ITVCFITB CHAPTER 22

 Chapter 22 — The Wedding Night

The imperial wedding rites of Great Xia were notoriously elaborate, but today was different: Li Mingjin forced himself to follow the sequence laid down by the Inner Household ministers, step by orderly step.

First, he and Luo Shuyu offered incense before the ancestors, praying for protection and announcing their happy union.

“Kneel! Kowtow! Again kowtow! Thrice kowtow!”

During the three kneels and nine prostrations his leg hampered him, yet with a cane he managed to hold himself upright. Luo Shuyu worried the injury might be worse than it looked. Where had he been these last few days? Had he suffered? How had he been hurt? Had the river bandits been caught?

Against those thoughts, the tedious ceremonial hardly mattered. At least he could reach out and touch a living Li Mingjin, whole, breathing, standing before him, marrying him.

The rites went on; Li Mingjin could feel the steady heat of Luo Shuyu’s gaze.

The ceremonial master chanted, voice ringing in the hall: “Incense curls, lamps blaze bright, let groom and consort ascend the flowered dais together!”

Lifting his head, Luo Shuyu met Li Mingjin’s eyes. The crimson wedding robes sharpened the prince’s bearing; compared with his habitual black, today he seemed brighter, more vivid. Not the airy white-clad youth from the other day, but still handsome, still striking.

In his last life he had only come to understand Li Mingjin in that final year. Looking at him now, Luo Shuyu saw again the man he had come to know. Yes, it was him, still him.

“The hour is auspicious!”

“First bow: Heaven and Earth!”

“Second bow: the High Hall!”

“Husband and husband bow to each other, into the bridal chamber!”

By nightfall the Third Prince’s manor blazed with a hundred candles.

Compared to the Luo estate, the prince’s residence dripped with imperial splendor: ribbons and lanterns everywhere, color layered upon color.

The ministers and guests had gathered and stood aside to observe.

After the bows, the two returned first to the bridal chamber. Scarlet curtains hung within. Because of the injury, Li Mingjin could only escort Luo Shuyu to the threshold.

He wanted to linger, to look a while longer, but impatience would not help. On ordinary days he might act however he liked; today, for once, he had to be a model groom. The wedding women blocked him with practiced smiles.

“Your Highness,” the chief wedding woman said frankly, “you must go out and offer wine. Such is the rite.”

Li Mingjin snorted and stood at the door a moment before leaving. A collective breath released behind him, if he’d insisted on consummation first, what could they have done?

In Great Xia, the rites differed: marrying a ger meant lifting a veil; marrying a woman meant lifting a bridal hood. After all, a ger’s looks leaned more toward the masculine; etiquette acknowledged the differences.

Seated on the marriage bed, Luo Shuyu let the wedding woman offer a string of felicitations before she withdrew.

Li Mingjin was outside toasting guests; he would not be back quickly. Only Qingwang stayed within.

Luo Shuyu took in the room he had lived in for five years in his previous life. The layout was the same; the furniture gleamed from polishing; joy hid in every corner; twin xi characters shone on curtains and panes.

Warmth rose in his chest.

In that last life, Li Mingjin rarely slept in the main chamber, more often in the study. It wasn’t until the year after they married that they occasionally shared a room. His own body had been unwell; the child in his belly kicked him awake at night. To settle him, Li Mingjin would keep him company, sleeping on the couch beside the bed.

At some point, he couldn’t remember when that had changed.

Qingwang slipped back in and found his master ambling the room with a look that could only be called nostalgic, as if he’d lived here before.

Carrying a bowl, he said, “Young Master, have a little something. His Highness had the kitchens make these, he said you’ve barely eaten today, best to line your stomach first.”

Brushing his fingers over the familiar dressing table, Luo Shuyu saw the wontons and felt warmth again. “All right. Have them prepare sobering broth, too. I don’t know how much he’ll end up drinking. We can send him a bowl of noodles when he comes back.”

“Understood.” Qingwang dared a tease. “Young Master, you already have the bearing of a royal consort. This robe suits you especially well.”

Luo Shuyu smiled, lifted the veil, and began to eat. The skins melted on his tongue, soft and fragrant, brightened with a touch of sesame oil but not greasy. Li Mingjin knew he liked light flavors; this was just right.

After a day like that, one bowl of wontons brought him back to life.

He propped his chin on his hand and drifted, drowsing, when Qingwang rushed in to jostle him. “Young Master, quick, put the veil back on. His Highness is here.”

Luo Shuyu patted his cheeks and straightened. After Qingwang set the veil, he withdrew, leaving him alone.

Returning to the place he’d once called home, he felt no awkwardness, only ease.

The noise outside swelled, laughter mixed with calls to “tease the bridal chamber.”

He even picked out a princely voice: “Third Brother, we want to see Third Sister-in-law too. Satisfy our curiosity!”

“Today is my wedding. I’ve hardly seen him myself; you lot can wait. Go on, go.”

“Your Highness, that won’t do! A once-in-a-lifetime wedding, and you won’t let us have a look?”

“Who won’t do? You won’t do.”

Roars of laughter followed.

Luo Shuyu had rarely heard him talk this much. Clearly he was in high spirits. Last time he’d been too preoccupied with the night to notice; now he found it amusing. So this was “teasing the bridal chamber.”

He never got the chance to be teased. After a while, the hubbub ebbed.

The door eased open. Footsteps, measured and light, drew near. He heard the tap-tap of a cane in the outer room, then silence.

Why didn’t he come in?

After another moment, Luo Shuyu rose and went out.

Lifting the inner curtain he found Li Mingjin leaning at the door, head bowed. If he wasn’t mistaken, he even caught a flash of panic on the man’s face when he saw him.

He guessed at once drunk, then? and asked softly, “Is it very bad?”

Looking at the face behind that thin veil, Li Mingjin thought: the wine is not intoxicating; people intoxicate themselves. He’d simply grown a little nervous and wanted to catch his breath. He hadn’t expected Luo Shuyu to worry for him.

Under the other’s candid gaze his ears warmed. “I’m fine.”

“Come sit and have the broth first,” Luo Shuyu said, steadying him. “I had them make it. I told them to have noodles ready for you as well.”

He let himself be led, breathing in the faint clean scent clinging to the other’s sleeve and suddenly felt tipsy for real.

Candlelight swayed; the room was still.

At the table, Luo Shuyu reached to untie his veil, but Li Mingjin caught his hand.

“I’ll do it,” he said, eyes fixed on him.

They were very close now, his breath, the whisper of wine.

Slowly, Li Mingjin lifted the veil. Facing each other, both hearts thudded fast.

Seeing him properly at last, dressed for the occasion, Luo Shuyu was unlike anyone else. Compared to the increasingly feminine style favored by many gers, he was clean-boned, almost dashing, with a clear, quiet grace. His eyes were bright and quick, like stars caught in water. When he smiled, a tiny dimple showed at the right corner of his mouth, disarmingly sweet.

Today’s light hand on his brows had lengthened them just so—not heavy paint, only enough to set off his features, refined, never gaudy.

A gentleman fine as jade, honed and polished, cut and ground.

Li Mingjin removed the coronet from his hair, set it aside, and poured two cups, handing one across.

Relieved of the headpiece, Luo Shuyu felt lighter. He knew what was next, the hejin wine.

Last time they had been stiff and awkward, draining it in a gulp without tasting a thing.

Not so this life. The man before him was no longer a frightening stranger, but someone to live and die with, someone he could lean on.

They hooked arms and tilted back the sweet, low-proof fruit wine.

Setting his cup down, Luo Shuyu went to the dressing table and returned with a small box and a pair of scissors. “Your Highness, may I cut a lock of your hair?”

Li Mingjin nodded. “All right.”

Luo Shuyu clipped a small strand of his own hair first, then a lock of Li Mingjin’s, tied the two together, and laid them in the box.

Smiling faintly, he asked, “Do you know what this means?”

“From this day,” Li Mingjin said simply, “we are hair-bound husband and husband.”

“I don’t just want to be your hair-bound spouse in this life,” Luo Shuyu said, looking at him. “I want the next life, too.”

“Why?” Li Mingjin asked, genuinely surprised.

Eyes lowered, Luo Shuyu didn’t answer. Being stared at and made to say such things, he was a little at a loss. Call it shyness, for now.

Li Mingjin wondered if it was a foolish question. They were married; hair-bound meant a lifetime together. Reserving the next life as well was only natural.

Box put away, Luo Shuyu offered the broth. “This will sit better on your stomach.”

He drank it obligingly. He rarely bothered with sobering soup, but if the very first act as a married man was to drink what his consort gave him then marriage wasn’t so bad. No wonder the married officials loved to start sentences with “my wife…” It did have its charm.

“Are you tired?” he asked, catching that white wrist in his palm and turning it over in the candlelight.

Luo Shuyu shook his head and asked what lay closest to his heart. “I heard you suffered out there. How did you hurt your right foot? Is it serious?”

He had meant to suggest resting. The question knocked him off his stride. A twinge of guilt pricked him. “It’s nothing. During a fight I stepped wrong and twisted it. It’s fine.”

“May I look?”

“…All right.” He tugged up the trouser leg and rolled down the top of his sock.

Crouching, Luo Shuyu studied the ankle. “It’s very swollen. Does it hurt?”

“I’m a martial man. This much pain is nothing.”

“It looks bad to me,” Luo Shuyu said. “Let me help you lie down.”

“Mm.” After being stared at for a moment, he suddenly felt the truth of it, the ankle did feel like a steamed bun, and it did ache. “Let’s both lie down.”

Luo Shuyu loosened his elaborate wedding robe. As he moved, he caught a faint scent of his own sweat and a small itch along his skin. If they embraced like this, would Li Mingjin dislike it? “Your Highness, shall we wash up first?”

He had sweated through the day himself; wine clung to him. “Good idea.” A little more preparation suited him fine.

They called for hot water. After a small commotion, Luo Shuyu climbed into bed first. He yawned and waited while Li Mingjin washed up, a small, delicious knot of nerves in his stomach. It wasn’t their first time, but nerves were nerves.

His eyelids drooped.

In the side room, Li Mingjin hid for a moment to flip through a thin booklet, making sure he had the steps straight. Satisfied, he slid it onto the top of the cabinet, then limped toward the bed.

By the time he climbed up, the consort who had waited for him had already fallen asleep, curled around the quilt.

Gazing at the peaceful sleeping face, Li Mingjin fumed in silence: he regretted reading that booklet.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Wife, let me show you a rare, marvelous little volume—unique in the world.
Luo Shuyu: …No.

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Little note(s):
Hejin wine: Wedding wine shared by bride and groom, symbolizing their union.