At the third quarter of the Mao hour (around 6:45 a.m.), in the main hall of the Shen Mansion in the capital.
On the golden nanmu long table, red candles blazed fiercely, their tears winding down like streams of blood—casting a harsh glow over the red silks that draped the entire hall. Shen Weiwan sat upright on an embroidered stool, her ten-layered wedding dress spreading out like a fully bloomed peony. The twelve tassels on her phoenix crown trembled slightly, their gilded fringes tapping gently against her snow-white collarbones.
Her back was ramrod straight, but her fingertips dug into her palm—where flesh and blood had long mingled, the stains hidden beneath her crimson nail polish, unseen by anyone.
Outside the door, the dripping of the bronze water clock counted down to the auspicious hour. Her personal maid, Atan, peeked in for what felt like the hundredth time: "Miss, the bridal sedan should be at the alley entrance by now."
Shen Weiwan replied with a soft "Hmm," her voice as gentle and calm as still spring water. Only she knew how deep the tremor was beneath that steady tone.
Ten years.
She and Xiao Jingyuan had grown up together—from childhood pigtails to her coming-of-age ceremony, and now to her prime years. He had plucked willow branches from the palace walls for her; she had secretly brought him hangover soup. The night before he went to war, he lifted her onto his horse outside the city gate and swore, "When I return victorious, I will ask for your hand with the entire kingdom as my betrothal gift."
Today, he had indeed come—but with the procession to marry her cousin, Liu Qingyao.
At the first quarter of the Chen hour (around 7:15 a.m.), a commotion suddenly erupted outside the mansion gate.
It was not the sound of firecrackers, but of horse hooves.
A servant in indigo robes tumbled off his horse, knelt heavily on the stone steps of the main hall, and held a gilded document high above his head.
"Miss Shen—the Eldest Miss!" the servant stammered, his voice breaking. "His Highness has an order: Today… today, the bridal procession will not come for now. Please, the Shen Mansion must understand."
The hall fell deathly silent in an instant.
Atan screamed in disbelief: "What do you mean 'no bridal procession'? The auspicious hour has already passed—"
Shen Weiwan raised her hand, cutting off all noise. She stood up, the hem of her wedding dress brushing over the green bricks like a tongue of flame licking an ice sheet.
"Did His Highness say when he would come?"
The servant pressed his forehead to the ground, too afraid to look up: "His Highness… His Highness is at the Liu Mansion right now, presenting his betrothal gifts."
That short sentence was colder than midwinter snow.
Shen Weiwan's vision darkened, yet she heard herself let out a very soft, very faint laugh.
So that was it.
At midnight last night, she had seen Xiao Jingyuan's personal guard lead her cousin Liu Qingyao into the Prince's Mansion through the side gate. That streak of canary-yellow skirt had vanished into the rain. She had stood under the corridor, rain dripping from her chin into her collar like a cold, slithering snake.
She had told herself it was just a discussion about the wedding details.
Now it seemed they had discussed the "wedding"—only the bride had been replaced.
Memories flashed before her like a revolving lantern, each frame cutting into her heart.
At seven, she had followed her father into the palace and gotten lost in the plum garden. The young prince had pushed aside the plum branches, held out his hand to her, and said, "I'll take you back. Don't cry."
At thirteen, he had secretly taken her to the city tower to watch the lights of ten thousand homes, tucking a jade pendant he had just won into her palm: "No matter how vast the world is, you are the only one I see."
At sixteen, he had left for the northern border. The night before his departure, he had played the xun (an ancient ocarina) beneath her window, the sound mournful and low. She had said, "If you don't return, I will spend my life in a nunnery, with only prayer lamps and ancient Buddhas for company."
He had replied, "If I don't return, I will give up the kingdom without a second thought."
Now, he had returned. He had taken the kingdom too. Only her—he did not want.
A metallic taste rose in Shen Weiwan's throat, but she forced it down. She lifted her eyes, her gaze calmer than ever—like a frozen lake.
"Did His Highness have anything else to say?"
Trembling, the servant pulled another letter from his bosom: "His Highness said… please, Miss Shen, dissolve the engagement on your own accord. To preserve the dignity of both families."
Dissolve the engagement on her own accord.
Those four words cut deeper than when her father had been falsely accused of colluding with enemies.
Back then, the Shen family had been on the brink of collapse, and this engagement had been the only thread keeping them afloat. Now, Xiao Jingyuan had cut that thread with his own hands—and still demanded she smile and hand him the knife.
Finally, the hall erupted into chaos.
Her second aunt wailed: "Heaven above! This is going to drive our Shen family to ruin!"
Her third uncle smashed his teacup: "This is too much! I'm going to the palace right now to see the Emperor!"
The old matriarch leaned on her cane, pointing tremblingly at the sky: "Our Shen family has been loyal for generations—when have we ever suffered such a great humiliation!"
Shen Weiwan looked at her frantic relatives and suddenly felt a strange distance from them.
Three years ago, her father had been framed for treason, her mother had hanged herself, the male members of the Shen family had been exiled, and the female members had narrowly escaped being sent to the imperial music house (a place of humiliation). It was she who had knelt outside the imperial study for three days and three nights, begging for this engagement, that had allowed the Shen clan to return to the capital.
Now, they cursed Xiao Jingyuan for his betrayal—but no one asked if she was in pain.
She smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
"Be quiet."
Her voice was soft, yet it cut through the chaos like a thin blade slicing silk.
Everyone fell silent.
Shen Weiwan turned around, the train of her wedding dress dragging over the threshold. The phoenixes and phoenixes embroidered in gold thread glinted harshly in the dawn light.
"Prepare the sedan. We're going to the Liu Mansion."
The vermilion gates of the Liu Mansion stood wide open, adorned with festive red silks.
Xiao Jingyuan, dressed in a crimson prince's wedding robe with a golden crown tying his hair, was bending over to help Liu Qingyao step down from the sedan.
Liu Qingyao, who was usually timid, had a face as radiant as peach blossoms today. She lowered her head, revealing her snow-white neck—where a bright cinnabar mole stood out sharply. Shen Weiwan remembered: It had not been there last night.
The onlookers whispered among themselves:
"Did you hear? The Shen girl got her engagement broken?"
"Tsk tsk—ten years of affection can't compare to one night of intimacy…"
Shen Weiwan's sedan stopped ten steps away.
She lifted the curtain and stepped out.
Her wedding dress blazed like fire; her phoenix crown glowed like blood.
Xiao Jingyuan looked up, and their eyes met.
In that instant, surprise, guilt, and even a trace of panic flashed across his face.
Shen Weiwan bowed slightly, her voice clear and cold: "Congratulations on your wedding, Your Highness. I've come to offer my blessings."
With every step she took, the crowd retreated—as if an invisible blade surrounded her.
Liu Qingyao shrank timidly behind Xiao Jingyuan, but Shen Weiwan grabbed her wrist in one swift move.
"Cousin," Shen Weiwan smiled, a silver glint flashing at her fingertips. A dagger, thin as a cicada's wing, pressed against Liu Qingyao's pulse. "Shall we talk in private?"
In the side hall of the Liu Mansion.
The doors and windows were shut tight, and the dagger rested against Liu Qingyao's neck.
Shen Weiwan's voice was as light as a feather: "Where were you at the Xu hour (around 7-9 p.m.) last night?"
Liu Qingyao trembled like a leaf in the wind: "I… I was embroidering my wedding dowry…"
"You're lying." Shen Weiwan moved her wrist slightly, and a thin line of blood snaked down Liu Qingyao's collarbone. "I'll give you one more chance."
Liu Qingyao broke down in tears: "It was His Highness! He said that if I… if I slept with him, he could force you to dissolve the engagement! I—I had no choice…"
Shen Weiwan closed her eyes.
So that was the truth.
Xiao Jingyuan had never wanted Liu Qingyao. What he had wanted was an excuse to make the Shen family dissolve the engagement.
Once the Shen family took the initiative to end it, he could marry the daughter of the Liu family—the leader of the "clean officials" faction. This way, he would not only escape the stigma of "breaking his promise" but also win over the support of court officials.
Clever. Killing two birds with one stone.
Shen Weiwan sheathed her dagger and turned to leave.
Liu Qingyao threw herself at her feet, clinging to her skirt: "Cousin! His Highness said that if you refuse to dissolve the engagement, he will charge the Shen family with deceiving the Emperor! Please—for the sake of Aunt (Shen Weiwan's mother), spare me!"
Deceiving the Emperor?
Shen Weiwan froze.
Her father's treason case had never been cleared. If another charge of "deceiving the Emperor" was added, the Shen family would be doomed forever.
So this was Xiao Jingyuan's real trump card.
In the ancestral hall of the Shen Mansion.
Shen Weiwan took off her wedding dress and put on plain white mourning clothes. She knelt before her mother's memorial tablet.
The candlelight flickered as she spoke in a hoarse voice: "Mother, I am unfilial. I'm afraid I will bring shame to you."
She kowtowed three times. When she stood up, her eyes were cold and sharp.
"Atan, prepare ink and paper."
That night, a secret letter was sent to the palace—not a plea for an audience, but an impeachment.
It accused Third Prince Xiao Jingyuan of moral corruption, of abandoning his fiancée to marry another, and of violating the imperial ancestral precepts.
Signed: Shen Weiwan, with a fingerprint pressed in blood as proof.
The moment the letter left the Shen Mansion, all ties of gratitude and affection between her and Xiao Jingyuan were severed.
At the Mao hour (around 5-7 a.m.), the palace gates had just opened.
In the imperial study, the Emperor stared at the blood-stained letter, his face clouded with anger.
"Convey my decree—"
"Summon the maiden of the Shen family. Bring her to the palace at once!"
Shen Weiwan stood under the corridor, the morning wind fluttering her plain white robes like a banner of revenge.
She did not know that waiting for her inside the palace was a more dangerous chess game.
—Xiao Jingyuan's mother, the current Imperial Noble Consort, had already prepared a cup of poisoned wine.
And in the secret chamber of the Liu Mansion, Liu Qingyao murmured to a portrait: "Mother, rest assured. What the Shen family owes us, I will repay tenfold…"