Having reaffirmed his doubts, Jiang Suizhou stopped talking. Meng Qianshan, on the other hand, continued chattering the entire way there.
Clearly this somewhat dense subordinate of his must usually be given the cold shoulder. Jiang Suizhou had granted him the smallest moment of kindness due to a combination of odd coincidences, and it made him practically giddy.
It wasn’t necessarily bad for Meng Qianshan to be a tad foolish.
Jiang Suizhou felt his heavy heart lift a little as he listened to Meng Qianshan’s long-winded prattling. By reading between the lines, he was also able to get a vague picture of the current situation in the residence.
Well, I’m already here. Let’s just take it step by step, he thought to himself with a sigh.
Approximately fifteen minutes later, the palanquin came to a stop in front of a courtyard.
Red lanterns were suspended above the entrance to the courtyard, their glow illuminating the firecracker remnants scattered all over the ground.
Through the entrance, Jiang Suizhou could see a sedan chair parked in front of the main building. Quite a few servants were waiting by the front gate, and they all knelt and bowed upon his arrival.
Jiang Suizhou wasn’t very accustomed to being paid respects to in this manner, so he lifted a hand and allowed them all to rise.
An elderly woman, seemingly the wedding matron, approached him.
“Congratulations, Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “The madam awaits you inside. All Your Highness needs to do is lift the red veil.”
Jiang Suizhou hummed in response.
He was familiar with the social customs from the Jing dynasty. The ceremony for marrying a concubine was much simpler than the one for marrying a wife: A small sedan chair was carried into the residence through a side entrance, the husband lifted the bridal veil, they shared wine from linked cups, and then it was over.
He passed through the crowd and made his way toward the main building.
His pace was slow and steady, his expression indifferent. The evening breeze fluttered through his sleeves as he walked. Appearing unperturbed, he had captured the demeanor of a high-ranking nobleman quite well.
But only Jiang Suizhou knew the extent of the panic he was feeling deep inside.
After all, he had just transmigrated into the Jing dynasty for reasons unbeknownst to him. Not only had he turned into a sickly prince with one foot in the grave, he’d been immediately made to go to the bridal chamber and face that poor girl. It was quite a pitiable fate for her, but he wasn’t much better off himself.
As that thought crossed his mind, he advanced up the stairs, his steps heavy despite his facade of calm. Finally, he pushed open the front door.
Inside, red canopies danced in the breeze, and the flames of the wedding candles flickered. The maidservants standing on either side of the door beamed joyfully and bowed to him as they offered their congratulations.
One of the servants led him to the inner chamber, where Jiang Suizhou laid eyes upon his bride for the first time.
Amid the exquisite splendor sat a stranger in a wheelchair, their body so tall and strongly built that their legs barely fit within it. Clad in layers of red from head to toe and crowned with a phoenix-embroidered veil, they held themselves upright and proud.
As he approached, the person remained motionless and stiff, the line of their back as straight as an unbreakable spear.
Yes…quite evocative of a long, rigid spear.
Jiang Suizhou halted in place and stared in disbelief. His bride was undoubtedly a man!
A disabled man who had been married off to the Prince of Jing. A man whom he’d heard referred to as “Madam Huo.”
It couldn’t actually be Huo Wujiu, could it?
As he studied the man, his eyes landed on his hands. They were veiny with clearly defined joints, and though they currently rested quietly atop his knees, there was something dangerous about those hands. Jiang Suizhou couldn’t shake the feeling that they were ready to snap a neck at any given moment.
A few paragraphs from that student’s thesis suddenly flashed through Jiang Suizhou’s mind again.
“…After the Marquis of Dingbei, Huo Wujiu, was taken prisoner, the last emperor of Southern Jing severed the tendons in both of his legs and incapacitated him before marrying him off to the Prince of Jing, who was rumored to be a cut-sleeve, for the purpose of humiliating him. The Marquis of Dingbei endured three years of indignity in the Prince of Jing’s residence. Eventually, after numerous and varied attempts, he managed to escape and return to Northern Liang, where he healed his legs.
“Following his subjugation of Jing, he beheaded the Prince of Jing with his own two hands and hung his head over the city gate for three years.
“This is why very little was recorded about the Prince of Jing in the official historical records, and why even his name has been erased from history.”
Jiang Suizhou’s hands trembled slightly.
If this man truly was Huo Wujiu, then he was looking at the man who would kill the Prince of Jing in three years’ time. But it wouldn’t be the Prince of Jing, really; it would be him, Jiang Suizhou. Those powerful-looking hands really would get their chance to snap a neck—his.
He examined the person in front of him intently, searching in vain for any hint that would prove the person beneath the bridal attire wasn’t a man. But of course, there was nothing, and he was forced to come to an obvious but highly upsetting conclusion. Jiang Suizhou’s mind short-circuited a bit trying to process this.
Meng Qianshan, who had been trailing behind him, did not take long to notice when Jiang Suizhou abruptly stopped walking. Upon observing his stony eyes and unreadable expression, Meng Qianshan quickly called out to him in a harsh whisper.
“Your Highness…Your Highness!”
Jiang Suizhou looked over to see Meng Qianshan standing at his side.
“It’s time to lift the veil,” the eunuch whispered carefully.
Right, he still had to lift the veil.
How could he be so sure that it was Huo Wujiu without even seeing his face?
Jiang Suizhou forced himself to remain calm as he reached out and lifted the featherlight veil.
The flames of the red candles swayed gently.
Against a backdrop of enchanting red, he met a pair of dark, vicious eyes, chilly in their intensity.