Those Hands Are Quite Beautiful
In the deep of the twelfth lunar month, the north wind howled. Dark clouds hung heavy along the horizon, and it looked as though a great snowfall was about to descend.
Han Zheng waited for half a shichen, yet no one came. At last, his heart sank into complete despair.
He let out a long sigh and walked up to Zhao Lu. His tone was worn with fatigue. “General Zhao, let us escort the Third Prince Consort into the city.”
Zhao Lu’s expression carried undisguised glee at their predicament. “I said long ago we should go straight in. You simply wouldn’t listen.”
Han Zheng ground his teeth. “General Zhao truly enjoys a spectacle and fears nothing going awry. This is your prince’s wedding. He has not even appeared. Will he not make the entire city’s people laugh at him?”
Zhao Lu shrugged indifferently, arms folded around the blade he cherished. “You have not only met our Highness today. Whoever gives him cause for anger, he will repay twice over.”
His Highness was arrogant and unrestrained, doing as he pleased. This time, it was the Emperor’s decree. His highness could not defy it and had been forced to swallow a bitter grievance. His displeasure was beyond words. A wedding reception? He would come to welcome a spouse?
Zhao Lu thought of it, and in his heart clicked his tongue twice. This sickly-looking Prince Consort would not survive even a single finger from his master.
It was a pity for that face, fair as blossom and jade.
Soon, the procession re-formed and made its grand advance into the city.
Zhao Lu and Han Zheng rode ahead on horseback. The officials followed in order. Soldiers walked on either side of the bridal sedan, holding long spears to prevent mishap.
The wedding procession was a splendid sight. Gongs and drums rang, and the firecrackers were deafening. Along both sides of Ye Jing’s broad, orderly avenue, commoners quickly gathered to watch.
“What a lavish carriage. Truly beautiful.”
“Look, a Prince of one kingdom is marrying in, and the dowry is only ten wagons?”
“Why do we not see His Highness the Third Prince?”
“Hah. The Third Prince does not wish to marry at all. You did not know?”
“I heard that on the day the marriage was bestowed, the Third Prince did not even receive the imperial edict. He left with a dark face.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course it is. A distant relative of mine serves within the prince’s residence. He saw it with his own eyes. How could it be false?”
“Then this Prince Consort is wretched indeed.”
“A man ought to read and strive. How can he be confined within the inner residence? Utterly absurd.”
The murmurs of the crowd poured into the sedan like a tide.
Chu Yuan sat with impeccable posture, his back straight. Beneath wide sleeves and ceremonial robes, both hands were icy cold. No emotion could be read from his fine, gentle brows. His eyes lowered, lashes cast down, their long fringe laying a shadow across his lids.
The procession ought to have circled the city once, to display imperial grandeur. The groom was absent, and the sky was already dimming. Han Zheng had overseen the preparations for this wedding, busy for months from beginning to end, exhausted in body and spirit. He simply chose to deliver the Prince Consort directly to the gates of the Third Prince’s residence.
The sooner he handed over the matter, the sooner it would be done.
The Third Prince’s residence stood at Mingguang Alley on the northwest side of Ye Jing’s main avenue. The musicians beat gongs and drums all the way to the gate, where the estate steward, Uncle Mao, had long been waiting with the others.
“Lord Han, General Zhao, sirs, please come inside. Tea has already been prepared.” Uncle Mao greeted them with a beaming smile.
If not for the number of people around them, Han Zheng would have rolled his eyes. He dismounted, exhaled a breath of white mist, and asked bluntly, “Where is His Highness the Third Prince?”
The smile on Mao Shu’s face stiffened.
In truth, no one in the residence knew where Lu Ronghuai had gone.
Mao Shu was just about to answer when suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves came from the distance.
Someone in the crowd shouted, “His Highness the Third Prince has returned!”
In an instant, the crowd stirred, heads turning in a rush.
The groom of the day should have been dressed in bright red wedding robes and gone personally beyond the city gates to receive the procession. At this moment, however, the Third Prince rode a fine horse, dressed in narrow, practical black everyday garments, a dark patterned cloak draped over his shoulders. His face was cold as water, impatience written plainly upon it.
As countless curious gazes fell upon him, Lu Ronghuai pulled on the reins and swung one long leg down from the saddle. He tossed his riding whip to the attendant guard behind him.
He was tall and straight-backed. His ink-black hair was gathered and fastened atop his head, bound beneath a silver coronet. Swordlike brows framed star-bright eyes.
When his gaze swept over them, it was colder and sharper than the bitter winter itself.
The surrounding clamor vanished at once. The commoners even began to drift away, afraid of provoking this living calamity.
Lu Ronghuai glanced carelessly in the direction of the palanquin. His eyes were indifferent. He undid his cloak as he climbed the steps.
Han Zheng stood to the side, hesitating several times whether to speak. Seeing him about to go inside, the veins at Han Zheng’s temple throbbed.
Mao Shu’s face lit with excitement. He personally embraced the wedding robes and hurried forward. “Your Highness, quickly, quickly change your clothes.”
Lu Ronghuai’s path was blocked. He looked at the glaring, eye-stabbing red of the wedding robes in Mao Shu’s arms. A cold, oppressive presence rose from him. The guards behind him took the cloak in silence and then stepped back in unison, half a pace.
Those who knew him well understood that Lu Ronghuai stood at the edge of anger.
Mao Shu looked at him with affectionate indulgence, wholly unbothered by the cold emanating from him. He coaxed gently, “Your Highness, today is your joyous wedding day. The Prince Consort has arrived as well and is still waiting upon the palanquin for you.”
Those words were better left unsaid. The moment they were spoken, the violent air around Lu Ronghuai burst forth. He let out a cold laugh, seized the elaborate, exquisite wedding robes, shook them open, and threw them over his broad shoulders as though it were a casual cloak.
He turned and strode toward the palanquin. The red robes fluttered in the wind, trembling unsteadily, as if they might fall to the ground at any moment.
Lu Ronghuai approached with a face full of murderous chill. The soldiers around the palanquin retreated one after another, trembling as they lowered their heads. The music had fallen silent at some point. In that instant, everyone held their breath.
He stopped beside the carriage and kicked the carriage shaft without courtesy. His voice was cold. “Get down.”
Le Shu, standing by the carriage, was so frightened his spirit nearly left him. His legs trembled severely.
A crisp crack rang out from the thick, sturdy shaft. The crowd’s hearts seemed to leap in their chests, dread rising in their throats.
The air was suffocatingly still. Only the desolate wind remained.
After a long while, a slender hand, pale as snow, lifted the carriage curtain. Someone stepped out slowly.
The youth in bright red wedding robes stood quietly in the wind. The veil concealed his features. The cold wind lifted his long hair, black and glossy as silk, soft and obedient. His presence was like a chill moon in the mountains, clear and distant as an immortal.
Even without seeing his face, everyone present felt certain at this moment that he must be a beauty.
Lu Ronghuai pressed his lips together. His gaze passed over him only briefly. His dark brows drew tight. In his deep, dark eyes, several threads of keen sharpness lay concealed.
The matchmaker who had been waiting at the side wore a smile that was fawning and yet laced with fear. Trembling, she offered the red silk, and still remembered to whisper toward the musicians standing rigid behind her, “Why are you all standing there? Continue playing!”
Cheerful wedding music rose again, and firecrackers flared once more. Under the silent, watchful gaze of the crowd, the red silk remained untaken.
The smile the matchmaker had worked so hard to maintain slowly froze on her face.
Her plump body shuddered. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Lu Ronghuai, but his forbidding expression frightened her into shrinking her neck. She cried for help internally.
“Th-Third Prince Consort, p-please take, take the red silk.” She did not dare provoke the living calamity, so she turned the silk toward Chu Yuan instead. Even her usually smooth tongue stumbled.
Her hands began to tremble as she held it, misery flooding her heart. She never should have taken this work just because the silver was good. In all her hundreds of wedding processions, this was the first time she had met such a scene.
She must not ruin her own reputation.
As she silently complained, a hand, white as congealed snow and surpassing frost, suddenly reached out before her and gently took the red silk.
The matchmaker froze, then was overjoyed. A genuine smile split her plump face as she rattled off a string of auspicious blessings in a loud voice, her words tumbling out quickly.
Lu Ronghuai had been vexed these days by headaches to begin with. Hearing the matchmaker’s rapid-fire chatter, the veins at his temple jumped. He endured it and endured it again, then lifted his arm and made a gesture.
The two guards behind him reacted at once and barked at the crowd, “Silence!”
In an instant, music, voices, and firecrackers all died away.
With the surroundings quieted, the harshness in Lu Ronghuai’s expression eased slightly.
He lowered his eyes to the person beside him. The other stood quietly, both hands holding the red silk. His ten fingers were slender, the nails neatly trimmed and rounded. The joints had been reddened by the cold wind.
Those hands are quite beautiful.
Lu Ronghuai withdrew his gaze. He reached out his hand and spoke in a domineering tone. “Give it to me.”
The matchmaker hurriedly handed the red silk to him as though throwing away something scalding, swift beyond measure.
Lu Ronghuai gave a low snort. He tugged the end of the silk and strode into the residence without looking back.
Chu Yuan was not prepared. The force pulled him into a stumble. The veil lifted for an instant, and the crowd only managed to glimpse the Prince Consort’s delicate chin before it vanished again, leaving them dazed.
Chu Yuan gathered himself quickly and forced his steps to keep pace with the figure ahead.
The musicians and matchmaker followed behind the pair and were about to enter when they were stopped by Lu Ronghuai’s guards.
“There is no need to trouble you further. Please go to the side hall to rest. Someone will lead you to the banquet hall shortly.”
The group exchanged looks. No one dared speak another word. They followed the servants to the side hall.
The main hall where the couple should have bowed was meant to be bustling, packed to overflowing. At this moment, it held only a sparse few. Not a single congratulatory guest could be seen.
Four sword-bearing guards stood at the entrance, faces blank, allowing no one to come within even half a step.
Le Shu was stopped outside as well, his expression anxious and frightened.
Han Zheng looked from a distance, sighed, and led the others to the side hall.
So be it. Today’s wedding banquet was fated to end in a perfunctory haste.
He had felt some puzzlement. The princes who usually loved a spectacle had not come even one. Now it seemed they all knew this man’s temper, feared being caught in the fallout, and hid themselves far away.
Inside the hall, the lights blazed brightly.
On the high platform, a pair of dragon-and-phoenix wedding candles burned in silence.
Lu Ronghuai and Chu Yuan stood side by side.
One was tall and striking, imposing and fierce.
The other was like orchid and jade, refined and composed.
Judging by their figures alone, they were incomparably well-matched.
Mao Shu looked at the pair before him and felt a stir of emotion. He began, “Your Highness, it is time to bow—”
“Mao Shu, has the courtyard been arranged?” Lu Ronghuai asked in a low voice.
Uncle Mao blinked. “Ah? Oh, yes. It has been arranged.”
“Take him there.”
Lu Ronghuai cut Mao Shu off. He casually tossed aside the red silk in his hand, then disdainfully pulled off the wedding robes from his shoulders and threw them on the ground together. He then strode toward the door and, taking the four guards with him, turned and vanished from sight.
Lu Ronghuai had never intended to bow and complete the ceremony. He had dragged the person into the residence in perfunctory fashion. That alone counted as fulfilling the task.
Mao Shu understood in his heart that this marriage was not what His Highness wanted.
He had watched His Highness grow up and naturally felt greater sympathy for him. His Highness resisted this wedding, so the residence had not been decorated. Only a few red lanterns were hung, merely for appearances.
Mao Shu sighed inwardly. He looked at Chu Yuan, standing alone to the side. Chu Yuan’s hands were clenched tightly into fists. His nails had pressed into flesh from the force. Mao Shu knew that this one’s heart could not be at ease either.
Uncle Mao called out. Two young women entered.
“Fang Ya, Fang Fei, from this day onward you will attend the Consort. Quickly escort the Consort back to Baochun Courtyard to rest.”
“Yes.” The two bowed, stepped forward, and moved to support Chu Yuan from either side.
The moment they touched Chu Yuan, both paused. They exchanged a glance, and a knowing, contemptuous smile appeared upon their faces.
This prince consort from Chu appeared dignified and composed but unexpectedly had such a small courage as he was actually trembling with fright.
✧ A Word from the Author ✧
Yuan Yuan, don’t be afraid. In a couple of days, we’ll beat up that Lu the Dog!
Thank you for your support!
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