The pavilions of the Zhang residence were adorned with crimson curtains hanging from the ceilings, and red paper lanterns painted with the characters for "double happiness" swayed gently in the wind. The scent of sandalwood incense floated thick in the air, and the servants hurried about, adjusting the final details of the ritual.
The wedding ceremony was about to begin.
In the main hall, a path of plum blossom petals stretched from the entrance to the ceremonial altar, where a golden screen separated the space dedicated to the ancestors. The walls were decorated with hand-painted silk scrolls, and on a wooden table, bowls of fragrant rice, cups of sweet wine, and carefully arranged fruits were displayed with almost reverent symmetry.
Meixin, dressed in a scarlet red hanfu embroidered with golden phoenixes, looked radiant. Her hair was styled in an elaborate bun, crowned by a golden comb inlaid with pearls, and a red veil fell delicately over her face. Beside her, Liu Zhen adjusted the folds of her gown with gentle fingers while murmuring soothing words.
—You look like a princess, miss,— the maid said with a shy smile.
Meixin nodded, her heart pounding—not with nerves, but with hope. Today, she would marry Zhang Yun.
In stark contrast, at the other end of the hall, Zhang Yun stood like a statue carved from ice. He wore a formal red hanfu, trimmed in black. His hair was slicked back and fastened with a silk band and a jade hairpin. He did not smile. He looked at no one. His face was a mask of restrained displeasure.
Before the ritual began, Wei Jin approached her daughter. She took Meixin's hands in hers, her eyes glinting with a mix of pride and warning.
—Remember what I tell you, Meixin. If they ever treat you cruelly, if this household dims your smile, come back. Our door will always be open to you.
Meixin nodded, holding back tears. Her mother, standing beside her, gently caressed her cheek.
As Meixin moved forward with slow, measured steps, surrounded by the murmurs of guests, her heart swelled with a mixture of emotion and hope at the sight of Zhang Yun waiting at the end of the hall. But he showed no hint of emotion. His face remained expressionless, as if carved from marble.
Zhang Tao watched her from one side, arms crossed, wearing a cold and calculating expression, like a man evaluating a profitable deal. Around him, the women of the family whispered behind silk fans, casting glances laden with disdain that barely masked their hostility.
The ceremony proceeded according to tradition: bows to the heavens, to the ancestors, to the parents… and finally, between the bride and groom. Zhang Yun inclined his head stiffly, as if burdened by the weight of the world. Not once did he meet Meixin's gaze. When their fingers brushed during the exchange of the ceremonial wine cups, he recoiled with visible chill. The crowd applauded with enthusiasm, blind to the chasm already forming between them.
Night fell with the murmurs of glowing lanterns and the distant laughter of the guests. In the bridal chamber, decorated with red brocade fabrics and a bed strewn with flower petals, Meixin sat in silence at the edge of the bed. Her veil had been removed. Her face, lit by the soft glow of candles, was filled with anticipation and nervousness.
But hours passed.
The door did not open.
When it finally did, it burst open.
Zhang Yun entered with firm steps and a hard expression. He closed the door behind him with a loud thud and looked at her with contempt.
—So you think a pretty dress and a smile are enough to take the place that doesn't belong to you?— he spat, his voice low and venomous.
Meixin stared at him, bewildered.
—What…? Why are you speaking to me like this?
—Don't pretend. I know exactly why my father agreed to this marriage. A business deal. A political alliance. You're just the dowry that sealed it.
—But I…— she whispered, almost voiceless.
He let out a bitter laugh and looked her up and down with scorn.
—I won't share this bed with you. Make no mistake.
And he walked out.
Meixin was left alone. Silence thickened around her. The tears came silently, sliding down her cheeks as she untied her elaborate hairstyle with trembling hands. The dress that had once felt like a dream now weighed on her like a cursed armor.
The next morning, the sun barely filtered through the wooden slats of the room when Meixin opened her eyes, her lashes still damp with the traces of her sorrow. There were no hurried footsteps of cheerful women, no soft words of congratulations. Not a single woman from the Zhang household came to see her; the room, still dressed in the remnants of yesterday's celebration, now felt more like an exile than a bridal suite.
The maids passed by in the corridor without stopping, their judging glances cutting through her like blades. Some stooped to whisper to one another, and more than one let out a muffled laugh upon seeing her timidly peek through the door.
One of them, young and expressionless, arrived with a wooden tray in her hands. She didn't speak a word nor offer a bow; she simply left the breakfast on the threshold, as if delivering food to an unwanted guest. No glance, no greeting. Just the sharp sound of porcelain meeting the floor, followed by the hurried footsteps retreating down the hall.
Meixin stood there, unmoving, feeling the burn of humiliation rise to her cheeks. Loneliness clenched her throat as she looked down at the simple tray of rice and cold tea.
The only one who sat beside her, who brought her a warm cloth to wipe her face and offered her honeyed tea, was Liu Zhen.
—You are not alone, my lady,— Zhen said softly, taking her hand gently.
Meixin nodded, swallowing her pain in a tight knot. This was not the wedding she had dreamed of. But she still had her dignity, and a heart that, though wounded, would not give up so easily. She was no fragile flower to wither at the first wind. If her husband had chosen to ignore her, she would make sure he noticed her.
—This is not how I imagined my wedding, Zhen… but I can't keep mourning it. Not anymore,— Meixin murmured, straightening her back.
—No one here treats you with fairness. The young master… hasn't even said a kind word to you. Why should you try so hard?
—I didn't come just to endure… I came to claim my place.
—You mean to win his heart?
—Not out of duty, nor because someone told me to… but because I want him to see me. I want him to know I am not some burden forced upon him by a contract, but a woman worthy of standing by his side with dignity. Perhaps one day… even with love.
—It won't be easy, my lady. But if anyone can do it, it's you. And I'll be by your side, no matter what.
Meixin smiled, though her eyes were still wet. Then she lifted her chin and adjusted her hanfu with the poise of a dethroned queen who had not lost her crown.