Chapter One: A Winter Wedding

Snowflakes filled the sky, drifting down silently, turning the world before her eyes into a boundless white. The sight was startling, as if the snow sought to cover everything in its path. In the midst of this white expanse, blood dripped soundlessly from the tip of the woman’s sword, each drop blooming on the snow like the hellish red flowers of the underworld.

In the distance, a group of people hurried over, leaving a trail of footprints on the once-pristine snow. They stopped at the intersection where glaring crimson met pure white, staring in horror at the woman in blood-red robes.

One among them spoke softly, “Weishao…”

The woman stood motionless in the biting night wind, her back to them, making no attempt to disguise the fierce hatred burning in her eyes. Her body trembled uncontrollably, yet she forced herself to suppress the seething fury within. Behind her, the group watched her warily, tense and alert for her next move.

At some unknown moment, the snow ceased to fall, and time itself seemed to freeze with it. No matter how long it snowed, it never managed to conceal the stains of blood on the ground.

At last, the woman turned around. The cold wind threatened to lift the crimson veil from her face, but she lowered her head, letting the harshness in her gaze fade. From her sleeve, she drew a moon-white silk handkerchief, carefully wiping the blood from her sword. When she looked up again, her eyes met those of a man among the group—thus, the plan began.

...

A year later, storms raged through the capital of the Liyue Kingdom, all because of the wedding of Prince Feng Jinye, the War King, and the eldest daughter of the Duke’s household.

In Liyue, anything involving Prince Feng Jinye was no trivial matter. Even young children barely old enough to babble could recount his legendary deeds—how, at thirteen, he followed the late emperor to war and earned his fame in Liyue’s first battle against the Western Yan Kingdom. But most famous of all was two years prior, when war broke out once more between Liyue and Western Yan. Feng Jinye swept through open plains, capturing seven cities in just half a year, and within a year, Western Yan had fallen, subsumed into Liyue.

The Duke’s only legitimate daughter was also a figure much beloved by the people. Rumor had it that the Duke’s younger daughter was once the second daughter of the former Prime Minister’s family, and that the enemy had schemed to replace the Duke’s daughter with a spy, whisking her away and hiding her in the Prime Minister’s household. Only after she had grown, married, and borne children was she finally returned to her birth family. Now, she was to marry the War King—a match that scandalized propriety. For half a year, the matter had been the subject of endless speculation, and few believed the marriage would come to pass. Yet today, the wedding of the Duke’s household and the Prince’s manor had truly taken place.

The ninth day of the twelfth month was bitterly cold—a day where red and white intertwined once more.

And that stroke of red was the bridal procession itself. The vibrant crimson of the wedding banners cut through the snow, passing beneath the plum trees where, with the faintest movement, petals fell in a gentle cascade. Sitting in the bridal sedan, Weishao Qianyu wore her scarlet wedding gown, a subtle fragrance of plum blossoms drifting in.

Weishao Qianyu was now known as Lu Qianyu, the eldest daughter of the Duke’s household—not the younger.

Lu Qianyu’s nerves were taut. Since dawn, after being dressed by the bridal attendants, she had nearly ruined the embroidery fan in her hands, scraping at it again and again until it was barely recognizable. In the end, the attendants, exasperated, placed two spare fans in the sedan before the procession set off.

The bridal procession had been on the road for two hours when Lu Qianyu realized she had destroyed another fan. She was about to reach for a replacement when a bridal attendant interrupted her, “Your Highness, we have arrived at the Prince’s manor!”

Quickly, Lu Qianyu changed fans to cover her face. The attendant lifted the scarlet curtain, and Lu Qianyu, half-hidden behind her fan, met the gaze of a man standing before the manor in red robes, facing the wind.

Feng Jinye stood impassively, his black eyes deep as a still, hidden pool.

Lu Qianyu had not yet reached him when a strange sense of displacement washed over her, as if everything had changed.

The ceremony proceeded in perfect order. Lu Qianyu, dazed, simply did as the attendants bade her. Her maid, Qingxia, guided her through each step of the ritual, and soon enough, Lu Qianyu was escorted into the bridal chamber.

Time slipped by quietly. Outside, the wedding hall buzzed with revelry, but inside, Lu Qianyu’s emotions were in turmoil. Sitting atop the wedding bed, she could not quell her agitation and confusion. All that remained was to wait for Feng Jinye to push open the door. Once the fan was lowered, she would have to face him.

After half an hour, Lu Qianyu found herself fretting over the scars on her face, wondering if Feng Jinye would lift her veil.

To conceal her former identity, Lu Qianyu had ruined her own face.

Half a year ago, she had acted without hesitation, and in all that time, she had not once regretted her decision—until now. Four jagged scars marred her cheeks, hideously ugly.

Lost in thought, she did not notice the arrival of a man whose black boots, embroidered with subtle red patterns, came to stand before her.

Feng Jinye approached with measured, unhurried steps, stopping in front of her. The bridal attendant had not yet recited the auspicious phrases when Feng Jinye raised a hand, dismissing all the servants.

Under Feng Jinye’s steady gaze, Lu Qianyu summoned her courage and looked up, only to miss the slight frown that flickered across his brow.

“You are not Lu Yanran,” Feng Jinye stated, his tone flat and unruffled.

The woman before him was now his wife, yet Feng Jinye showed no interest whatsoever. Lu Qianyu could feel his indifference; his next words confirmed it with a mere, “So be it.”

Lu Qianyu’s anger flared. She had known he was not the man of her past, but never had she seen this side of Feng Jinye.

“Lu… Yan… ran…?” she said, her fury blazing, forgetting her earlier resolve to be a beautiful bride despite her scars. “Would you have married her regardless? Do you know she has already been wed, has a child who’s old enough to run errands?”

Feng Jinye saw the fire in her eyes, a sharp pain piercing his chest. Her words made his gaze turn icy, cold enough to chill to the bone. “So this is the Duke’s household’s upbringing!” His tone was calm, yet authority radiated from him, sending everyone outside the bridal chamber to their knees in terror.

Lu Qianyu collected herself. He was no longer the Feng Jinye of old; she must now regard him only as the War King.

Her anger faded, and she ignored his rebuke, instead replying, “I am Lu Qianyu, elder twin sister to Lu Yanran—the Duke’s legitimate eldest daughter.”

She thought he might question how the Duke’s household had two daughters, but he merely replied with a cool, “Very well.”

Silence settled over the room.

Lu Qianyu found herself wondering—Feng Jinye remembered Lu Yanran…

Realizing that he would have married Lu Yanran just as readily, Lu Qianyu felt a pang of bitterness. When she looked up again, Feng Jinye was already gone. She had braced herself for this, but could not suppress a sigh.

At least, he had not lifted her veil.