Ning Yuzhou composed himself before stepping into the bridal chamber.
Since the wedding followed secular customs, the entire Seventh Prince’s residence was festively adorned with red decorations. The room was a riot of red and green, almost garish to the eyes. Among cultivators, such vibrant colours were considered tacky and tasteless.
Yet, with the stunning young bride sitting amidst the vivid hues, the room seemed to take on a refined and ethereal air, her beauty elevating the entire scene.
When Ning Yuzhou entered, the maids in the room immediately bowed and, with practiced discretion, exited quietly, taking the dazed Lian Yue with them. Lian Yue didn’t want to leave, but the royal maids, all cultivators, effortlessly carried her out like a sack of feathers.
With the room suddenly quiet and spacious, Wen Qiao sat there holding her flowerpot, her gaze fixed on Ning Yuzhou, but she said nothing.
Ning Yuzhou looked at her as well, taking in the sight of the freshly bathed girl. Her delicate features glowed with a soft, dewy radiance, exuding an unadorned elegance. Clearing his throat lightly, he asked, “What’s in that flowerpot?”
“A seventh-tier spiritual herb seed. You gave it to me,” Wen Qiao replied, adding, “I’d like to keep it here. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Ning Yuzhou’s lips curved into a gentle smile, his warm, clear eyes like spring water, soothing and comforting. “From now on, we are husband and wife, sharing honour and shame. Whatever you wish to do, you don’t need my permission.”
Her cool demeanour softened. After a moment of contemplation, she quietly said, “Thank you.”
“Why thank me?” Ning Yuzhou asked, slightly puzzled by her formal tone.
Wen Qiao replied earnestly, “You’re a good person. Thank you.”
He blinked in surprise, his expression briefly unreadable before he chuckled lightly. “A good person?”
She nodded. If he weren’t a good person, why would he agree to this marriage despite knowing her poor health and short lifespan? Why would he shower her with gifts and fulfil her every need?
To Wen Qiao, it was clear that Ning Yuzhou was fulfilling a debt of gratitude. Her father had saved his life, and this marriage was his way of repaying that kindness.
The truth was, this marriage need not have happened. If the Ning family had remained silent, no one would have known. Even if someone in the Wen family was aware, they wouldn’t challenge the powerful Ning family for the sake of a dying girl.
For Wen Qiao, the marriage brought more benefits than drawbacks. But for Ning Yuzhou, it seemed to offer nothing but burden.
—
“A good person, huh?” Ning Yuzhou murmured with a faint smile, his expression becoming slightly enigmatic. Before Wen Qiao could decipher his thoughts, he softly said, “It’s been a busy day. Are you tired? Perhaps you should rest.”
She nodded but then hesitated, glancing at him. Her gaze was clear and direct, leaving no room for deception. Caught under her scrutiny, Ning Yuzhou’s face flushed slightly, and he cleared his throat again before excusing himself to the adjoining room to wash up.
—
Once Ning Yuzhou left, Wen Qiao sat cross-legged on the bed, placing the flowerpot beside her to begin cultivating.
As usual, she channelled her limited spiritual energy into the seventh-tier spiritual herb seed. She expected it to remain unresponsive, just as it had for the past month. Yet, after only a short while, she sensed an unfamiliar emotion emanating from the seed—tentative, joyful, and filled with curiosity about the world.
Her fingers froze momentarily before she continued to infuse it with spiritual energy, determined to see it through.
By the time her reserves were depleted, her face was pale, and her forehead was damp with sweat. Her spiritual meridians throbbed with pain, and her entire body felt weak. Yet, the discomfort was overshadowed by the joy welling up in her heart.
She looked at the flowerpot with delight.
From the black-brown soil, a tiny green sprout had emerged. It was so small and subtle that one might miss it if not paying close attention.
The seventh-tier spiritual herb seed had finally germinated.
As it sprouted, information about the plant flowed into her consciousness. It was a long-extinct herb in the cultivation world: the Rejuvenation Blossom.
The Rejuvenation Blossom was highly sought after for refining rejuvenation pills or could be consumed directly, making it a plant female cultivators would go mad for. While rejuvenation pills still existed, they were now made with substitute ingredients, yielding results far inferior to those of pills crafted from genuine Rejuvenation Blossoms.
Wen Qiao wasn’t particularly concerned with the plant’s cosmetic properties, but the potent vitality of its essence made her exceedingly pleased. She hadn’t been disappointed at all.
After admiring the tiny sprout for a while, she steadied her mind and resumed meditation to restore her depleted spiritual energy.
—
When she opened her eyes again, the night was deep, and her energy reserves were full once more. She was startled to find Ning Yuzhou sitting nearby, his long hair cascading down his back. Clad in a moon-white robe embroidered with subtle gold patterns, he looked calm and composed, his handsome features almost otherworldly.
He had been watching her quietly. When their eyes met, he offered her a gentle smile.
Even Wen Qiao, typically unflappable, was caught off guard.
She was no seasoned cultivator, but for someone unfamiliar to sit so close while she meditated, and for her to remain unaware, was unsettling.
The newlywed bride, still young and with a faint touch of baby fat on her cheeks, looked soft and vulnerable in her nightclothes. Seeing her blink at him in confusion, Ning Yuzhou’s heart softened.
“It’s past the fourth watch. Do you want to rest?” he asked warmly.
She nodded and slowly climbed off the bed.
Ning Yuzhou rose and instinctively reached out to steady her.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she glanced at him, meeting his warm, tender gaze. Unable to refuse his gesture, she softly asked, “Why aren’t you resting yet?”
“I saw you meditating here and thought I’d keep an eye on you.”
Her expression faltered, and she gave him another look.
He had once possessed an exceptional spiritual root, and if not for the poison that had destroyed it at birth, he might have rivalled his third brother, Ning Zhezou, in cultivation achievements. To lose the path of cultivation in a world dominated by strength—did he ever feel bitter?
Wen Qiao couldn’t discern anything from his refined, scholarly face, but she thought that he must feel some resentment.
“I don’t feel bitter,” Ning Yuzhou said suddenly.
Startled, she stared at him.
Helping her sit on the bed, he smiled gently and explained, “Your thoughts are written all over your face. It’s easy to guess.”
Wen Qiao was momentarily flustered. No one had ever told her such a thing before.
Picking up the flowerpot, Ning Yuzhou placed it on the windowsill and continued, “I’m not bitter. If you wish to cultivate, do so. I won’t stop you. If you need resources, just tell me. We’re husband and wife now—I’ll support your pursuit of the martial path.”
Wen Qiao blinked at him, surprised once again.
Smiling softly, he asked, “May I call you Ah-Qiao?”
“Ah… sure,” she stammered.
“Ah-Qiao,” he repeated, savouring the sound. “Since tonight is our wedding night, I won’t press you for anything. Just rest. Tomorrow will be another busy day.”
Seeing her pale cheeks flush faintly, Ning Yuzhou laughed lightly, pulled down the red bed curtains, and lay beside her, fully clothed.
For the first time in her life, Wen Qiao shared a bed with someone. She was acutely aware of his presence, her body stiff as she struggled to relax.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
She gave a small nod, closed her eyes, and slowly succumbed to the subtle fragrance in the air, falling into a deep sleep.
Before drifting off, she thought, The Seventh Prince really is a good person. I’ll have to ask about this calming fragrance tomorrow.
When her breathing evened out, Ning Yuzhou turned his head slightly to look at her. His gaze lingered on her youthful face, delicate and serene in sleep. With a soft chuckle, he thought, She’s still just a child. There’s no rush.
Leave a Reply