The wedding date was set for the tenth month, after Yu Lingxin’s seventeenth birthday.
There were less than five months left. Between inventorying the dowry, preparing the ceremonial procedures, and offering sacrifices to heaven and earth, the time was tight but not impossible—both sides needed to prepare thoroughly.
Beyond the standard dowry from the Court of the Imperial Treasury, the Empress Dowager and Lady Jieyu added their own contributions, and Lady Li and Jiang Miao’s mother also chipped in generously. Jiang Nong would have enough to live extravagantly for two lifetimes. In her past life, she had also married into a foreign kingdom, but never with such fanfare.
Lady Jieyu was promoted to Zhaoyi for her daughter’s contribution to the alliance. Though she worried for Jiang Nong, she was more excited than anything. As she helped organize the dowry, she couldn’t help but say with pride: “Nongnong, I knew you were the most sensible child. By marrying into this alliance, you’ve not only redeemed your brother’s fault but also brought him closer to the crown prince’s position. Take care of yourself over there, but also find ways to help your brother. With Tan’s support, let’s see how those little brats compete with Biao’er!”
Jiang Nong glanced up at her. It was true—if she didn’t count her chances of survival, this marriage was indeed better than her previous one, and offered more support for Jiang Biao.
Lady Jieyu continued chattering on. Jiang Nong didn’t bother shattering her illusions and inviting more trouble.
In the months before the wedding, letters poured in like snowflakes from outside the palace.
From Chao Ning, and from Yu Lingxin.
Chao Ning truly hadn’t expected that being only a step too late would lead to this. Though the Yu Lingxin of this life was gentle and kind, he was still a puppet. Marrying him meant constant vigilance and anxiety. If Chao Ning had been more capable, had sealed the betrothal earlier, Jiang Nong wouldn’t be walking into such danger.
In his letter, he was full of regret, filling four full pages with fretful rambling. Before opening it, Jiang Nong had half-expected it to contain banknotes.
But what was done was done; there was no room for change. He couldn’t abandon his mother and elope with Jiang Nong, and even if he could, it was questionable whether she’d want to. So he fulfilled his duty as a brother, adding two carts of dowry, hoping at least she’d live comfortably there.
At the very end of the letter, he seemed to have reluctantly added a line in the corner, in tiny script: May you and your husband be of one heart—together, you can cut through metal.
Jiang Nong folded the letter, tucked it back into the envelope, and noticed the wax seal.
She rubbed it with her fingertip—the wax was rough. Though the color matched, parts of it showed slight layering, as if it had been opened and resealed.
She cut open Yu Lingxin’s envelope and held it up to the light for comparison—sure enough, there were subtle differences.
But there was nothing incriminating in her correspondence with Chao Ning. What could be worth such trouble?
After much thought, she attributed it to her father—who likely feared she and Chao Ning were planning an elopement. He must have intercepted the letters, checked them, and then sent them on.
There was no trust whatsoever between father and daughter.
Yu Lingxin’s letter was both similar and different from Chao Ning’s. Similar in length—four full pages—but different in tone: less chaotic, less stream-of-consciousness, with not a single correction or scribble. Every word was clearly weighed and chosen.
He wrote that he was overjoyed to be able to write to her again, to report that he was safe. He apologized for vanishing without a word, explained how he’d been taken back and enthroned under the backing of several powerful ministers. He felt it was all unreal, and he was filled with tension and fear. He hadn’t wanted to drag her into his mess, but none of it was within his control…
When it came to his situation, his words grew vague. Jiang Nong could glimpse that his circumstances were dire. Some lines had been torn out, and there were gaps where the pages didn’t quite match—probably things she wasn’t allowed to know.
Just from the letter, she could picture him writing it: pitiful, alone, both happy and guilty—with someone watching over him, checking his words before they were allowed to be sent, hence the missing parts.
Even as a puppet, this was undignified.
Would Yu Lingxin cry under his covers at night?
Jiang Nong’s head throbbed.
An emperor with so little dignity—she could still back out if she wanted to. But the headache wasn’t from how to change the marriage. It was because, instead of retreating, she felt a surge of heroic resolve to rescue someone from distress. She wanted to stand by Yu Lingxin’s side and help him move forward.
She pitied him, felt sorry for him, even ached for him.
Just as she couldn’t stand by and watch Jiang Miao hang herself, she couldn’t bear Yu Lingxin alone in such peril. In short, when there was a pitiable person before her—whether seen or merely imagined—she’d rush in headlong to help.
Jiang Nong wished she could beg herself to tone down the heroic fervor. What was so great about it? Did she really have to be so eager?
She carefully worded her reply to Yu Lingxin, writing gentle words of comfort, saying she would come soon and telling him to take care of himself and wait for her.
After finishing, she read it over three times and felt satisfied—the phrasing was sincere and moving, sure to give him some comfort and encouragement.
She remembered how forlorn he had looked when she refused to hold his hand before he left—who knew that might have been their last meeting?
Rolling up her sleeves, she dipped her finger in cinnabar and pressed it onto a blank sheet of paper, adding a small note beneath it. Feeling it wasn’t enough, she leaned in and traced it more clearly.
The cinnabar paste was wet and slow to dry. She sat cross-legged at her desk, propping her chin up, and waved the paper back and forth for a good while. Finally, she touched it, found it dry, folded it carefully, sealed it with the letter, and handed it to the eunuch to send out.
Yu Lingxin knew Jiang Nong so well that every word of her reply was within his expectations. In his secrecy, he felt a calm sense of control, a quiet thrill.
The trajectory of their relationship was steered entirely by his hand—there would be no deviation. Jiang Nong was helplessly drawn to him, ached for him, and walked willingly into this marriage, prepared to grow old with him.
When the cinnabar handprint tucked inside the letter fell out, he should have been happy. Jiang Nong cared more than he’d anticipated, remembering a casually spoken plea and fulfilling it in this way.
“If holding my hand gives you strength, then when you’re afraid, press your hand to this print—and think of it as me holding yours.” After the small, elegant handwriting was a little cat with a curled tail.
When she smiled, she looked like that cat—big eyes crinkling.
Yu Lingxin pressed his own palm over the print; it covered hers perfectly. It seemed he could still feel the soft warmth of her hand lingering on the paper.
His expression turned icy, his breathing heavy. A dense gloom settled over him—an indescribable, uncontrollable emotion began to spread, like a hurricane born from a gentle breeze. On the surface it seemed like jealousy, but within it was a sharp, piercing pain.
His fingers closed, crumpling the thin paper with a soft rustle. Then he set it alight—the cinnabar hissed and crackled as it burned, flaring into a bright, sputtering flame. Along with it, the warmth Jiang Nong had given him—more than he’d expected—turned to ash.
…
The wedding was set for the eighth day of the tenth month. Before leaving, Jiang Nong settled everything she could.
The Empress Dowager was advanced in years. The Fu family had declined and urgently needed to re-establish close ties with the royal house. Xifeng was proving himself, making a name for himself. Jiang Nong petitioned the Empress Dowager to have Xifeng adopted into the Fu family. As an orphan of the Imperial Guard, he needed no parental consent. With the Empress Dowager’s connection, the Fu family could marry into the royal house and seek a princess—making it all very proper.
Jiang Miao needed no worry. In her past life, she had been married off to a commoner to win over a rising new noble the following year—and they had lived harmoniously together, a rare good match.
As for Lady Zhaoyi and Jiang Biao, still dreaming of the crown prince’s seat and hoping to ride Jiang Nong’s coattails—she sent them straight to their fief instead.
All the other princes breathed a sigh of relief, though they couldn’t help wondering what Jiang Nong was thinking. Had she lost her mind? If her own brother ascended the throne, it would only benefit her.
If Jiang Nong had been a little more ruthless, she could have let things run their course. But by sending them far away and ensuring their safety, she had already done all she could.
On the day Jiang Biao departed for his fief, Lady Zhaoyi was promoted again by the Empress Dowager’s decree, becoming Lady Song—the Fei rank. Her furious curses echoed through the entire rear palace, her hatred for Jiang Nong burning bright for shattering her dream of becoming Empress Dowager.
On the twentieth day of the ninth month, the wedding procession set out in grand splendor, bound for Tan. The dowry stretched for ten li, a blaze of red along the way—a testament to how highly both kingdoms valued this union.
The Empress Dowager personally attended to Jiang Nong’s hair and makeup. Quietly holding her sleek, cool hair, she combed it through with smooth, steady strokes. The candles crackled with bright sparks—an auspicious sign of great fortune.
She slipped her own Buddhist prayer beads onto Jiang Nong’s wrist, her aged, withered hand pressing down firmly. There were a thousand words to say, but none could be spoken aloud.
Jiang Nong understood: to the Empress Dowager, she was a substitute for Jiang Niao. But at least the Empress Dowager truly worried for her, fearing she might repeat Jiang Niao’s fate.
She clasped the Empress Dowager’s hands, pressed them to her forehead, and touched them gently: “Grandmother, Yu Lingxin holds affection for me, and I hold loyalty to him. Even if the road is hard, as long as our hearts are together, we will find a way. I will write often.”
The Empress Dowager stroked her loose, cool hair, trying to remember her face—but the lamplight was too dim, and she could not see clearly.
The auspicious hour arrived. She carefully touched Jiang Nong’s eyes, nose, and lips, then took her hand and led her out, guiding her onto the carriage.
The carriage rolled out through the main palace gate. Amidst the music, Jiang Nong could faintly hear weeping behind her—from her sisters and brothers. This was her second marriage alliance, leaving her homeland behind. If nothing unexpected happened, she might never return.
It was hard not to feel regret. But unlike before, she felt no confusion, sorrow, or fear—because this time she knew exactly who she was marrying. It was the person she had longed to marry in her past life, sitting in the same carriage, being sent away to a foreign land.
Yu Lingxin’s gentle nature gave her immense comfort and peace.
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