Peanuts and longans, meant to bring good fortune, scattered across the wedding bed.
Jiang Yue felt like a tiny boat lost in a vast ocean, pinned down and tossed about on the bed. Her mistress had only told her to "test the marriage" and to do whatever was in her power to satisfy the master. She hadn't mentioned that the process would be so... humiliating. Fortunately, the candles had been extinguished early. Amidst all that tossing and turning, the man on the bed never realized that the person beneath him was not the noble daughter of the Marquis Manor who had just been wed that day, but her own personal maid who had entered the household with her.
When the watchman’s drum sounded for the fifth time, the man finally let out a sigh of satiation and fell into a deep sleep.
Jiang Yue did not dare to delay a moment longer. She crept out of bed, but the moment she returned to her quarters, the sudden sound of scolding made her legs go weak, and she dropped to her knees with a thud.
"We agreed on the third watch! And you—look at you! It’s already daylight before you return. I think you've forgotten your place!"
"It’s not that... the General wouldn't let me go—no, I mean, the master couldn't bear to part with the mistress..."
She stuttered through those blushing excuses, feeling as though no explanation could possibly be right. Fortunately, someone spoke up to defuse the tension, which finally allowed Jiang Yue to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Mother Su, why bother frightening the girl? She’s worked hard all night; she deserves a reward."
"Mistress."
Fu Rong was dressed in a wedding nightgown identical to the one Jiang Yue wore, though the tailoring was far more elegant and luxurious. With fingernails polished to a bright, chive-green sheen, she lifted Jiang Yue’s chin to inspect her closely.
Seeing Jiang Yue’s flushed eyes still lingering with the afterglow of her first encounter, her face like a peeled peach—tempting and ripe—and noting the genuine anxiety and sweat on her forehead, she suppressed the wariness in her eyes. She personally helped Jiang Yue up and led her to the table.
"Silly girl, you are my most trusted confidante. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have entrusted such a secret matter to you."
As she spoke, a bowl of pitch-black medicinal soup was set before her. Jiang Yue sniffed it; the broth had already gone cold, and beneath the bitterness, there was a faint, fishy scent. She hesitated only for a moment before closing her eyes and downing it in one go.
This display of decisiveness caused Fu Rong and Mother Su to exchange a subtle glance, and their tension eased. Seeing them move to leave, Jiang Yue blocked the door, showing a rare spark of stubbornness.
"Mistress, as we agreed, you must now call an imperial physician for my sister."
This breach of propriety caused Mother Su to furrow her brow, but before she could speak, Fu Rong signaled her to stop and smiled gently at Jiang Yue.
"So urgent—do you not trust my word?"
Jiang Yue’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed all the words she had meant to say and simply shook her head.
Fu Rong’s smile deepened. "Since you trust me, then move aside. If I return to my room late, I fear my husband might grow suspicious. Don't you agree?"
Her sister’s heart condition could not be delayed. But...
Clutching the corner of her robe, Jiang Yue lowered her eyes and slowly stepped aside, watching them leave. She had gambled everything on this; she could not afford a single mistake.
Enduring the soreness in her body, she changed out of the vibrant red wedding dress. She stroked the mandarin duck embroidery one last time before hiding the garment in the most inconspicuous corner of the wardrobe. As she did, a small pouch fell to the floor, embroidered with crooked stars and a crescent moon.
It was a pouch her sister, Xingxing, had sewn by hand. She had said that as long as Jiang Yue carried it, she could send her love back home. Picking up the pouch and pressing it to her cheek, Jiang Yue’s vision blurred.
*Xingxing.*
*You don’t have to be afraid of dying anymore.*
*Big sister can save you now.*
Daylight broke. The mansion was still buzzing with the lingering atmosphere of yesterday’s wedding. Jiang Yue could hear the kitchen servants gossiping happily about how much tip money they had received and how many times the master had called for water in the middle of the night.
Carrying a soup bowl, Jiang Yue stood in a daze under the corridor before heading toward the main chamber. Just as she rounded a corner, a gust of wind struck.
She looked up to see a long spear flying straight at her. Terrified, her body went limp and she collapsed to the ground, losing her grip on the tray. Suddenly, the spear stopped steady in front of her eyes, spun once in a graceful arc, and then swept downward along her cheek. With the fluidity of flowing water, it caught the falling tray.
The soup bowl landed perfectly on the tray, without spilling a single drop.
Jiang Yue stared blankly at this extraordinary display until a cold snort forced her to look up at the man standing with the spear. He was dressed in a moonlight-colored robe, his ink-black hair tied high. His tall, upright posture was as graceful and handsome as green bamboo, but his eyes were as deep and dark as ink, as if they could see through everything.
Noticing the faint flicker of impatience in his expression, Jiang Yue remembered that this was her master, the newly promoted General Xiao Yunsheng. It was precisely this long spear he used to slay countless enemies and earn his legendary military merits.
Her heart pounded like a drum, terrified he would see through the secret of last night's deception. She hurriedly took the tray, lowered her head, and bowed. "Greetings, General."
For a long time, she heard only her own breathing. It wasn't until the sound of martial arts practice resumed in the distance that she dared to look up. Xiao Yunsheng was already back in the courtyard. The spear, taller than a man, was as obedient in his hands as if it shared his soul, whirling so fast the surrounding air whistled. His aura was like a sharpened blade, chilling and frightening.
And yet, this same man was such a burning fire in the marriage bed.
When she had changed earlier, she had caught a glimpse of the marks left from the previous night—red welts winding across her body like vines, and even that place felt as if it were on fire.
Jiang Yue sighed inwardly. This was only the first night. She had no idea how she would survive the remaining month.
Suddenly, those sharp eyes turned and met hers again.
Her gaze trembled. Feeling as guilty as a criminal caught in the act, Jiang Yue hurriedly lowered her head and hurried away, only catching her breath once she reached the main chamber and knocked on the door.
By the window, Mother Su was helping Fu Rong with her makeup. Just then, Xiao Yunsheng walked into the room, and all their eyes turned to him. Seeing him pick up his outer robe to put it on, it was clear he was preparing to leave the estate.
Fu Rong set down her rouge and smiled enchantingly. "Is my husband heading out?"
"Yes."
Perhaps feeling his response had been too cold, Xiao Yunsheng’s expression softened slightly. "Even though I am on marriage leave, I made an appointment long ago to go hunting at Chun Mountain. Whenever a brother in the army gets married, we always hold such a celebration."
The Xiao family were the newest favorites of the imperial court, and having married the only daughter of the Marquis Manor, even the Emperor had sent a gift from the palace. The threshold had been worn down by visitors the day before; those below the fifth rank hadn't even managed to get a cup of wedding wine.
Most of the men in the military were of low rank, some having no official title at all.
Fu Rong frowned, a flash of impatience crossing her face. Such lowly connections, yet they were worth Xiao Yunsheng leaving her on their first day of marriage. She held back her dissatisfaction, unable to vent it, and only when his footsteps faded did her face finally darken. As she turned back, she caught sight of a mark on Jiang Yue’s neck.
The rouge box in her hand hit the table with a thud, shattering into pieces. Jiang Yue was startled and knelt to clean up the porcelain shards. Suddenly, her hand was grabbed and pressed down onto them; the sharp edges dug into her palm, nearly piercing her skin.
Fu Rong turned her head, smiling eerily at her. "Last night was too rushed. I forgot to ask you—how many times did you serve my husband in my stead?"