The wedding date was set for nine months later, and the two families exchanged their horoscope cards. Marquis Weiyuan had personally asked someone to calculate the date, which was said to be an auspicious day rarely seen in years.
Su Jinyu stored the imperial marriage decree in the wooden box left behind by her mother, placing it together with the jade bracelet.
Shen Sui only stayed at home for three days.
Early on the morning of the fourth day, an urgent report from the border was delivered to Marquis Weiyuan's Manor, stating that there was unusual movement in the northern border and that Shen Sui had to return to the military camp immediately.
His uncle, Shen Zhiyuan, packed his bags without a second word. His maternal grandmother stayed up all night to make a new red battle robe, saying that since he had just gotten betrothed, he should wear something festive to bring good fortune on his journey. Shen Sui accepted it without refusal and put it on immediately.
The red robe was sharply tailored, with tightly fitted cuffs and a black leather belt cinched around his waist, accentuating his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and straight, long legs.
He tied his hair high in a ponytail, revealing his sharply defined features. Holding a silver spear in his hand, his entire aura shifted as he mounted his warhorse in the morning light. He looked like a sharp spear that had just been honed and was about to be unsheathed—vibrant and high-spirited.
He lingered on horseback near the city gate for quite a while, in no hurry to leave.
The city gates had only been open for a short while in the early morning, and there was a constant stream of citizens and merchants entering and leaving. He pulled on the reins, pacing back and forth just inside the gate, his gaze scanning toward the road leading into the city from time to time.
The soldiers guarding the gate nearby did not dare to ask questions, assuming General Shen was waiting for some military order.
Before long, a carriage with a green curtain drove over from the direction of the city, slowly coming to a halt at the gate.
A corner of the carriage curtain was lifted, and Su Jinyu stepped down, holding a food box and a bundle wrapped in thick cloth.
Today, she wore an apricot-colored dress with a matching cloak, and only a simple silver hairpin adorned her hair. Standing in the morning light, she seemed to add a touch of soft, bright color to the gray morning.
Before she could even reach him, Shen Sui had already dismounted. He dismounted smoothly and swiftly, propping his silver spear against the side of the saddle, and took a few steps to meet her.
When Su Jinyu looked up, he happened to look down. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before parting again, like two leaves swept into the air by the same gust of wind, brushing against each other briefly before falling back in their own directions.
He reached out to take the food box and the bundle from her, his movements very gentle, as if he were afraid of breaking something. “Thank you,” he said, his voice slightly lower than usual.
Su Jinyu stood before him as the morning wind swept in from the city gate, gently fluttering the hem of her cloak. She looked at his ponytail resting against his shoulder and his new red battle robe. The words she had prepared hovered on the tip of her tongue, but when she finally spoke, she only said, “Return safely.”
Shen Sui looked down at her for a moment and replied, “I will.” He then secured the food box in the saddlebag on the side of his horse and mounted.
He gave her a slight nod from horseback, then pulled the reins to turn his horse toward the city gate.
The morning light outlined his red-clad back and the silhouette of his spear with a bright border. As his horse's hooves trod over the stone road outside the gate, the sound grew faint and was quickly drowned out by the wind and the clamor of distant travelers.
Su Jinyu stood where she was, not leaving immediately. She watched the red figure pass through the city gate arch, turn the corner of the official road, and disappear into the distance where morning light and dust intertwined.
She withdrew her gaze, turned, and boarded the carriage, letting the curtain fall.
The driver gently shook the reins, and the carriage turned around to head back into the city, rolling over the bluestone slabs inside the gate with a steady, rhythmic sound.
...
Su Qing'er's entry into the palace went even smoother than she had anticipated.
Minister Su had initially been wavering between Xie Tianci and sending her to the palace.
But Su Qing'er had laid everything bare. She argued that if she could win favor in the palace, the benefits to the Minister's manor would far outweigh an alliance with a declining count's manor. Marquis Jing'an's Manor currently held no real power in court, and Xie Tianci was nothing but a useless, good-for-nothing fool. Marrying him would only cause the Minister's manor to be looked down upon as well.
Minister Su sat in his study for a long time that night. Early the next morning, he personally wrote a letter and sent it to Marquis Jing'an's Manor. The wording was polite but the stance was clear, tactfully declining Count Jing'an's Manor's kind proposal.
Marquis Jing'an was having breakfast when he received the letter. After reading it, his face flushed red, and unable to catch his breath, he suffered a stroke on the spot and collapsed beside the table.
The marchioness was so frightened that she immediately ordered someone to fetch an imperial physician. After examining him, the physician declared his life was not in danger, but half of his body was paralyzed, and he would have to be bedridden from then on. With this incident, Marquis Jing'an's Manor and the Minister's manor had become sworn enemies.
Yet, as much as they hated them, the letter had been written flawlessly, leaving them no pretext to vent their anger.
Moreover, since the imperial draft was currently underway, reputation was of the utmost importance. If they made a scene before the Emperor, His Majesty would likely look unfavorably upon both families. This was a bitter pill they had to swallow, whether they liked it or not.
When the news from Marquis Jing'an's Manor reached Su Qing'er's ears, she was sitting by the window, doing her makeup in front of a mirror.
Completely unbothered, she merely raised her hand to insert the final pearl flower hairpin into her hair, casting a glance at herself in the bronze mirror. Her expression was perfectly calm, as if the news had nothing to do with her.
She was more concerned about another letter. She had already written a letter to Xie Tianci, claiming she was forced to enter the palace against her will, saying that Minister Su was bent on having his daughter win the Emperor's favor. With the family's decision set, she, a mere concubine-born daughter, had no room to resist.
She had hesitated for a moment before sending the letter, but ultimately had someone deliver it anyway. The purpose of this letter was never affection—it was to make Xie Tianci believe she was utterly devoted to him. If anything were to happen in the future, this "affection" would surely come in handy.
But she did not expect that one day, this very letter would also become her death warrant.
Xie Tianci was staring blankly at his desk when he received the letter. His face turned pale halfway through reading it. After finishing it, he sat at his desk for a long time, clutching the paper, before finally folding it and tucking it into his sleeve. He did not go to see anyone.
He did not dare to. Minister Su's letter had driven his father to a stroke, and his mother's gaze as she guarded the sickbed these past few days was filled with pure venom. If he dared to mention Su Qing'er again, his mother would probably order someone to break his legs.
What was more, Su Qing'er had already entered the palace. Even if he were given a hundred times more courage, he would never dare to contend for the Emperor's woman.
He merely sat at his desk, took out the letter to read it once more, and then placed it back into the drawer.
The autumn light shone through the window, clearly illuminating the lightly dusted inkstone and brush rack on the desk. He gently closed the drawer and did not open it again.
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