After the Ostracized Beauty Lost Heart - Chapter 2

In contrast, his wife, the Second Prince Xiao Qi, was married off with the full ceremonial honors of a State Princess.

No matter how reluctant the Emperor was to see his own son “married down” as a prince, he still granted him the dignity he deserved.

Upon hearing of the marriage, his maternal grandfather, the Duke of Wu, sent over numerous silks and treasures. The dowry arrived chest after chest, truly a display of extravagance. Yet, for all its luxury, it lacked human warmth; when Xiao Qi departed for his wedding, not a single person came to see him off.

Emperor Jiande was still in a fit of rage. The Empress, who shared a mutual loathing with the Emperor, claimed illness and refused to leave her quarters. Fearing they might provoke the Empress’s spite, the other concubines avoided Xiao Qi like the plague, departing as soon as they had fulfilled their bare minimum duties.

In front of the gates of the Palace of Heavenly Purity, there was nothing but massive crates of lifeless objects and the few confidants who had stayed by Xiao Qi’s side over the years. It was profoundly desolate.

As the sky darkened, a pleasant, clear voice drifted from inside the bright red bridal sedan: “Fang Hai.”

Fang Hai, Xiao Qi’s personal eunuch, hurried forward. “Your Highness?”

“What time is it?”

Hearing this, Fang Hai hesitated. He exchanged a look with Nanny Du Ruo before speaking: “In reply to Your Highness, it is already the end of the Hour of the Rooster.”

According to etiquette, the groom should have arrived to collect the bride at the beginning of the Hour of the Rooster.

“Your Highness,” Fang Hai asked uncertainty, “Shall we continue to wait for Young Master Yan?”

The interior of the sedan remained silent for a long while before an order was finally issued: “We wait no longer.”

He seemed to let out a sigh. “Raise the sedan.”

Receiving the command, the bearers lifted the sedan and the chests of gold and silver dowry toward the palace gates. At that moment, the waiting eunuchs strained their voices, shouting in shrill, piercing tones: “The palace gates open! The Second Prince is wed!”

It sounded dreadful. It was less like a wedding procession and more like a funeral.

The group departed in a grand fashion. Flanking the sedan were the eunuch Fang Hai and the personal maid, Zi Zhu. Zi Zhu was young and quick-tempered; unable to stomach the injustice toward her master, she whispered heatedly to Fang Hai.

“This is simply outrageous!” Zi Zhu said indignantly. “That Yan Qushan, just what kind of person does he think he is! He was once nothing more than His Highness’s study companion, relying solely on His Highness’s favor! To think he would be so presumptuous! How dare he bully our Prince!”

While Fang Hai was not as agitated as she was, he harbored his own dissatisfaction. He lowered his voice in agreement: “In my view, His Highness should punish him for the crime of disrespect.”

Nanny Du Ruo, the head maid, was older and more composed. She interrupted them, hushing them sternly: “Be quiet, both of you. From now on, Young Master Yan and His Highness are husband and wife. Do not speak such words again and ruin His Highness’s mood.”

A royal wedding is a magnificent affair. As the procession traveled a considerable distance, it naturally drew the commoners to stop and watch, all of them whispering amongst themselves.

“Why is the groom not by the side?”

“I heard the Second Prince forced the marriage, and that Young Master Yan’s heart belongs to another. I thought it was just nonsense before, but looking at it today, it seems to be the truth.”

Zi Zhu could not bear to hear others speak of her master this way. She immediately snapped back, cursing the onlookers: “Bah! Who gave you the gall to gossip about a Prince! Watch your heads!”

The man was startled at first, but then said with dissatisfaction: “They say the Second Prince has a haughty temperament, and it is clearly true. Even a mere maid by his side is so overbearing. No wonder Young Master Yan loves someone else.”

“You! You!” Zi Zhu wanted to curse further, but Du Ruo, unable to watch any longer, pulled her back. “Enough!”

“This is the day of His Highness’s grand wedding!” Du Ruo reminded her.

Zi Zhu shot a fierce glare at the man and followed the sedan. Fortunately, there were fewer people on the road ahead, and with no one else gossiping, the journey remained peaceful until the sedan was finally lowered in front of the estate.

As a Prince was being married, the guests were all prominent officials from the court. Seeing Xiao Qi arrive alone, they understood the implications perfectly. For a moment, everyone looked at one another in silence. No one dared to speak for fear of offending the Second Prince, leaving the hall in a deathly hush.

After an unknown amount of time, as the night deepened, footsteps finally echoed at the main gate. Only then did the guests begin to laugh and talk, opening the banquet amidst the clinking of wine glasses.

The other end of the ceremonial red silk ball was finally taken by someone. They were so close that there was no way Xiao Qi could miss the heavy scent of alcohol and rouge clinging to the other man. In that instant, it felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head.

Xiao Qi closed his eyes, his hand clutching the silk ball suddenly tightening.

Yan Qushan lowered his gaze, taking in those pale, slender hands where the knuckles protruded white from the force of his grip. He let out an ambiguous smirk.

Xiao Qi was escorted into the bridal chamber. He was livid, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. This rage finally reached its peak when Yan Qushan pushed the door open and entered. Without a second thought, Xiao Qi ripped off the cumbersome veil from his head, snatched a teacup from the gold-threaded sandalwood table, and hurled it at the man!

A crash echoed.

Scalding tea splashed all over Yan Qushan, soaking a patch of his red wedding robe. He brushed the tea off his clothes nonchalantly. “Your Highness has excellent aim.”

Xiao Qi glared at him hatefully, looking at that flawless face, the face he had adored since they were youths, and felt a sharp, aching pain in his heart.

Yan Qushan looked at him and seemed to daze for a moment. His expression softened into total tenderness as he stepped forward, his fingertips gently wiping the moisture from the corners of Xiao Qi’s eyes. “What is the matter?”

Hardly had the words left his mouth when he felt a stinging, burning pain on his face. Xiao Qi had slapped him, likely using every ounce of his strength, knocking Yan Qushan’s head to the side.

Yan Qushan let out two cold chuckles, that trace of tenderness vanishing instantly. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Are you satisfied now?”

Xiao Qi only stared at him, his chest heaving but saying nothing. His eyes were still shimmering with tears, making his pupils look luminous.

The profligates at Yichun Pavilion were shallow-sighted; they did not know that the Second Prince, Xiao Qi, was the true beauty.

It was a face like a peach blossom that could intoxicate anyone with a single glance. His brows were like distant mountains, and his fair face was flushed with a slight redness from his anger, his lips as red as blood. Most exquisite of all were those phoenix eyes; the slight tilt at the corners carried a cold sharpness, yet one could always detect a trace of unintentional sensuality within them.

Even in his current state of extreme rage, he was captivating.

Yan Qushan stared fixedly for a long time, as if a difficult to extinguish spark of lust had been ignited. His pupils grew deep and dark, his breathing quickened, and a violent surge of tyranny rose in his heart.

Yan Qushan pinned him down onto the bed, impatiently plucking at those lips.

The scent of rouge on Yan Qushan made Xiao Qi’s blood boil; how could he possibly submit? His hands clutched Yan Qushan’s collar, trying to push him away, his eyes glaring at him as if poisoned.

Yan Qushan was consumed by desire, his heart filled only with brutality. He turned his hand and gripped that slender, elegant neck, pinning him to the bed as his grip tightened.

Xiao Qi’s resistance gradually weakened. His vision went dark, and tears fell in succession from the corners of his eyes. His bright red tongue peeked out involuntarily, looking fragile and blurred.

Yan Qushan leaned down and bit the lip resentfully. The sweet, metallic taste of blood swirled between their teeth, mixing with saliva and the tears streaming down Xiao Qi’s face.

“Your Highness is only well-behaved like this.” He looked at the person beneath him with satisfaction and loosened his grip. Xiao Qi coughed uncontrollably, his face flushed. Yan Qushan stripped away the clothing and began to vent his discipline with force.

Xiao Qi remained resentful. Even though he complied with Yan Qushan’s desires, he refused to utter tender words or put on a soft, pleasing act. He was like a fierce kitten, scratching and biting Yan Qushan’s body with his nails. Yan Qushan’s broad shoulders and back were covered in streaks of blood.

He was stubborn and would not yield; Yan Qushan knew this and usually allowed Xiao Qi to scratch and claw as he pleased.

But today, seeing Xiao Qi still maintaining that condescending, arrogant posture, Yan Qushan remembered the cold eyes and the submissive, knee bending days he endured as a princely study companion. Dissatisfaction surged within him.

Things were different now. He had become the top scholar with a limitless future. He was no longer that son of a prostitute whom everyone ridiculed.

As for Xiao Qi, so what if he was noble and arrogant? Had his pride not been broken by Yan Qushan? Had he not become a person for Yan Qushan’s bed for the rest of his life?

So, he pulled the man into his arms, licking and pecking at the curve of Xiao Qi’s ear with extreme tenderness, and then whispered a name into his ear.

“Yue-yue.”

The Fourth Prince’s name was Xiao Yue.

Yan Qushan felt Xiao Qi’s movements go limp. After a long time, he pulled back slightly, looming over him to take in Xiao Qi’s expression.

That overbearing look was gone, replaced by a dazed, extremely fragile expression, though Xiao Qi was unaware of it. His lips trembled incessantly, and tears carved paths down his cheeks. It was the look of someone deeply wounded, in agonizing pain.

Only when he was in pain would he become this vulnerable.

Seeing him like this, Yan Qushan felt a strange, surging sense of satisfaction. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a certain part of him was eager for more.

“Get out.”

Xiao Qi spoke blankly. His face turned deathly pale, the haze of lust completely gone. He looked at Yan Qushan, his eyes turning bloodshot as he shrieked: “Get out! Get out!”

Xiao Qi disregarded all dignity. His features were exquisite yet bloodless, looking like a ghost in the candlelight. He somehow grabbed an unsheathed sword from somewhere and pressed it against Yan Qushan’s neck. The blade was sharp, easily slicing through the skin as blood began to flow.

Yan Qushan knew that for a moment, Xiao Qi truly wanted to kill him.

But in the end, Xiao Qi threw the sword aside and covered his face with his hands, his voice hoarse. “Roll out.”

Yan Qushan stood still for a moment, but eventually threw on his robes and walked out of the chamber.

The moment the door closed, low sobbing drifted from inside the room.

This was the wedding night.

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