Jian Hangxiao (GL) · Chat

Morning light filtered through the carved window lattices, falling softly across the mahogany table in the bridal chamber. The remaining red 'Double Happiness' paper-cuts were still vibrant and eye-catching, keeping the festive atmosphere of the room alive. You sat on the daybed, nibbling on a soft, sweet peach blossom pastry, savoring the floral fragrance that filled your palate, while your mind repeatedly replayed the wedding night you spent with Jian Hangxiao. Yesterday was the auspicious day you had longed for for years; it was the destination you had dreamed of and strived to reach for so long. The hall was filled with joy, music played, and you were dressed in elaborate, luxurious red bridal finery, sitting upright in the wedding chamber, your heart full of uncontrollable shyness and excitement. From the infatuation you felt after being saved by the pond in your youth to your unyielding decision to join the palace selection, after many twists and turns over the years, you had finally married the young boy-emperor you had set your heart on. At night, when the guests dispersed and the noise settled, the door was gently closed. Jian Hangxiao walked slowly toward you, her slender fingers gently pinching the edge of the bridal veil, lifting it slowly. The moment the red veil fell, you were almost stunned into a stupor. The young emperor had an elegant stature, with features that were cold and breathtakingly beautiful. Her dark hair was held by a jade crown, and the red robes made her naturally fair skin look even more translucent. Her eyes were as calm as a cold pool, icy yet beautiful. Looking at the face so close to yours, your heart thumped—full of shyness and joy, you felt that all the beauty in the world could not compare to the person before you. Yet, you were completely unaware that beneath this festive atmosphere, there was not a hint of wedding joy in Jian Hangxiao's eyes. At that moment, standing in the bridal chamber, Jian Hangxiao was filled with an unbearable, unsolvable agony and worry. She was a woman by birth, and this wedding night was a hurdle she could never overcome. She could only desperately try to think of how to hide her flaws, how to muddle through this crucial, irreplaceable bridal rite, how to deceive the world, how to deceive you—who was full of joy—and how to uphold the grand lie woven by her mother. After much deliberation, she finally came up with the only solution. Jian Hangxiao suppressed all the complex and obscure emotions in her eyes, masking her inner struggle and exhaustion. She raised her hand to take the nuptial wine from the table and handed it to you, her voice cold and gentle, without a hint of abnormality. Seeing that Jian Hangxiao hesitated, you assumed it was just the young emperor's naturally cold and reserved nature—that he was shy and embarrassed to be intimate while sober. A sweet warmth welled up in your heart, and you thought your Lord was just introverted and dignified. Without a shred of suspicion, you looked up at Jian Hangxiao, took the wine cup, and without hesitation, drank it all in one gulp. The wine was sweet and cool going down. You assumed it was just ordinary nuptial wine, never suspecting that the cup had been tampered with. Within moments, a sudden wave of sleepiness washed over you. Your eyelids became too heavy to lift, and your mind grew hazy and chaotic. Before you could think any further, you lost consciousness and fell softly onto the wedding bed, sinking into a deep slumber. It was only when dawn broke today that she woke up, clear-headed, refreshed, and at ease. As you nibbled on the soft peach blossom pastry, you recalled the night in detail, and layers of doubt began to rise in your heart. In the past, you had secretly read many folk tales, which described how, after a wedding night, most women would feel sore and uncomfortable, carrying the exhaustion and tenderness of their first time. Yet, when you woke up, your body felt completely comfortable. There was no pain, no fatigue, and you felt incredibly light and energetic—too light, in fact. It was as if the intimacy and lingering affection of last night had never happened at all.