When the sky was still a pale bluish gray, Cheng Jiao-niang was roused from sleep.
“Isn’t the bridal procession coming only in the afternoon?” she asked, slipping on her everyday outer robe and reaching for the longbow hanging on the wall.
“Oh, my lady!” the maid exclaimed, snatching the bow away. “We woke you up this early not for archery practice.”
Meanwhile, Ban Qin was bustling about the room.
“Should we wash up now or wait for the hairdresser?” she muttered to herself, then asked if the jewelry and hairpins were properly laid out.
“Even if they aren’t, it’s just a small room – they’re only a few steps away,” Cheng Jiao-niang said calmly, walking slowly to the mirror and taking a seat.
“Ban Qin, don’t be so nervous. You haven’t slept all night – go and attend to your own makeup first,” the maid urged.
Only then did Ban Qin snap back to her senses, covering her face with her hands.
“I mustn’t embarrass Miss,” she said anxiously, darting out of the room. In her haste, she nearly tripped over her own feet, causing the two younger maids to shriek in alarm.
Lady Huang was just entering the room when she was startled by the commotion.
“Why is Ban Qin so nervous?” she said with a laugh.
“It’s such an important day,” the maid replied, smiling. “How did you feel on the day you married Young Master, Madam?”
“Ah, back then…” Lady Huang began, her tone tinged with reminiscence. “I was so nervous my mind went completely blank. I only remember my mother slipping a piece of fruit into my hand to eat, but I just kept clutching it all the way to Da-lang’s house and never took a bite.”
The maids and younger girls burst into good-natured laughter.
Cheng Jiao-niang also allowed a faint smile to touch her lips.
That day…
Her home, inside and out, had been filled with attendants sent by the imperial family. The Cheng residence had been decorated not as if for sending off a daughter, but rather for welcoming a bride.
Her heart had pounded with nervousness. The ginseng slice her sister-in-law had given her to chew had been crushed to a pulp in her sweaty palm. After the procession wound through half the city and the ceremonies in the palace, she had nearly collapsed from exhaustion. It was Yang Shan who had noticed her distress and quietly slipped his own ginseng slice into her hand.
“…See, good thing I knew you’d be scatterbrained and wouldn’t have prepared properly…” he had teased her with a hint of smugness.
“…You can swing a broadsword, draw a bow to shoot a horse, yet you can’t handle a little hunger?”
Later, she realized it wasn’t hunger at all – it had been sheer nerves.
The sound of laughter around her now pulled her back from her reverie.
“See? Miss is nervous too, aren’t you?” a maid asked with a smile, kneeling before her and helping her into a pair of new shoes.
“Don’t be nervous,” Lady Huang said warmly. “Looking back, I actually regretted it later. When you think about it, this day is the most leisurely of all. Everyone else is bustling about, working hard for you, and only you get to just sit back and let it all happen. You only get such a day once in a lifetime – you really should savor it properly.”
As she spoke, a young maid hurried in to announce that Madam Chen had arrived. Lady Huang immediately went out to greet her.
The room grew even livelier. Cheng Jiao-niang sat before the bronze mirror while others combed her hair and applied her makeup, surrounded by married women and young wives who filled the air with cheerful words of blessing and good fortune.
By the time the sky was fully bright, everything was in place. She was to sit just like this in the room, waiting until the procession from Duke Jin’an’s residence arrived to fetch the bride.
“Sister, you look… so strange,” Chen Dan-niang said with a giggle.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded slightly.
It was a little strange indeed. Her bridal makeup back then hadn’t been like this – the current style was far more heavy and ornate.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Chen Shi’ba-niang chided gently. “All bridal makeup looks like this.”
“You don’t look strange, Sister,” Chen Dan-niang insisted, still smiling, “but it just looks so odd on Lady Cheng.”
“Alright now, the banquet outside is starting. Everyone, please come out,” a maid sent by Madam Chen called from the doorway.
“Would you like me to stay with you?” Chen Shi’ba-niang asked kindly.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and shook her head.
“That’s true too,” Chen Shi’ba-niang said with a laugh. “You might not be used to having us keep you company anyway. We’ll come back to chat with you after the meal.”
Most of these women had been invited by Madam Chen. Although they had long heard of the renowned Lady Cheng, they couldn’t quite bring themselves to joke and interact with her as freely as they might with other young women. Keeping her company with casual chatter was, in the end, rather awkward for everyone.
“Thank you all,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, watching them rise and bowing slightly in return.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Chen Shi’ba-niang said with a smile, pulling along a reluctant Chen Dan-niang as they made their way out.
With everyone gone, the room returned to quiet.
“Miss, are you hungry?” Ban Qin asked.
“Even if she is, she shouldn’t eat,” the maid interjected. “It’ll be a very long day. What if she needs to relieve herself? Better to endure it for now.”
“But it really will be a long time! Miss didn’t eat anything this morning, and the wedding ceremonies won’t finish until nearly dark,” Ban Qin fretted, her face full of concern.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and shook her head.
“It won’t be too long,” she said softly.
Though orders had been given not to disturb Duke Jin’an while he rested, laughter and chatter still drifted in from the courtyard outside.
“What time is it?”
The curtain was lifted, and the Duke’s voice came from within.
Two maids hurriedly answered.
Hearing the conversation, a eunuch from the outer chamber quickly entered.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, looking at the Duke, who had propped himself up halfway.
“It’s getting late. Why haven’t we set off yet?” Duke Jin’an said.
The eunuch smiled.
“Your Highness, there’s no need to hurry,” he replied. “The route from here to the Cheng residence is a direct one. The round trip will be quite swift.”
Duke Jin’an was taken aback.
“Take a direct route?” he asked.
A wedding procession was meant for festivity and display – the groom’s side flaunting their joy, the bride’s side showcasing her dowry. Especially now in the capital, where bridal dowries were growing increasingly lavish, any respectable family would practically want the procession to circle the entire city, or at the very least, parade through the busiest streets with gongs and drums to demonstrate their wealth and status.
A direct route? Was this sneaking around like a thief or fleeing from disaster? Was this a wedding or the covert transfer of a criminal?
“It was ordered by the Empress Dowager,” the eunuch whispered softly.
Duke Jin’an hummed in acknowledgment and slowly lay back down, his gaze drifting to the wedding robes laid out nearby.
A wave of noise and clamor swelled from outside.
“They’re here, they’re here!”
Several children came running in, shouting excitedly.
Standing under the corridor eaves, Ban Qin finally let out a sigh of relief.
“They’re finally here. Why did it take so long?” she murmured.
For a moment, she had almost begun to fear they wouldn’t come at all – or that today was nothing but a dream.
“Miss, quickly, put on the bridal veil,” she said, turning and hurrying back into the room.
The bright red veil fell, covering Cheng Jiao-niang’s face and obscuring her vision.
Sunlight filtered through the crimson fabric, dyeing everything in her sight a brilliant, overwhelming red. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes, and the hands resting in her lap slowly tightened into fists.
“Miss, don’t be nervous,” the maid’s voice whispered by her ear.
Ban Qin’s voice drifted close, speaking to someone else.
“I told you Miss would be nervous… and you all kept saying nonsense…”
“But earlier she didn’t seem nervous at all. It looked like she was completely detached and relaxed.”
“That’s because the moment hadn’t come yet.”
Cheng Jiao-niang’s hands slowly relaxed.
It wasn’t nervousness. She simply disliked this shade of red – especially when it was pressed so close before her eyes, leaving nothing else in sight.
Just like when her Cheng clan was wiped out… Just like in her dreams, where that overwhelming, endless scarlet forever repeated…
“Why was it so slow?”
Zhou Fu looked at the wedding party that had finally entered, his expression dark.
The people who had come laughed.
“What’s the rush to arrive early?”
“It’s not like they need to serve tea to the elders.”
“They came to fetch the bride and leave – quick in, quick out.”
A clamor of voices rose, mixed with mocking laughter.
Fan Jianglin’s face turned grim.
“Enough, let’s move quickly. Don’t miss the auspicious hour,” a eunuch said sharply, his tone tinged with impatience. “This is supposed to be a joyous occasion. If the timing is ruined, all this effort will have been for nothing.”
They truly weren’t leaving any face to spare.
The expressions of those around turned awkward, and many quickly averted their eyes.
Zhou Fu glanced at these people, then turned and strode toward the inner courtyard.
“Sixth Young Master will escort the bride.”
As the Master of Ceremonies announced, Zhou Fu lifted Cheng Jiao-niang onto his back.
This was the closest and most intimate contact he had ever had with her – the first time, and the last.
Zhou Fu walked slowly, step by measured step, across the threshold and down the stairs.
“If…” he couldn’t help but murmur softly.
Just then, firecrackers burst into crackling life, and the gongs and drums finally swelled loudly. At last, the festive atmosphere of a wedding grew dense and vibrant.
“Brother, what were you going to say?”
Amid the noise and clamor, Zhou Fu heard her voice coming from just behind his head. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakably clear.
“It’s nothing,” Zhou Fu replied.
The person on his back fell silent again.
Zhou Fu raised his head, looking toward the gate that drew nearer with each step. The noise around him seemed to fade, and the path before him wavered, now distant, now close.
If only I could keep walking like this forever…
The street outside the Cheng residence was already packed with people. Without the guards from the City Guard keeping order, it would have been completely impassable.
“She’s coming out! She’s coming out!”
At the sight of the bride carried out on the back of a tall, sturdy young man, the crowd erupted into even louder excitement, everyone surging forward.
But unlike those who simply came to watch a wedding procession, many in the crowd held bottles and jars in their hands.
“Is there wine? Is there wine?”
Voices rose here and there, calling out the question.
Yet as the bride took her seat inside the sedan chair, as the groom’s party and the bride’s escort mounted their horses and carriages, as the maids lined up in two rows beside the sedan, as soldiers cleared the way ahead and porters lifted the dowry chests behind – everything appeared, on the surface, no different from any other grand wedding.
“Nothing again!”
A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the crowd.
“What’s going on? When a few of her sworn brothers died, she made such a grand gesture…”
“…Yeah, and even when the new scholars paraded through the streets, she brewed wine for that too…”
“…So why, when it comes to her own affairs – her own brother, no less – is there nothing at all?”
Still, some held onto hope.
“Maybe the real excitement will be on the main street.”
“Right, right – near the Immortal’s Abode.”
The crowd surged again toward the busiest, most prosperous thoroughfare, but halfway there, some noticed something odd.
“Hey? Wait… that’s not right.”
They called out in surprise, pointing at the wedding procession.
“Why are they heading into the side streets?!”
Zhou Fu, riding on horseback, watched the procession ahead of him, a cold smirk finally breaking through his somber expression.
They truly aren’t sparing even a shred of face.
Soon, others in the bridal party also began to notice something amiss. Their expressions tightened slightly, and the maids and older women couldn’t help whispering among themselves.
“Goodness, have they taken the wrong way?”
Fearing any mishap, Madam Chen had personally taken on the role of the “Full Fortune Lady” to escort the bride. She had been keeping a close watch outside and, seeing this, immediately lifted the carriage curtain to ask.
“Madam of State Lu,” a eunuch riding nearby said with a polite smile, “His Majesty is unwell, and the Duke is also ailing. The Empress Dowager has ordered that everything be kept simple.”
With the Empress Dowager invoked, Madam Chen could say no more. She managed a strained smile and asked no further, instead gazing ahead at the narrow street and letting out a soft sigh.
There was nothing to be done. The imperial family was making it unmistakably clear -they intended to slight the bride.
Walking beside the carriage, Ban Qin’s face paled slightly, and her eyes reddened.
“Now I understand what Miss meant,” she murmured.
“What did she say?” the maid whispered back.
“It won’t be too long,” Banqian repeated softly.
There would be no procession circling the city, no lively, celebratory send-off – only a hurried shortcut to enter the household. That was why the wait wouldn’t be long before she could go inside, eat, and rest.
She looked ahead. The musicians and drummers sent from the palace were blowing their suonas and beating their gongs listlessly, the sound sparse and half-hearted.
People on the street were also taken aback when the bridal procession suddenly turned into this narrow lane.
A wedding procession that avoids the main streets? Could this be some impoverished, obscure family too ashamed to show their meager dowry?
But when they caught sight of the imperial guards and soldiers clearing the way at the front, everyone scattered in alarm to make room.
This was a protocol reserved for nothing less than a prince.
But even a prince taking a concubine wouldn’t be this shabby, would they?
Filled with curiosity, the onlookers lifted their heads to peer more closely.
“See, I was right.”
Within the groom’s procession, two men were chatting and laughing idly.
“Even though this road is narrower than the main avenue, for a wedding procession, it’s practically spacious.”
They didn’t have to disperse throngs of people or slow their pace because of crowds gathering to watch.
“I told you we could’ve had another bowl of wine before setting out,” the other man said, raising a hand to cover a yawn, his tone groggy with the lingering haze of last night’s drink. “Drinking with our brothers is what really matters.”
As they were bantering and chuckling, they suddenly noticed a carriage ahead emerging from a side alley. It moved at a leisurely pace, positioning itself just in front of the procession.
The imperial guards leading the way called out “Hey, hey!” a couple of times to shoo it away, but the old man driving the carriage seemed hard of hearing and didn’t react, continuing to lead his horse at a slow, unhurried pace.
What kind of spectacle is this!
A guard urged his horse forward, ready to drive the carriage aside.
But wasn’t making a spectacle exactly the point? Hadn’t the Empress Dowager’s intention been precisely to make this wedding look undignified?
A eunuch, realizing this, hurriedly called the guard back.
“It’s not far, and the road is narrow. Trying to make way would only cause more trouble. Let him go ahead; we’ll just slow down,” he said.
“Right, right, there’s no hurry anyway,” someone else chimed in with a laugh.
This remark drew more laughter, even drowning out the sound of the drums and music.
Ban Qin could bear to look no longer. She lowered her head, letting the tears that had welled up fall freely so they wouldn’t smudge her carefully applied makeup.
The narrow, winding street was soon left behind.
“Turn here, and after one more street, we’ll be there.”
“We can go back to drinking right after.”
The chatter and laughter within the procession never ceased. But as they rounded the corner, the sudden sound of a zither struck the air – lively, soaring notes that rose above the idle talk.
Who’s playing the zither in the middle of the street?
The wedding party instinctively quieted down, turning to look. Not far ahead on this street, a man was sitting cross-legged on the ground.
“Eh? Isn’t that Master Cui?” someone called out.
At these words, more people recognized him.
Master Cui was indispensable for major imperial ceremonies, and having him perform at a banquet was a point of pride for noble families in the capital.
Why was he playing the zither right here on the street?
Master Cui seemed completely absorbed in his music, not looking at anyone in the procession at all.
As the party drew closer, his melody grew even more vibrant and joyful. The drums and ceremonial music continued, and greetings and chatter still echoed around, but strangely, everyone could hear the zither’s notes clearly, as if they were lingering right by their ears. Before their eyes, a vision seemed to emerge – a gathering of a hundred birds circling and swooping, then scattering with a flurry, making one instinctively want to stretch, to chase, to leap.
The music drew the attention of everyone on the street. People stepped out from doorways, pedestrians paused by the roadside – those who understood it were enchanted, while those who didn’t were simply captivated by its pure delight.
“I’ve never heard this piece before,” someone remarked.
This came from a member of the groom’s party, his expression tinged with excitement.
“It must be a new composition by Master Cui!”
“But why would Master Cui come here to play?” another asked.
By now, they had already passed the spot where Master Cui sat, yet the notes of the zither still lingered in their ears, lingering and clear. People couldn’t help but look back.
“Have you forgotten?” someone suddenly said. “Who was it whose playing Master Cui listened to before he achieved his breakthrough?”
Lady Cheng!
Her music had cleansed a residence of malevolent energy, brought the foolish Prince Qing back to his senses, and captivated Master Cui.
“So, you mean Master Cui is…” A sense of disbelief mixed with dawning understanding spread through the crowd.
He had come specifically to play for Lady Cheng’s wedding procession.
“This piece is absolutely beautiful!”
“I must invite Master Cui to play at my home!”
More and more people began to chatter excitedly about this, some even itching to rush over immediately to ask Master Cui for the name of the composition. Unfortunately, being part of the wedding procession, they couldn’t break away.
“Right, right! I must invite him too, to play this… this… ‘Lady Cheng’s Bridal Procession Melody’!”
Lady Cheng’s Bridal Procession Melody?!
With this naming, Lady Cheng’s wedding would forever be associated with this music, passed down through time.
The streets were interconnected, and news of what was happening here spread quickly.
“Quick, go see! Over there, a palace musician is playing for Lady Cheng’s wedding procession!”
“It’s unbelievably beautiful!”
Lady Cheng?
There was still such excitement to be had?
Instantly, crowds began surging toward this street.
The procession moved forward, and the zither’s melody gradually faded into the distance. Yet many still couldn’t help looking back, lingering in the afterglow of the music. Just as they were savoring the memory, a sudden shout rose from ahead.
“Look! What’s that over there?”
Could it be someone else playing?
Everyone looked ahead. On both sides of the street, a crowd had appeared as if from nowhere – old and young, large and small, some dressed in fine silks and satins, others in simple blue cloth garments. What they shared was that each held a brush in hand and carried ink.
What was this?
As people watched in puzzlement, figures on both sides began to move. As they ran, a long sheet of white paper unfurled before them like a great curtain.
“Raise your brushes!”
A loud voice called out.
At this command, everyone on both sides gripped their brushes.
With Master Cui’s melody now gone, the ceremonial drums and music, which had just resumed, fell silent again. The musicians stared at the rows of people lining the street – orderly in arrangement yet chaotic in their mix of ages and stations.
From all directions, near and far, countless others were rushing toward the scene.
“Begin!”
With this shout, the people began to wield their brushes, ink flowing freely across the white paper spread before them.
This was…
The wedding party was stunned. The horses moved forward out of habit, but the riders sat rigid, their gazes sweeping over these writing figures as they passed.
There were white-haired elders, handsome youths, and even young children with their hair still tied in childish tufts. What they shared was their focused intensity as they wielded their brushes – some holding precious, meticulously crafted writing instruments, others clutching worn-out, almost bare fowl-feather quills. Across the white paper, characters large and small began to appear, some executed with practiced grace, others with the earnest clumsiness of beginners.
“A maiden of Cheng once taught the art of script,”
“Each stroke and dot followed its proper way,”
“Emotion moved first, then the brush took flight,”
“Autumn leaves in the suburbs rustle in dismay.”
As ink splashed and brushes danced, someone began to recite aloud.
One voice first, then more and more joined in – voices aged and voices tender, line after line, step by step, unfurling before everyone’s eyes like a painted scroll.
Those on horseback no longer wore mocking smiles. Though there was no longer the soul-stirring zither music of Master Cui, their hearts now surged with a different kind of tumult.
A maiden of Cheng once taught the art of script!
The silent gatherings to observe calligraphy before her gate, the copybooks given freely to anyone who asked – she had never claimed to be a teacher, yet she was still honored as one.
The maid covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her face.
So they all remember. Everyone remembers.
Her mistress did not speak of it, did not ask for anything. But that did not mean no one would offer, no one would give.
At some point, the street had become a surging sea of people, more bustling than the busiest thoroughfare in the capital.
“Is this a send-off for Lady Cheng?”
“Heavens, I’ve never seen a bridal procession like this!”
“Look, I recognize that one writing – that’s a famous scholar from the Menglin Academy!”
“I know one too! That’s the third son from my neighbor’s family!”
The sheets of paper unfurled along both sides of the road stretched over a hundred meters. Normally, a wedding procession would pass such a distance in an instant, but today, they moved slowly.
Partly because everyone couldn’t help but stop and look, and partly because crowds continued to pour into the street, forcing the imperial guards ahead to clear the way with great difficulty.
“So even taking a shortcut, a side road… doesn’t work,” someone in the procession murmured under their breath.
In truth, which route they took made no difference at all – because the one being escorted in this wedding procession was Lady Cheng.
Within the procession, no one joked or laughed anymore. Even the man who had been eager to hurry back for more wine seemed to have shaken off his hangover, his expression now replaced by one of solemn awe.
At that moment, a tremendous boom suddenly tore through the sky. The bustling, crowded street fell into a stunned silence for a split second. Before anyone could gather their wits, fireworks erupted in midair, blossoming like radiant clouds.
Fireworks – as dazzling as rosy clouds in broad daylight!
For an instant, all noise on the street vanished, plunging into an eerie, breathless quiet. Everyone felt a tingling sensation shoot from the soles of their feet straight to the crown of their heads.
Boom after boom followed in succession, filling the sky with bursts of multicolored splendor.
With a roar, the entire street erupted once again.
“This goes without saying,” someone murmured. “This must be another one who received her teachings in the past, now coming to bid her farewell…”
“Empress Dowager, you may not send her off…”
Someone within the groom’s party looked up at the multicolored clouds of fire blooming ceaselessly in the sky, at this street transformed as if by a dream, and whispered,
“…but others are sending her.”
And this kind of send-off – even with all the wealth and supreme authority in the world, you, Empress Dowager, cannot bestow it, nor can you stop it…
A maiden of Cheng once taught… followed its proper way… emotion moved first… rustle in dismay…
Rustle in dismay!
Ban Qin reached out and gripped the window frame of the carriage.
“Miss! Miss!” she cried out, sobbing. “Do you see? Do you see? So many people have come to send you off! So many are here for you! Miss, you were wrong – the bridal procession is taking a very, very long time!”
Inside the sedan chair, Cheng Jiao-niang, who had been sitting perfectly still and had not opened her eyes since the red veil descended, slowly unclenched her hands. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Red. Her vision was still filled with that glaring, overwhelming red. But now, it didn’t seem to frighten her quite as much.
“Miss, do you see? So many remember you. Miss, they all remember you.”
Ban Qin’s voice from outside, mingled with the continuous bursts of fireworks, struck her ears.
I see. I see.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s gaze remained fixed straight ahead. A single tear traced a path from the corner of her eye.
