40 Preparing for Marriage

Her slender fingers traced over the fan on my bedside table. I should have kept it in a chest, but I had accidentally spent the past day trying to figure out what to make of it, unwilling to let it from my sight.

"Tomorrow is your auspicious day. As your makeshift maternal company, my apologies for burdening you today."

Per Northern marriage custom that I had learned along with my lessons on etiquette, a mother or elderly maternal figure was to stay up with me the night before the marriage, keeping me company until the exact strike of midnight. It was supposed to be an extremely private event, one where she would tell me what to watch out for in marriage and share past experiences.

But we simply stared at each other, equally silent as I completed the procedure list.

The words pleading her to keep the false prophecy a secret itched at the back of my throat. With each additional stroke I added, the more I wanted to voice my concerns. But yet, I feared that I would come off as too eager and seeing her daughter's health as part of a trade.

Waving my hands over the ink to help it dry before offering the manuscript to Princess Leping, I could only hope that she would receive my token with earnest.

After a few moments, she folded the parchment into a perfect half and yet another time before carefully tucking it into her gown.

"You must want me to keep silent," she read my mind, and I tried to hide my embarrassment from taking to my face. "What is proper is what I follow."

My heart thumped as she spoke those enigmatic words, not knowing whether that meant yes or no.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, gesturing me to her side as she rubbed the temples of her head. A faint but helpless smile tugged on her lips as she spoke. "The night before my wedding, the then-Crown Prince snuck into my room after midnight. I chased him out since I was raised to value tradition over all, and ever since then, our marriage bore a sheet of awkwardness." Taking my hand into hers, she lightly squeezed it, her facial expression softening.

"But Ying is a good child who would never do such a reckless thing. Adhering to tradition and rites of power lies within his very bone. Even as a child, he knew to never step out the lines. Thus, he was always the favorite, constantly compared to every other sibling."

As much as I hated to admit it, a sinking feeling set as I realized the court musician was definitely not the prince in disguise.

"From observation, you also have a good heart. Do not let misleading prophecies as such blind you," she cast a caring but firm look at me. "It's no fun being an empress, much less being married to an emperor."

"Enough with the talk of the useless past," she sat up straighter, recomposing her slumped shoulders. "Tomorrow, do not be alarmed by the rest of my siblings. Knowing them, they will be sure to make friendly trouble. When you hear them outside of the tent at night, remember it's just a part of the custom. They'll leave when they know it's too much. So don't worry; you and Ying can continue with…"

A suggestive blush crept up her cheeks, and my face was in turn set ablaze.

"The streets will be crowded with people. Red lanterns will dot the buildings, and he'll be waiting for you, beckoning your name with a gold carriage at his side. But you won't see any of it; for, the fan you will hold shall be perfectly shielding your face and eyes. If you dare to sneak a peak, all you will see from the peripherals are his golden-embroidered red robes."

A droplet of water fell on the back of my hand, sliding down the side and disappearing into my sleeve as if it was never there. Looking upwards, I found Princess Leping tearing up.

She was looking straight at me, but her pupils were not following my motions, instead trapped in another time.

"Then you would bow three times and be escorted to a tent. He might whisper about how the tent was a remnant from the nomadic times and joke that we were nearly being wedded under the stars…"

By now, my sleeve was visibly wet.

"Empress Dow..." I stopped myself from saying her title, remembering how it signified her status as a widow.

Her trance broke, shattering into a million pieces. "Sorry, an eyelash must have accidentally fallen into my eye," she explained hurriedly, plastering on a fake smile. "I don't know what has gotten into me today," she looked up, tilting her head in a manner such that the tears wouldn't fall.

We sat there in silence. If my aunt was here, she would surely have something to say every moment. But this was Sui, I reminded myself. I shifted uncomfortably in my position, not daring to make any sounds. All of my questions rotted away in my stomach, never seeing the light of day. Finally, it was midnight, and per tradition, it was time for her to leave.

"You don't want to end up like me," each word sank into my bones. "I promise you that you do not want to see your loved ones fight to the death over a useless chair of gold. So swear to me that you will never consider the prophecy to be real."

Momentarily, I was dumbstruck, not knowing what to say, her words vaguely reminiscent of the Empress of Liang's reminder to not live as she did.

Hesitantly, I nodded.

"Unless you one day threaten my daughter, you have my word. I have never seen the letter before," she patted the area on her chest where she had tucked the manuscript. She paused, "But if you do one day prove otherwise, remember that my memory is prone to failure."

I nodded more firmly, my eyes mirroring the resolution. Even if I wanted to plot after the throne for Jiangling's sake, the Prince of Jin and his perfect adherence to the rules would not let me step out of line.

But what about the attempt to rid me? That surely wasn't strict adherence to imperial commands.

"New sister-in-law, you are well suited for Ying. I sincerely wish you both the best."

The door closed behind her.

Outside, a nightingale foretold a tale of sorrow.