Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 80

After the rites of betrothal proposal, name inquiry, auspicious confirmation, and gift presentation, only the requesting of the date and the welcoming of the bride remained.

In the beginning of the second month, Wei Xiu personally went to the Bureau of Astrology to select the wedding date. The Grand Diviner used yarrow stalks to perform divination, casting three hexagrams in a row, all of which pointed to the fourth day of the third month.

The fourth day of the third month was the day after the Shangsi Festival, and it was also the very day Wei Xiu and Puyang had met two years prior.

It was a fate seemingly ordained by heaven. Everyone in the capital marveled at it, and for a time, it was a tale on everyone’s lips, spoken of with envy.

Wei Xiu did not believe in fate, but in these circumstances, she could not help but feel a surge of joy, placing infinite hope in the grand wedding to come.

At the beginning of late spring, green shade deepened and fragrant grasses grew lush. Princes, dukes, and high ministers all shed their heavy winter clothes for spring robes. They ventured outside the city for spring outings, attended banquets in the palace, and engaged in the elegant pastimes of scholars amidst the vibrant spring atmosphere, each finding their own delight.

Two years ago on this day, a misty mountain fog had brought about their fated meeting.

Today, two years later, amidst the gentle spring breeze, they would forge a vow to grow old together.

On the fourth day of the third month, from dawn onward, countless guests streamed to and from the Wei residence and the Princess’s estate. Their magnificent robes shimmered, all in the crimson and purple of high office. Regardless of whether they were pleased to see this union, every face wore a smile as they offered congratulations to the new couple.

From the moment she rose, Wei Xiu was constantly busy: greeting guests, confirming the details of the bridal procession, and checking the nuptial chamber. A person as composed and serene as her was, on this day, afraid that even one matter might not be handled with the utmost care. It was as if a lifetime of busyness was concentrated into this single day; she could not even spare a moment to stop for a sip of water.

In comparison, the bride’s day was much more tranquil. Once dressed and adorned, she had only to wait quietly for the groom to come and take her away.

The two of them, one in motion and one in stillness, were quite different, yet their hearts were equally filled with nervous tension and hopeful anticipation.

According to ancient rites, when the Son of Heaven married off a daughter, he could not attend in person, but would have a feudal lord of the same surname preside. The one presiding over this wedding was the Emperor’s uncle, the Prince of Zheng, Xiao Lang. The Prince of Zheng was the most senior member of the imperial clan. He usually paid no mind to court affairs, preferring elegant and refined pursuits, but he held considerable authority among his relatives. Imperial princes like the Prince of Zhao and the Prince of Jin would all bow respectfully upon seeing him.

With him overseeing the event, the wedding was certain to proceed smoothly.

Once the auspicious hour arrived, the bridal procession set out from the Wei residence. Imperial weddings had always followed ancient rites. For the welcoming of the bride, both groom and bride traveled in horse-drawn carriages. This conveniently spared Wei Xiu the difficulty of being unable to walk or ride a horse.

Although the two residences were some distance apart, they were still within the same city. The entire journey was filled with nervous anticipation. She wanted to go faster, to see her sooner, yet she feared that moving too quickly would be a breach of etiquette. Wei Xiu sat in the carriage as it moved forward, the sounds of firecrackers and faint human voices filtering in from outside. She still appeared composed and elegant, but her heartbeat quickened, little by little, with the passing of time.

Attendants were stationed along the route to observe the procession’s progress, sending messengers to report back to the Princess’s estate at regular intervals.

The Princess changed into her wedding gown and put on her phoenix crown and phoenix hairpins. No matter how well-prepared they were, on this joyous day, a sense of haste was unavoidable. The Princess of Zheng’s consort directed everything, urging the maids and eunuchs to hurry. The estate was filled with a festive yet tense atmosphere. The relatives who had come to witness the ceremony were much more relaxed. They occasionally lent a hand, but mostly gathered around Puyang, chattering excitedly about how far the new groom had come.

When the report came from the gate that the Prince Consort had arrived, Puyang felt a surge of joy, a sense of “it’s finally time.” But this was quickly followed by a flutter of apprehension, her heartbeat so loud it seemed to be right beside her ear.

She had clearly been waiting for this day, waiting to marry Sir and become her wife. Yet now that the moment had truly arrived, it felt almost unbelievable. Like the trepidation one feels when returning home after a long absence, she grew nervous and shy.

The female relatives all rushed out. The crowd, composed of consorts and princesses, all splendidly dressed, squeezed by the windows, waiting to get a look at the new groom.

Both a princess and a prince consort held official rank. Wei Xiu wore the formal attire of her rank—a black upper garment and a crimson lower skirt. Such solemn and dignified clothing could not conceal her elegant bearing and grace in the slightest. A deep smile was hidden in her eyes, making her jade-like face appear all the more radiant with success and happiness.

The female relatives were all cheering. Praises like “What a handsome groom!” and “The new Prince Consort has such fine bearing!” were heard endlessly.

There had always been a custom of playfully obstructing the groom. The female relatives formed a barrier, and a few young imperial grandsons also came forward to ask for lucky money for good fortune. Wei Xiu, leading her attendants, first scattered gold coins and then recited several “bride-hastening poems” before she was finally allowed to pass.

The moment she drew near, Puyang knew. The surrounding voices were a clamor, but it was as if she could only hear her own heartbeat. That person had not spoken, yet their hearts were connected. Once Wei Xiu saw her beautiful bride, she could not look away. Even though a veil now concealed her face, it was enough to hold Wei Xiu’s gaze, unblinking.

The Princess of Zheng’s consort gave a kind smile and whispered a reminder in her ear. Wei Xiu quickly came to her senses and stepped forward.

The guests at the Wei residence had long been craning their necks in anticipation.

The newlyweds arrived just at the auspicious hour. First, they bowed to heaven and earth, then entered the nuptial chamber. After that came the rite of sharing a meal, where the new couple sat opposite each other and ate from the same dish, symbolizing that they were now one body, to respect and love each other, with no distinction between them.

Once all the rites were completed, the Princess waited in the nuptial chamber, but the Prince Consort still had a banquet to attend. The various princes came forward one after another to offer toasts. Her brothers-in-law, the husbands of the other princesses, were not to be outdone, holding up their wine cups, intent on getting the new groom drunk. The Prince of Zheng was a benevolent elder. Puyang was always respectful toward him, and Wei Xiu had made a special visit to pay her respects before the wedding, so he now came to the new Prince Consort’s defense.

The main hall was filled with guests, and sounds of joy filled the residence. The Prince Consort, feigning drunkenness and an inability to stand, managed to slip away.

The night had deepened. The spring air still carried a slight chill, which blew across Wei Xiu’s flushed cheeks but could not cool her burning heart.

The nuptial chamber was lined with maids. Seeing the Prince Consort arrive, they exchanged smiles, curtsied in unison, and all withdrew.

Wei Xiu closed the door and went inside. The person she had longed for was sitting on the couch-bed, quietly awaiting her return.

At this moment, they were finally alone. Wei Xiu suddenly felt as if she were waking from a dream. The entire clamorous day had been like a dream, filled with joy and delight. But now, the dream had ended, and she was fully awake. Her gaze fixed on one spot, focusing intently on Puyang as she slowly moved forward.

Now that the moment was truly here, Puyang was also nervous. Hearing Wei Xiu approach, she clasped her hands tightly beneath her sleeves. Wei Xiu stopped in front of her. She did not speak, but Puyang could feel her gaze, a cherished look, fixed upon her. Puyang’s heart grew hot with both happiness and shyness.

Your heart is like my heart; there is nothing more moving than this.

“Your Highness,” she called softly.

Puyang lowered her head and answered just as softly.

A pair of hands carefully touched the edge of the veil and gently lifted it. Their eyes met. There was a hint of shyness in both their gazes, yet both were filled with smiles.

Nearby were jade cups and a wine set. Wei Xiu leaned over, picked up a cup in each hand, and passed the one in her left hand to Puyang. The movement looked very smooth, but as Puyang took the cup, she could feel it trembling slightly. Wei Xiu was trying her utmost to remain calm and avoid spilling the wine. It was rare to see someone who was always so composed appear so clumsy. Puyang’s heart softened, and her joy deepened.

They intertwined their arms, drank half the wine, then exchanged cups and drank the other half.

This was the nuptial wine. Originally, the ceremony used a bitter gourd. The gourd was bitter, so the wine served in it would also be bitter. Splitting it in two symbolized that the husband and wife would share both sweetness and bitterness, joy and sorrow.

Wei Xiu raised her eyes to look at Puyang and said with a radiant smile, “In this life, we will weather storms in the same boat and help each other hand in hand.”

Puyang replied, “In sorrow, I will follow you; in joy, I will follow you.”

When they finished speaking, they looked at each other and smiled. Only now did it begin to feel real. She was her Prince Consort, and she was now her wife. They had become the closest people to each other in the world.

Wei Xiu took the wine cup from Puyang’s hand and placed it on a nearby table.

Only one final thing remained, and all of today’s rites would be complete.

The bed in the inner chamber had been prepared.

Both of them gradually grew hesitant and shy again. Wei Xiu was the more nervous of the two, but she couldn’t bear to see Puyang at a loss, so she said, “Let me remove Your Highness’s hairpins.”

Puyang agreed and moved to the dressing table.

Her hair was full of pins and clasps, a very grand arrangement. Wei Xiu removed them one by one, taking great care not to pull Puyang’s hair. She grew even more nervous, more unsettled than before. In her eyes, the Princess was perfect in every way, which made her all the more conscious of her own shortcomings.

When all the hairpins and ornaments were gone, Puyang glanced in the mirror and said considerately, “Let me help you with your robes and cap, my lord.”

Wei Xiu tried her best to remain composed, wanting to act as she normally would. She nodded, intending to agree—they were a married couple now, the most intimate of people, so there was no need for formality—but the words that came out were: “I can do it myself. There is hot water prepared in the inner room. Your Highness can wash your face first.”

Puyang’s makeup was still on; she would naturally have to wash it off before… going to sleep.

She thought for a moment, then agreed and rose to go into the inner chamber.

Wei Xiu let out a small sigh of relief. Once Puyang’s figure had disappeared, she turned her wheelchair, took the crutches from the side, and supported herself to stand. Then, she unfastened her outer robe and removed it with difficulty.

To say it was difficult was perhaps an overstatement. For nearly twenty years, this was how she had lived; she was long accustomed to it. But if seen through the eyes of another, they would inevitably feel it was a hardship for her.

By the time she sat back down in her wheelchair, she was left in only a set of snow-white undergarments.

She wheeled herself into the inner chamber and saw Puyang already sitting by the side of the bed, waiting for her.