“Come, Your Highness, please take a seat.”
The woman’s voice echoed softly within the room, and the surrounding chatter and laughter swelled along with it.
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her gaze, her peripheral vision catching sight of Duke Jin’an being helped to his seat beside her by an attendant.
Two maids approached with trays in hand.
“Due to Your Highness’s health, we will forgo the traditional wedding chamber festivities. Once the wedding wine is shared, the ceremony will be complete,” said the Full Fortune Lady.
The maids half-knelt, holding up the trays.
Cheng Jiao-niang reached out to take a wine cup, and Duke Jin’an did the same. Everyone in the room watched with cheerful smiles.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to face Duke Jin’an. The duke extended his hand, and Cheng Jiao-niang linked her arm through his. Just as they were about to drink, she subtly drew her hand back, letting the back of her hand gently tap against the duke’s wine cup.
Within the short distance of half an arm’s length, she could feel his breath.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a faint shake of her head, and Duke Jin’an responded with a slight nod.
The exchange lasted only a blink of an eye. By the time the onlookers noticed, Cheng Jiao-niang had already raised her head and finished her wine, while Duke Jin’an had merely touched the cup to his lips.
“Very well, Your Highness, you must return and rest now,” the attendant urged, unable to wait any longer.
Without giving the duke a chance to speak or move, the attendant stepped forward to help him up but paused abruptly.
“Attendants,” the eunuch called, turning his head.
Two eunuchs entered from outside the door.
“Is the sedan chair ready outside?” the eunuch asked.
The two eunuchs nodded.
“Escort His Highness back,” the eunuch instructed.
Immediately, the two eunuchs hurried over to support him from either side.
Cheng Jiao-niang rose and stepped aside, watching as the two men slowly helped Duke Jin’an out of the room.
“My lady, I shall take my leave,” the eunuch said to Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded, and only then did the eunuch exit.
The atmosphere in the room grew somewhat peculiar.
“Then… then the lady should rest,” the Full Fortune Lady was the first to react, quickly summoning the others with a smile. “We shall take our leave now.”
The crowd hastily offered a few more words of blessings before filing out.
“…I thought he had recovered…”
“…How could it be… that he couldn’t even be helped up by a single eunuch… and had to pretend to call others in…”
“…That moment just now really frightened me…”
“…Did you see it? The prince’s face went stiff… If this joyous occasion turned into a funeral…”
“…Ah, hush! How dare you say such a thing!”
Outside the door, under the corridor, the maid and Ban Qin watched the whispering women depart. Exchanging a glance, they saw the shock mirrored in each other’s eyes. Immediately, they turned and pushed the door open to enter.
Inside the room, Cheng Jiao-niang was about to remove the phoenix crown in front of the bronze mirror.
“Miss, let us help,” they said hurriedly.
Cheng Jiao-niang then sat down, allowing them to assist her.
“Miss, we never expected the duke to personally attend the wedding ceremony,” Ban Qin said hesitantly, a touch of hope in her voice. “Does that mean his health has improved?”
When Ban Qin saw Duke Jin’an appear in wedding attire, she had been overjoyed to tears.
Even though Duke Jin’an had arrived in a sedan chair and had been supported by two eunuchs as he walked toward the sedan, and as he was assisted step by step through the ceremony with the mistress – still, it was enough. For a woman, this most important event of her life had finally been fulfilled.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Without the slightest ambiguity.
Ban Qin’s heart instantly sank, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she removed the hairpins.
“However, with you here, he will surely recover gradually,” the maid quickly reassured with a smile.
Ban Qin then looked expectantly at Cheng Jiao-niang.
Before Cheng Jiao-niang could respond, maids from the duke’s residence entered, bringing in the meal.
From morning until now, all three of them had neither eaten nor drunk a drop. With their hearts tense throughout the day, they had not felt it much. Now that the wedding had concluded more successfully than expected, their minds finally eased, leaving them ravenous and faint with hunger.
“All other matters can wait. The meal comes first,” the maid said.
Ban Qin nodded in agreement.
“We’ll eat first, then help Miss freshen up,” she added.
“Also, ask where our traveling cases are. Take out the items Miss usually uses.”
“I know – I saw them placed in the eastern side room.”
Outside, the night grew deeper. With doors and windows left open, the gentle summer breeze drifted in, carrying the quiet, scattered conversation from inside the room.
The banquet at the duke’s residence had already concluded.
Standing outside the duke’s estate, Zhou Fu, about to mount his horse, couldn’t help but glance back once more.
“Young Master Zhou.”
Madam Chen’s voice came from nearby.
“I think I’ll make a stop at the Cheng household first.”
Zhou Fu quickly straightened up and stepped forward to bow.
“You’ve been exhausted these past few days, Madam. Please return and rest now. I will relay everything here to… Brother Fan and his wife,” he said.
A faint smile touched Madam Chen’s weary face.
“However you look at it, the fact that His Highness could personally attend the ceremony shows he is improving,” she remarked.
A hint of hesitation flashed across Zhou Fu’s face.
When he saw Duke Jin’an being carried out in a sedan chair earlier, he had also been surprised. Although the duke looked quite unwell, he was still able to stand and move with the support of the eunuchs.
However, the murmurs that spread during the banquet took a less favorable turn. Guests were barely eating or drinking, instead whispering among themselves. By the end, there were even rumors that Duke Jin’an had fainted in the bridal chamber.
Later, he had sought out Ban Qin to ask, and when she personally came to clarify that nothing of the sort had happened, his worries eased somewhat.
“Don’t worry too much,” Madam Chen said, noticing Zhou Fu’s expression. “With Jiao-niang by his side, his health will surely improve with care. Besides, this isn’t truly an illness…”
But not being an illness was precisely what made it so frightening. Illnesses can be treated, but fate is far harder to mend…
Zhou Fu lowered his head in acknowledgment.
As the carriages and horses gradually departed, the lively clamor outside Duke Jin’an’s residence slowly faded, restoring a deep quiet to the scene.
The Cheng residence grew lively again as Zhou Fu and the others returned.
“…It was such a vibrant send-off – those two sheets of paper filled with characters, stretching over a hundred meters, were even carried into Duke Jin’an’s residence…”
“Though the writing wasn’t particularly extraordinary, the fact that so many people added their words to it was like… like an incorruptible official receiving a ‘Ten-Thousand People Umbrella’.”
“Indeed, everyone crowded around to look, and no one even paid attention to the dowry…”
This remark made everyone in the room laugh.
“Why look at the dowry?” Lady Huang said, wiping away tears. “Our Jiao-niang is a treasure beyond measure.”
“Madam, the duke personally attended the wedding ceremony as well,” two women added joyfully. “Personally – from stepping out of the carriage, to lifting the bridal veil, and even sharing the wedding cup – he managed it all himself.”
Upon hearing this, Fan Jianglin raised a bowl of wine and drank deeply, unable to hide the joy in his eyes. When he glanced across at Zhou Fu, however, he found the young man’s expression blank and wooden.
“Young Master Zhou,” he called out.
Zhou Fu did not respond.
“Young Master Zhou?” Fan Jianglin raised his voice again.
Only then did Zhou Fu look over.
“Young Master Zhou, you’ve been weary these past few days. You should rest soon,” Fan Jianglin said, suddenly thinking of something. “Why not stay here for the night? It’s just you alone at home anyway.”
Zhou Fu shook his head and stood up.
“I’ll take my leave now,” he said.
Fan Jianglin and Lady Huang hurriedly escorted him out themselves, watching as the young man rode slowly away into the night.
“It’s… rather pitiful, really…” Lady Huang couldn’t help murmuring. “Actually, this young man isn’t a bad sort…”
Fan Jianglin remained silent, gazing at Zhou Fu’s retreating figure before suddenly asking the gatekeeper to fetch a jug of wine.
“What are you doing?” Lady Huang asked quickly.
“I’ll be heading out for a while,” Fan Jianglin replied.
Lady Huang glanced up at the sky.
“It’s already dark, and besides, you’ve been tired for days. Where are you going?” she asked repeatedly, but Fan Jianglin had already taken the wine jug, mounted his horse, and trotted away.
Summer nights on the streets were even livelier than during the day. Fan Jianglin rode straight along the main road by the river, passing through the east gate of the city. A few miles out of town, the bustle and noise faded, replaced by the enveloping darkness of the night, with the sounds of summer insects and night birds rising and falling around him.
Fan Jianglin dismounted, sat down on the ground, and opened the wine jug.
“Brothers, I’m a little late bringing you this wine,” he said. “I will punish myself with three cups first.”
With that, he tilted his head back and took several large gulps.
“You drink. I need a few words with Third Brother.”
Fan Jianglin smiled, then tossed the wine jug aside. It shattered on the ground, the strong aroma of wine instantly filling the air. For a moment, it seemed as if the boisterous laughter and jostling of his brothers echoed in his ears.
Fan Jianglin grinned again, then turned his gaze to the tombstone in front of him.
“Third Brother,” he said. “She’s not in sorrow, rest assured.”
After these words, the graveyard fell into silence once more.
“And you must not be in sorrow, either.”
As if after a long while, Fan Jianglin murmured softly.
The night grew deeper, and the crowds on the streets gradually thinned. Stalls that weren’t operating late into the night had already closed, and the attendant, who had been trailing behind for so long that his legs were numb, could no longer hold back.
“Young Master, it’s getting late. Time to go back,” he said.
“Aren’t we on our way back now?” Zhou Fu shot him an impatient glare and snapped.
The attendant forced a smile.
But… they’d already wandered around half the city…
“Young Master, I know you’re not feeling well inside, but you’ve been exhausted these past few days…” he ventured.
“Who’s not feeling well inside?” Zhou Fu retorted even more irritably, raising his voice. “I’m just taking a casual stroll.”
The attendant faltered, nodding awkwardly and not daring to speak further.
Zhou Fu looked up, surveying his surroundings with a moment of confusion about where he was.
“Let’s head back,” he muttered sullenly, swinging himself onto his horse.
As the gates of the Zhou residence came into view in the distance, the attendant sighed with relief – they were finally back. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Zhou Fu ahead abruptly reined in his horse. Before the attendant could react, Zhou Fu had already dismounted and rushed straight toward the side of the road.
What happened?
With a muffled groan, Qin Hu fell to the ground. As Zhou Fu swung his fist again, Qin Hu didn’t dodge. Instead, he smiled, tightening his grip on the wine jug.
Zhou Fu landed several heavy punches, glaring at Qin Hu, who lay on the ground merely laughing.
“What are you trying to do?” Zhou Fu growled through gritted teeth.
Qin Hu lifted the wine jug with some effort.
“Drinking,” he said with a laugh, tilting the jug over himself as he spoke.
Wine spilled onto his face, soaking his collar.
Zhou Fu stared at him, then kicked him fiercely once more before turning to leave.
“Liu-lang,” Qin Hu called after him.
Zhou Fu paused for a moment.
“Want to have a drink together?” Qin Hu lay on the ground, watching him, and raised the wine jug.
Zhou Fu glanced back at him.
“She said she believes you,” he said abruptly.
Qin Hu laughed heartily.
“I know, I know she believes me,” he replied, his face glistening with moisture – whether wine or tears, it was hard to tell.
Zhou Fu looked at him and smiled faintly.
“It’s herself she believes in, not you,” he said, then turned and walked away.
“Liu-lang!”
Qin Hu’s voice trailed behind him.
“Can we at least share a drink?”
Zhou Fu’s steps didn’t falter again as he strode off, his attendant catching up with the horse behind him.
In the darkness, the gates of the Zhou residence opened and then closed, returning the street to silence. Qin Hu lay on the ground, slowly tilting the wine jug once more.
“Not even drinking together?”
“Not even sending wedding gifts?”
“Nothing at all is allowed?”
“Is it all over for good?”
“It’s just like a dream.”
“All of this… is it just a dream?”
A dream! It must be a dream!
The wine jug emptied completely. Qin Hu held it up and shook it, then seemed to grow enraged that there was no wine left. With a furious roar, he hurled the jug hard onto the ground, the shattering sound echoing through the street.
“I… have… a painting…”
“A beauty… painted… for me…”
“Grape wine… in celebration of triumph…”
“…There was a beauty once… unforgettable at first sight…”
Fragmented, half-laughing, half-murmuring, his chants and sighs drifted and faded into the night sky.
Inside the courtyard, Zhou Fu glanced upward toward the sound, then raised his own wine jug and drank deeply.
“…One day without seeing her… feels like an eternity of longing…”
“Constant yearning… constant remembrance…”
“Brief longing… yet boundless and endless…”
The night was deep. Having just left the washroom, Ban Qin thanked the two maids and declined their further assistance before stepping into the room, where she paused in a momentary daze.
The original eight lamps had been removed, leaving only two lit. The scattered and overly ornate decorations had also been cleared away. A low table and cushions were now placed by the window, a long bow hung on the wall, along with a four-legged stool, an incense burner…
Ban Qin couldn’t help rubbing her eyes.
The lady leaning against the armrest at the table, reading, glanced at her.
“What’s the matter?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Only then did Ban Qin snap back to reality.
“My lady, for a moment I thought I was dreaming,” she murmured, then smiled. “It felt just like being back at our home.”
“We are at our home,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, her gaze returning to the book in her hands.
Home…
Yes, from now on, this would be Miss’s home.
Wherever Miss was, that was their home – and home was always the same, no matter where they went.
A smile brimmed in Ban Qin’s eyes as she hurried over to pour tea for Cheng Jiao-niang.
“Miss, are you really going to read now?” she asked, chuckling. “You’ve been busy all day – perhaps you should rest early.”
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a soft hum of acknowledgment.
“I’ll just finish this section,” she replied.
Ban Qin then went to tidy the bed. When she saw the bright red double pillow and quilt, she hesitated for a moment. Just as she was about to put one set away, a commotion broke out outside.
“What’s happening?” she exclaimed, startled.
Although the guards had followed them as household attendants, they were not permitted to enter the prince’s inner courtyard – even though this was the duke’s residence. Ban Qin couldn’t help but feel her heart race with anxiety.
“Miss,” the maid pushed the door open, looking rather flustered. “His Highness is here.”
He’s here at this hour?
Could something have happened?
Ban Qin’s face paled instantly by the bedside.
The hushed whispers of the women earlier echoed once again in her ears.
And Miss had also said that His Highness wasn’t fully recovered yet…
Could it be that he had taken a turn for the worse and needed Miss’s help to save him?
Ban Qin’s legs suddenly felt weak. She sank onto the bed, and the pillow she had been holding slipped from her hands.
