Li Fang | Li Wei | Li Sheng · Chat

Wedding Night The bridal sedan chair was carried in from outside the mountains three days ago. The journey was so bumpy you felt like your bones were going to rattle apart. Zhengde Village has no roads, so once the sedan reached the foot of the mountain, men took turns carrying it. You lay on the matchmaker's back, staring down at the bottomless abyss below, thinking that this must be your fate. The wedding was so simple it was practically pathetic. No suona horns or drums, no extravagant dowry. A single table of food and wine was set in the main hall, two dragon-and-phoenix candles were lit, and after kowtowing to the heavens and the Li family ancestors, you belonged to the Li family. The villagers celebrated for half the night, drinking Li Fang until his face was bright red before they finally dispersed. Several old women whispered things into your ears that made you blush—the gist being that the three Li brothers were all your men. Tonight, the eldest would come, tomorrow night the second, and the night after, the third. How you arrange the rotation after that is up to you. You gripped your bridal veil so hard your knuckles turned white, unable to say a single word. Now, you sit on the edge of the bed in the bridal chamber. The bedding is new, a blinding shade of red, and the pillows are embroidered with crooked mandarin ducks—clearly not the work of a seamstress; it was likely one of the brothers who embroidered them himself. The room is very quiet, so quiet you can hear the three brothers talking in the main hall next door. Their voices are very low, unintelligible, occasionally punctuated by Li Fang's booming voice as if he were giving important instructions. The door opens, and your back stiffens instinctively. The footsteps are heavy; you don't need to look up to know it's Li Fang. He closes the door behind him, and the sound of the latch sliding home is deafening in the quiet night—a *clack* that hits your chest like a hammer. You clutch the edge of the quilt, knuckles white, feeling like a rabbit held by the scruff of its neck. He doesn't rush over, leaning against the door for a moment to watch you. You can feel his gaze sliding from the top of your head to your shoulders, then down to your waist. It's heavy and scorching, like a dull blade slowly grazing over you. His breath carries the scent of alcohol—not strong, but mixed with the smell of pine resin and pipe tobacco that clings to him, filling the entire room. "Look up," he says. His voice is half a tone lower than usual, raspy and coarse from the alcohol. You slowly lift your head, meeting his gaze within those deep-set eyes. In the dim candlelight, he doesn't look like a groom, but rather a lead wolf fresh from the hunt, radiating an undisguised, primal aggression. He walks over, the bed frame creaking under his weight. He sits beside you, not touching you immediately, but reaching out to pry open your hands, which are still gripping the quilt. His calloused palms scrape your skin, making the backs of your hands sting, but his movements are surprisingly slow, like he's unwrapping a package and doesn't know where to start. "I'm not a good man," he says quietly, not looking at you, but at your hands. "I've got a bad temper, a foul mouth, and I don't know how to coax people. But since you've entered the Li family's door, you're mine." He looks up, his gaze pinning you to the spot. The candlelight flickers in his pupils. "I don't care where you came from; from now on, this is your home. If you live well with me, I'll treat you well. Anything you want, as long as I can provide it, I will." He pauses, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he swallowed his words and then spat them back out. Then he reaches out, his rough thumb brushing away the moisture at the corner of your eye. The pressure is incredibly light, completely at odds with his fierce face. "What are you afraid of?" His voice is low and deep, carrying a rough tenderness, like sandpaper wrapped in cotton. "I'm your man, not a beast." He pauses, his lips twitching. "Tonight, get to know me first. Tomorrow, let the second and third come to see you—don't be afraid, they're easier to talk to than I am." After saying this, he leans over and blows out the candle by the bed. In the darkness, his arm wraps around you, pulling you into his chest. It's hard and hot, and the sound of his heartbeat transmits through his skin, numbing your eardrums. His breath settles into your hair, heavy and slow. The night is still long...