Chapter Twenty-Two: United as One Today

In the Du residence, crimson silk draped down by the gate, the brilliant red of the double happiness character dazzling to the eye.

A grand wedding procession stood before the door, waiting anxiously as the hour grew late. The two porters by the bridal sedan whispered to each other, “We've been waiting for an hour already. Why hasn't the groom arrived?”

The other glanced at the tall white horse adorned with a red flower. “Who knows? I've never seen anything like this before.”

Du Zihong paced back and forth on the steps, his face anxious. Madam Du was equally worried, trying to reassure him. “Master, don’t be so anxious. I’m sure something must have delayed Zhong’er.”

Du Zihong shook his sleeve impatiently. “That unfilial son! Does he not realize what today is? The Du and Jiang families are to be joined, even His Majesty has sent his blessings. How am I to answer for this disgrace?”

The steward stepped forward. “Master, it is already past noon.”

To miss the auspicious hour boded ill.

Suddenly, Madam Du cried, “Zhong’er!”

“What?” Du Zihong looked up in delight. Du Zhong, clad in black, was approaching at a steady pace, Jiang Zhenning following behind him.

Madam Du hurried forward, grasping Du Zhong’s hand in concern. “Zhong’er, why have you only just returned? Did something happen?”

She gasped, “Your hand is so cold—what’s wrong?”

Du Zhong smiled faintly. “Mother, I’m all right.”

Du Zihong barked, “What are you standing there for? Hurry and change your clothes!”

Du Zhong patted Madam Du’s hand in reassurance. Du Zihong, still fuming, pushed him into the house. “You have a quarter of an hour—be ready and back out here!”

“Yes, Father.” Du Zhong bowed his head and went in, a maid following at his heels.

Du Zihong managed to compose himself, turning to Jiang Zhenning. “Nephew, why were you with Du Zhong?”

Jiang Zhenning replied, “The wedding procession was so late, my father asked me to come and see what was happening. I happened to meet Brother Du on the way.”

“Is that so?” Du Zihong eyed him suspiciously.

“I would not dare lie.” Jiang Zhenning smiled sincerely.

As they spoke, Du Zhong emerged in his bright red wedding robes. Madam Du felt her heart tremble—his face was too pale, his manner listless.

She wanted to ask more, but Du Zihong was already urging them on. “The auspicious hour is nearly here! What are you waiting for?”

Jiang Zhenning slipped behind Du Zhong, quietly handing him a small bottle of pills.

Du Zhong concealed it within his sleeve.

At last, the wedding procession set out with drums and gongs. Du Zhong sat tall on his horse, his gaze calm, though an occasional soft cough betrayed his hidden troubles.

At the Jiang residence, the sight of the belated wedding party brought a sigh of relief to all—except for Mingrou, who sat in her chamber, suddenly despondent.

Caichun and Xiu’er laughed as they placed the red bridal veil over her head.

Mingrou closed her eyes gently, phoenix coronet and red robes gleaming. Today was her wedding day.

“And yet, there is no joy at all,” she murmured.

At the gate, she bid her parents farewell.

The Princess of Jiang could barely let her go, but Mingrou resolutely released her mother’s hand. If they could not bear to part, why send her away to marry someone she did not love?

The princess’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Duke Jiang comforted her, “The Du and Jiang residences are not far apart. We shall often see our Mingrou.”

Du Zhong dismounted, greeted Duke Jiang and his wife, then reached to help Mingrou into the bridal sedan. She ignored him, taking Caichun’s hand instead as she stepped inside.

Unperturbed, Du Zhong withdrew his hand and bowed farewell to the elder Jiangs.

Mingchu stood on the steps, watching the procession depart. She turned to Yuewu and whispered, “Elder Sister looked so beautiful in her wedding clothes.”

In a home marrying off a daughter, they keep the lamps burning for three nights, longing for the one parted.

The princess gazed after the sedan, wiping her tears. “All I wish is for Mingrou’s happiness.”

How splendid the blossoms, the glory of crabapple flowers.

A hundred miles of wedding finery, red silk festooned on every branch, crowds lining the streets cheering in admiration for this union of two great families.

Laughter and music, gongs and drums echoed endlessly down the broad, bustling Changping Avenue.

After a long sequence of elaborate rituals, the shrill call to escort the bride to the nuptial chamber rang out, and Mingrou’s heart sank. She clenched her hands.

Du Zhong was still outside greeting guests. Mingrou sat in silence upon the bridal bed, expression numb, her hand moving slightly within her sleeve.

Caichun and Xiu’er, the maids who had accompanied her as part of her dowry, stood by sorrowfully, their hearts aching for their mistress.

The room was eerily quiet—until suddenly, many people poured in, surrounding Du Zhong as he entered.

The matchmaker squeezed to the front, her face creased with laughter. “Oh my, is the bride growing impatient already?”

Most of those in the room were younger relatives and friends of Du Zhong, all regarding Mingrou with friendly curiosity.

Caichun and Xiu’er each carried a tray—one of fruit and the other of silver. Du Zhong grabbed a handful of silver coins and tossed them to the crowd.

Guests scrambled for the coins and fruit. The matchmaker, quick of hand, snatched up quite a few herself.

She urged them on, “Time for the newlyweds to recite the nuptial vow!”

Du Zhong moved to sit on the bed. He glanced at the ever-silent Mingrou and said softly, “Let’s recite it.”

Mingrou, already vexed by the noise and eager for everyone to leave, nodded her assent. Together, they intoned, “On this auspicious night, the son of the Du clan and the daughter of the Jiang clan are joined. May this marriage endure for a thousand years, bringing perpetual happiness and prosperity.”

Her melodious voice and his deep tone mingled beautifully.

Satisfied, the guests filed out. Those who had considered teasing the bride thought better of it in Du Zhong’s presence.

Caichun and Xiu’er prepared the nuptial wine and then withdrew as well, leaving only the bride and groom in the room.

Du Zhong pressed a hand to his chest, exhaling softly, as if in pain. With effort, he used the wedding scales to lift Mingrou’s veil.

Beneath the red veil embroidered with mandarin ducks, a cold, frosty face was revealed.

Mingrou tensed, shrinking back, her eyes wary upon Du Zhong.

He smiled helplessly. “Why are you afraid of me?”

As he leaned slightly closer, Mingrou, flustered, drew a dagger from her sleeve. Her voice trembled, “Don’t come any closer or I’ll show you I mean it.”

Looking at the trembling blade, Du Zhong’s eyes darkened, but he found it almost amusing—did she think she could kill him with that?

Mingrou’s gaze was resolute, yet tinged with fear. Seeing Du Zhong neither alarmed nor angry, only faintly mocking, she grew indignant. Was he laughing at her? Did he think she dared not act?

She bit her lip, pushing the dagger forward. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Du Zhong raised both hands and stepped back. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Mingrou startled, her dagger clattering to the floor. Du Zhong called, “Who is it?”

A gentle voice answered from outside, “Zhong’er, it’s your mother. I was worried about you and came to check. What was that sound just now?”

Du Zhong and Mingrou exchanged a glance. He quickly kicked the dagger beneath the bed and was about to open the door when he staggered, collapsing onto the bed. Blood slowly seeped through his wedding robe.

“You—you’re bleeding! I haven’t even touched you!” Mingrou cried, pointing at his chest in alarm.

“Hush!” Du Zhong clapped a hand over her mouth. “Do you want everyone to think you’re trying to murder your husband?”

“Zhong’er, why aren’t you opening the door?” Madam Du’s anxious voice called again, a rare flicker of agitation crossing Du Zhong’s normally calm face.

Mingrou pushed his hand away, her cheeks flushing. She glanced at the blood-darkened robe, realizing