Despite Fu Yixiao's sole request for simplicity, the wedding ceremony for the Regent Prince's first official consort could not be understated. Even though Emperor Feng Qishan harbored profound dissatisfaction with this union, political necessity demanded that all proper customs be observed with due pomp and circumstance.
The Prince's residence blazed with countless lanterns, transforming night into artificial day. Wine cups clinked in rhythmic celebration while carefully choreographed group dances—planned meticulously by the music officials—unfolded with breathtaking precision. Skilled musicians coaxed joyous palace melodies from sheng, xiao, qin, pipa, wuxian, konghou, jiegu, and hujia. Agile performers presented a lively Five Lions Dance that drew enthusiastic cheers from attending officials.
Yet beneath this veneer of celebration, poison circulated through whispered conversations.
Due to deliberate gossip—seeded by those who wished to see her fall—the most discussed topics at the banquet concerned the Prince's secondary consort's alleged infidelity before marriage and her disgracefully lowly origins. One noblewoman, emboldened by wine and spite, declared loudly enough to carry, "To leap from the Imperial Son-in-law's bed straight into the Prince's arms—such shameless behavior might appear only once in ten thousand years!"
Emperor Feng Qishan listened attentively from the head table, concealing a cold smile as he lowered his gaze and adjusted his sleeves with studied nonchalance. Though political expediency had forced him to relent and allow Fu Yixiao's installation as secondary consort, he knew well that the court's ruthless struggle for power and favor was not something a mere low-born military officer's daughter could navigate successfully. Let her revel in this moment, he thought with dark satisfaction. The fall will be all the more devastating.
The wedding ceremony finally commenced. The earlier venomous discussions hadn't reached Yixiao's ears directly, but as she walked upon the red carpet—each step measured, deliberate—she could sense the envy and hatred radiating from sharp gazes surrounding her. Especially from Emperor Feng Qishan at the front, whose stare felt as piercing as an awl, as if he wished to stab countless holes through her very essence.
She sneered inwardly. Everyone assumes I stayed with Prince Feng Suige for his current power or future throne. I wonder if he will eventually think the same. Perhaps in people's narrow perceptions, only someone like Feng Xiyang—heaven's favored daughter, born to privilege—was worthy of His Highness's affection.
Her thoughts drifted to Jinxiu. When they'd set out from that kingdom, His Highness had already dispatched Xiumu to notify Uncle Ling to attend the wedding banquet in Lu City. Surely by now, Ning Fei had formally proposed marriage to Xueying. Uncle Ling would agree readily—only outsiders could see how completely he'd capitulated to his seemingly delicate daughter, eager to secure her happiness as soon as possible.
Xueying, you must remember how happy I once was. The thought carried weight of old grief. I can't remember anymore, but you must remember for me. You must...
Suddenly, her left hand was gripped firmly. Yixiao instinctively looked down to see Feng Suige's right hand clasping hers with deliberate strength, transmitting warmth that felt almost aggressive in its comfort. He held her hand openly before the assembly, facing countless blade-like gazes alongside her—a public declaration of solidarity.
Noticing her attention, Feng Suige turned and smiled—an expression meant to convey reassurance, protection, perhaps even affection.
Light flickered in Yixiao's eyes for one heartbeat before she turned away with studied indifference, allowing his gaze full of intended comfort to transform into visible disappointment.
Even on her wedding day, Yixiao had used only a single five-phoenix pearl filigree hairpin to secure her hair. Were it not for the gold-woven cloud and dragon pattern ceremonial robe mandated by protocol, no observer would believe she was this celebration's protagonist.
But that detail held no significance for her. This was theater, not truth.
The wedding proceeded smoothly—at least superficially. It remained an profoundly awkward celebration. The noble Susha aristocrats praised their majestic prince with elaborate respect befitting subjects, while simultaneously regarding the woman becoming his secondary consort with barely concealed contempt.
After enduring a series of complex ritual procedures, Yixiao finally heard the ceremonial official pronounce those pleasant words: "Ceremony complete." She breathed a sigh of relief that she hoped remained invisible.
The strange, hostile atmosphere shouldn't have pressured her—she'd faced worse on battlefields—yet ever since Feng Suige's warm hand had attempted encouragement, her heart had become inexplicably chaotic. The composure and courage she'd carefully maintained for days suddenly felt depleted, as if she'd drawn from an empty well. Restraining the overwhelming urge to flee immediately, she forced herself to follow the ceremonial official toward the bridal chamber with measured steps.
"Wait!"
The shrill feminine cry cut through the hall's murmuring like a blade. Instantly, the guests' clamor ceased. Yixiao halted mid-stride. Every eye in the vast assembly turned toward a beautiful woman in yellow robes who had risen from her seat among the guests.
Yixiao's frown emerged slight but unmistakable. She calmly met the woman's venomous glare, chuckling inwardly with bitter recognition. A familiar face. I wonder how she managed entry.
"Yun Yi, what are you doing?" Feng Suige's voice carried fury barely restrained by protocol.
Yun Yi snorted with theatrical disdain, glaring at Yixiao before proudly declaring her grievance to the assembled court. "Has the Prince forgotten his promise to Yun Yi? The Prince swore to give Yun Yi proper status!"
Feng Suige's teeth ground together audibly. Words emerged with forceful precision. "Even if you don't understand what's transpiring here, you should comprehend this is the Prince's residence. Who granted you permission to enter and create such a scene?"
As he spoke, four or five nearby guards rushed forward, covering Yun Yi's mouth and dragging her struggling form toward the exit.
The already somber wedding atmosphere became even more bizarre following Yun Yi's dramatic interruption. The guests, momentarily forgetting Prince Feng Suige's elevated status and the dignity supposedly inherent to Susha's royal family, began discussing the scandal openly—voices rising with malicious excitement.
Fu Yixiao said nothing. She merely watched quietly, as if observing a theatrical farce staged for someone else's benefit. The moment she'd recognized Yun Yi, she'd mentally prepared for confrontation. Having practiced archery since childhood, she'd cultivated iron will—especially in public settings. The more unfavorable the situation became, the calmer her mind grew. So before Yun Yi was physically expelled from the hall, Yixiao's previously panicked heart had miraculously returned to crystalline tranquility.
Feng Suige's embarrassment manifested in rigid posture and flushed complexion. Seeing Yixiao's expressionless indifference only increased his agitation. Suddenly hearing mocking commentary aimed at Yixiao drift from various seats, his annoyance transmuted into protective fury. Disregarding etiquette, protocol, and propriety entirely, he embraced Yixiao and spoke with cold, carrying clarity.
"I know the person who instigated Yun Yi to disrupt this wedding is present among you. I choose not to pursue this matter today—but you would be wise to abandon such wicked schemes immediately. If there's a next time, I will make you regret being born."
His words, delivered with the arrogance and nobility he'd possessed since childhood, immediately cowed the assembly. Even Emperor Feng Qishan in the seat of honor appeared momentarily stunned by his son's brazen defiance.
Amid the shocked silence, Feng Suige placed his arm around Fu Yixiao's shoulders and strode from the hall with purposeful steps.
In the red-draped bridal chamber, after dismissing palace maids and wedding attendants with curt gestures, Feng Suige positioned himself to one side. He watched anxiously as Yixiao removed her hair ornaments with mechanical precision and wiped cosmetics from her face with methodical strokes. Finally, unable to endure the tense silence, he spoke.
"If I had known she would come, I would have ordered strict inspection of all guests..."
Yixiao sighed inwardly—a sound that emerged as barely perceptible exhalation. Her voice remained flat, emotionless. "What fault is hers? She merely loves you."
Feng Suige couldn't suppress a cold laugh. "So what if she loves me? She chose to develop those feelings herself. Even if I once promised her status, she shouldn't have created such a spectacle today."
Yixiao's originally indifferent tone transformed instantly—became cold, sharp, resolute. "Actually, this has nothing to do with me. Perhaps you believe her falling in love with you constitutes her fault, that you didn't beg her affection. But can you honestly claim you didn't indulge her? Didn't allow her to love you more deeply with each passing day?" Her voice gained intensity. "Is falling in love with someone a fault?"
The question hung in the air like an accusation—yet she seemed to speak not to Feng Suige but to some absent figure. Her agitation grew with each word, until she began trembling slightly. It was as if someone had excavated something buried deep within her heart, squeezing out dark infection, easily tearing open a wound that had been struggling to scab over with those careless words: "She chose to fall in love herself."
Feng Suige failed to notice her tumultuous emotional state, too focused on his own regret. "I know I didn't arrange matters properly and allowed you to suffer this embarrassment. I can promise such incidents will never occur again."
Yixiao's laugh emerged cold, brittle. "Why bother promising? I'm merely living under someone else's roof. What right do I have to interfere in the household affairs of the mighty Regent Prince?"
"Fu Yixiao." Feng Suige's voice emerged through gritted teeth, concealing notes of pain. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"I'm not saying anything." Yixiao's smile concealed layers of mockery directed both outward and inward. "I simply want to remind you—don't fall in love with me. Don't hope that I will love you. This is merely a game, a strategic arrangement. It has nothing to do with feelings."
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