The red veil was heavy over Xu Ming's head, the fabric dimming the world into a crimson blur.
Outside, the sound of firecrackers rang, sharp and loud, mixed with the clamor of villagers gossiping as the marriage sedan was lifted.
"This Liu Ziyu, he's lucky. Marrying into the Shen family, at least he'll have food.""Lucky? Hah, do you think the hunter wants him? Everyone knows Shen Li doesn't even speak ten words in a day.""Well, even if he doesn't, as long as there's a roof and rice, that's better than the Liu household, isn't it?"
The laughter stung, though Xu Ming kept still.
So this is how they see me—no, how they saw him. A burden shuffled from one house to another.
He clenched his fists beneath the sleeves of crimson silk. Fine. Let them laugh. I didn't cross worlds to live by other people's opinions.
The journey was bumpy. The sedan swayed, jolting Xu Ming until his stomach churned. He couldn't see the road, but he could feel the incline—up, up, toward the mountains where the hunter's home lay.
At last, the sedan stopped. The voices outside quieted.
"Bring the bride in."
The curtain lifted. Xu Ming stepped down carefully, his embroidered shoes touching the rough stone path. Through the veil, he glimpsed a courtyard—simple, sturdy, nothing like the Liu household. The wooden house was clean though weathered, the yard swept bare.
And there he was.
The groom.
Shen Li.
He stood tall at the threshold, dressed in red robes that seemed almost ill-fitted on his broad frame. His posture was straight, but his eyes—dark, cold, sharp as a hawk's—didn't even flicker toward Xu Ming.
Indifference. That was the first impression.
So this is the man they forced into marriage… Xu Ming's lips curled faintly under the veil. Doesn't even spare me a glance, huh? Suits me. I don't want to play the pitiful spouse anyway.
The ceremony was simple. Villagers muttered the customary blessings, though most eyes were full of curiosity rather than warmth.
Bow to Heaven and Earth.Bow to the parents—though there were none present.Bow to each other.
When Xu Ming bent down, he caught the faintest whiff of pine and cold mountain air from Shen Li's robes. The hunter's movements were mechanical, his gaze fixed forward, never once settling on Xu Ming.
Soon, it was over. The guests departed, leaving only the chill of night behind.
The bridal chamber was quiet.
A single oil lamp flickered on the table, its light soft and uncertain. The red curtains were sparse, decorations few. This was not the luxurious wedding night of noble families—this was a hunter's home, practical and plain.
Xu Ming sat on the edge of the bed, veil still covering his face. He waited.
The door creaked open.
Shen Li entered. His tall frame filled the small room, his shadow stretching across the floor. He closed the door behind him, silent as always, and walked to the table. Without a word, he poured himself a cup of water and drank.
Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and even.
"You can remove it yourself."
Xu Ming blinked. So cold?
He reached up, lifted the red veil, and set it aside. His new husband's gaze swept over him briefly—just one glance—before Shen Li looked away, uninterested.
"You should rest," Shen Li said flatly. "I'll take the floor."
He moved to gather a blanket.
Xu Ming frowned. He had expected coldness, but this was beyond that—it was complete indifference, as if Xu Ming weren't even human, just an object placed in his home.
No wonder the original Liu Ziyu died of despair. Even on his wedding night, his husband couldn't care less.
But Xu Ming was not Liu Ziyu.
"I won't stop you," Xu Ming said, his tone calm. "If you want to sleep on the floor, then sleep. But don't expect me to act like some weakling who clings to you."
Shen Li froze for a fraction of a second, then glanced at him with faint surprise. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, only lay down on the mat in silence.
The night stretched long.
Xu Ming lay on the bed, staring at the wooden beams overhead. The events of the day replayed in his mind—the greedy sneers of Madam Wang, the villagers' gossip, the hunter's indifference.
It was suffocating. Yet beneath it, a strange sense of freedom flickered.
No one here knew Xu Ming. No one expected him to play the role of Liu Ziyu perfectly.
If he wanted, he could carve out his own path.
He exhaled softly. Then that's what I'll do.
Morning came with the crowing of roosters.
Xu Ming rose early, despite barely sleeping. He looked around the small house: one main room, a kitchen with a simple stove, a woodshed, and the bedroom. Everything was neat but plain, clearly maintained by Shen Li alone.
The hunter himself was already gone, bow and quiver missing from the wall.
Out hunting, Xu Ming guessed.
His stomach growled. He found a small jar of coarse grains and a few dried vegetables. With practiced hands, he lit the stove. In his past life, he had often cooked cheap meals for himself between classes and jobs—instant noodles, stir-fried rice, simple soups. It wasn't glamorous, but it was survival.
Now, he boiled porridge, adding chopped vegetables to soften the taste.
The scent filled the small house, warm and comforting.
When the door opened, Shen Li stepped inside, carrying a brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder. His expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered briefly to the steaming bowl on the table.
"You cooked?" he asked.
Xu Ming raised a brow. "Who else would? Unless you want me to starve on my first day here."
Shen Li stared at him for a moment, then set the rabbits down. He didn't reply, only sat and began to eat. His movements were quiet, efficient, yet something in his gaze had shifted—less dismissive, more… curious.
Xu Ming smirked faintly. So the cold hunter can be surprised after all.
For the rest of the day, Xu Ming explored the house and yard, noting what they had and what they lacked. Firewood stacked neatly, hunting tools well-maintained, but the vegetable patch was sparse, and the kitchen nearly empty.
This won't do. If I'm to live here, we need more than just wild game. Farming, preserving food… I'll have to use what I know.
That night, as he lay on the bed, Xu Ming glanced at Shen Li's quiet figure on the floor.
"I don't care what you think of me," Xu Ming said suddenly.
The hunter's eyes opened in the dark.
"I only know one thing—I didn't come here to die. From today onward, I'll live well. Whether you like it or not."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Shen Li closed his eyes again, voice low and unreadable.
"…Do as you wish."
But for the first time, his tone wasn't entirely indifferent.