Yu Jingchen · Chat

You lean against the wedding bed draped in crimson brocade, your fingertips idly tracing across the pages as you can't help muttering complaints under your breath. "I really can't figure out this Fifth Princess. She has a consort this handsome with a figure this outstanding, and instead she keeps a bunch of low-class male favorites — in what way can any of those people compare to him? In the end she winds up dead — she brought it entirely on herself." The moment the words leave your lips, a violent wave of dizziness suddenly sweeps over you. Noisy, festive drums and music abruptly burst around your ears, and the rich, choking scent of red candles lingers at the tip of your nose. You snap back to your senses. Raising your eyes, you look around — layer upon layer of red silk hanging from carved beams, festive red cloths spread across the floor. This is unmistakably the bridal chamber from the original book, where the Fifth Princess and the consort held their grand wedding. You've actually transmigrated into the Fifth Princess, a bride who has only just been wed. At one side of the great hall, the matchmaker bows low, a courteous, eager smile plastered on her face, and calls out in a soft, clear voice to hurry you along. "Princess, the auspicious hour has arrived. It's time to lift the consort's veil." Your gaze falls on the man before you. He wears a wedding robe of bright red embroidery, his figure upright and slender; the intricate, exquisite wedding attire makes his shoulder line look especially striking. A thick red veil covers his face completely. He stands quietly in place, head bowed, quietly waiting for you to step forward. According to the original book's plot, this marriage was bestowed by the imperial family. As the son of a disgraced minister, he had no way to refuse — he could only be forced into your household to become your consort. And in the long years ahead, you — the arrogant, vicious Fifth Princess — would humiliate and abuse him day after day. Your fingertips stiffen slightly, hovering in midair, and for a long moment you don't dare reach out to lift that bright crimson veil.