Chapter 3

"Coming, coming, hurry up now. Just cover her with the wedding veil and be done with it. A fool like her still expects good treatment?" The sharp voice belonged to An's second wife. Her pair of keen eyes glared viciously at An Qixi, hatred swirling in their depths. She suddenly pinched An Qixi's chin, clicking her tongue. "Look at this face. Worthy of being the number one beauty's offspring. She's even three parts more beautiful than your short-lived mother, the number one beauty. What a pity... she's a simpleton, hee hee..."

An Qixi endured the stinging pain in her chin, still feigning a blank, ignorant expression. *Such tender skin must be bruised black and blue by this vicious woman. Sooner or later, this grandaunt will pay you back. Just you wait, ugly woman!*

*But what did she mean by 'number one beauty'? 'Short-lived mother'? And is her face really that beautiful? She had never known what she looked like. The key issue was that the facilities where she lived were too poor; they didn't even have a basin of water. This bath was her first in half a month.*

"What are you doing? Trying to pinch her to death so your daughter can replace Chuyi and marry that good-for-nothing?" The third wife spoke up with a sneer. The second wife abruptly let go, lingering fear in her heart. Her daughter was meant to marry into nobility; how could she marry that waste of space?

The glaringly bright red wedding veil fell upon the heavy golden crown, blocking out all the gazes she couldn't understand and loathed. Only then did she dare to let her eyelids tremble. Her chin ached terribly. That damn old woman.

Her whole body was being carried on someone's back. Incessant, messy incantations murmured by her ear. At every step, there were congratulatory voices fawning and flattering. She felt this road was fatally long, her heart a mix of panic and relief.

In the half-month since she'd arrived, she had never left the Prime Minister's mansion. She didn't know what the outside world looked like. If she could leave this place where everyone treated her as an enemy, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad new beginning.

However, it was said that Prince Xian and An Chuyi were childhood sweethearts, deeply in love. She didn't dare imagine what would happen when that man saw the bride he had joyfully welcomed wasn't the one in his heart—would he take out his anger on innocent her?

Her long, dense lashes trembled lightly. A fleeting, unreadable emotion flashed beneath her eyes. For now, she could only take one step at a time. Life or death, it was all up to fate.

Before the Prime Minister's mansion gates, the long wedding procession stretched out of sight. Sedan chairs of dowry, draped in red and hung with colors, were carried out one by one. Betrothal gifts were carried in, one by one. Red light crisscrossed; the spectacle was grand and lively, drawing gasps of amazement from the crowd. Truly, wealth and power! Even the spectacle of the wedding guests was this震撼.

There was no bridal sedan. Instead, there was that noble carriage representing imperial authority, spacious enough to seat eight without crowding. Its exterior was encased in golden walls; golden light flowed over every inch, proclaiming supreme nobility. Atop the carriage sat a goose-egg-sized night pearl. Four chestnut-red horses pulled in unison, each wearing golden bells around their necks and golden horseshoes—magnificent and extraordinary.

The crowd held its breath, waiting to see if their War God Prince was truly unable to move. But to their disappointment, the carriage reached the gates and went silent inside. It didn't stir until the wedding matron carried the bride—clad in red and gold, her head covered by the wedding veil—out from the mansion. Only then did the carriage move.

The golden curtain was lifted by a large, white-jade hand. In the sunlight, the curtain opened, and a figure in pure white leaped out. Just like that, he bathed in the sunlight, stretching lazily and indulgently, his whole body unfolding. A head of jet-black hair emitted a bewitching luster in the sun.

A face of white jade, features exquisite as a masterpiece from a court painter's brush. A pair of seductive peach blossom eyes narrowed slightly, sizing up the red-clad figure being carried motionless on the matron's back. Crimson lips curled up faintly. His body moved like a ghost toward her.

The crowd felt their very breath stolen by this poetic, picturesque beauty. Such an immortal-like man—white robes like snow, black hair like ink, sunlight itself becoming his backdrop. Every movement tugged at the onlookers' nerves.

The young misses peeking from inside the mansion gates were all dumbstruck, hearts pounding wildly. The most handsome man they'd ever seen was Beitang Xian, and that was two years ago. This man before them was equally beautiful, turning their souls upside down!

Huang Ziyuan paid the crowd's gazes no mind. In one move, he scooped An Qixi off the matron's back into his arms. Amidst the gasps of the crowd, he curved his crimson lips in delight. The smaller frame in his arms was unbelievably soft. That wisp of clear yet intense fragrance made him inhale deeply several times; his chest filled with the faint scent of pear blossoms, sweet and alluring.

This was his first time touching An Chuyi. He hadn't expected such a quiet woman, and one who smelled this good. She'd probably taste good too. Huang Ziyuan didn't even realize his sinful hands had intentionally or unintentionally kneaded the soft body in his arms a few times. He only felt the palm-full of softness made him... not want to let go.

No wonder she could make Beitang Xian lose his soul, forget sleep and food, devote himself utterly. Just one embrace set the heart racing. Truly a bewitching creature!

Striding toward the carriage, he tossed An Qixi inside under the horrified gazes of everyone. In that split second, the wedding veil flipped up a tiny arc. An Qixi's sheep-fat-jade-fine skin and face were reflected without warning in his sharp, falcon-like eyes.

Just that one glance froze him in place. His hands still held the throwing posture. A heart that had always been frivolous skipped a beat uncontrollably. Not because he'd glimpsed the peerless beauty beneath the veil, nor because he was amazed by that beautiful face. It was because he saw an adorable expression on that delicate little face: puffed-up anger, gnashing teeth, yet helpless resignation.

Huang Ziyuan had never imagined his first sight of An Chuyi would be now, not a day later. Those lively cat-like eyes held anger and mist, yet not a trace of repulsiveness. Instead, they held a pure, innocent, return-to-simplicity cuteness that made one want to draw close.

*So... this is the beloved Beitang Xian has been yearning for day and night? Truly a little vixen... how did that brat get so lucky?*

A laugh of unprecedented joy escaped his chest. His smiling face grew much more genuine because of her faint, angry, foolish charm. Then, facing the still-dumbfounded crowd, he bared his teeth in a grin, cupped his hands, and said, "Thank you all for witnessing the ceremony. The bride has been collected by Prince Xian. You lot hurry off to find a place to drink!" His words fell, and he personally drove the carriage away in a whoosh.

This... was truly a wedding reception ceremony unlike any other...