Aoi spent that night at one of the guest rooms in his palace.
It was morning now.
The grand hall of the royal palace shimmered with the resplendent elegance that befitted such a monumental occasion. Silk banners in opulent shades of red and gold cascaded from the high ceilings, the rich fabric gleaming under the soft, flickering light of intricately designed lanterns. Their warm glow illuminated the faces of the gathered nobles, casting elongated shadows across the polished marble floors. The air was thick with the sweet fragrance of jasmine and roses, a carefully curated scent that seemed to envelope everything in an aura of celebration. Ornate vases overflowed with blooms, their vibrant colors a contrast to the otherwise somber faces of the royal court. It was fascinating from how fast everything was done.
Aoi stood at the grand entrance, her heart pounding in a rhythm that matched the delicate tremors running through her body. She could feel the weight of every eye upon her, from the esteemed noblewomen dressed in silks to the elderly ministers standing at attention, each with a fixed, critical gaze. Dressed in a bridal gown so intricate that it seemed to catch the light with every subtle shift of her body, Aoi was the embodiment of grace and youthful beauty. Golden threads embroidered into the fabric shimmered like the sun's rays dancing on water, creating delicate patterns of birds and flowers that seemed almost alive. Her hair, dark as midnight, was styled in a complex arrangement of twists and loops, adorned with golden hairpins that sparkled like the stars in the night sky. A tiara, studded with diamonds and sapphires, crowned her head, reflecting the light in a thousand directions.
The music began, its soft tones flowing from the musicians who sat arranged on one side of the hall. Their melodies, a mixture of string and woodwind instruments, carried a soothing yet majestic rhythm, as if the very heavens themselves were blessing the union. Aoi moved down the aisle with measured steps, her gaze fixed ahead, her mind clouded with a tumult of emotions. She was acutely aware of the silence that followed her each step, the admiring whispers of the courtiers muted by the overwhelming sense of expectation.
At the altar stood Zhao Han, the Crown Prince, his stature commanding the attention of all in the room. His ceremonial robe, a deep crimson, was embroidered with golden dragons—each one symbolizing the power of the imperial family and the prosperity it promised. His face, calm and composed, betrayed little of the emotions that must have swirled beneath. His eyes, however, never left Aoi as she approached, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was a smile that seemed more like a formality than genuine affection, yet Aoi could feel its warmth. Despite the moment's significance, the two of them both understood that the vows they were about to exchange were mere words, a performance in a grand play of political necessity.
As Aoi reached the altar, Zhao Han extended his hand to her, and though his touch was gentle, it carried a certain heaviness. Their hands met, the coldness of the metal on her wrist a sharp contrast to the heat rising from her chest. They stood side by side, facing the officiant, a wise and venerable elder whose presence exuded an air of divine favor. The officiant's voice, deep and resonant, filled the hall as he invoked the blessings of the heavens upon the couple.
The vows began, and Zhao Han's voice rang out clear and unwavering, filled with the kind of confidence only someone raised to rule could muster. He pledged to stand by her, to face whatever challenges arose, and to honor their union. Aoi followed with words filled with emotion—though they were spoken with sincerity, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the charade. She spoke of loyalty, of mutual respect, of standing together in times of joy and sorrow. Yet, as she spoke the final words, a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that this union was not a partnership, but a performance in front of an audience.
When the officiant handed them a ceremonial cup of wine, both Zhao Han and Aoi took a sip, the bitter liquid sealing their vows. The guests erupted into applause, their cheers resounding through the hall like thunder. The sound was deafening, but Aoi's ears rang with a strange emptiness. She turned to face the crowd alongside Zhao Han, her hand still resting in his, their fingers intertwined in a bond that felt fragile and temporary. Zhao Han's smile, though radiant, felt hollow to Aoi, a mere reflection of what was expected.
The celebration that followed was a lavish affair. The courtiers swarmed the newlyweds, congratulating them on their union, offering extravagant gifts and well-wishes for their future. The air was thick with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets, yet Aoi felt as though she were an outsider, observing a world she did not belong to. Each congratulatory smile, each word of praise, seemed like part of an act they were all playing in, a game in which she was merely a pawn.
Amid the jovial atmosphere, the Empress Dowager—a figure of immense power and authority—stood like a pillar of stone, observing the proceedings with quiet disdain. Her regal presence could not be ignored; she wore the robes of royal purple, lavishly embroidered with gold phoenixes that symbolized rebirth and strength. Her silver-streaked hair was bound in an intricate knot, the hairpins glinting with the light of a thousand suns. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, pierced through the room, and every movement she made exuded the cold elegance of a woman who had seen it all. She commanded the respect of the room simply by being present.
"So, you're Ce Fēi, the consort?" Her voice rang out across the hall, clear and authoritative. "You look… average. Bow down."
The words, though spoken with the calm of a queen, struck Aoi like a slap to the face. Her heart skipped a beat as she quickly bowed, her back lowering with practiced grace, her fingers trembling slightly against the fabric of her gown. She kept her eyes down, aware of the courtiers around her, each one watching intently.
As she was about to kneel, a voice, smooth and comforting, broke through the tension.
"No need to bow, wife," Zhao Han said, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. His hand reached out, gently brushing against Aoi's hair, a simple gesture, but one that seemed to carry weight.
The Empress Dowager's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features, though her expression remained outwardly impassive. The courtiers shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to react to this sudden challenge to the Empress Dowager's authority.
Aoi straightened up slowly, her heart still pounding in her chest, caught in the crossfire of royal politics. "Thank you, Your Highness," Aoi murmured softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and confusion. Zhao Han stepped back, but his hand lingered in her hair for a moment longer before he released her, creating a strange sense of intimacy in the midst of the crowd.
"Is it okay, mother? She won't kneel," Zhao Han said with a hint of playful defiance, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he challenged the Empress Dowager's authority. The room went still, all eyes now shifting to the matriarch.
The Empress Dowager's gaze tightened, but her lips curled into a thin, practiced smile. "Yes, Ce Fēi. You don't need to kneel. We're all family here," she said, her voice dripping with insincerity.
Aoi could feel the weight of the Empress Dowager's mockery, but she refused to be cowed. She lowered her head, ready to accept the fate she had been given. As she adjusted her gown to kneel, Zhao Han's grip tightened on her arm.
"It's an order from the Crown Prince to not kneel. Are you disobeying it, Ce Fēi?" His tone was firm, sharp, and demanding, making it clear that this was not a mere suggestion.
"Empress Dowager, mother, please forgive my rude behavior," Aoi said, bowing slightly once more, her voice tinged with anxiety as she tried to navigate this precarious balance. She took a step toward her seat, but the Empress Dowager interrupted.
"Sit on the ground, Ce Fēi. We haven't brought a chair for you yet," she sneered, her voice laced with disdain.
The tension was thick enough to cut through with a knife, but Zhao Han's voice, low and insistent, broke through. "She has no time for chatting; it's our first night in marriage. I hope you will give us some privacy, Empress Dowager."
The Empress Dowager's smile never wavered, but her eyes betrayed her displeasure. The courtiers, sensing the brewing conflict, looked on in hushed silence. Zhao Han's command hung in the air like a challenge, daring the Empress Dowager to oppose him.
Zhao Han turned to Aoi, his eyes softening ever so slightly. "Come," he said firmly, guiding her away from the tense scene, his hand on her arm as if to shield her from the court's prying eyes.
As the night wore on, the grand hall of the royal palace remained alive with the sound of music, laughter, and clinking goblets. Yet beneath the celebratory atmosphere, a darker, more insidious undercurrent began to rise. Whispers floated like tendrils of smoke through the crowd, carried on the breaths of those who couldn't wait to speak of what they had seen and heard.
The courtiers, dressed in their finest silks and embroidered robes, exchanged knowing glances, their words slipping through the cracks like poison. They spoke of Aoi, the new Ce Fēi, with a mixture of disbelief, curiosity, and judgment.
"Where did she come from, really?" a noblewoman whispered to her companion, her eyes narrowed as she watched Aoi from across the hall. "No one knows anything about her background. How could she have risen to such a position so quickly?"
The other woman, a matron known for her sharp tongue, leaned in, her voice hushed but tinged with suspicion. "It's all so suspicious. A lowly village girl, no family to speak of, and yet she finds herself married to the Crown Prince. I've heard rumors that she was nothing more than a pawn in a political game."
Aoi, still recovering from the uncomfortable tension of the Empress Dowager's presence, couldn't help but overhear the occasional murmur. Though she tried to keep her composure, the words stung. The laughter and chatter around her felt more like mocking echoes than the lighthearted celebration it was meant to be. The whispers spread quickly, fueled by the curiosity of those eager to find fault in the new consort.
"Did you see the way she was dressed?" one courtier whispered to another, her voice thick with disdain. "That gown, so extravagant, yet it doesn't suit her at all. She looks like she's pretending to be something she's not. I bet she doesn't even know how to handle such wealth and power. It must be all too much for her."
Another voice joined in, the tone laced with judgment. "And did you notice how she acted during the ceremony? So stiff, so out of place. She was only given the ceremonial wine as a formality. No one actually believes that this union is genuine. I bet the Crown Prince doesn't even want her. He's too much of a noble to show his true feelings, but we can all see it."
Some of the courtiers began to speak more openly, their voices dropping to conspiratorial tones. "There are whispers, you know. They say she's not even from a proper family. Some even suggest she's just a concubine's daughter, or worse, someone the Crown Prince picked up on his travels to the frontier."
"I heard she was almost thrown out of the palace before the wedding," one courtier remarked, his voice low but venomous. "She couldn't even speak the proper language of the court, stumbling over her words in front of the Emperor and the ministers. It's a miracle they didn't expose her as a fraud."
"Not to mention," another voice cut in, "she has no proper training in court etiquette. Her posture, her speech... everything about her screams that she doesn't belong here. I bet she won't last long. If the Empress Dowager has any say in it, she'll be disposed of quicker than you can say 'queen'."
What a trouble this is. If I could rip their mouth apart, I would. Why are they acting like it was my choice, first of all?! Aoi thought to herself. She could still hear them from the back of the room, they're loud, and of course intentionally making sure she hears them.