part 6
The door swung open, letting in a cold draft mixed with a faint smell of wine—scant and light, as if he had only taken a few perfunctory sips at the feast.
He came to a halt before me, making no haste to lift my wedding veil, but fell into a long silence, so long that I thought he would stand there until dawn.
At last, he spoke, his voice even lower than it had been by the sedan chair. "You know three of your predecessors died after being betrothed to me. Why dare you marry me still?"
"They are not me," I replied.
After another moment of silence, he reached out and gently lifted my veil with two fingers.
The candlelight dazzled my eyes, and I narrowed them slightly, meeting his deep gaze.
He had sharply chiseled features, high cheekbones, a straight nose and tightly pressed thin lips. A faint knife scar ran from his temple down to his jawline. Dressed in bright red wedding robes, his face, weathered by years of frontier wind and frost, looked all the more stern. Yet in those cold eyes lingered a cautious, inquiring look, as if he was trying to tell whether I was truly fearless or merely putting on a brave front.
"Are you really not afraid of me?" he asked.
I looked straight up into his eyes and answered earnestly, "General, you bring no misfortune to your wives. You only ward off those who are vain and harbour ulterior motives."
His pupils trembled slightly.
"It was not you who caused those three young ladies’ deaths," I said clearly and steadily. "They were killed by others. Had they lived, their clans would have become powerful allies of yours. Certain figures in the imperial court feared your rising influence, so those betrothals were doomed to end in tragedy from the very start."
Complex emotions surged in his eyes.
"You..." His voice tightened. "How do you know all this?"
"I do not know who is behind it all," I said calmly, "but I can tell their deaths were premeditated, not fate ordained for you. Besides..." I paused and curved my lips softly, "did you not place my late mother’s keepsake jade pendant back in the ancestral hall the other night?"
Gu Lin lifted his head abruptly, his sharp eyes fixed firmly on me, searching for any trace of deceit on my face.
He realized I had seen him that night.
"You were there..."
"I saw you kneeling before my mother’s spirit tablet," I said in a gentle tone. "You said she once saved your life with a simple meal. A man who never forgets kindness will never harm me."
Gu Lin stared at me in a daze, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
The candle flame flickered in the bridal chamber, stretching his shadow long across the floor. He suddenly turned away and stood by the window with his back to me for a while.
"Years ago, I suffered a defeat on the border, was dismissed from office and exiled to the south of the Yangtze River in disgrace," he recounted in a low voice, as if telling a story from long past. "Penniless and forced to hide my identity, I fainted from hunger by the roadside. Your mother happened to pass by, gave me a bowl of rice and a pot of water, and even handed me her only silver hairpin to pawn for travel expenses."
He paused, his voice choked with emotion. "She told me that as long as one stays alive, there will always be hope. She also said she had a daughter about my age, and wished all good people could receive good fortune in return."
I rose quietly and stepped behind him.
"Later I returned to the frontier, redeemed my crimes with military feats, and climbed step by step to where I stand today." He turned around and looked down at me, his stern eyes filled with unprecedented tenderness. "I searched for you and your mother for years. By the time I found you, she was already gone. I know exactly how your clansmen have treated you in the Shen household."
He raised his hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His movements were stiff and clumsy, bearing the rough straightforwardness of a seasoned general. "So you need neither fear me nor curry favour with me. Marry me, and I shall never let you suffer any grievance."
I gazed up at this fierce, cold-faced general feared across the capital, seeing the restrained softness hidden deep in his eyes. Before I knew it, tears welled up and streamed down my cheeks.
Panic flashed across his face the moment he saw me cry. "Why are you weeping? Did I say something wrong?"
"No," I sniffled and forced a smile. "I just feel... everything is worthwhile."
It was worthwhile to have my betrothal snatched away.
It was worthwhile to be mocked for bringing trouble upon myself.
It was worthwhile to be abandoned and ridiculed by the whole capital for choosing the so-called ill-fated general over a noble lord.
For I had married not an ominous man doomed to bring misfortune to his wives, but a righteous man who never forgot kindness and cherished heartfelt affection.
He wiped away my tears with his calloused fingertips. The faint tingling touch on my cheeks brought me immense peace of mind.