Chapter 519: The Bridal Chamber and Decorated Candles

The poem “To See or Not to See” is one that easily stirs the depths of the human heart—that was precisely why Zhu Ping’an chose it.

He first encountered this poem back in 2008, when he came across it in a novel. From that moment on, it etched itself firmly into his memory, lingering there like a faint yet persistent echo. Many people mistakenly attribute this poem to Cangyang Gyatso, but that is, in truth, a misunderstanding. The real author is a Han Chinese woman named Zaxi Lamu Duoduo, and the poem itself was only written in 2007.

Although the poem had nothing to do with love when it was first composed, almost everyone who reads it instinctively associates it with romance—as though its lines naturally invite such interpretations, quietly guiding the reader’s emotions in that direction.

It is a poem that conquers the eyes, enchants the ears, and grips the soul. And so, Zhu Ping’an chose “To See or Not to See” as his stepping stone, his way of knocking on the door.

The result, fortunately, did not disappoint him. After the poem “To See or Not to See” was delivered inside, it took no more than ten minutes before the third gate was finally opened to him.

The moon had risen to the tips of the willow branches, and lovers made their appointments in the soft glow of dusk. Beneath the swaying veil of moonlight, Zhu Ping’an stepped into the third courtyard.

As he crossed into the courtyard, he had already prepared himself mentally. From the moment he entered the residence, each gate had come with its own trial. He assumed that the final door—the bridal chamber—would surely present yet another challenge. After all, hadn’t Su Xiaomei famously tested her groom Qin Shaoyou three times on their wedding night? People had always been fond of the number three. He had already passed two trials—surely one more awaited him.

As soon as he entered the courtyard, Zhu Ping’an noticed that one of the personal maids standing by the bridal chamber door held a scroll tied with a red ribbon. He immediately guessed that this scroll was likely the third test of the night—perhaps a question or challenge written within.

“Greetings, Young Master…”

Four personal maids stood at the entrance to the bridal chamber. As Zhu Ping’an approached, they greeted him softly, their voices gentle and restrained, before lowering their bodies in a respectful bow. Among them was the round-faced little maid, her cheeks flushed crimson with shyness, as though she herself were the one about to enter the bridal chamber.

“Oh… hello.”

Zhu Ping’an lifted his hand slightly in a half-hearted gesture of acknowledgment, still unaccustomed to being treated with such formal respect.

When he saw the bun-faced little maid, he couldn’t help but smile faintly and give her a small nod as a greeting. At once, her already flushed cheeks deepened into an even brighter red.

Yet, to Zhu Ping’an’s surprise, no test came.

After greeting him, the maids simply led him directly into the bridal chamber.

In fact, the maid holding the scroll had initially made a motion as if to unfurl it—clearly preparing to present a challenge. But the bun-faced little maid quickly leaned close and whispered something into her ear. After a brief exchange of hushed words, the maid quietly rolled the scroll back up.

And just like that, the anticipated trial never materialized. Zhu Ping’an was guided straight into the chamber.

As he stepped inside, the sight before him made him hesitate. The red carpet beneath his feet, the gleaming gold and jade decorations—it all felt so opulent that he almost didn’t dare to step forward. Even by modern standards, the bridal chamber was extravagantly luxurious, dazzling in its splendor.

“This way, Young Master.”

While Zhu Ping’an was still marveling at the room’s grandeur, a neatly dressed older matron in her forties emerged from behind a screen and gestured for him to follow.

He did so, and before long, they reached the innermost bedroom—the very heart of the bridal chamber.

On the bedroom door were not only the bright red “double happiness” characters but also two intricate paper-cut designs. One depicted two small white rabbits nestled together upon a cassia leaf. The symbolism was layered—“leaf” sounding like “night,” and their entwined forms suggesting intimacy, implying a night of tender closeness and the blessing of enduring affection. The other showed fish and water alongside a swing—representing harmony and union, with the swing symbolizing longevity, together conveying the wish for everlasting marital bliss.

Inside, the room was furnished with exquisite craftsmanship: a delicate dressing table, elegant side tables, an incense burner, a display shelf filled with curios and antiques, fine porcelain vases from Jingdezhen, wine vessels, books, a sword, and even a guqin resting quietly in one corner. The shelves displayed rare treasures of gold, jade, and porcelain, while the vases held blooming peonies and lotus flowers in full, radiant glory. On the table, two thick red candles—each as wide as a wrist—burned steadily, their flickering flames casting a warm, intimate glow that heightened the atmosphere of the wedding night.

“To share a boat for ten years, to share a pillow for a hundred.”

The marriage bed itself was enormous—luxurious beyond measure. Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but indulge in a mischievous thought: even if three or four people were on it, it still wouldn’t feel crowded.

Seated upon the bed was a figure as delicate as jade. She wore a bright red wedding robe, and over her head was draped a finely woven red veil, concealing her face entirely.

“With the auspicious scale comes good fortune and protection. Young Master, you may now lift the bridal veil.”

The matron spoke as she handed him a jade ruyi scepter. Its design resembled a ceremonial scale, marked with stars—the six of the Southern Dipper, the seven of the Northern Dipper, along with the three stars of fortune, prosperity, and longevity. Sixteen stars in total, aligned with the heavenly stems and earthly branches, symbolizing great auspiciousness.

Zhu Ping’an accepted the jade ruyi and moved to lift the veil.

“Young Master, it’s upside down—upside down!” the matron quickly reminded him.

Pfft… what a fool. Why is he so flustered? He’s even holding the scale the wrong way.

Beneath the red veil, the bride couldn’t help but curve her lips into a faint smile.

This thing even has a correct orientation? Zhu Ping’an scratched his head in mild embarrassment. Under the matron’s guidance, he adjusted the jade ruyi properly and reached toward the veil once more.

The moment the red veil was lifted, it felt as though the entire bridal chamber lit up.

His heart skipped. Then raced.

Beneath the veil, Li Shu appeared like a being woven from contradictions—part celestial, part bewitching, part irresistibly charming. A trace of ethereal grace lingered about her, yet there was also a hint of something dangerously alluring. With a single glance, she conveyed a thousand emotions, her beauty unfolding in layers—captivating, overwhelming, unforgettable.

What a calamity of beauty…

Zhu Ping’an felt his throat grow dry, as though parched.

“A match made in heaven, may all go as you wish. Congratulations, Young Master—congratulations, Young Lady,” the matron said with a broad smile, offering her blessings.

In wealthy households, ceremonies were always elaborate. In an ordinary village like Xiahe, such formalities would be unthinkable. There, the groom would return from drinking with guests, still reeking of alcohol, lift the bride’s veil, and the two would simply proceed to consummate the marriage—one night of passion worth a thousand pieces of gold.

Not like here, where every step was guided, every ritual observed, and even a matron stood by to oversee the proceedings.

After the veil was lifted, the matron recited another string of auspicious phrases before guiding Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu to sit facing each other across a low table. Upon it were dishes of millet and grain, a serving of meat, a jar of aged nu’er hong wine, and several small plates containing sauces and condiments.

This ritual was called “sharing the same offering.” The meat symbolized the “offering,” as described in the Book of Rites: “When the bride arrives, the groom greets her and they share the same meal and drink from paired cups, thus uniting their bodies, equalizing their status, and fostering intimacy.”

After this came the ritual of drinking from joined cups—the ancient equivalent of the modern cross-cup wine.

It was performed in three rounds, known as the “three libations.” For the first two, the matron poured the wine into goblets; for the third, they used gourd cups.

Unlike modern customs, the process here was more intricate. Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu first drank half of their wine, then combined the remaining halves, divided it again, crossed their arms, and exchanged cups before finishing the drink. Afterwards, they tossed the cups—one upright, one inverted—beneath the bed, symbolizing a union that would last a hundred years.

The gourd cups imparted a faint bitterness to the wine. Moreover, Li Shu had only taken the lightest of sips during the ritual, leaving most of the drinking to Zhu Ping’an. Combined with the earlier rounds, he now felt a slight dizziness creeping in.

“Tied hair as husband and wife, loving each other without doubt.”

Following the wine ritual came the ceremony of binding hair. Using golden scissors, a lock was cut from Zhu Ping’an’s left side and Li Shu’s right, then tied together with red thread and placed beneath the pillow.

“A single moment is worth a thousand pieces of gold. This old servant shall not disturb you any longer.”

With that, the matron tactfully withdrew, leaving the bridal chamber quiet once more.

Now, only Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu remained.

Their eyes met.

And for a fleeting moment, the air itself seemed to ripple with a delicate, unspoken tension—soft, intimate, and faintly intoxicating.