The wedding date was approaching.
Although the circumstances surrounding Ming Li’s marriage were not exactly honorable, the Imperial family spared no effort in putting on a grand, polished display. The official narrative was that the two had grown inseparable and deeply in love after their narrow escape during the last imperial hunt. Ultimately, it was not a forced union; it was a choice they had both made. Yet, how many people actually believed that was anyone's guess.
Once the barrier between them had been broken, Jiang Ling arrived almost every morning to keep Ming Li company while she dressed. However, Jiang Ling still did not know how to bridge the gap with the sister she had been estranged from for so many years; she could only sit quietly to the side, looking as stoic as ever. There was no joy in her demeanor, only her usual solemnity.
Mother Jiang and the concubines, aware of the truth, said nothing. After all, it was merely to save face for the Imperial family. On the surface, the Seventh Prince was taking a consort, but in reality, it was little more than a man marrying into his wife’s family.
The only thing that required caution was the wedding night. "A-Li, you must be careful not to be too heavy-handed." If she got too angry and accidentally killed him, there would be a catastrophe! Mother Jiang was anxious. She was unaware of Ming Li constantly sending food and clothes to the estate; she only saw Ming Li running out all day and assumed she must harbor deep resentment toward this marriage.
Ming Li nodded. She naturally wouldn't. Otherwise, he would not have survived until now.
The rest of the process held nothing new: going through the motions at the Imperial Palace, followed by a formal procession to the Seventh Prince’s Estate, where they performed the final bows before being sent to the bridal chamber.
Ming Li drifted through the entire affair in a daze, and upon returning to the room, she collapsed onto the bed and fell fast asleep. By the time Yin Xun entered, the person on the wedding quilt was already deep in slumber.
Even in sleep, the bride showed no unseemly habits. Her wedding dress was free of creases, her veil was perfectly intact, and her hands rested neatly over her abdomen. She looked incredibly well-behaved and docile—a sharp contrast to her usual capable and cold demeanor.
Yin Xun stood to the side for a long time. Finally, he gathered the courage to pick up the balance scale and lift the edge of her veil. Shamefully, because of his gaunt appearance, he did not look healthy even after being meticulously groomed, so no one had been tactless enough to force drinks on him. Instead, he had been served half a belly full of tea as a mere formality. Consequently, as the groom, he carried no scent of alcohol.
People always said that alcohol bolsters one's courage, but he had no such experience. Having lifted the veil with the scale and stolen a few glances, he retreated to sit by the table, behaving himself. His heart was filled with both anxiety and a strange, unexpected flicker of anticipation.
The Divine Stone couldn’t help but feel bewildered: *Wasn't it you, Your Highness, who made the first move in the Imperial Garden? And that sword strike during the hunt... Damn it! Your Highness, you were so bold back then! Stand up for yourself now!*
Ming Li, seemingly hearing the Divine Stone’s wailing in her hazy state, murmured, "...There are quilts in the cabinet. Lay out a few layers and sleep on the floor."
As for the nuptial wine, since Ming Li held the dominant position in this union and did not bring it up, he simply skipped it. In any case, his painstaking efforts to reach this place were not for the sake of his wife. From start to finish, his only goal was... survival. But it was truly difficult.
"I can't lift my head. Pour two cups of wine." No sooner had the thought formed in his mind than the girl’s languid voice drifted over. He steadied his emotions and obediently carried two wine cups to the bedside.
The girl reached up to try and lift her head, but after struggling twice, she gave up and readjusted her posture, looking increasingly comfortable. For a fleeting moment, Yin Xun thought she was deliberately ordering him around, with no intention of actually cooperating. But when he saw how her head was practically pinned to the bed by the weight of her hair ornaments, he dismissed the thought. Those ornaments had been commissioned by Madam Jiang at great cost; they were like a mountain, heavy and ornate, much like the weight of marriage in a woman's life.
"Let me help you take them off, Miss," he said after a moment’s hesitation, his tone gentle as he broke the stalemate.
Ming Li, who was lying there, felt the strain on her scalp. She weighed the options and finally accepted the favor. With a blank face, she stared at the luxurious, intricate bed curtains, thinking that she was truly making a great sacrifice.
Yin Xun stood there, unsure of where to start. Only after a long while did he touch the edge of the bed and slowly crawl up. This time, however, it was his own initiative, and the feeling was entirely different. By the time he sat beside her, his cheeks were flushed with a sickly red, as if he had traveled a thousand miles. Only then did he tentatively reach out to tuck his fingers into her long hair.
Unexpectedly, it didn’t feel like a chore; rather, he found himself quite adept at it. Taking the opportunity, he finally dared to look at her closely. She was a beauty of the highest caliber—her eyebrows elegantly arched, her skin like piled snow. Even the imperial concubines renowned for their beauty could not compare to her. Under normal circumstances, someone like him would never be worthy of her. She was a prize he had stolen.
Ming Li, however, was unaware of his hidden melancholy. She felt nothing unusual and simply accepted his service with ease. Before long, the heavy phoenix crown was removed. The two sat there—one lying down, one kneeling—without another word, until Ming Li sat up and took a cup of wine. Only then did Yin Xun realize what was happening and reach out his arm to join her.
The wine was sharp and spicy. Yin Xun coughed the moment he swallowed it. When he looked at the girl beside him, she was already unfastening her wedding dress, revealing the silk undergarment that clung to her slender frame. He stood there for a long while, not knowing how to react.
Ming Li turned a questioning gaze toward him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Yin Xun looked away in embarrassment. Fortunately, the lingering scent of alcohol masked his face, making his blush seem less conspicuous. He then stiffly grabbed a quilt and laid out a bed on the floor.
Even as he lay down, his head remained light and dizzy; the reality of the situation hadn't truly set in. Although he wasn't sleeping on the bed, the bedding provided was thick—suitable for late spring, even thicker than what he had used in winter—and he didn't feel the slightest chill.
Beyond that, he had finally escaped that soul-consuming deep palace.
Perhaps the warmth of the candles reflecting off the deep red decorations was too intoxicating. By the end, Yin Xun didn't even know when he fell asleep, only that he slept with a sense of profound peace.
Ming Li, however, was unusually restless. She tossed and turned, looking down at the floor for a long time, until she finally stretched out her leg and gave him a kick.
Yin Xun, still groggy, grabbed her foot. He met her gaze—her eyes filled with faint curiosity—and, overcome by sleepiness, his eyes welled up with a few crystal drops.
"Miss..."
The expression on her face mirrored the malice of that day. His mind was too muddled to think clearly, so, just as he had done that day, he subconsciously leaned in and rubbed his cheek against the warmth.
Ming Li, her calf stained with a bit of his damp heat, raised an eyebrow and finally pulled her leg back.
"Nothing. Go to sleep."
She couldn't shake the feeling that her nonexistent conscience was aching a little.