up the slope toward the Forbidden Palace, blazing with golden light. Along the way, the carriages overflowed with melons and fruits; flowers scattered through the air like a drifting canopy. The procession of ten thousand was vast and imposing. The ceremonial music surged like waves breaking across the entire capital. Commoners packed the Vermilion Sparrow Avenue, young and old alike calling out as they scrambled to catch the lucky fruits the attendants were tossing.

A lifelike azure phoenix soared above the phoenix carriage, bearing witness to this union of true hearts and shared joy.

The commoners lining the road to welcome the procession came to a halt at the gates of the Forbidden Palace, watching respectfully as the phoenix carriage passed inside the imperial palace.

When Shen Zhuxi descended from the carriage, Li Wu’s hand was already waiting at her side.

Crimson dawn light dyed the eastern sky. A blazing red sun was rising, slowly and steadily, into the heavens.

She gently placed her hand in Li Wu’s broad, warm palm. Li Wu clasped her hand, and beneath the glow of dawn, a brilliant smile broke across his face as he said:

“Silly girl — I’ve come to bring you home.”

Tears shimmered in Shen Zhuxi’s eyes. She pressed her lips together, suppressed the trembling in her voice, and answered firmly:

“Yes!”

…

After the long and elaborate ceremony had concluded, Shen Zhuxi sat on the bed in Jiaofang Palace. The imperial seal of the Empress lay on the table not far from her.

Five grand weddings, and each time her feelings had been entirely different.

Shen Zhuxi felt she was likely the empress who had married the most times in all of history — and also, in all of history, the happiest.

Li Wu’s footsteps sounded outside the door, and Shen Zhuxi heard the sounds of palace maids filing out one by one.

Jiaofang Palace fell into perfect stillness. Only her heartbeat remained, growing stronger with each pulse.

Two familiar large hands slowly lifted her wedding veil. Shen Zhuxi held her breath, composing herself, and slowly raised her head.

The handsome face she had long held in her heart filled her sight. Her ears were flooded with the sound of her own fierce, pounding heartbeat.

“Do you remember the night of our very first wedding?” Li Wu said softly.

Shen Zhuxi’s face flushed faintly: “I remember… I cried in front of everyone… and made you lose face…”

She thought she remembered it clearly, but Li Wu said without ceremony: “You remember nothing.”

“You remember nothing!” Shen Zhuxi shot back, stung into blurting it out.

“Silly girl, come with me.”

Li Wu took her by the hand and, in a complete daze, she found herself running out of Jiaofang Palace in her wedding robes.

The two of them ran along the broad palace road drenched in golden dawn light. Shen Zhuxi forgot her station entirely, ignored the astonished gazes of the palace maids around her, and raced freely through the open wind.

She remembered now — the rebellious, unbridled joy of that night.

The place Li Wu brought her to was Wangshu Palace — the palace where she had been born and raised. An elderly attendant stood respectfully at the entrance. The moment Shen Zhuxi laid eyes on her, she cried out in delighted surprise:

“Nanny Jinqiu!”

Nanny Jinqiu had been a longtime attendant at her mother consort’s side — to call her Shen Zhuxi’s second wet nurse would not be far off the mark. After the imperial palace was breached, Shen Zhuxi had never seen her again, and had assumed that Nanny Jinqiu had already met with misfortune and passed away. To see her now without warning, Shen Zhuxi was so overwhelmed with joy that she nearly wept tears of happiness.

The surge of emotion was not Shen Zhuxi’s alone. Nanny Jinqiu, seeing her, let the tears fall freely.

Shen Zhuxi hurried forward to support the old attendant, who was trembling and trying to kneel in greeting.

After Nanny Jinqiu’s emotions had settled somewhat, she recounted the events that had unfolded after the palace coup. It turned out that after miraculously escaping at the time, she had drifted among the common people just as Shen Zhuxi had — wandering without a home through those years, several times on the very edge of losing her life. When Li Wu renovated Wangshu Palace to its former state, he had searched far and wide for the old attendants from the previous era, and it was through this that Nanny Jinqiu had the opportunity to return to the palace.

Accompanied by Li Wu and Nanny Jinqiu, Shen Zhuxi stepped once more into this palace that filled her with both love and fear.

Here, she had spent a carefree childhood. And it was here, too, that her mother consort had taken her own life, setting off the upheaval that would transform everything in her life.

The thing she had dreaded did not come to pass.

What Li Wu had rebuilt was the Wangshu Palace as it had been before she turned ten — when her parents were at peace with each other, when she was loved by all in the palace, when she was the little rabbit sitting in her father’s lap, the cherished little princess her brothers and sisters competed to please. In those days, she did not yet know the meaning of parting or grief.

Gazing at everything familiar before her, Shen Zhuxi could not hold back her tears as they streamed down.

Li Wu turned her toward him and tenderly wiped the teardrops from her face.

“Your happiness — I will help you find it again.” He paused, pressed a kiss to her tear-damp lips, and then said: “…Your sorrow — I will kick it away for you.”

Nanny Jinqiu, eyes blurred with tears, looked at the two of them with a face full of warmth and deep feeling:

“If Her Majesty and the late Emperor could see from the heavens above how happy the Princess is, their hearts would finally be at peace…”

Shen Zhuxi only then remembered there was still someone watching them from the side. Her face instantly flushed red, and she hurriedly wiped away the traces of tears from her face, too embarrassed to linger.

“This servant will henceforth be on duty here at Wangshu Palace. Whenever Your Majesty and His Majesty have need, this old servant is at your beck and call.” Nanny Jinqiu had just performed a bow and was about to withdraw when she suddenly recalled something. She reached into the front of her robe and drew out a yellowed piece of paper. “Ah, yes… this — the Princess used to do her coursework in the upper room, and Her Majesty would collect the pages and store them specially in a box. On the day of the palace coup, this old servant only managed to hide this one page; the others… were all torn to shreds and burned by the soldiers of the uprising… This old servant has failed the Princess…”

Shen Zhuxi hurriedly helped the old attendant who was about to kneel again in apology, and after many rounds of reassurance, finally put Nanny Jinqiu’s heart at ease and saw her withdraw from Wangshu Palace.

She turned around, and saw Li Wu in the midst of unfolding the yellowed piece of paper. Dark ink marks showed faintly through from the back of the page. Shen Zhuxi was also curious about what her younger self had written for coursework, and leaned forward to look — only for her expression to change dramatically.

“Do not look at that!” she cried out in a panic, lunging forward to snatch the paper away.

Li Wu stretched out his long arm and instantly raised the paper to a height she could not reach.

He furrowed his brow deeply. Having already read the opening of the coursework, he felt a trace of something wrong.

“Ten years from now, I…” he read out the characters one by one: “Ten years from now, I will already be a grown woman who has married…”

“Give it back! Give it back!” Shen Zhuxi was so flustered she was jumping up and down. “You are absolutely forbidden from reading it aloud!”

Li Wu held the paper aloft, and his expression grew darker and darker:

“…Imperial Father has promised me that my husband-to-be will be as handsome as the legendary Pan An, tender and understanding, of noble birth and stature, brimming with talent and learning — best of all, like Cao Zhi, capable of composing a poem in seven steps…”

“Li Wu! Li the Duck! Li the Brat! Stop reading—” Shen Zhuxi let out a wail of despair.

“Once I have a husband… I must, without fail, compose poetry together with him, and be in perfect harmony, like my Imperial Father and Imperial Mother…” Li Wu ground the final line of the page between his teeth.

Shen Zhuxi finally snatched the paper back, but what use was that now? What ought to have been read, and what ought not to have been read — he had read it all to the end!

Shen Zhuxi’s face blazed red with embarrassment. She wished she could find a crack in the ground and slip into it.

She dared not raise her head. She fixed her gaze on the tips of her toes and, in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum, tried to defend herself:

“Children say what they please… what children say cannot be held against them… things said when one was small don’t count…”

“You crafty little Shen Silly-Goose—” Li Wu ground his back molars and said with fierce indignation: “If you were so fond of men of literary talent, how is it that whenever I composed poetry, you would pretend not to hear?”

“I—”

Shen Zhuxi stood frozen to the spot, struck completely speechless.

His terrible poems — could they even be called poems?

“I shall compose one for you right now—” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi’s face changed dramatically: “There is absolutely no need—!”

“I hold your hand—” Li Wu began, swaying his head back and forth.

“Impulsive!”

Shen Zhuxi shuddered involuntarily and, on instinct, reached up to cover his mouth.

“And carry you away!”

Li Wu suddenly bent down, scooped Shen Zhuxi up sideways, and strode out of Wangshu Palace in great steps.

“Li Wu!” Shen Zhuxi let out a startled cry, and before she could struggle, she was bundled into the imperial palanquin waiting outside the doors.

Inside the dragon palanquin, suffused with the drifting fragrance of dragon’s saliva incense, bright yellow curtains hung on all four sides, shielding them from the outside world’s gaze. Li Wu pressed close against Shen Zhuxi, pinning her so she could not move. His striking, strongly masculine face was right before her eyes; his warm breath, in place of a kiss, continuously brushed against the tip of her nose and her lips.

Shen Zhuxi said not a word and silently reddened.

“You were fond of literary men,” Li Wu leaned close to her ear and said in a low voice: “From today forward, your heart can only be moved by me. Do you understand, Silly-Goose?”

Shen Zhuxi’s face was red, and in her wet, glistening eyes was reflected the image of his focused and deeply affectionate gaze.

After a long while, she gave a gentle nod.

“…Are you not angry?” Shen Zhuxi lightly clasped his fingers, and said sincerely: “That was something I wrote when I was nine — it cannot be counted.”

“I am not angry,” Li Wu said with a dismissive snort. “Not in the least. Come — back to Jiaofang Palace.”

“Back to Jiaofang Palace for what?”

“To make merry in broad daylight.”

Shen Zhuxi’s face instantly blazed red. She gave him a slap on the thigh.

That night, the autumn rain fell in scattered drops.

The new emperor, having left his empress behind — too weak in the knees to get out of bed — sat in the Imperial Study, grinding his teeth as he dashed out brushstroke after determined brushstroke:

“Heaven sheds its tears, and I feel the strain.”

“Who was Cao Zhi — that lowly creature? I’ll have his head, that literary deceiver.”

Title: Sending This North on a Rainy Night.

When he had finished, Li Wu picked up the paper, ink not yet dry, and looked upon his own masterwork.

So what if that fellow surnamed Cao could compose a poem in seven steps — given him a hundred steps, could he produce a work of such quality?

Li Wu’s grievance had been settled. Satisfied, he placed his great work alongside the imperial jade seal, clasped his hands behind his back, and strolled out of the Imperial Study at his leisure.

A bright and flawless moon hung in the clear, washed sky. Through the still, misty rain drifted the intoxicating fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.

Flowers in full bloom, the moon perfectly round — the days ahead stretched on and on, and the best of times was yet to come.