My name?
My name is Cheng Xiao and I am the only daughter of General Cheng of the Stone mountain clan. Since the Empress Dowager left our fǔ, I have been preparing for this day. For the day when I become a second bride to the Emperor, a second choice.
I have always known that as a woman and the daughter of a general, I could never choose whom to marry. Women had no say in the Azuro Dominion. Our opinions and feelings didn't matter to anyone. We bent to the rules of the men and rulers.
My father, General Cheng, has always been known for his long history of service to the throne, therefore, earning our family a marriage proposal from the Empress Dowager. My father grabbed the opportunity to make me the second bride of the Emperor without seeking my opinion. Probably because he wanted to strengthen the relationship he had with the throne. I felt my blood boil because of this. My blood boiled because of how women were treated in the Azuro Dominion.
Letting out a deep breath, I studied myself in the mirror. My maids had done a great job in preparing me for this day. I was wearing a red wedding robe with long flowing sleeves, richly embroidered. My hair was pulled back in an elaborate bun with jade hairpins and pearl ornaments. My makeup was flawless, my neck and wrist were adorned with jewelries gifted by the Empress Dowager.
I looked good, like a woman fit to stand next to the Emperor. The only problem was that I was nervous. The urge to puke wouldn't go away. My stomach twisted with fear. My heart beat was so loud, I could hear them in my ears. My palms were so sweaty, I could feel the sweat dripping.
"Young lady Cheng, are you okay?" Zhao Lihua, my maid, asked. She seemed to sense my nervousness.
I let out another breath to calm my racing heart before nodding. "I'm okay, Zhao Lihua, thank you."
She nodded and squeezed out a smile. "You look beautiful, my Lady. You will make a good wife."
I forced a smile at her comment. Will I?How does one make a good wife to a man who lost his wife five years ago and was now forced the remarry? How does one make a good wife to a man who wouldn't stop grieving?
The question pricked at every edge of my conscience. I was worried and confused. This was almost an impossible task, considering how arrogant and detached the Emperor is, currently. But the Empress Dowager had made me promise. She made me promise to bring her son back to life, to revive the king. And I had given my word.
A knock on the door, jolted me back from my thoughts. Slowly, I turned to the door and one of the maids opened the door. A court lady walked in and bowed.
"It's time, young Lady Cheng."
I took in a deep breath and nodded before following her out. It's time.
I rode in a jiàozi carried by servants from my father's estate to the palace. It was one hell of a ride because I wouldn't stop playing with my fingers. Drums, gongs, and firecrackers filled the streets as we rode past. I peeked to see the people watch. Somehow this helped me relax a bit.
When we got to the palace gates, I was formally welcomed by the court officials. After then, I stepped over the braziers of fire (to ward off evil) and entered the palace. My heart slammed in my chest relentlessly as I took steps towards the main hall, my face veiled with a red silk.
Luckily for me, I could recognise a few faces through the silk as I moved towards the Emperor where he stood like a shadow of himself. I had seen the Emperor twice, while he was still married. And then, he looked so handsome, so handsome I had wished he was mine.
But today, as he unveiled me, my heart dropped to my toes. The man standing in front of me was not the Emperor I once knew. His brown skin had lost its warmth, drained of color until it seemed almost translucent, like parchment stretched too thin. The fire that once burned in his blue eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, hollow sheen that spoke of sleepless nights and burdens too heavy to carry. His frame, once solid and commanding, had withered; his clothes hung loosely on his shoulders as though they belonged to another man.
My breath caught. Is this the man I am supposed to revive? A man that had become a shadow of himself?
We bowed thrice at the command of the matron of the ceremony.
After that, the matron's voice rang through the hall, solemn and sharp, "The rites are complete. Long live the Emperor. Long live the bride."
Applause and cheers thundered across the great hall as drums rolled once more. Silk banners fluttered in the heated air, and incense curled upward like faint whispers of the gods. I lowered my gaze as I was led by the court ladies to my seat beside the Emperor, my new husband.
The hall burst into life. Golden trays laden with dishes—roasted duck glistening with honey glaze, bowls of shark fin soup, lotus buns carved into shapes of phoenixes—were brought in by long lines of servants. Wine poured endlessly into jade cups, the fragrance of it sharp in the air. Acrobats leapt and twisted like birds in flight, while lion dancers thundered across the marble floors, their painted mouths snapping open and shut in time with the drums.
To the people, it was a night of celebration. To me, it felt like a stage where every movement of mine was judged.
I dared a glance at him—the Emperor, my husband. He sat still, his posture flawless, a king before his people, but his eyes… his eyes never lifted to the spectacle. They remained fixed on the cup in his hand, half-raised but never emptied, as if he were lost in a memory only he could see.
The courtiers smiled, laughed, clapped, all too eager to please him, but he never once responded. Their joy slid off him like water on stone. The grief around him was a shroud so thick, I felt suffocated simply sitting at his side.
I pressed my hands together in my lap, my fingers trembling beneath the long sleeves embroidered with golden dragons. This was my new life.
"Raise the nuptial cup," the matron announced.
The cup-bearer stepped forward, bowing low as he presented two golden goblets tied together with a red silk cord. The symbolism was clear—two lives bound as one.
My throat tightened. My palms felt slick again. I reached out, my hand brushing the cord. For the briefest moment, his fingers touched mine. They were cold. So very cold.
We lifted the cups and drank, as tradition demanded. The hall erupted with cheers and shouts of "A hundred years of harmony!" and "May heirs soon come to the throne!"
I forced a smile as protocol dictated, but inside I was sinking deeper into unease.
I had promised the Empress Dowager to bring him back to life. But looking at him now, silent and hollow amidst roaring celebration, I wondered if even the gods themselves could awaken this man.