HPDBC Chapter 668: Blood Stains Qinghe While the Night Is Still Young
Chapter 668: Blood Stains Qinghe While the Night Is Still Young
Chapter 668: Blood Stains Qinghe While the Night Is Still Young
“Ahem.” Cui Wenjing interrupted the newlyweds, who were gazing tenderly at each other through the veil. He said slowly, “According to tradition, the groom should take the bride to his home. But given the current circumstances, we’ve kept things simple. We’ve prepared a new bridal chamber at an estate just outside the manor. Consider it a gift to King Zhao. This way, there’s no misunderstanding about him marrying into the Cui Clan or something.”
This moment was supposed to be the customary parental counseling segment, but with the mother-in-law silent in apprehension and Instructor Sun nothing more than a decorative figure, Cui Wenjing found himself unable to deliver a proper lecture. His tone could only shift to practical matters.
Zhao Changhe replied, “I didn’t think about that... Thank you for being so thoughtful, Father-in-law.”
Cui Wenjing nodded. “According to custom, gifts would be presented to the groom during the bow to the elders. We’ll skip that part. The estate is already yours, and the rest will be sent to the capital.”
Zhao Changhe: “...”
“Money, grain, weapons, armor, warhorses. Take it or leave it.”
“...I’ll take it.”
“Also, the Qinghe Mirror you borrowed. It’s yours now. That’s it. We’re done here.” Cui Wenjing waved his hand dismissively, a sullen expression crossing his face. For all his urgency to marry off his daughter—even to the point of hastily arranging the ceremony before the Wang Clan’s defeat—he found himself feeling suffocated at the end.
Damn it, after raising this flower for so many years, now it’s being plucked by a pig. What father could feel cheerful about this?
At that moment, he rediscovered the initial irritation he had felt when he first met Zhao Changhe and silently wished the man would leave sooner.
The master of ceremonies finally spoke, “The ceremony concludes. Escort the bride to the bridal—”
“Wait!” came a loud voice from outside. “An imperial edict has arrived!”
Zhao Changhe: “?”
Cui Yuanyang nearly tore off her veil in frustration. Xia Chichi, since when do you issue imperial edicts?
Cui Wenjing’s face darkened as he rose to greet the messenger. “Present the imperial edict.”
Cui Yuanyong came rushing in, panting heavily, clutching an imperial scroll in his hand. The tension among the guests was palpable, the atmosphere teetering on surreal.
Unfurling the edict, Cui Yuanyong glanced over its contents, his expression growing increasingly peculiar as he began to read. “King Zhao has galloped valiantly, sweeping enemies from their lairs with unmatched prowess. Her Majesty is greatly pleased... uh, Father, don’t look at me like that, I’m just reading what it says...”
Cui Wenjing’s face twitched. “I know, continue.”
Zhao Changhe’s and Cui Yuanyang’s faces had both turned an alarming shade of crimson beneath the veil.
Cui Yuanyong continued, “Knowing how eager you are to marry, let this be a reminder: as the successor to the throne, marrying without the Empress’ approval is disloyalty. Marrying without consulting the Empress Dowager is unfilial. If you have yet to marry, postpone it. If you have, expect punishment later.”
He paused, evidently troubled, then finally gathered his guts and continued, “However, while your actions merit punishment, your merits are also great, and the imperial court cannot chill the heart of such a valued general. Rewards must still be given to demonstrate fairness. The following gifts are awarded: a handwritten scripture from the Empress Dowager, totaling 108,000 characters, to be meticulously transcribed as a gesture of her fond concern; and from the Empress, a single virility pill to treat the King Zhao’s rumored... condition, with hopes for many future contributions to the empire.”
Zhao Changhe: “?”
“...A custom torture device forged by the bureau chief of the Demon Suppression Bureau; an artisan-crafted replica of the palm of the famous swordswoman Yue Hongling; and a pill soaked in the urine of a poisonous gu from Miaojiang Saintess Xiang Simeng. May you continue to strive forward and achieve greater glory for the empire.”
The earlier part of the decree had at least maintained a veneer of respect for the Empress Dowager and the Empress. But by the time it reached these so-called gifts, it was clear Xia Chichi had abandoned all pretense, piling on mockery with blatant malice. Yue Hongling and Xiang Simeng had no way of knowing this wedding was happening—where would these absurd “gifts” have come from? It was clearly Xia Chichi’s way of stirring trouble.
The bride finally spoke up: “Second brother, did you bring an entire vat of vinegar from the imperial palace? It’s so sour...”
The entire banquet hall collectively held back their laughter, heads lowered in a valiant effort to keep themselves from losing face on such a solemn occasion. Initially, many traditionalists had felt the empress’ behavior was unbecoming, but when reframed as a petty squabble between girls hurling jabs from afar, it suddenly seemed far more entertaining. Any sense of impropriety vanished in the humor.
The blind woman was already mentally drafting her next “novel.” This list of gifts absolutely has to make it in. And you think you can clean up this mess? Clean up a pigsty, maybe. Wait, what about the tortoise? Why isn’t she part of the people who sent a gift? Oh, I see, the Four Idols Cult must be trying to save face this time.
Their gazes met.
Whatever interruptions or distractions had marred the day melted away in that moment. The room grew still, save for the sound of their breathing and the rhythm of their hearts. They could see the affection and smiles reflected in each other’s eyes, and for the first time, everything felt perfect.
Limited by her upbringing and modest capabilities, Cui Yuanyang had rarely ventured out. Their time spent together had been sparse, yet at this moment, it felt as though countless memories were flickering through their minds—those days of innocence and folly, of weakness and shared ambition. Now, captured in the glow of candlelight, those moments reminded them how precious and fortunate it was to share such memories.
Their throats moved simultaneously, as if they shared a neuron, and then they both laughed.
Zhao Changhe turned to pour two cups of wine, handing one to Cui Yuanyang. “Here.”
Her face flushed as she accepted it. Without needing instruction, they crossed their arms, lowering their heads to drink. Neither could taste the wine. It was as if every drop had been replaced with sweetness.
After the wine slid down her throat, Cui Yuanyang’s face burned even hotter, as though she had come down with a fever. Zhao Changhe grinned, taking her empty cup and setting it aside. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Cui Yuanyang pressed her hand to her cheek, giving him a playfully indignant look.
Unable to hold back anymore, Zhao Changhe scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the nearby soft couch.
Her nervous instinct kicked in, and she clung to his sleeve as the curtain slowly fell, enclosing them in a cocoon of flickering lamplight.
The intricately embroidered wedding clothes, worn for only a few hours, were carefully undone, revealing a small, delicate undergarment adorned with a playful pattern of a pair of mandarin ducks frolicking in the water. Zhao Changhe traced it gently, his fingers lingering as if savoring the moment. Cui Yuanyang bit her lip, her eyes fixed on his face. Suddenly, she murmured, “Big Brother Zhao...”
“Hmm?”
“...Nothing.”
She had wanted to confess that her dazed and flustered demeanor over the past two days might have been partly an act to see what he would think. But as the words formed on her lips, they felt unnecessary. Her Big Brother Zhao was far too perceptive to be unaware of such things. If he liked her this way, then so be it. She was content to remain his little girl forever.
Anyway, I’ve already taken the youth-preserving fruit. Why bring it up at all...
As layers of clothing fell away, her pale, delicate form curled beneath the strong embrace of her big bear. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze growing hazy and soft.
In a fleeting moment of reverie, she seemed to glimpse the sky, fragments of distant memories crossing her mind. Cold, clear eyes gazed out over the vast mountains and rivers. A phrase resurfaced from the depths of her memory: “Blood stains Qinghe while the night is still young[4].”
At the time, it had seemed like a declaration of heroism. But now? Now, it sounded suspiciously like an innuendo. The words rolled through her mind like the wheels of a cart running her over. Who wrote that nonsense?
A sharp pang of pain brought her back to reality, and her face turned pale.
Zhao Changhe immediately leaned down, his touch gentle and reassuring, as he skillfully eased her discomfort.
For a moment, Cui Yuanyang felt a flicker of indignation. Why is he so experienced? But the feeling was fleeting, replaced by amusement. She raised her arms to wrap around his neck, her voice soft and tender, “Big Brother Zhao...”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve finally... married you.”
1. The specific word used here 别苑, which historically refers to imperial hunting grounds or gardens designed for the leisure and retreat of emperors and sometimes high-ranking nobles. ☜
2. A ruyi is a decorative object like a small scepter, used for ceremonial purposes in Buddhism and symbolizing power and good fortune in Chinese folklore. It’s also the first part of the name of Sun Wukong’s magical staff, Ruyi Jingu Bang, and also Son Goku’s Power Pole (the Japanese name, Nyoibo, is the Japanese reading of Ruyibang, aka “compliant pole).” ☜
3. A weighing rod or steelyard balance is a kind of balance, except it’s asymmetrical and it doesn’t have a stand but instead has a hook for hanging. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steelyard_balance for reference. ☜
4. This is from Chapter 67. ☜