Chapter 35
Ting-zhi did not sleep the night before his wedding.
He lay awake staring at the canopy above, his thoughts circling endlessly back to Yun-si. Again and again, his mind replayed the brief moment their eyes had met across the crowd, outside the bookshop.
What did that nod mean? Does it mean she has forgiven me? If so, why didn’t she reply to any of my letters?
He’d sent three letters since, each more desperate than the last. The first had explanations, the second held apologies and promises of their future life, the third had simply begged for her forgiveness.
Silence had been her only response.
Will she be there? The question haunted him.
As dawn finally broke, washing his room in pale gold light, Ting-zhi gave up on the pretense of rest. He dressed absent-mindedly, pulling on the wedding robes without thinking.
First came the bright red inner robes, then the black outer robe embroidered with cranes and auspicious clouds.
Next came the broad crimson sash tied around his waist, and finally the great red silk rosette that marked him as the groom.
He had imagined marrying Yun-si a thousand times, but never like this. Never with this sick uncertainty churning in his stomach.
Wen-xin appeared in the doorway, dressed in brand-new robes the vibrant red of ripe hawthorn berries that made him look like a lucky child from festive New Year paintings.
His cheerful expression faltered when he saw Ting-zhi.
“Young Master,” he said carefully, tilting his head as he studied Ting-zhi’s face, “you look like a ghoul.”
“Wen-xin.” Ting-zhi pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, feeling the dull ache behind his eyes. “Didn’t the matchmaker make you memorize all the auspicious words you are supposed to say today? I don’t think ‘ghoul’ is a word that is supposed to appear in any of them.”
Wen-xin quickly straightened and rattled off the list of auspicious phrases with the singsong cadence of rote memorization, counting them off on his small fingers.
“Harmony till your hairs are white! Auspicious union for a hundred years! Courtesy between husband and wife! And most importantly—” He drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height, looking tremendously pleased with himself. “To beget a precious child soon!”
“Perfect,” Ting-zhi said dryly.
Wen-xin beamed up at him. Despite everything, Ting-zhi felt his heart softened with affection, and he patted the boy’s head gently.
Together, they made their way from Bamboo Heart Abode, following the familiar stone path toward the clan school. The wedding rites and banquet would take place in the school’s main reception hall. The hall had already been transformed with cascades of crimson silk and elaborate scarlet rosettes.
The bridal sedan chair waited outside the main door, its crimson curtains swaying slightly in the breeze.
Ting-zhi mounted his horse, its bridle already adorned with a matching red silk rosette.
His fingers tightened briefly on the reins before he deliberately loosened his grip.
Whatever easy charm he normally wore was absent today, replaced by a careful composure that threatened to crack whenever he breathed too hard.
Around him, the blare of suonas filled the air, their shrill notes heralding the start of the procession.
Five minutes. That was all it took to cross from the clan school to the Shen Residence. Funny, but he and Yun-si had never used this road before, preferring to use the little door connecting her home and the clan school.
The front door of the Shen compound stood open, flanked by servants in festive dress holding more red silk rosettes mounted on poles. And then Ting-zhi’s breath caught as Yun-si appeared, flanked by her siblings.
Her red wedding robes were embroidered with phoenixes and auspicious clouds, layer upon layer of the finest silk that rustled softly with each small movement.
The gold threads in the embroidery caught the sunlight in tiny flashes, so bright they made his eyes unexpectedly sting and water.
An elaborately embroidered red veil obscured everything except the faint outline of her profile.
She moved with the careful, deliberate precision of someone who could not see where she stepped, one hand lifted slightly to the side as Chun-xi guided her forward with gentle touches to her elbow.
She’s here.
Ting-zhi let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. It shuddered out of him, his shoulders dropping a fraction, and for just a moment the careful mask slipped. Relief flooded through him so intensely it felt almost like pain.
The matchmaker, a plump woman with a voice that could carry across three courtyards, stepped forward with practiced ceremony, her arms spread wide as though to embrace the entire assembly.
Her voice rang out with the particular cheer of someone who has performed this role a hundred times and knows exactly how to make each phrase land with maximum auspicious weight.
“Step over the threshold, Bride! Leave behind the home of your father, and enter the home of your future! May your path be smooth as silk, your union blessed with harmony, and may the heavens grant you sons to carry on the family line!”
Yun-si hesitated.
It was only a single, breathless heartbeat—the smallest pause, barely noticeable. But Ting-zhi saw it. Felt it in his chest, his own breathing suspended.
His grip tightened on the reins until his knuckles showed white against his skin. The horse shifted beneath him again, responding to his tension.
Please, he thought, with an intensity that surprised him. Please, Si-er.
Then, with a deliberate grace, she lifted one foot and stepped cleanly, decisively, over the raised wooden sill of the Shen Residence doorway. The matchmaker let out a delighted cry of approval, and the watching servants echoed it with enthusiastic calls of congratulation.
The matchmaker steered Yun-si into the sedan chair, still booming blessings. Bearers bowed, then lifted—curtains whispering shut as she settled inside.
Musicians struck up the bridal march and the procession moved again. Behind the sedan chair, wagons carrying Yun-si’s dowry stretched out behind them, a display of the Shen family’s wealth and regard that would be noted and discussed by every household they passed.
They began the ceremonial circuit of the neighborhood, processing slowly through streets Ting-zhi had known all his life. Curious onlookers and neighbors stood at the sides of the street to congratulate them and share in the good fortune of the day.
Children darted alongside the procession, laughing and calling out.
Wen-xin, taking his role very seriously, threw wedding candies from his basket, scattering them in wide arcs that made the children shriek with delight and scramble after the sweet treats.
Then finally, the procession turned back toward the clan school where the marriage rites would take place.
YUN-SI DID NOT REALLY remember anything except that it was red all around. Red. Red. Red.
She had knelt in red, bowed in red, walked in red and seen only red through her red veil.
She didn’t remember how many times she’d pressed her forehead to the ground today She didn’t remember what her mother said before she stepped into the sedan chair.
She didn’t even really remember the three crucial bows that formalized the marriage. The bows to Heaven and Earth, to Master Gu and to Ting-zhi respectively.
It was still more red from what she could see of the marital bed beneath her veil. She shifted her position carefully, trying to sweep the auspicious nuts and fruits on the bed to one side so that she can sit more comfortably.
So I am married now? She thought incredulously.
Somewhere beyond the bamboo grove, laughter and drunken toasts from the banquet echoed. But here in Ting-zhi’s room, it was blissfully quiet with only the sounds of the wind through bamboo.
Her palms pressed flat against the silk-covered mattress. The fabric was smooth and expensive with delicate embroideries. A dowry gift from her eldest sister.
Then the door creaked open.
“Si-er.”
His voice was quiet.
“Mm,” she said, through the veil, which was not a word exactly but was the best she could do at the present moment.
“You’re still here,” he said.
She could hear the relief in his voice. “Where else would I be?”
“In a huaben, the bride would have fled by now. Climbed out the window and disguised herself as a kitchen maid.”
“Mmm,” she said, “I should have considered that.”
A pause. She could feel him looking at her even through the veil.
“May I—” He paused, as if unsure of himself. “May I lift the veil?”
She breathed in once, steadily, and said: “Yes.”
His fingers found the edge of the veil and lifted it gently. The candlelight came in all at once, warm and amber, and she blinked once and then he was there, closer than she had expected, still in his wedding robes, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“I was considering where I should go look for you if you decide to do a run-away bride.” Ting-zhi admitted, lowering himself beside her. His voice wavered, just slightly. “But I am so glad you are still here waiting for me.”
Yun-si had memorized every stroke of the three letters he’d sent and had long since forgiven him, really. But she had just wanted to make him squirm and suffer a while longer.
Gu Ting-zhi took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed this moment a hundred times: the right words to soften her, the right gestures to sway her, even the right moment to kiss her into forgiveness. Yet now that the moment had come, it all felt wrong. So he simply spoke from his heart.
“I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
Yun-si looked up at him in surprise. She had not expected such a direct apology from Ting-zhi.
“I swear.” Ting-zhi took her hands and looked straight into her eyes. “I swear upon the heavenly thunders never to deceive you in anything ever again, for the rest of my life.”
Yun-si felt the weight of the vow in her bones. She looked at Gu Ting-zhi, his distraught eyes anxiously searching hers, and decided to end his misery.
Sighing, she tucked a strand of his loose hair behind his ear. “I read the letters, you know? They were quite well-written. I especially liked the third one.”
He looked at her hopefully. The third letter was the epitome of groveling. “Do you want to hear me recite it?”
A laugh escaped her despite herself. “No more secrets,” she said firmly.
“No more secrets,” he said in relief.
“Mm.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “Si-er.”
“Mmm?”
“About the wedding night—” He swallowed. “They say the day a man passes the imperial examinations and the day he gets married are the most important days of his life.” His voice grew low, that timbre that always made her shiver. “May I know if I can still get a wedding night?”
“Hmm,” she murmured with a side glance at him. “I think that can be arranged.”
Ting-zhi’s heart soared.