Volume One: The Most Heartless Phoenix and Paulownia Blossoms Chapter 24: The Wedding Banquet

Main Hall of the Imperial Palace in Xunyang, Yan Kingdom—Hall of Literary Splendor.

Dawn had not yet broken, but the grand hall was brightly lit. Attendants and maidservants bustled about, striving to adorn the hall with festive splendor before the sun rose.

At sunrise, two momentous ceremonies would be held here.

The first was the apprenticeship ceremony for Guangping’s induction into the Celestial Palace atop the Clouds. Nearly a thousand years had passed since the Tian clan had produced a talent chosen by the Celestial Palace, so Tian Chong viewed this occasion with utmost gravity. Originally, Zhuohua intended for Guangping to join the Xuanhuang Sect as her personal disciple; Guangping was an unrivaled prodigy of the Tian clan, blessed with both intelligence and pure bloodline, promising swift advancement in cultivation. Moreover, Zhuohua wished to dispel any suspicion that she harbored reservations toward the Lantian and Tian clans—accepting Guangping would put their minds at ease. Yet the young Guangping insisted on becoming Old Jiao’s disciple, vowing to acknowledge Zhuohua as her master only after weathering the Tribulation of Thunder and Fire. Old Jiao, for his part, was delighted to oblige.

The second event was Old Jiao’s formal proposal to Tian Chong. Normally, a union between the Dragon Clan and the Celestial Race would be unthinkable. When the Celestial Race first entered the wilds of Lanling’s void, they clashed fiercely with the Dragon Clan and other ancient divine beasts, who had long held sway there. With the Celestial Palace’s aid, a protracted war ended only when the dragons compromised, signing a treaty with the Seven Celestial Clans. The dragons ceded vast tracts of land and withdrew to the seas. Though peace was established on the surface, the Dragon Clan never forgot this humiliation, decreeing that no contact was to be had with the Celestials. Lin Bai, however, was perhaps an exception among dragons. Previously stripped of his status and exiled by his father for raising arms in a palace coup, the true cause was his love for a princess of the Jade Clan. Tragically, the princess was assassinated during one of their trysts. While there was no direct evidence implicating his brothers, Lin Bai, long oppressed and threatened, flew into a rage for her sake, leading an assault on the Dragon Palace. Outnumbered, he was ultimately exiled to the rivers as a lesser dragon.

From the perspective of the Xuanhuang, the enmity was equally irreconcilable; a dragon had slain a Celestial. Among the Seven Clans, there was an unspoken rule: even if the Seven Veins of Xuanhuang were to perish, not a single daughter would be wed to the Dragon Court.

Yet because it was Lin Bai who proposed, Tian Chong admired his courage in daring to defy his entire clan for love. Furthermore, Lin Bai was a disciple of the Celestial Palace and thus a legitimate heir of Xuanhuang. His name, after all, was inscribed on the Star Tablet of the heavens.

Thus, the sovereign decreed overnight that the ceremonies be prepared and the palace adorned. That very night, the curfewed city of Xunyang was thrown into a flurry of activity. The people, though puzzled, understood that the city’s sudden illumination signaled a grand celebration.

At the break of dawn, as the eastern sky grew pale, drums and music resounded through the Hall of Literary Splendor. The imperial golden sun chair, symbol of supreme authority, was concealed behind a red curtain bearing two golden characters: “Master’s Rite.” In front of the curtain stood two redwood armchairs, one large, one small.

A golden sun-patterned carpet, three steps wide, was laid down the steps before the chairs, stretching from the dais to the hall’s entrance. Before the chairs stood long tables bearing candlesticks, incense burners, wine goblets, and fruits. Three sticks of incense waited beside the censer; red candles poised to be lit.

Amidst the music, Zhuohua ascended the dais, followed by Lin Bai, and behind him, the sovereign, the dowager, the queen, and Princess Guangping.

Zhuohua seated herself in the central chair; Lin Bai stood before the chair to her right and bowed deeply. The others performed the three kneelings and nine prostrations below the steps. When the rites concluded, Lin Bai and Guangping together lit the three sticks of incense, bowed thrice, and placed them in the censer.

Afterward, Guangping brought the basin for ritual cleansing. Lin Bai washed his hands, then took his seat at Zhuohua’s right.

At this point, the sovereign presented the apprenticeship invitation to Lin Bai, and Guangping offered the tuition gift. Lin Bai accepted with a bow.

Zhuohua rose and proclaimed that from this day forth, Guangping was admitted to the Celestial Palace and would henceforth enjoy its protection.

Tian Chong and the dowager were moved to tears, weeping with gratitude.

The ceremony concluded.

By now, the sun was high. As the wedding of Lin Bai and Princess Guangping would be solemnized later in the Celestial Palace—and since Lin Bai was to wed Guangping, not to be installed as a consort—the event today was merely the betrothal ceremony.

The accoutrements of the apprenticeship ceremony were quickly cleared away, replaced by the exuberant trappings of a wedding. At Old Jiao’s insistence, Zhuohua, Qin Ying, Zhuo Yun, and Su Xin all stood as guests of the groom’s side, accompanying Old Jiao through the rites of betrothal: the exchange of gifts, inquiry of names, selection of auspicious dates, and appointment of the wedding day. The final step—the bride’s formal welcome—would be held on the fifteenth day of the first month next year.

Zhuohua presented them with the Cangyue Pearl she always carried, as a congratulatory gift. Guangping’s illness, left untreated due to their guests’ arrival, could be gradually cured with the pearl. When Zhuohua offered the Cangyue Pearl, Guangping was so flustered by the honor that she dared not reach for it. Zhuohua teased with a smile, “Guangping, don’t tell me this immortal pearl fails to catch your fancy?”

Guangping hastily knelt in thanks, “I dare not accept—this pearl is too precious, and Palace Mistress Qin has yet to recover. If I take it, how can the Lady help her heal?”

Zhuohua waved away her concerns, “Qin Ying’s health is no longer in jeopardy, and the Cangyue Pearl cannot restore her power. But your chest pains and dizzy spells require daily treatment with this pearl; in a year or so, you’ll be cured. Besides, I made this pearl myself—if need be, I can always craft another, provided I gather the materials. Remember, let it bask in sunlight for a full day each month, or its stored essence will run out and it’ll be useless.”

Old Jiao patted Guangping’s shoulder, “Go on, accept it! Our Lord does not brook refusals.”

Guangping nodded, smiling as she tucked the treasure into her sleeve.

The others also presented their gifts, choosing from their own cherished possessions.

Just as the room filled with lively congratulations, Lin Bai produced a dragon-embroidered brocade pouch from his robe. Squeezing it in his hand, he presented it to Guangping, saying, “Yi’er, inside this Infinity Pouch is the residence I lived in as a dragon prince. When I was stripped of my title and exiled, my father allowed me to take only one belonging, so I cleverly stored my entire estate in this pouch, carrying it with me ever since. This is one of the few god-tier Infinity Pouches crafted by the Dragon Clan, nearly the equal of Lord Zhuohua’s Universe Pouch. The dragon embroidery was stitched by my mother herself. Now I give you both the pouch and the residence as my token of betrothal.”

All the ladies looked at Tian Yi with envy. Her face flushed as she hurried to hide the pouch in her sleeve.

The ceremony ended amid the blessings of all present.

The sovereign, overjoyed, declared a general amnesty and reduced land taxes by thirty percent for three years.

At noon, after the meal, everyone began to prepare for departure. Tian Chong, accompanied by his ministers and generals, presented Zhuohua with a cinnabar-colored silk scroll. Opening it, Zhuohua saw it was a travel credential, already stamped with the seal of Yan and Tian Chong’s own hand: “Passage permitted; all allied nations are requested to provide necessary assistance and hospitality.”

Zhuohua glanced at Tian Chong, who explained, “Since Your Lordship insists on traveling incognito and refuses a military escort, this credential is indispensable. It bears the seal of Yan; the vassals of the Seven Celestial Clans will grant you passage. Even foreign tribes will not dare hinder you.”

Zhuohua nodded, handed the scroll to Zhuo Yun for safekeeping, and said, “You think of everything.”

Tian Chong demurred, “Your Lordship is too kind! Had you not intervened, our border troops and common folk would have perished, and I myself would not have survived. My child now has the fortune to study in the Celestial Palace; I can never repay such a debt. These small things are nothing.”

Zhuohua clapped Tian Chong’s shoulder. “Rest assured about your daughter’s illness—I will oversee her care myself.”

As Tian Chong moved to kneel in gratitude, Zhuohua quickly stopped him. “All these formalities are tiresome.”

Tian Chong replied sheepishly, “Since the Lady left, it’s been rumored that the Celestial Palace has abandoned the Lantian and Tian clans, and the other five have grown bolder, encroaching more and more on our lands. Your visit to Yan is the greatest honor for our clans. There is hope for our revival.” The officials behind him all nodded in agreement.

“Your national policy needs changing as well. Centuries of long life have dwindled to barely a hundred years—soon you’ll be little different than the aboriginal Pu people,” I said to the Yan sovereign.

All responded affirmatively.

Zhuohua waved them away.

Meanwhile, to the right of the entrance, the queen, the dowager, and Tian Yi were weeping together, with Old Jiao looking on helplessly.

Zhuohua debated whether to help Old Jiao ease the mood, when a lively female voice piped up from behind, “My, my, Lord, aren’t you going to help our Palace Master Lin? Look, his face is red as a beetroot! But he’s all the more handsome for it.”

Zhuohua turned to see Su Xin, who had clearly drunk much at lunch and was now tipsy. He guessed she’d meant to rest her elbow on his shoulder, but Qin Ying was glaring daggers at her from a short distance, so she settled for leaning on the table instead.

Zhuohua looked up at Su Xin. Today, she wore not her favored white and gold-edged dress, but a pale violet one, her hair adorned with a jade hairpin. She tilted her head, smiling at Zhuohua.

He quietly asked, “Why have you drunk so much? Do you not see what occasion this is?”

Su Xin pouted, “Since when has Your Lordship cared about a humble snow demon like me? You’re busy tending to Sister Qin.” She hiccupped, then continued, “Palace Master Lin and his little princess are inseparable every day; you and Palace Mistress Qin are all sweet nothings. Even little Yun’er is happily preparing to return to the Celestial Palace with her brother. I alone am left, friendless and forlorn—what else can I do but drown my sorrows in wine?”

At this, Qin Ying approached, shooting Su Xin a glare. “Who else is as impertinent as you? Save your sour words. The Lord cares only for the Lady, not for me. Were I not injured, I’d have drunk all the wine on the table long ago—leaving you none!” As she spoke, she cast a sidelong glance at Zhuohua.

Zhuohua felt instantly awkward and muttered, “Why must it always come back to me?” Then he stood and called for Zhuo Yun to prepare for departure.