The farther north they traveled, the more distinct the seasons became. In the tenth month, the capital of Xi still blazed with scorching sun and lush greenery. But after passing through three provinces and twelve cities, crossing the Qin Mountains, the landscape turned golden as far as the eye could see. Mornings and evenings were cold enough to form frost; at noon, the sun hung high in a clear, cloudless sky. They began to truly feel how far they had left their homeland behind.
The wedding procession arrived at Fengye, Tan’s capital, on the seventh day of the tenth month. They would rest at a post station outside the city for three days before entering the city for the wedding.
Even from ten li away, they could hear the faint festive music drifting from the city—joyous tunes played in the markets to celebrate the king’s great wedding.
After half a month of travel with constant music and commotion, everyone was exhausted. Upon arriving at the post station, most of them collapsed without even eating.
The journey from Xi to Tan was even farther than from Xi to Dang, with many hills and mountains that made the ride rough. By the time she arrived, Jiang Nong’s head was spinning. All she wanted was to rest—she could barely muster the energy to stay upright.
The room arranged for her was spacious and comfortable, decked out in festive decorations for the wedding. Tan’s dynasty honored the element of fire, and vermillion bird motifs were used everywhere—red and black intertwined, solemn and splendid. In a three-legged bronze incense burner shaped like a vermillion bird, calming incense curled upward, making her drowsier still.
After washing up, she hastily ate some soup and fell into bed, sinking into a deep sleep.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the journey, or the unpleasant memories of her past life surfacing to unsettle her—though she was utterly spent, she couldn’t sleep soundly.
In her dream, a snake coiled around her body, trapping her tightly. Wherever it touched, a chill spread. She shivered in the cold, trying to break free, but the snake only bound her more firmly.
Only when her strength gave out and she stopped struggling did the snake grow docile, gradually loosening its grip. Man and serpent settled into an uneasy truce.
It seemed to draw warmth from her. After a long while, it changed from cold to warm—and then grew so hot it was like a blazing stove pressed against her.
Jiang Nong finally shifted from resistance and discomfort to acceptance, even wrapping her arms around the uninvited guest.
She slept from evening until noon the next day, waking refreshed. Crawling out of the soft, warm covers, her bones felt like jelly as she flopped languidly at the head of the bed.
Rong Mian, still yawning, brought water for washing. Jiang Nong gasped sharply, startling her.
“The wind yesterday afternoon was so dry and biting—it hurt. I didn’t put on jasmine oil, and I think my lips have cracked.” Jiang Nong touched her parched lips, frowning, her words muffled. Wrapped in the warm quilt, her glossy black hair half-covered her face. Rong Mian’s heart ached—she cupped her mistress’s face like a mother hen, examining her carefully.
After a moment, she exclaimed: “It is a little cracked! How can Tan’s wind be so harsh? Like a knife!”
“Probably because the floor heating was on last night—the room was too dry.” Jiang Nong tilted her head back, letting Rong Mian apply jasmine oil to her lips.
In her past life in Tan, this had been the same—her lips constantly chapped. She was used to it.
At least after that first night of nightmares, the rest of her sleep had been decent.
Jiang Nong had always been a spirited child. While others her age were still drowsy, she only needed three hours of sleep to stay energetic all day. Her habit of constantly mulling things over conveniently counterbalanced her vivacity, keeping her from running around and annoying people.
That was why people often described her as quiet and steady, as if she were a fragile willow.
By the time the wedding procession had rested three days—still exhausted, barely keeping themselves upright—Jiang Nong had already recovered, more alert than even the palace officials who had accompanied her.
They formed a first impression: this new empress was no pushover—not someone to be easily manipulated like Yu Lingxin.
The coronation ceremony was far more grand than Jiang Nong had anticipated—clear evidence of how eager Ministers Lü and Han were to announce the new empress to the world and stabilize Yu Lingxin’s throne.
During the court’s congratulations from both internal and external officials, Jiang Nong saw the two powerful ministers who could sway the succession.
They looked just as they had in her past life—both appeared refined and scholarly, holding their court tablets at the front of the hundred officials. So splendid, so self-satisfied, so ambitious—yet they observed every outward formality impeccably, leaving no fault to be found. Their depth of scheming was evident.
Jiang Nong steeled herself, walking up the steps without turning her gaze, past the drums and music, toward Yu Lingxin. The moment his hand clasped hers, she felt him tremble. Her lashes fluttered rapidly as she whispered, just for the two of them: “Don’t be afraid.”
Yu Lingxin paused in surprise, then smiled and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
The emperor and empress paid homage to the ancestors together, divining before the past kings. The hexagram came back greatly auspicious. The Grand Invocator read the result aloud before the ancestral tablets and deposited it in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices—proof that heaven and the ancestors had recognized them as husband and wife, bound together to share Tan’s rise and fall. Then Jiang Nong received the empress’s seal, and the ceremony was complete. Her position as empress was irrevocable.
The remaining ceremonies took place within the inner palace—the nuptial rites of drinking from the same goblet and tying their hair together. It wasn’t until deep into the night that the full bridal ritual was complete. The attendants withdrew, leaving only the young couple seated facing each other in the quiet bedchamber.
Jiang Nong was rarely so elaborately adorned. Every time she lowered her head, the weight of her headdress dragged her down, pulling painfully at her scalp. She’d had to hold her head high all day—only after the ceremony ended and all the ornaments were removed could she finally breathe.
Surrounded by layers of people all day, she hadn’t had a chance to study Yu Lingxin closely—only a few quick glances during the rites. She’d thought he looked more robust, but had assumed it was just the heavy ceremonial robes, layer upon layer, that made him seem that way. Now, in just his nightclothes, she could see the change was real.
No—it was more than a change. It was a complete transformation.
He was so different from the Yu Lingxin she remembered.
She still pictured him as he was when he was a hostage in Xi—a delicate, fragile beauty, thin as paper. Even though he was half a head taller than her, she’d always seen him as weak, pitiable, in need of her protection—a pure white flower trembling in the wind.
But now, that delicate flower had apparently been fertilized with something in the past six months, and things had taken a turn.
His bones had filled out, his Adam’s apple was more prominent, his features sharper—the blurry ambiguity between boy and man had vanished, replaced by a deep, striking intensity. The slender, lean muscles of before had begun to take shape; the lines of his forearms were smooth and firm, veins standing out on the backs of his hands.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Jiang Nong used to think she could carry Yu Lingxin in her arms. Now, he could probably lift her with one hand.
Before coming, she’d prepared all sorts of heartfelt reassurances to offer him. Now she didn’t dare. She clutched her sleeve, silent for a long time before stammering: “It’s been a long day—let’s sleep.”
She knew how to handle the gentle, puppy-like Yu Lingxin. She didn’t know how to handle this version.
A full year of trying to reform him, and she’d completely forgotten: Yu Lingxin wouldn’t stay the fragile little flower she felt safe around forever.
To be honest, given her past life, she needed some time to adjust.
An undeniable awkwardness spread between them.
Yu Lingxin’s long lashes lowered slightly, concealing a flicker of shadow.
Seeing him still silent, Jiang Nong let out an awkward laugh and racked her brain for something else to say to ease the tension.
Yu Lingxin watched her expression, then used his ring finger to hook hers gently and carefully. When she didn’t react, he drew her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes—a gesture of submission and attachment.
He was telling her he hadn’t changed—that he was still Sister’s most obedient, well-behaved dog.
“Sister, I’ve been so afraid here all alone,” his voice carried a hint of dampness. “But I’m even more afraid of dragging you down. I’m afraid you jumped into this fire for my sake. I’d rather suffer through it alone than have you here.”
Jiang Nong couldn’t handle this. She sighed, straightened up, and gently stroked his back: “It’s alright, it’s alright—don’t blame yourself. I truly don’t feel like you’ve wronged me at all. We’ll face the difficulties together, won’t we?”
Yu Lingxin took the opportunity to rest his forehead against her collarbone, nodding.
His hot breath brushed against the hollow of her neck. Jiang Nong shivered, but she couldn’t push him away—afraid of hurting his fragile heart. She tried to broach the subject tactfully: “You’re really cold, haha…”
“Are you getting sick? Let’s get under the covers and sleep early, hahaha—um, I am actually getting a bit sleepy.”
She didn’t even know what she was laughing at.
Anyone could see Jiang Nong was feigning obliviousness, trying to evade the situation. On a wedding night, a bride claiming to be sleepy—most people would have turned sour.
Yu Lingxin raised no objection. He only said, very cautiously: “I’m sorry, Sister. Since last year, my body has been cold—it takes a long time to warm up. Could I hold you while we sleep? I haven’t slept well in a long time. I can warm up first before holding you.”
Last year—the autumn hunt, when he’d been at death’s door. His body had been weakened by blood loss, leaving him cold in all seasons. Jiang Nong felt she’d be inhuman to refuse.
In the dead silence, the crimson bed curtains enclosed a small, intimate space. They could only hear each other. Yu Lingxin wrapped his arms around her from behind—his broad embrace completely enveloped her and more.
They used the same incense, but mingled with their own scents, it became entirely different. Now, the two fragrances were slowly blending again. As Jiang Nong breathed it in, she grew accustomed, her rigid body softening. Her forehead rested against his arm as drowsiness crept over her.
She hadn’t been lying about him being cold—the room was so warm, yet his hands remained icy.
She covered his hands with her palms. After a while, Yu Lingxin’s whole body warmed up, as if she’d passed her own heat to him.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck. Half-asleep, Jiang Nong patted him soothingly—and then she felt a feather-light tickle on her skin, there and gone, so faint it could have been a dream.
Leave a Reply