Chapter 668: Blood-Stained Qinghe, the Night is Not Yet Over

Chapter 668: Blood Stains the Qinghe River, the Night Unending

“Ahem.” Cui Wenjing interrupted the young couple’s tender gaze through the bridal veil, speaking slowly: “By custom, you should be taking Yangyang to your home. Given the unusual circumstances, we’ve simplified everything. We’ve prepared a new bridal chamber outside the manor, gifted to the Prince of Zhao as a separate villa, to avoid any misunderstanding of you being taken in.”

This was traditionally a parental admonition, but the mother-in-law dared not speak, and the elder Sun, acting as a mascot, sat silently. Cui Wenjing, unable to deliver a proper lecture, could only say this.

Zhao Changhe said, “No such thought... Father-in-law, you’ve been thoughtful.”

Cui Wenjing nodded. “When you bowed to the elders earlier, custom demanded a gift. The manor is yours; I’ll send the rest to the capital.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

“Money, grain, weapons, armor, warhorses. If you don’t want them, fine.”

“...I want them.”

“The Qinghe Mirror I lent you before is yours now. That’s all. Let it be.” Cui Wenjing waved his hand wearily. For some reason, though he had been eager to marry off his daughter—unable to wait even until after the Wang family was dealt with, willing to simplify everything—now that the moment had come, his heart felt heavy.

Damn it, raising a daughter for so many years only to have her taken by a pig—what father could be cheerful? Cui Wenjing finally recalled his initial dislike of Zhao Changhe and just wanted him gone.

The master of ceremonies finally spoke: “The ceremony is complete. Escort the bride to the chamber—”

“Wait...” A loud shout came from outside: “Imperial decree arrives!”

Zhao Changhe: “?”

Cui Yuanyang nearly tore off her veil to curse. Xia Chichi, are you issuing decrees now?

Cui Wenjing’s face was ashen as he rose to receive it: “Present the decree.”

Cui Yuanyong rushed in, panting, holding a scroll of imperial decree. The guests held their breath, the atmosphere bizarre.

Cui Yuanyong unrolled the decree, glanced at it, and his expression turned strange. He read slowly: “The Prince of Zhao, wielding his whip, sweeps through enemy camps, victorious in every battle. The Emperor is deeply gratified... Uh, Father, the text is as written...”

Cui Wenjing’s face twitched. “I know. Continue.”

Zhao Changhe and Cui Yuanyang, beneath her veil, turned beet-red.

Cui Yuanyong read on: “Knowing you are eager to marry, but as the heir apparent, marrying without consulting the Emperor is disloyal; without consulting the Empress Dowager, unfilial. If not yet wed, halt; if wed, face judgment later.”

“Though guilty, your merits may offset. The court cannot disregard a hero’s contributions. Gifts must be sent to show clear rewards and punishments. The gift list follows: The Empress Dowager bestows a sutra, 108,000 characters, to be meticulously copied, so as not to waste her concern; the Emperor bestows a pill for strengthening vitality, to cure the Prince of Zhao’s hidden ailment, hoping for future merits...”

Zhao Changhe: “?”

“...The Chief of the Demon Suppression Bureau personally crafted a set of torture instruments; the wandering chivalrous heroine Yue Hongling and others contributed a molded slap; the Miao frontier saintess Xiang Simeng sent a poisoned scorpion bladder. Continue your efforts, and achieve greater glory.”

The earlier part maintained the dignity of the Empress Dowager and Emperor, but the latter items dropped all pretense. Yue Hongling and Xiang Simeng likely had no idea what was happening here—these gifts were purely Xia Chichi’s malicious mischief.

The bride suddenly spoke: “Second Brother, did you bring a jar of vinegar from the palace? So sour...”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

The entire banquet hall stifled laughter, heads bowed to avoid bursting out. Traditionally, such impulsive behavior from the Emperor would seem unbecoming, but seeing it as a spat between young women made it amusing, dispelling any impropriety.

The Blind One was already thinking how to write this into a novel... This gift list must not be omitted. You want to whitewash? Whitewash your own... Oh, and where’s the turtle? Why wasn’t it included? Did the Four Symbols Sect retain a shred of decency?

Cui Yuanyong had no way to answer his sister’s question and looked to his father for help. Cui Wenjing remained impassive: “Is that all? Finished?”

Cui Yuanyong sighed. “That’s it... This decree was to be read publicly. There are other secret decrees for you and Brother Zhao...”

Cui Wenjing: “Not bad. Less than I expected... No, I mean, the secret decrees will do. Proceed.”

The master of ceremonies, relieved, announced with suppressed laughter: “The ceremony is complete! Escort the bride to the bridal chamber!”

...

Outside, heavy snow fell. The “escorting” of the bride and groom was utterly unique—no attendants, no carriage. The bride hid in a sedan chair, while the groom lifted it with both hands and sprinted away, a scene so cartoonish that the Cui family’s escort guards wore fond smiles throughout.

They knew the couple was too impatient to dawdle on the road, eager to start their own life. Yet the Asura King using his formidable martial arts for this task gave it a charming, piggyback-ride quality. One could almost hear the bride’s laughter from within the sedan chair, brimming with joy.

She was happy despite the wedding being so disrupted... Well, even with the interruptions, the other party was the sour one; their young lady had won first.

The villa now bore a new plaque: “Prince of Zhao’s Villa.” Guards stood outside, servants bustled about. Everything a man who had latched onto a wealthy heiress could desire was here—her father had directly gifted a mansion and guards.

Not only regular guards but also the faint presence of hidden experts in the distance, confirming what Zhao Changhe had thought earlier: the Cui family would guard their own daughter as she was taken, even urging him on.

Snow in the courtyard had been cleared into a path leading to the main house. Zhao Changhe set down the sedan chair, lifted the bride out, and carried her inside.

Outside, snow fell wildly; inside, candles glowed warmly.

The typical scene of the bride sitting on the bed waiting and the groom stumbling in drunk did not occur. Instead, it felt to Zhao Changhe like a modern wedding—simplified rituals, carrying the bride inside. The only missing part was the raucous teasing of the newlyweds, which was for the best.

On the table, red candles burned, and a cup of union wine sat warm.

Zhao Changhe picked up a jade ruyi placed on the table, examining it curiously. What was this for?

From beneath her veil, Cui Yuanyang saw Zhao Changhe’s feet before her. He wasn’t pouring wine or lifting her veil, just studying something. She couldn’t help but lean forward and jump: “Hey! I’m here!”

Zhao Changhe chuckled. “What do you want?”

“Lift the veil!”

“Other brides sit shyly by the bed, waiting for someone to lift it. Who’s ever seen one pestering to have it lifted?”

“Those brides never met their grooms before marriage, nervously waiting to see their prize!” Cui Yuanyang wasn’t having any of it. She jumped onto his back and hugged him. “Why should we do that? If you dawdle, I’ll lift it myself.”

Zhao Changhe thought for a moment and asked, “What’s the jade ruyi for?”

Cui Yuanyang’s face flushed despite her bold words. “It’s... for lifting the veil.”

“Tsk, rich folks... I’ve heard of using a steelyard rod...” As he spoke, the jade ruyi slid beneath the veil.

Cui Yuanyang’s heart thumped. She hadn’t felt anything during the ceremony or when he carried her in, but as the ruyi entered, she suddenly grew quiet. A mix of shame and sweetness flooded her heart.

So this was what it meant to marry...

No wonder they called it a steelyard rod—it felt like being weighed like goods. Cui Yuanyang thought, thankfully, she had run away that time and met him. Everything was her choice, unlike her brother and sister-in-law, who had never met before marriage, relying on a ruyi to lift the veil, hoping the person would meet expectations—like opening a lottery.

As the girl’s thoughts wandered, the veil lifted, and warm light poured in. Cui Yuanyang looked up along the light, and their eyes met.

Despite all the chaos and absurdity, at this moment, everything fell silent. They could hear each other’s heartbeats, see the affection and smiles in each other’s eyes.

Limited by upbringing and strength, Cui Yuanyang had rarely ventured out, and their time together was minimal. Yet at this moment, countless scenes flashed through their minds—the innocence and foolishness of the past, the weakness and boldness. All crystallized in the candlelight, reminding them how wonderful and fortunate it was to share a common memory.

Both unconsciously swallowed, then laughed together.

Zhao Changhe turned, poured two cups of wine, and handed one to Cui Yuanyang. “Here.”

Cui Yuanyang took it, her face red. Without instruction, they intertwined arms and drank. Neither tasted the wine; it felt full of sweetness.

After the cup was empty, Cui Yuanyang’s face burned as if with fever. Zhao Changhe took the cup from her hand, set it aside, and suddenly leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Cui Yuanyang rubbed her cheek, looking at him with feigned grievance.

Zhao Changhe could no longer restrain himself. He lifted her horizontally and placed her on the soft bed nearby.

Cui Yuanyang instinctively tensed, clutching his sleeve as the bed curtains slid down, shutting out the candlelight.

The new wedding clothes, worn for only an hour or two, were slowly undone, revealing the mandarin duck embroidered bellyband beneath. The man toyed with it slowly as Cui Yuanyang bit her lip, watching his expression. Suddenly she called out, “Brother Zhao...”

“Hmm?”

“...Nothing.”

She had wanted to say that her dazed, silly demeanor over the past two days might have been half an act—what would he think? But the words died on her lips. Brother Zhao was clever; he probably knew. If he liked it this way, then so be it. She would be his little girl forever.

After all, she had taken the elixir of immortality. What else was there to say?

Her clothes fell away, and the snow-white rabbit nestled beneath the great bear, her head slightly raised, her gaze growing hazy.

In a daze, I saw the sky, saw the distant past stretched far apart. With clear, cold eyes I gazed upon the world, upon the endless rivers and mountains.

Suddenly I recalled the judgment verse from those days, "Blood stains the Qing River, the night is not yet ended." A line that once felt full of heroic spirit, but viewed today—isn't it a bit of a double entendre? The wheels of a cart rolling right over my face. Who wrote that judgment...

Suddenly a piercing pain shot through my body, and Cui Yuanyang jolted awake from her haze, her face pale with agony.

Zhao Changhe was carefully kissing her, skillfully easing her discomfort.

Feeling his tenderness, she felt a small pique of "Why are you so skilled?" but then found it amusing. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and whispered softly, "Brother Zhao..."

"Hmm?"

"I've finally... married you..."