Chapter Three: The Investiture Ceremony

Blood Snow seemed oblivious, continuing to 'read' her book, while the little girl mischievously stuck out her tongue.

“Your Grace, Grand Eunuch Miao Jian from the King's side has arrived,” a young maid hurried in, bowed her head respectfully, and delivered her report with proper decorum.

No sooner had she finished speaking than the sound of footsteps echoed, orderly and unhurried.

“Your servant greets Your Grace,” the leader bowed slightly, his tone steady and dignified, entirely lacking the typical timbre of a eunuch.

Blood Snow glanced sideways, her expression unchanged. “Please rise, Grand Eunuch.”

He lifted his head to reveal a face of flawless perfection—well-defined brows and eyes, lips set in a straight line without a hint of a smile, his features as sharp and fluid as ink poured across fine paper. His deep blue palace robes were immaculate, not a single wrinkle in sight.

Such beauty, yet he was a eunuch, leaving the palace maids sorrowful and regretful. But Blood Snow saw things differently; those who inspire regret may indeed be the sharpest blades.

“Your Grace, these are gifts from the King, sent by his order. Tomorrow’s coronation ceremony will proceed as scheduled. You must be properly attired. Here is the Golden Phoenix Wedding Robe, the Threaded Step-Shake Hairpin, and the Cicada-Wing Veil—all personally selected by the King and prepared without the slightest error.”

The attendants behind him presented a silver tray, its contents arranged perfectly, dazzling in their beauty.

“Peach Heart,” Blood Snow gestured to the jade-clad maid standing behind her. Peach Heart understood and stepped out of the pavilion. “Please follow me, sirs,” she said, leading the eunuchs and their attendants away.

“Then I shall take my leave and report back to the King,” Miao Jian said respectfully, his voice as precise as his demeanor.

“Please,” Blood Snow replied, her lips curving faintly without any pretense.

She lowered her head in contemplation. Three days ago, Ji Wuqing had issued the imperial decree, naming her Queen. She knew Ji Wuqing was no ordinary man, but to have finalized everything within a mere month—this was astonishing. How had he managed it?

As for why he wanted her as Queen, she did not care to probe. Her world was already shrouded in darkness; there was nothing left to fear.

So she spent the entire afternoon trying on gowns, undisturbed by anyone. It was so peaceful, one could almost forget this was a palace rife with intrigue. But how long could such tranquility last?

The night passed without incident, and the coronation ceremony took place as scheduled.

The Kingdom of Ji raised their cups in celebration, the palace ablaze with lights and festivity. Crimson lanterns hung in rows for miles, red carpets spread endlessly, and rich scarlet brocades adorned every corner. This joyful scene breathed life into the cold halls, as if the palace itself was awakening.

Yet could this surface warmth mask the chill at its core?

The wedding robe was a blaze of red, embroidered with golden thread into a magnificent phoenix spreading its wings—resplendent and lifelike. A sheer crimson veil overlaid the robe, faintly printed with delicate peonies, their blossoms mingling with the golden phoenix to create a scene of dazzling beauty.

Red robes and light veils, the phoenix dances in ethereal grace.

The slightly heavy phoenix coronet with dangling ornaments of gold thread produced a clear, exquisite sound with every movement.

Veiled, yet revealing grandeur.

Her plain face was hidden beneath beautiful makeup, her slender figure concealed under the wedding robe. Yet nothing could mask her innate air of otherworldliness, lovelier and more captivating than any adornment.

The coronation named her Queen of the Western Palace. The harem was divided into Eastern and Western palaces, equal in status but with subtle distinctions. The Western Palace must always have a Queen, while the Eastern Palace was reserved for the King’s beloved, appointed solely at his discretion; if none, it could remain vacant indefinitely, rendering it nearly symbolic.

Of course, history had its share of opportunists, but who could say for sure? No emperor, after all, would willingly expose his cherished love to the public, making her the target of all.

At present, King Ji had only five consorts: Jade Concubine, Violet Concubine, Yan Concubine, West Lady, and Qin Jade Maiden—all renowned beauties.

Yet a rumor circulated in the palace: King Ji favored men, and the close eunuch Miao Jian was his lover. Ji Wuqing, only nineteen, had married but left no heir, and never spent the night in the harem—thus rumors flourished.

But Blood Snow’s arrival seemed to shatter those whispers, for Ji Wuqing’s affection for her was utterly unique.

Blood Snow found it somewhat amusing. Miao Jian seemed every bit a man, not at all like a eunuch. How could someone so unlike a eunuch be taken as a lover?

“Lower the sedan!”

The bridal palanquin gently touched down, but outside the music of strings and bells continued uninterrupted. The harmonious clash of stringed instruments and bronze resonated, creating the most enchanting sound in the world.

She was wed, at eighteen—a time of youth and promise. It was something she had never imagined.

Had it not been for that accident, she would still be toiling day and night for her family, crafting the most perfect porcelain figures, simply because she was the most gifted artisan in the clan.

Family and clan—one letter apart, yet worlds of warmth and coldness.

“Your Grace, we have arrived. Please step down,” Peach Heart, her attendant, gently lifted the wide red veil of the sedan and whispered from outside. She too wore festive attire—a pink gown that made her already refined features even more exquisite.

Hearing this, Blood Snow pulled herself from her reverie and quickly stretched out her hand.

Her small, snowy-white hand was taken by a broad palm, roughened by a thin layer of calluses. Yet the warmth lingered, inviting her to stay.

This was no maid’s hand, but unmistakably a man’s.

“Be careful, Xue’er, hold onto my hand,” the man whispered softly in her ear, their closeness suddenly intimate.

It was Ji Wuqing! Wasn’t he supposed to be waiting in the main hall? Her heart leapt in surprise, her composure wavering.

The civil and military officials looked on in astonishment—never before had the King come out to personally welcome his bride. Such honor and favor!

His tall figure was clad in black robes, embroidered with gleaming golden dragons, soaring in majesty. The man wearing these robes seemed every bit the equal of the dragon’s grandeur. His lips curved in a warm smile that could melt the snows of mountain peaks. He gently held the maiden’s hand, his smile at the brow turning to boundless tenderness.

The red silk band tying his hair fluttered in the wind, entwining itself with Blood Snow’s red veil, revealing the outline of her beauty within—a perfect harmony.

The music of strings ceased, and in that instant, all was silent.

“Proceed, kneel in salute,” Grand Eunuch Miao Jian’s voice rang out, echoing across the palace steps. The ministers instantly knelt, eyes lowered, their movements as synchronized as a well-rehearsed performance.

A crisp, decisive sound followed, restoring solemnity. Such speed was astonishing.

“Come, Xue’er,” Ji Wuqing said with easy grace, leading her along the red carpet amid the kneeling ministers. Blood Snow lowered her head, her silhouette indistinct within the red veil, indifferent yet somehow tender.

…Author’s Note…

I wonder, after reading “The Aloof Prince’s Exceptional Consort,” which is lighter in tone, how do you find yourselves adapting to this somewhat heavier style?