Chapter 7.2

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Once alone, Xie Zheng opened the window, gazing at the snow-covered mountain peaks under the clear sky, his eyes darkening.

The one who had taken over his military command was a mad dog; without a body to confirm his death, he’d likely soon be searching through the nearby counties’ refugees. He had managed to fabricate a false identity but couldn’t produce official registration papers. If the Jizhou authorities began investigating unregistered refugees, he would be exposed soon enough.

However, according to the laws of this dynasty, marrying into a family would allow him to adopt his wife’s household registration. This was, in truth, his real reason for agreeing to the temporary marriage. As for that woman…

His gaze shifted instinctively to the bowl of pig lung soup sitting nearby. He had already granted her one wish and would gain something in return by marrying into her family; thus, he owed her nothing further.

Recalling her matter-of-fact remark, “You’re handsome,” his elegant brows knit together unconsciously. How shallow.

He brought his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, clear whistle. In no time, a pure-white falcon dove down from high above and landed gracefully on the windowsill.

Xie Zheng held out the bowl. “Eat it.”

The falcon glanced at the cooked pig lung slices in the bowl with its beady black eyes, then stubbornly turned its head away.

But after a single look from Xie Zheng, the falcon reluctantly picked up a piece of lung and swallowed it, looking visibly aggrieved.

Meanwhile, as Fan Changyu was finalizing her plans for the temporary marriage, Captain Wang discreetly sent someone to inform her that her uncle, Fan Da, had indeed filed a petition at the county office, and the case would likely be heard in court within the next few days.

When Carpenter Zhao and his wife heard the news, they were so worried that blisters formed on their lips from fretting. Fan Changyu, however, remained calm. “We’ll keep the wedding simple. We’ll invite the neighbors over for a meal to let everyone know about the marriage, and that’ll be enough.”

Not wanting the elderly couple to worry further—or for anyone to suspect the truth—she hadn’t yet mentioned that the marriage was only a temporary arrangement.

Aunt Zhao sighed, “But there won’t be time to make a proper wedding dress…”

Fan Changyu shrugged it off. “I’ll just wear a red dress; that should do the trick, right?”

The money she had from selling pork and the small compensation from the gambling hall scuffle added up to only three taels. She needed to spend it wisely.

She had a new outfit to wear herself, but her intended “husband” was not as fortunate. His original clothes had been torn to shreds in the fight, and during his recovery, he’d only had a loose inner garment and one of Carpenter Zhao’s old coats to wear. No matter how simple the wedding, he’d at least need a new outfit for the occasion.

Gritting her teeth, Fan Changyu spent half a string of cash on a bolt of russet-red fabric, asking the seamstress living in the alley to make a new outfit for him. She had chosen the muted red fabric for practical reasons—it could serve as wedding attire on the day and then be worn as regular clothing afterward.

When the seamstress heard about Changyu’s upcoming marriage, she offered a few cheerful words of blessing. Knowing the difficulties of Changyu’s household, she refused to accept any payment, saying that making the wedding clothes would be her wedding gift.

However, measurements still needed to be taken.

Changyu had hoped that Uncle Zhao might assist, but he was out buying other wedding essentials, so she had no choice but to go up to the attic herself. “You don’t have any proper clothing for the wedding, so I’ll take your measurements to have something made.”

Xie Zheng nodded, agreeing without any fuss.

To ensure accurate measurements, he didn’t put on Carpenter Zhao’s old jacket, wearing only a thin inner garment with his back exposed to Fan Changyu.

Fan Changyu spread her thumb and index finger apart, measuring from his left shoulder to his right. Through the thin inner garment, her fingertips brushed against the warm, firm muscles beneath. Though she’d touched his back before while helping him catch his breath when he’d been gravely injured, back then, with his life at stake, she’d had no distracting thoughts. Now, in the silence where even their faint breaths seemed amplified, she felt an inexplicable sense of awkwardness.

Worried he might again misunderstand her intentions, she minimized physical contact as much as possible, doing her best to ignore the warmth beneath her fingers and focus on remembering the measurements.

“One and a half feet,” she announced, swiftly handing him the old jacket and stepping back, almost as if trying to avoid lingering close. This man might appear lean, she mused to herself, but his shoulders and back are broad—almost the same measurements as my father’s.

Before leaving, she explained the basic plan for the wedding ceremony. “The wedding will be tomorrow afternoon. Since it’ll be difficult for you to come down yourself, Uncle Zhao will carry you downstairs.”

Marriage was linked to “dusk,” making twilight the auspicious time for the ceremony.

But for some reason, Xie Zheng refused firmly, “No need. I’ll go down on my own, using a cane.”

Fan Changyu looked at him with concern. “Won’t that reopen your wounds?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Seeing his insistence, she let it go and returned home to continue preparing for the wedding.

Hosting a small feast for the neighbors was essential. She spent a tael of silver to buy a whole pig, and Aunt Zhao, who was handling the cooking, made rounds among the neighbors to invite a few skilled cooks to help the next day. Sweet treats and pastries were also a must.

Although she’d planned to keep things simple, when she totaled up all the expenses, her three taels of silver had been completely spent.

Fan Changyu stayed busy until the late evening and hadn’t had a chance to take a break. Aunt Zhao, with no children of her own, threw herself into helping with the preparations as if she were arranging the wedding of her own daughter.

After Changning had gone to bed, Aunt Zhao pulled her aside with a mysterious expression and slipped a small booklet into her hands.

Fan Changyu took a quick glance at the booklet before hastily closing it, feeling both embarrassed and awkward. “With his injuries, this might not be necessary…”

Aunt Zhao shot her a glare. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

With no other choice, Changyu reluctantly accepted the booklet.

The seamstress, a skilled hand, managed to complete the wedding clothes that very night. Originally, Changyu had only planned on having a set made for Xie Zheng, but the seamstress had cleverly saved enough fabric to make a matching set for her as well.

With a smile, the seamstress said, “A bride and groom should wear matching outfits, shouldn’t they? I figured there was enough left over to make one for you, so I went ahead and made it. My skills aren’t perfect, so don’t be too critical.”

Fan Changyu had previously had clothes made at the seamstress’s shop, so her measurements were already on hand. Feeling a mix of emotions, she said, “Thank you, Aunt Fang.”

The seamstress urged her, “Go on, try it on for me and your Aunt Zhao. If it doesn’t fit, I can still make adjustments.”

The fabric hadn’t been enough for elaborate wedding attire, so the seamstress had crafted a simple, tasteful design that looked more like everyday wear. When Fan Changyu emerged after changing into it, both Aunt Zhao and the seamstress praised her appearance. The seamstress teased, “Once you wear the veil tomorrow, you’ll look just like a beautiful bride!”

Changyu couldn’t resist asking, “Since he’s marrying into my family, shouldn’t the veil be put on the groom instead?”

The seamstress and Aunt Zhao both burst into laughter. “Oh, you silly girl…”

Changyu’s question was more out of curiosity—she knew that actually making him wear a bridal veil might just push him to storm out on the spot.

Speaking of the groom, the seamstress’s curiosity was piqued. “I heard that the man you’re bringing into the family was injured by bandits at Huchakou and that you saved him. Is he handsome?”

Before Changyu could respond, Aunt Zhao answered for her, “You’ll see for yourself at the wedding tomorrow, won’t you?”

The seamstress laughed, agreed, and after a few more light-hearted remarks, took her leave.

When Aunt Zhao spoke to Fan Changyu alone, she couldn’t help feeling bittersweet, knowing the girl would be married by tomorrow. “Those daughters of wealthy families,” she sighed, “on their wedding day, they’re carried down from their embroidered rooms, placed in flower-adorned palanquins, and accompanied by drums and music all the way to their husband’s home…”

But Changyu didn’t feel sad. Instead, she recalled her conversation with Xie Zheng about Uncle Zhao carrying him downstairs for the ceremony. He’d rejected the idea with a cold expression on the spot. Could that be the reason he refused?

That night, the lights at the Fan house stayed on late—much like those at the Song household a few doors away.

When Song’s mother got up in the night, she noticed a light coming from her son’s room. She knocked on his door. “Yan, it’s already so late. You should get some rest.”

A calm voice answered from inside. “I’ll go to bed after I finish this scroll.”

Half filled with concern and half with pride, Song’s mother simply replied, “Don’t stay up too late,” and went back to her room.

Inside, under the flickering candlelight, Song Yan held the book in his hand, yet hadn’t turned a single page for a long time. His inkstone and brushes lay scattered on the floor, the study in disarray. The hand gripping the book was clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

So… she’s getting married?