“Don’t just focus on collecting the red envelopes from the wedding party—get moving! Keep your eyes open and greet the guests warmly!”
“Oh my, what on earth is taking so long with this young master? He still hasn’t come out. It’s one thing to keep the groom waiting, but missing the auspicious hour would be terrible!”
“Congratulations, Grand Tutor…”
The Shi Residence was draped in red silk and adorned with lanterns, guests flowing through like a rushing river. Word had spread that the Shi family was forming a marriage alliance; even officials from the capital had come to attend. The occasion was extraordinarily lively.
Inside the room, Bai Lian was surrounded by seven or eight people. From getting dressed to arranging his hair, not a single thing was done by his own hands. He had been dragged out of bed before dawn to wash and dress, like a puppet on strings, manipulated at will.
He was scrubbed inside and out, and couldn’t help thinking that it felt much like slaughtering a pig back in the village during New Year—washing it until it was spotless.
Of course, on such a joyous day, he didn’t want to liken himself to livestock awaiting the knife.
What he couldn’t understand was this: if he wasn’t being married off until dusk, why did he have to be woken up so early?
After several hours of fussing, Bai Lian felt fragrant all over, as if he had ascended to immortality. His head spun from lack of sleep and food.
In the spring breeze of March, clad in layers of ornate garments and wearing a jade crown, he was supported as he went to the main hall to pay respects to the elders.
The clothes were cumbersome; he was afraid of stepping on the hem and tripping right there in the hall. Fortunately, a servant handed him a wide, long strip of red silk to hold, the other end grasped by Ning Muyan, resplendent in his wedding robes.
The two kowtowed to the elders of the Shi family as well as Jiang Zichun. After bidding farewell to his parents, Bai Lian barely had time to look at Ning Muyan before he was stuffed into the sedan chair.
The eight-carrier bridal sedan was no exaggeration—Bai Lian felt that even three more of him could sit inside comfortably.
Swaying all the way amid the sound of firecrackers, the clamor of voices eventually rose, and even in his dazed state he knew they had arrived at the Ning Residence.
He was helped down, stepped over the fire basin, had his body patted with water dipped from pomelo leaves—passing through all the ceremonial hurdles—until he finally reached the main hall.
Naturally, the wedding rites followed.
Compared to the Shi family, Bai Lian actually felt more familiar with the Ning household. Before even stepping inside, he didn’t feel the strangeness or nervousness that other newlyweds might. Instead, it felt like coming home—everything was ordinary and natural.
Traditionally, newlyweds were supposed to cry when leaving their family, but Bai Lian didn’t shed a tear. It wasn’t because he’d lived a second life and grown hard-hearted; it was simply that his father wasn’t far away at all. The academy was next to the clinic—meeting again would be easy.
So Bai Lian felt no deep sorrow. Once again, he was half-asleep, being tugged and pulled through the minute, tedious wedding rituals, his head spinning.
Thankfully, after all the commotion, he was finally sent to the bridal chamber.
At Dimu Garden—so familiar to him—now decorated with red silk and lanterns, festive to the extreme.
As soon as Bai Lian was escorted into the room, he felt his ordeal was finally over. Catching sight of the embroidered mandarin-duck quilt, he flopped straight onto it and refused to move even an inch more.
“Getting married is way too much trouble. Thank goodness you only have to do it once—otherwise it’d exhaust someone to death.”
Bai Lian lay sprawled on the bed. Even here in Dimu Garden, far from the banquet grounds, he could still hear the clamor of guests outside, which said plenty about just how many people had come today.
Both the Shi Residence and the Ning Residence were prominent households in the prefectural city. A marriage alliance between the two was itself a celebrated story, so it was only natural that crowds had come to offer congratulations.
The liveliness made Bai Lian, without meaning to, think back to the year he had first entered the Ning household.
It had been early autumn then, already carrying a hint of chill. He had changed into the festive robes the residence sent over, and before noon he’d been carried from his home in a sedan chair. There had been no gongs or drums along the way; he’d entered the Ning Residence with a heart full of unease.
What differed was that the Ning Residence that day had been extraordinarily quiet—so quiet that Bai Lian hadn’t dared make a sound.
Just seeing the grand estate of such a noble family had already frightened him. How was he to know that he was being treated coldly? All he’d had in mind was that he would get to see again that young lord who looked like a banished immortal.
Who could have known that day Ning Muyan had gone out to socialize and returned extremely late? Once back, he’d gone straight to rest. Not only did the romantic imaginings in Bai Lian’s head fail to come true—he hadn’t even caught sight of the man himself.
Thinking back on it made Bai Lian grind his teeth in irritation. But it was all long past now, like a great dream. Today, he had entered properly, with the three letters and six rites, openly and honorably married.
Truly, the will of heaven was fickle, and fate impossible to grasp.
Bai Lian was lost in thought when a knock suddenly sounded at the door. He hurriedly scrambled up from the bed, fumbling as he straightened his clothes.
“Young master, it’s this servant.”
Seeing San Leng poke her head inside, Bai Lian let out a breath of relief and slowly shuffled back to the bedside. “Why did you come over?”
“The young master had me bring some food in, worried that you might be hungry.”
San Leng set the food box on the table, lifted the lid, and took out two plates of pastries and a dish of sliced peaches.
Bai Lian had been starving for ages. He had no idea who’d decided that newlyweds weren’t allowed to eat. He grabbed the food and stuffed it into his mouth, cheeks puffed out as he asked through a mouthful, “Are there a lot of guests today?”
“So many!” San Leng poured him a cup of tea. “This servant heard the old madam say it’s been this lively only once before—back when Lord Ning married years ago. Young master, eat slowly. No one will come in to disturb you. The master is outside receiving guests and probably won’t be able to come in for a while.”
Bai Lian asked again, “Has the young master been drinking?”
“Well, entertaining guests means drinking, and today’s such a happy occasion—of course he’s had some.”
Bai Lian nodded. It seemed that ever since the incident when they’d been framed, he hadn’t seen Ning Muyan drink again. Still, that matter couldn’t really be blamed on alcohol alone—he’d been drugged, after all. Otherwise, no matter how drunk he’d been, he wouldn’t have been unable to do anything.
Later, he’d heard that Ning Muyan had dragged out the instigator and dealt with him. Bai Lian hadn’t asked for details—it wasn’t worth mentioning further.
After eating and drinking his fill, San Leng couldn’t stay in the room any longer. She only told Bai Lian that she’d be waiting outside, and to call if he needed anything.
Bai Lian fell back into boredom. He spotted a large bronze mirror on the dressing table, its reflection quite clear, and ran over to admire his attire for the day. He wandered around Ning Muyan’s bedchamber a couple of times, and before he knew it, night had fully fallen.
The residence, however, was lit with countless lanterns, bright as day.
Restless to the extreme, and having paced the room enough, Bai Lian finally behaved himself and sat back down on the bed.
Clinking cups, flowing toasts, endless congratulations…
By the time Ning Muyan managed to extract himself and enter the bridal chamber, it was already late. He dismissed the servants and pushed the door open alone, a smile unconsciously rising to his face. But when he stepped into the bedroom, he paused slightly.
Seeing the person on the bed, shoes kicked off and breathing steadily, he could only shake his head in helpless amusement.
Ning Muyan moved lightly to the bedside, bent down, and looked at Bai Lian sleeping at close range. His smile deepened.
He reached out and pinched Bai Lian’s cheek gently, murmuring, “Good thing you didn’t put on powder or rouge—otherwise I really wouldn’t know how to deal with it.”
He first removed his own wedding robes, still carrying the scent of wine, then carefully stripped away the heavy layers binding Bai Lian. All the while he was meticulous, never waking him.
In his sleep, Bai Lian only felt his body suddenly grow lighter. Comforted, he sank into an even deeper sleep, and at some point seemed to roll into a warm embrace.
The embrace grew hotter and hotter, until it felt as though he were about to evaporate. Bai Lian suddenly opened his eyes.
Under the warm yellow lamplight, the first thing he saw was a flawless, jade-like handsome face. Bai Lian froze for a moment, then immediately reacted.
Ning Muyan, who had been resting with his eyes closed, sensed the movement in his arms and opened them. “You’re awake?”
Bai Lian sat up and saw that he was already out of his wedding robes. Beside him lay Ning Muyan, also dressed only in underclothes, looking at him. It didn’t look like a wedding night at all—more like an ordinary married couple settling down to sleep.
He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “When did you come in? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were sleeping so soundly—I couldn’t bear to.”
Bai Lian curled the corner of his mouth into a smile and lay back down in the crook of Ning Muyan’s arm.
They looked into each other’s eyes, close enough to hear one another’s breathing.
“We really did get married.”
“Yes. We’re married, Bai Lian.”
Bai Lian reached out and touched the bridge of Ning Muyan’s nose, quietly studying that flawless face. Even now, it still felt like a dream. He couldn’t quite believe that this person truly belonged to him.
After enduring so many trials and twists of fate, Ning Muyan had become his true husband.
Ning Muyan let him touch him for a while before suddenly catching his wrist, his voice low and hoarse. “Are you fully rested now?”
“Mm. Just a little bit more.”
Ning Muyan laughed softly. “Why are you so fond of sleeping?”
Bai Lian laughed back. “Old people sleep less, of course. Young people need more sleep.”
Ning Muyan chuckled, then sat up and pulled Bai Lian with him. “We still haven’t drunk the union wine. You can’t sleep again yet.”
Bai Lian followed Ning Muyan off the bed. “We’ve already taken off the wedding robes—do we need to put them back on?”
“I married you, not the clothes,” Ning Muyan said as he poured two cups of wine. “Besides, underclothes are red as well.”
Bai Lian sat at the table, propping his chin in his hand as he watched Ning Muyan. When a cup was handed to him, he hesitated—he had little confidence in his drinking capacity. “Is this wine strong?”
Ning Muyan shook his head. “Strong liquor harms the body.”
Their arms entwined as they drank the wine in one go.
Ning Muyan never took his eyes off Bai Lian. Watching those faintly reddened lips part and close until the cup was empty, he could no longer restrain himself. He reached out, wrapped an arm around Bai Lian’s waist, and pulled him tight against his own body.
Bai Lian’s body went soft as well. He widened his eyes at him. “What is it?”
“You’ve rested enough now,” Ning Muyan said. “It’s time to focus on important matters.”
Ning Muyan was not a man ruled by desire. Yet by a twist of fate, someone had once lit a single spark in his barren heart. If left untouched, perhaps it could have gone out—but the person who lit that spark stood far too close, and so the fire flared up with the slightest wind.
Across two lifetimes they had been husband and wife, yet the times they had truly fulfilled their marital duties were few enough to count on one hand. If not for misunderstandings and helpless circumstances, they might have had children long ago.
Some things, once tasted, linger deeply. Even if rare, they root themselves all the more firmly in the heart.
In the brief moment when he held Bai Lian, Ning Muyan let the bed curtains fall, shutting out the bright red candles of the room. Within the canopy, light and shadow wavered, like sunlight filtering down beneath a springtime pear tree.
Amid the heat, Bai Lian suddenly remembered that fire from years past. Drugged and muddled, he had willingly lain on the bed, listening to the crackling blaze reduce the furnishings to ruin. Gradually, he could no longer breathe, and everything seemed strangely calm.
Now, though, he felt pain—because Ning Muyan had become that fire himself. The flames were fierce and untamed; Bai Lian had never seen this side of him before.
And it was precisely because of this that everything felt achingly real. Even as his cheeks burned red, he still reached up to touch Ning Muyan’s face, damp with fine sweat…
…
He did not know how long passed before the room finally grew quiet. Ning Muyan drew back the curtains and stepped out of bed barefoot.
Fresh air flowed in, and Bai Lian crawled to the edge of the bed, taking a few deep breaths.
Before long, Ning Muyan returned with a cup of tea. Bai Lian took it and drank it down in one go—his throat was painfully dry after the wine earlier. Of course, it had little to do with the wine itself, but he had no intention of admitting any other reason.
After drinking the water, he felt as if he had come back to life. March nights were still cold, especially after sweating so much, so he quickly burrowed back into the quilt, which still carried Ning Muyan’s lingering warmth.
“Well?” Ning Muyan asked. “Are you all right?”
Bai Lian shot a sideways glance at the barely clothed man. What was the point of asking that—utterly shameless.
“Didn’t you once say you’d go around telling everyone I wasn’t capable?”
Bai Lian rolled his eyes. “Why are you so vindictive?”
“It’s not vindictiveness,” Ning Muyan replied. “I’m simply clearing my name.”
Bai Lian was left speechless. Seeing how much Ning Muyan still brooded over the matter—and having already paid with both looks and effort—he mulled it over for a while before offering a fair assessment. “It was… acceptable.”
Ning Muyan fell silent for a moment, then repeated, “Acceptable.”
“Actually,” he added, “I was asking about you just now.”
Bai Lian raised his brows in confusion. “What’s there to say about me being acceptable or not?”
Ning Muyan nodded. “Then that’s good.”
As soon as the words fell, Ning Muyan lifted his hand, and the curtains dropped once more.
“Hey—hey…”