Page 76 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

She had knelt in red, bowed in red, walked in red and seen only red through her red veil.

She didn’t remember how many times she’d pressed her forehead to the ground today She didn’t remember what her mother said before she stepped into the sedan chair.

She didn’t even really remember the three crucial bows that formalized the marriage. The bows to Heaven and Earth, to Master Gu and to Ting-zhi respectively.

It was still more red from what she could see of the marital bed beneath her veil. She shifted her position carefully, trying to sweep the auspicious nuts and fruits on the bed to one side so that she can sit more comfortably.

So I am married now?She thought incredulously.

Somewhere beyond the bamboo grove, laughter and drunken toasts from the banquet echoed. But here in Ting-zhi’s room, it was blissfully quiet with only the sounds of the wind through bamboo.

Her palms pressed flat against the silk-covered mattress. The fabric was smooth and expensive with delicate embroideries. A dowry gift from her eldest sister.

Then the door creaked open.

“Si-er.”

His voice was quiet.

“Mm,”she said, through the veil, which was not a word exactly but was the best she could do at the present moment.

“You’re still here,” he said.

She could hear the relief in his voice. “Where else would I be?”

“In a huaben, the bride would have fled by now. Climbed out the window and disguised herself as a kitchen maid.”

“Mmm,” she said, “I should have considered that.”

A pause. She could feel him looking at her even through the veil.

“May I—” He paused, as if unsure of himself. “May I lift the veil?”

She breathed in once, steadily, and said: “Yes.”

His fingers found the edge of the veil and lifted it gently. The candlelight came in all at once, warm and amber, and she blinked once and then he was there, closer than she had expected, still in his wedding robes, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I was considering where I should go look for you if you decide to do a run-away bride.” Ting-zhi admitted, lowering himself beside her. His voice wavered, just slightly. “But I am so glad you are still here waiting for me.”

Yun-si had memorized every stroke of the three letters he’d sent and had long since forgiven him, really. But she had just wanted to make him squirm and suffer a while longer.

Gu Ting-zhi took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed this moment a hundred times: the right words to soften her, the right gestures to sway her, even the right moment to kiss her into forgiveness. Yet now that the moment had come, it all felt wrong. So he simply spoke from his heart.

“I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

Yun-si looked up at him in surprise. She had not expected such a direct apology from Ting-zhi.

“I swear.” Ting-zhi took her hands and looked straight into her eyes. “I swear upon the heavenly thunders never to deceive you in anything ever again, for the rest of my life.”

Yun-si felt the weight of the vow in her bones. She looked at Gu Ting-zhi, his distraught eyes anxiously searching hers, and decided to end his misery.

Sighing, she tucked a strand of his loose hair behind his ear. “I read the letters, you know? They were quite well-written. I especially liked the third one.”

He looked at her hopefully. The third letter was the epitome of groveling. “Do you want to hear me recite it?”

A laugh escaped her despite herself. “No more secrets,” she said firmly.

“No more secrets,” he said in relief.