Chapter 1: The Substitute Bride
“The auspicious hour has arrived!”
The matchmaker’s cry rang out beyond the courtyard gates. Beneath a heavy veil of crimson silk embroidered with mandarin ducks, Chi Ying felt the world vanish. To the rhythmic thunder of drums and a chorus of hollow congratulations, she stepped into the wedding sedan.
From the residence of Earl Changyuan to the Estate of Prince Zhao, from the city’s west to its east,the journey spanned half the capital. The sedan swayed and jolted, and the festive trill of the suona horns seemed to catch a mournful chill in the biting early spring wind.
Along the route, the whispers of the onlookers were relentless.
“To marry one’s own daughter off to a blind madman… it’s a wonder the Earl and his wife can still show their faces to guests with such wide smiles.”
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“Prince Zhao is a monster. They say his methods of torture are beyond endurance. That poor girl is likely walking straight into her grave.”
“Or a widow’s life. Word is the Prince is so gravely wounded he couldn't even show up to claim his bride today. She’ll be lucky if she isn't wearing funeral white by morning.”
The crowd gossiped with morbid glee, some even placing bets on how many days she would survive in that den of wolves.
None of them knew. The bride inside the sedan was not Chi Yingyue, the Earl’s legitimate daughter.
It was Chi Ying, the illegitimate third daughter, raised like an exile at the family’s country estate.
Under the swaying red veil, the girl’s face was as radiant as a hibiscus, her skin like cream. She sat perfectly upright, maintaining the poise expected of a noble lady, but the bone-white grip of her fingers on her handkerchief betrayed the terror coursing through her.
How could she not be terrified?
A discarded daughter, used as a pawn in a bait-and-switch to marry a notorious "God of Slaughter",a man with one foot already in the underworld. Anyone else would have collapsed; the mere thought of him was enough to turn one's blood to ice.
Before the wedding, her stepmother, Lady Yin, had provided her mother with a few days' worth of precious medicine. Seeing her mother, bedridden for years,finally regaining a flicker of color in her cheeks, Chi Ying knew the trap was set. This marriage was a debt she had no choice but to pay.
Her mother was merely a concubine. Seven years ago, Chi Ying was accused of colliding into a pregnant Lady Yin while playing, causing a miscarriage. Her father, the Earl, had flown into a blind rage, lashing out at mother and daughter with a whip.
Chi Ying knew with absolute certainty she hadn't touched the woman’s belly. She hadn't even been close. But in that house, no one listened to the truth.
Her mother had shielded her, enduring forty agonizing lashes that nearly claimed her life. Since then, her health had withered. Last winter, she almost didn't make it. Chi Ying had escaped the estate guards and crawled back to the Earl’s manor to beg for medicine. It was then that Lady Yin saw her face, and a cruel new plan was born.
Chi Ying closed her eyes, her fingernails digging deep into her palms. Even now, she and her mother were still paying the price for a sin that never happened.
At dusk, the procession slowed to a halt outside Prince Zhao’s estate.
The celebratory drums died away. In their place came the rhythmic, heavy tread of guards and the cold, metallic rasp of weapons shifting against armor.
As she stepped out of the sedan, Chi Ying’s mind went blank to everything but survival. She held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs, terrified that a single look would expose the fraud.
Fortunately, it was a routine patrol. No one looked twice.
A woman’s voice, warm and seasoned with a professional smile, approached. “Your Highness, I am Qionglin, a servant of Consort Zhuang. I am here to welcome the Princess Consort.”
The cold sweat in Chi Ying's palms felt like ice. She forced her voice to remain steady. “My thanks, Auntie Qionglin.”
“His Highness has not yet recovered from his injuries and cannot greet you personally,” Qionglin explained. “Consort Zhuang is also bedridden and requires peace. Consequently, there will be no grand banquet today. I hope the Princess Consort understands; His Highness and the Consort will surely make it up to you in the future.”
Chi Ying nodded slightly.
She was a substitute; she didn't care for pomp or prestige. In fact, she preferred to be a ghost in this house.
Yet, perhaps because she was too compliant, Qionglin stole a second look at the new bride.
The Earl’s daughter was supposed to be a pampered, high-born lady. Given the Prince’s reputation and his current state, any other girl would be weeping or complaining about the lack of etiquette and the insult to her station. This girl, however, accepted everything with a soft, yielding grace.
It didn't match the reports.
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Last year, when the Emperor bestowed the marriage, Consort Zhuang had investigated the Chi family’s daughter. The word was that she was arrogant and tyrannical. But apparently, a few months of seclusion before the wedding, and perhaps some strict tutoring, had filed down her sharp edges.
Regardless, a docile temperament was a blessing in a house like this.
“Watch your step, Princess. This way, please.”
Chi Ying followed, led by the matchmaker through the motions, stepping over the saddle and the brazier, until they reached the inner chambers.
With that, the ceremony was over.
No formal bows to heaven and earth, no guests, no traditional rituals of the wedding bed. Not even a groom.
As the matchmaker finally removed the veil, Chi Ying looked at the empty bed and let out a silent, trembling breath of relief.
Qionglin stepped past the screen and froze. Before her was a face that could put the spring blossoms to shame.
The bride’s brows were like distant mountains shrouded in mist; her eyes held the depth of autumn pools. With her slender waist and the ruby-red fullness of her lips, she looked more like a painting than a person.
Even for a woman like Qionglin, who had spent twenty years amidst the legendary beauties of the Imperial Palace, the sight was breathtaking.
Following her gaze to the empty expanse of the bridal suite, Qionglin quickly offered an explanation. "This is Shuyu Pavilion, Your Highness. Please, make yourself at home here. Prince Zhao is currently recovering at Yangui Tower to the east. Once his strength returns, he will surely come to fulfill his marital duties."
Chi Ying nodded softly. "Thank you, Auntie."
Noticing a flicker of surprise in Qionglin’s expression, Chi Ying’s heart gave a nervous lurch. Was I too calm? Too agreeable?
She realized she was acting like someone who didn't care about the marriage, or the man she had just married. As "Chi Yingyue," the legitimate daughter, she couldn't afford to seem indifferent to her own husband’s fate.
Carefully weighing her words, she added a note of feigned concern: "How is His Highness... faring? Do they know who did this to him?"
Qionglin’s expression clouded. She sighed, looking away. "It is a long and painful story."
Chi Ying could piece together the fragments of the tragedy herself. Though she had lived a secluded life at the Estate with her mother, Concubine Xue, far from the rot of capital politics, her father and Lady Yin had briefed her just enough to ensure she wouldn't make mistakes.
It all traced back to the Prince's fallen brother, Prince Ding.
Five years ago, the eldest prince, a man of legendary virtue and intellect, was lured into an ambush and killed by a rain of arrows. The loss had broken his mother, Consort Zhuang, leaving her mind fractured by grief. When Prince Zhao moved into his own estate, the Emperor allowed the half-lucid Consort to live with him.
Then, last year, the ugly truth surfaced: Prince Rong had conspired with traitors to eliminate his rival. While Prince Zhao was hunting for the proof to avenge his brother, he was lured into a trap of his own. He escaped with his life, but at the cost of his sight.
A blind prince with no hope for the throne. A mother lost to madness. They had lost the Emperor’s favor, yet someone out there was still determined to see them extinguished.
It was this very desperation, this fall from grace, that gave the Earl of Changyuan the audacity to swap his daughters. Under the nose of the Son of Heaven, he was gambling that a blind man and a madwoman would never notice the difference.
Seeing Qionglin’s reluctance to speak further, Chi Ying didn't press her. She had performed her duty of "concern."
Qionglin gestured toward the door, and a middle-aged woman followed by four maids stepped forward, bowing low.
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"This is Auntie Fangchun," Qionglin introduced. "She will assist you in managing the inner household. And these four—Qingzhi, Yinqiao, Sangzhi, and Peilan, will attend to your daily needs."
Chi Ying acknowledged them with a gentle voice, telling them to rise.
Inside, she felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. She had brought two maids from her father’s house—spies, undoubtedly, sent by Lady Yin. Now she had five more. She looked at the line of bowing women, unable to tell which side posed the greater threat.
One foot wrong, she reminded herself, and the entire Earl’s manor falls for the crime of deceiving the Emperor. And my mother... she will be the first to suffer.
As night fell, her maids Xiangqin and Baoshan began the long process of undressing her and preparing her for bed.
Chi Ying felt a persistent itch of discomfort. For years at the farm, there had been only one old woman to cook and wash. With her mother’s limited mobility, it was Chi Ying who had done the heavy lifting, the feeding, the cleaning. Now, she had to suppress the urge to do things herself, forcing herself to sit still and play the part of a lady who had never lifted a finger in her life.
After her bath, she sat on the daybed to rest. Auntie Fangchun entered, carrying a slender, silk-bound book. "Your Highness."
Chi Ying took the book, opening it to a page that made her face burn instantly. It was a manual of "instruction"—depicting men and women in various states of intimate embrace.
Fangchun looked at the bride under the warm glow of the candlelight. Without the heavy bridal makeup, Chi Ying’s skin looked like fresh snow under moonlight, her beauty so pure and ethereal that the cosmetics seemed like a vulgar insult to her natural grace.
Shaking off her momentary daze, Fangchun spoke softly. "I presume the Countess gave you instructions on the wedding night rituals, but our Prince’s situation is... unique. Consort Zhuang specifically asked me to offer a few pointers to ensure things proceed smoothly."
Chi Ying lowered her head, masking her shame.
In truth, Lady Yin hadn't taught her a thing. Everyone assumed Prince Zhao was so broken he was likely impotent. Lady Yin hadn't wasted the breath.
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"The Prince may be blind," Fangchun continued, "but he is a proud man. He dislikes being fussed over and handles his own grooming and dressing with the precision of a sighted man. However, he is entirely inexperienced in the matters of the bed. He has never kept a concubine or a maid. Combined with his blindness... the Princess Consort will need to be the proactive one."
Chi Ying’s eyes dropped even lower. Proactive? I don't even know what I'm supposed to do...
"Since His Highness cannot see," Fangchun’s voice remained clinical yet encouraging, "he cannot appreciate beauty through his eyes. You must use touch, kisses, and... mounting... to rouse his interest. If he wishes to explore, please guide him to find the right places..."
Fangchun turned the page to a series of positions designed to encourage conception.
The page Chi Ying landed on was a vivid depiction of the "woman on top." The visual was so jarring that her fingers trembled, and a deep, blooming crimson spread from the tips of her ears down to the curve of her neck.
TRANSLATOR: Hi everyone, i hope you enjoy this!
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