43 Wedded at Last

The air whooshed around my legs as my feet dangled in the air, creating a sense of helpless dependency, almost like I could be dropped to the ground at any given moment.

Although his grasp was polite, he held me solidly, not even shaking. I was nestled within a cocoon of red, his sleeves blending into one with the dancing flames and creating a pocket of warmth.

Yet, there still was that inkling of doubt. He was a stranger, after all, and one that didn't want me as wife at that. If he dropped me now, the marriage he desperately wanted to break would be over.

Was I slipping? Was he letting me slowly slide downwards? With every slight movement he made, my heart would do an entire somersault.

I would fall onto a pile of coal, and their before-low flames would engulf me whole. I gulped, my hands slightly tremoring as I held the fan outwards.

"I'm jumping now," he muttered softly under his breath, presumably seeing my hesitation. "If you're scared, put one arm around me." His harsh Northern accent blended into the shrieking crowds, and their shrill cries drowned out whatever other instructions he said.

From behind the fan, my eyes went wide. Surely, one arm was enough to support the fan, but the thought of voluntarily putting my arm around a man was lewd.

"Hurry!" The crowd cheered him on, a thousand voices merging into one.

No, I couldn't make him think of me as weak and hesitant. Taking a deep breath, I snaked my right arm around his back, my face flushed from feeling his tense muscles underneath the red cloth.

I slightly buried my face and the fan into his chest, finding the position much more comfortable. In case he let me fall, if I maintained such a posture, I would be able to immediately jump onto my feet.

His arms tightened around me, and I reflexively strengthened my grasp on his back.

He jumped.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

With one ear unintentionally pressing against his chest, I could no longer tell whether the pounding heartbeat was mine or his. Amidst the commotion, all I seemed to hear were its rhythmic pounding.

Not until my feet were set softly onto the ground did I realize that we were already over the coal pit. Quickly, I put two hands on the fan handle once more, trying to mask my embarrassment. Poise and elegance. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was the face of Liang.

We were the ones with culture, not these pretending barbarians who treated rituals as a coarse display of power. I would show this Prince of Jin that he was not the only one whose alternate name was formality.

"Now enter the main hall, where the couples shall not long stall!"

I walked beside him, unknowing of when to stop. Although I had practiced before back at Princess Leping's manor and memorized each step, I was unfamiliar with the Prince of Jin's place. Each time I extended my foot outward, I feared that I had stepped out of line.

With peripheral vision, seeing the adjacent red marker stop, as did I.

In front of me, I could make out two hazy shapes in the distance. It must have been the Sui emperor and empress.

Thump.

Thump.

This time, I was sure the sound was mine, a clear reminder of what was at stake.

"Let's hear the poem!" An unknown boyish voice cheered, soon corrected by who I presumed to be the empress for his lack of manners.

"A'Mo, what poem did you prepare for the bride?" She in turn asked.

There was a pause. "Father Emperor and Mother Empress, the poem is titled 'Jiangling Girl's Song,' a tribute to my beloved consort's homeland," His deep voice rang throughout the room, an exact replica of the musician's, and I shuddered at the thought.

"Rain fell from the Heavens above, and water swept under the bridge. Stumbling across the girl's ribbon undone, it knotted two hearts into one."

To read the poem was one thing. To hear him recite it was a whole other world. His voice was rough but strangely soothing, telling of a poetic promise that I found myself more inclined than ever to believing. For a moment, it brought me back to the coursing streams and prose-filled home that I had known and missed. A sudden pang of yearning hit me, harder than ever since I arrived here.

"Good poem. Good poem. What does the bride think?" A man asked. I, of course, nodded, the golden hairpins atop my hairdo bobbing slightly.

Of course, how could I let myself forget. No, this never was a union of two people.

The room erupted into cheers, not at all like the solemn attitude for official rituals such as a wedding back at home.

The emperor and emperor must have given their consent, and the court servant immediately screamed. "Bow to the emperor and empress!"

I dipped into a formal curtsy, going lower than the groom and holding my stance for a moment longer.

"Rise!"

"Now bow between the groom and bride!"

Breathe.

I turned to face the Prince of Jin, and he did the same. We must have been standing as if a mirror and its reflection, and much to my relief, I had not taken a single step further than he.

After this moment now, there would be no turning back, whether it be for me or him. A thousand thoughts flooded into my mind, some that had plagued me for days and others that spontaneously erupted.

I would be bound to this barbaric land as its wife, forever destined to be the ghost of a foreign country even in death. And he would be forced to bid goodbye to the promise of power a high-ranked Sui official's daughter could offer, taking instead a "princess" of a mere weak vassal land to be his sworn bride.

Seeing his hazy shadow, for a split second, the notion that we were shadows of one another crossed my mind.

We were but shadow puppets playing our assigned roles as the invisible strings tugged on our backs. For the reunification, he sacrificed his political career and me my freedom. But I suppose, as the second son, he was bound to be an inattentive duke anyway. And born a curse, I never enjoyed supposed life even as a commoner.

Perhaps, this was for the better.

There would be no backing away now. A smile crossed my painted lips, a genuine one as I had come to peace with my decision.

At least, singing a duet on a stage is less frightening than being a soloist.

As he too bowed down, from behind the fan, I snuck a glance.