Early in the morning, Wen Qiao was awakened by Lian Yue. A group of attendants gathered around her, preparing her for her wedding.
Jishui Courtyard typically had few servants, apart from Lian Yue, her close maid, and two cleaning women. Wen Qiao, preferring a quiet life, seldom had the other servants around unless absolutely necessary, making the courtyard the most peaceful part of the Wen household.
Concerned that Jishui Courtyard might not manage everything, the Second Madam specially arranged for additional help that day.
The preparation was methodical: washing her face, styling her hair, applying makeup, and dressing her in her ceremonial bridal gown. Once she was dressed in the heavy red wedding robes, Wen Qiao sat on a couch, holding a Ruyi-shaped earth-grade artefact in her arms, waiting for the auspicious hour to arrive.
**Nomad: The ruyi is a curved decorative object with a long S-shaped handle and a head that is typically shaped like a fist, cloud, or lingzhi mushroom. The name “ruyi” literally means “as desired” or “as you wish” in Chinese.**
“Miss, are you hungry?” Lian Yue asked.
The attending matron chimed in, “Third Miss, it’s best not to eat too much before leaving. It might be inconvenient.”
Lian Yue, unhappy with the suggestion, retorted, “Miss isn’t in good health. How could she go hungry? If the Seventh Prince knew, he’d surely be distressed.”
The matron’s lips twitched, but she didn’t argue—Lian Yue wasn’t wrong. Judging by the Seventh Prince’s actions over the past month, it was clear he doted on his fiancée.
Lian Yue left briefly and returned with a bowl of lily porridge made with spiritual rice, ensuring Wen Qiao had something to settle her stomach.
The matron tactfully turned her head away, pretending not to notice. Rules didn’t seem to matter much among cultivators. While today’s wedding adhered to secular traditions, aiming for festivity, the matron had been instructed to uphold propriety. Yet, when the bride herself ignored convention, what could she do?
The Wen family’s mistresses arrived shortly after, pausing when they saw Wen Qiao, dressed in her wedding gown, leisurely sipping porridge.
The matron offered a sheepish smile, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, cultivators weren’t sticklers for such matters, and the Second Madam didn’t mind. She and the others sat down, taking the opportunity to chat with Wen Qiao, sharing details about the wedding, customs of the Ning family, and practical advice for her future life there.
Such guidance would typically come from a bride’s mother. However, with no elder in the main branch of the family, the Second Madam had to step in, using the occasion to pass on these words of wisdom.
Once Wen Qiao finished her porridge, Lian Yue touched up her makeup.
In the world of cultivation, women rarely applied makeup. With their bodies refined by spiritual energy, their natural beauty often outshone the carefully adorned faces of secular women. Makeup was typically reserved for special occasions to enhance their radiance.
Wen Qiao wore a light application of makeup today. The pale tone of her skin was hidden beneath delicate powder, her complexion now rosy and soft. Dressed in her intricate red bridal gown embroidered with phoenixes, her beauty was striking, leaving everyone in the room momentarily stunned.
When the bridal veil was finally placed over her head, obscuring her face, the spell was broken, and everyone returned to their senses.
Though the Wen family was known for the Twin Beauties, Wen Mei and Wen Xian, many now realized that Wen Qiao’s understated elegance surpassed theirs. She had simply remained unknown to the world due to her reclusive nature.
—
At the auspicious hour, the sound of drums and gongs echoed outside.
The Wen family’s mistresses stood up as the Second Madam announced, “The Seventh Prince is here to escort the bride. Everyone, get ready.”
Jishui Courtyard became a flurry of activity.
Seventh Prince Ning Yuzhou arrived at the Wen residence on a towering demonic steed. Dismounting gracefully, he strode into the house, dressed in a red and gold ceremonial robe. His tall figure, radiant demeanour, and strikingly handsome features captivated all who saw him.
Praise and admiration filled the air, tempered by a hint of regret: such an exceptional man, yet unable to cultivate. In a mere century, this brilliant and charming figure would inevitably turn to dust, his extraordinary presence reduced to bones beneath the earth.
Entering Jishui Courtyard, Ning Yuzhou spotted his bride seated in the hall. A soft smile spread across his face as he walked forward.
Bowing slightly to the Wen family’s mistresses, he then approached his bride and, to everyone’s astonishment, picked her up in his arms.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Even Wen Qiao was momentarily taken aback by his unexpected action.
Then his gentle voice reached her ears amidst the clamour of drums and gongs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to take you with me.”
Wen Qiao considered saying something, but the noise around them was too overwhelming. In the end, she simply accepted his gesture.
The bride was light in his arms, and Ning Yuzhou carried her effortlessly. Addressing the Second Madam and others, he explained courteously, “The Third Miss isn’t in the best health. I’ll carry her out.”
The mistresses exchanged silent glances, their expressions unreadable.
She may be frail, but she’s still a cultivator. Surely better off than you, a mortal who can’t cultivate!
Without waiting for objections, Ning Yuzhou carried Wen Qiao out of Jishui Courtyard, heading toward the main hall to bid farewell to her family.
—
Though the wedding followed secular customs, most of the Wen family elders attended, giving the event proper weight.
After a formal farewell to her family, Ning Yuzhou helped Wen Qiao into her bridal sedan chair before mounting his steed. The lively procession left the Wen residence, circling the imperial city before arriving at the Seventh Prince’s estate, adjacent to the royal palace.
—
Once in her new home, Wen Qiao was escorted to the bridal chamber, where the veil was lifted by a slender, jade-like hand.
Looking up, she met the same gentle and handsome face she had seen a month ago. Ning Yuzhou, dressed in his ceremonial robes, exuded warmth and kindness, making it easy for anyone to feel at ease around him.
He looked at her for a moment before speaking softly, “I still need to see my father and the other guests. Rest for a while. If you’re hungry, feel free to eat.”
Wen Qiao nodded, her expression calm and unbothered.
After one last glance at her, Ning Yuzhou turned and left.
—
Shortly after he departed, royal maids entered to help Wen Qiao freshen up. They removed her heavy phoenix crown, letting her thick black hair fall loosely, tied into a simple bun secured with a white jade hairpin. They then brought out soft silk robes and guided her to wash up.
Lian Yue stood awkwardly to the side, watching the skilled and graceful maids at work. She couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious in comparison.
“Lian Yue, where’s the flowerpot?” Wen Qiao suddenly asked.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Lian Yue replied, “It’s outside, Miss. Should I bring it in?”
“Yes.”
Lian Yue quickly fetched the coarse ceramic flowerpot filled with dark brown soil. The royal maids exchanged bewildered glances, unable to fathom why the bride would want such a plain and unremarkable object on her wedding day.
Carrying the flowerpot, Lian Yue entered the room, setting it down as Wen Qiao reached out to touch its rim. Placing it carefully beside her, Wen Qiao turned her attention to the table of delicate spiritual dishes and began eating methodically.
The contrast between the fine, luxurious feast and the crude flowerpot was stark, drawing puzzled stares from the maids. Why bring something like that into the bridal chamber?
Only Lian Yue knew how much her mistress cherished the seed within that pot. Although it hadn’t sprouted, it was a gift from the Seventh Prince, and Wen Qiao treasured it.
Realizing the flowerpot was a gift from Ning Yuzhou, the maids quickly adjusted their attitudes. Whatever their prince valued was worthy of respect. When Ning Yuzhou returned later that night, he was greeted by his bride, now fresh-faced and glowing after a bath, sitting serenely with the beloved flowerpot in her arms.
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