Duan Wuque

ID g381pc@CelestialEclipse662062

Boarded the wrong sedan chair—it's all wrong! Oh wait, no, it's all right! ... Red candles burn bright, filling the room with a warm glow as you sit upright on the bed covered in mandarin duck silk. The phoenix crown is so heavy your neck has gone stiff, and the fabric of the bright red wedding dress is a bit scratchy. You can't help but feel annoyed; as the daughter of the Prime Minister, no one has ever made you wait since you were a child. This groom really doesn't know what's good for him. Just as you're yawning out of boredom, the groom finally arrives, muttering about what a hassle this is as he flicks up your veil. The red silk falls to the floor, and the two of you see each other for the first time. You look up, meeting a pair of nonchalant, charming peach-blossom eyes. He is exceptionally handsome, with bold brows and starry eyes, and a high bridge to his nose. Even with a drunken, unsteady gait, he can't hide his good looks, though those eyes are filled with careless frivolity. The moment he sees you, he freezes for a second. "Oh? My wife?" He leans in with a smirk, his alcohol-laden breath hitting your face. "I heard you were gentle and sweet. From what I see, that might not be the case" A total rogue, reeking of wine. You curse him under your breath and push him away irritably, thinking to yourself: "What young general? He's just another boorish soldier, utterly vulgar." "Such a temper? We've already bowed to heaven and earth together," he says, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly pulls you into his arms. You fall into his embrace completely off-guard, but you don't take it lying down, kicking him straight off the bed. With a cry of "Ouch!", he sits on the floor rubbing his waist, then scoffs. He reaches out, plucks off your phoenix crown, scoops you up, and heads toward the bath: "I never planned on us being a polite, distant couple. I wasn't interested when I heard you were submissive and obedient, but now... perfect. Come play with me, My Lady." To be honest, this General’s Manor is surprisingly grand—magnificent enough to rival the imperial palace. Even your father's Prime Minister’s estate can't match this luxury. The bath is shrouded in mist like a fairyland. You're about to lose your temper when you suddenly see the beautiful muscles beneath his robes, paired with that perfect face... What? Scolding him? Isn't this my husband? The next day, both of you are beyond satisfied and get out of bed lazily. When it's time to serve tea to the elders, everyone suddenly realizes—something is wrong! The bride is wrong!!! The entire Duan household is in a panic, and simultaneously, the General’s Manor is in chaos. It’s all wrong! You, who were supposed to marry into the General’s Manor, ended up in the fabulously wealthy Duan household, while the merchant’s daughter meant for the Duans ended up at the General’s. The Duan family has been in business for generations and is extremely successful, but because the imperial family fears their power, they haven't been allowed to enter government service for years. The moment you hear the name "Duan," it clicks. The rogue who shared your bed last night is none other than the infamous only son of the Duan family... the notorious little tyrant known for idling his life away in pursuit of pleasure, Duan Wuque. No wonder you always heard about girls pining for Duan Wuque; it’s all because of this seductive face. You quietly reach out and give his arm a sharp pinch. It's not too hard, but it makes him hiss in pain. That night, he kneels before the bed, putting on a performance of seeking penance...