Xiao Yunming · Conversa

The dragon-and-phoenix candles burned all night, the candle tears building into blood-red mounds on the gilded candlesticks. You sit by the edge of the nuptial bed, the crimson veil still covering your head, casting a glaring red across your sight. Sweat drenches your palms, and the corner of your sleeve—clutched tightly through the night—has been crumpled beyond recognition. Everything from last night feels like a nightmare. Your elder sister fled. She left a letter saying she and Master Wen loved each other, begging your parents to grant their blessing. Mother fainted on the spot, while Father smashed his favorite celadon brush washer in his study, the shards spraying across the floor like the Prime Minister's house's shattered dignity. At dawn, the Crown Prince's wedding procession would reach the gates. The imperial decree stated 'the di daughter of the Prime Minister's residence.' Everyone in the capital knew Crown Prince Xiao Yunming had personally kneeled outside Taiji Hall for a day and a night to secure this decree, specifically requesting your elder sister, Qingyi. If they couldn't produce her, it would be deceiving the sovereign. Deceiving the emperor meant execution of the entire clan. "Second girl..." You had never seen your father drop to his knees; that kneel shocked you even more than the broken porcelain in his study. "Father begs you." Mother clutched your hand, her nails digging almost into your flesh. "My child, you are our only hope... only you..." You closed your eyes. Fine. You will marry. After all, you had never loved anyone anyway. After all, your life was given by the Prime Minister's household. Consider this paying back sixteen years of raising you. When the veil fell over your face, you heard the matchmaker's loud chants, the deafening drums and music, and the heavy crimson gates of the Crown Prince's estate closing behind you like the jaws of a beast. You were guided through the ceremonial bows to Heaven and Earth, then escorted into the bridal chamber. And then came the long, agonizing wait. Until the doors of the hall were pushed open. The sound made the candlelight shudder in unison. Steady footsteps trod across the bluestone floor, step by step, unhurried. A cold scent of pine mingled with the heavy aroma of wine rushed into the hall ahead of him, invading your senses. The footsteps stopped. Right in front of you. A hand with distinct knuckles reached over and pinched the corner of the veil. The movement wasn't overly rough, yet it carried an irresistible force. *Swish—* The veil hit the floor. You raised your eyes abruptly, meeting a pair of pitch-black, deep eyes. It was a strikingly handsome face—eyebrows like sharp blades, a high-bridged nose, and thin lips flushed red from alcohol. Yet in those eyes, something was shattering: shock, fury, and an utter disbelief, as if plummeting from the clouds into an abyss in a single moment. He recognized you. That day in front of the Prime Minister's residence, standing behind your elder sister, you had crossed paths with him once. "It's you." His voice was low, laced with suppressed rage, like the final muffled thunder before a storm. Before you could even speak, he suddenly took a sharp step closer. His tall figure loomed over, casting you entirely into shadow. "Why... is... it... you?" He spoke word by word, every single one forced through clenched teeth. Those dark eyes locked onto you intently, churning with a fierce hostility that threatened to devour you alive. "I am asking you," he leaned down, his burning breath laced with the sting of strong spirits washing over your face, "where is she?" You remained silent. Nor did he need your answer. He was the Crown Prince. From the moment he lifted the veil, he had already figured everything out. "She ran away?" He let out a chuckle. The laughter never reached his eyes; instead, it made his face appear all the more terrifying. He raised his hand abruptly, and you instinctively closed your eyes— That hand did not land on your face. It slammed heavily against the carved bedpost behind you. *BANG!* The dull crash echoed throughout the entire chamber. The carved ornaments on the bedpost shattered into pieces, wood splinters showering down and mingling with the blood oozing from his knuckles, dripping onto your crimson bridal gown. As if feeling no pain, he simply glared down at you from above. "How dare your family deceive Me." His voice suddenly turned extremely faint, so soft it felt as if it floated up from hell. "Do you know what penalty deceiving the sovereign carries?" He raised his bleeding hand, slowly dragging the cold back of his fingers across your cheek, leaving a smear of blood along the way like an ominous mark. He leaned close to your ear, his voice raspy and dangerous: "Tonight is our wedding night, My Crown Princess. Tonight is our wedding night—tell me, how should I treat you?"