Chapter 460: When the Gentleman Asks, the Wedding Date Is Already Set
Not long after noon, the fleet set sail once more. The coastal waters in this region were riddled with hidden reefs, so the ships deliberately curved toward the deeper sea, making a wide detour to skirt around the treacherous shoals lurking beneath the waves.
Our journey is toward the stars and the vast ocean…
As the sea-going vessels cut through the wind and waves, charging into the deep blue expanse, this line inexplicably surfaced in Zhu Ping’an’s mind. He didn’t know why it appeared just then, but it lingered there all the same, faintly stirring something in his chest.
During the daytime, he chatted casually about Zhu Xian, sampled the Li household chef’s ever-changing array of meticulously prepared delicacies, and occasionally traded barbs with the sly and sharp-tongued Li Shu. The days drifted by unhurriedly, slow and comfortable, like a boat gliding along a gentle current.
That afternoon, the familiar tableau of blue sky and blue sea was finally disrupted. A few dark clouds floated in from afar, slowly veiling the sun. Moments later, the clouds drifted past and the sunlight reemerged—only to be covered again. It was as if the dark clouds had started a game of hide-and-seek with the sun, and gradually, they seemed to be enjoying it far too much.
The color of the sky shifted little by little, from a deep, vivid blue to a pale, ashen gray. The sun grew increasingly dim, its brilliance dulled behind layers of cloud.
And then, the wind began to rise…
Zhu Ping’an leaned against the prow of the ship, holding a plate in his hands as he ate the deep-fried squid snacks prepared by the Li family’s chef. The sea breeze, slowly strengthening, brushed against his face. His gaze rested on the distant line where sea and sky met, and before he realized it, his thoughts had drifted far away—to Xiahe Village.
His taciturn yet magnanimous father.
His fiery-tempered but attentive mother.
And his elder brother…
He missed home.
While Zhu Ping’an stood at the bow, letting the sea wind wash over him, Li Shu was inside her lavishly decorated cabin boudoir, awkwardly embroidering a pair of mandarin-duck pillowcases. Her slender, jade-like fingers pinched an embroidery needle as she worked with utmost seriousness. Yet, not every effort in this world yielded a matching reward.
Before her lay a pattern depicting a pair of adorable mandarin ducks. But on the pillowcase beneath her hands, what had emerged were still two plump, unmistakably duck-shaped… fat ducks.
“Miss, it’s getting dark. You should rest for a bit,” Baozi, the little maid, said softly. Watching her young mistress embroider by the dim cabin light made her heart ache.
“It’s getting dark already?” Li Shu replied. “No wonder I couldn’t see clearly.”
After hearing Baozi’s words, Li Shu stopped stitching, glanced out the window, and only then came to a realization. She pouted slightly, her lips jutting out in a small, unconscious gesture.
“Yes, Miss,” Baozi nodded vigorously.
“Then go light the lamp, Hua’er. Hurry up,” Li Shu urged.
“But Miss, you should rest a little. You haven’t properly rested for days,” Baozi said, her eyes reddening. “You get up so early every morning to go to the kitchen, and during your noon rest you’re still embroidering. Even someone made of iron couldn’t endure this, Miss.”
“Enough nonsense. Go light the lamp already,” Li Shu chided, half-pouting, half-scolding. She raised the embroidery needle in her hand. “If you keep nagging, I’ll embroider a little turtle right onto your face.”
“Miss~~” Baozi covered her cheeks and looked at Li Shu with a wronged expression, memories flooding back of the days when her young mistress had actually drawn turtles on her face. After receiving a sharp glare from Li Shu, she finally shuffled off reluctantly to light the lamp.
Baozi returned carrying a wooden, jade-inlaid octagonal palace lantern. She opened the lampshade, struck a fire starter to ignite the wick, then replaced the shade and set the lamp on the table in front of Li Shu. The room instantly brightened by several degrees. Li Shu nodded in satisfaction and immediately resumed her embroidery.
“Miss, our household keeps so many embroiderers. Wouldn’t it be better to let them do this? Otherwise, we’re just raising them for nothing,” Baozi puffed out her cheeks.
“What do you know?” Li Shu rolled her eyes. “These pillowcases are for the wedding. Of course they have to be embroidered by my own hands.” She then continued stitching her mandarin ducks—fat ducks, really. “Every stitch is sewn one by one. I don’t want that stinking toad to smell another woman’s scent when he sleeps. Even the embroiderers won’t do!”
“Let’s rest for a while, Miss. You really haven’t rested in ages,” Baozi pleaded again. She had been trying all along to get Li Shu to take a break. Her young mistress had been up since dawn and hadn’t rested at all—Baozi saw it clearly and felt it painfully in her heart.
“Father and Zhu Ping’an’s family have already fixed the date. You know how tight the schedule is,” Li Shu said. “His family is pressing hard. When we return this time, it’s to meet the date.”
As she spoke, Li Shu’s delicate cheeks flushed rosy red, her voice tinged with complaint. Yet in her pitch-black, ink-like eyes, a bright sparkle danced—filled with the shy anticipation of a young girl.
“Yes… the master sent a letter,” Baozi said, her own face reddening. After all, Miss had only arranged for her alone to accompany her as a dowry maid and future chamber attendant.
“Miss, the letter that the future master’s family asked our household to pass along still hasn’t been shown to him,” Baozi reminded her.
“Oh, that letter?” Li Shu replied absentmindedly. “I set it down somewhere without thinking, and I couldn’t find it when we left. Anyway, he’ll know once we get home. There’s no need to tell him now.”
Immersed in her embroidery, Li Shu gently shook her head. The needle in her hand guided threads of various colors as they wove through the pillowcase. The fat ducks on it grew more and more vibrant by the moment.
Mm-hm. Baozi nodded, resting her chin on her hands as she watched her young mistress embroider.
When the master’s letter arrived, the future son-in-law hadn’t yet gone on leave. The Zhu family’s letter to him had also been delivered together through the Li household. The letter spoke of Miss and the young master’s marriage. It said that Madam Zhu, Chen shi, had invited numerous fortune-tellers, all of whom declared that Miss and the young master were a match made in heaven. They said Miss possessed a “prosperous husband’s fate,” that the young master would rise in rank and fortune, achieving great wealth and honor—and that the earlier they married, the better it would be for him.
Among them was an especially renowned Daoist priest. After examining Miss and the young master’s birth dates and eight characters, he declared that Miss bore the aspect of a soaring phoenix. The young master, he said, was originally destined as a koi—but upon meeting Miss, he would transform into a dragon. A carp that leaps the Dragon Gate becomes a dragon; this was a marriage forged through eight lifetimes of cultivation. This Daoist was the most famous in all of Anqing Prefecture, someone who only divined one fortune per month. If he hadn’t happened to pass through Xiahe Village and asked for a sip of water at Zhu Ping’an’s home, Madam Zhu, Chen shi, would never have had the chance to invite him for divination.
It was this Daoist who insisted that the wedding must take place before the fifth lunar month. He said the fourth month brought warming weather, when river fish swam upstream—precisely the time for the carp to leap the Dragon Gate.
As for the fifth month, he declared it an inauspicious month. Snakes, scorpions, centipedes, geckos, and toads—the five poisonous creatures—would all become active. Ghosts and specters would roam freely, epidemics would spread, miasma would rise everywhere. The overall environment would be unfavorable for a carp’s leap to dragonhood.
He also said that the fifth month was when the “Fetal Deity” toured the human world. This deity governed conception and the safe birth of children, and during the fifth month, it would reside upon each household’s bed. To marry during that month would offend the Fetal Deity, who would then refuse to bestow healthy, intelligent offspring.
The Daoist calculated an auspicious date: the twenty-eighth day of the fourth lunar month. It avoided clashes with both Miss and the young master’s birth dates and was, by his reckoning, the most suitable day of the year.
All the other diviners echoed the same sentiment—May was an evil month, unsuitable for marriage.
In short, every fortune-teller Madam Zhu, Chen consulted, every temple and Daoist abbey she visited, everyone who examined their birth dates, all said the same thing: the wedding must take place before the fifth month.
Thus, Madam Zhu urged them to hurry back for the marriage, setting the date firmly on the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month. It was said that the young master’s family had already prepared everything—the new bridal chamber cleaned and arranged, all items readied, even the relatives notified.
The master had arranged the sea journey so that they would arrive just in time. After returning home, there would even be a few days to spare.