Fan Changyu hurriedly said, “It’s a false matrilocal (ruzhui) marriage.”

She then carefully explained her plan to him: “After you and I go through the wedding ceremony, we’ll claim to the outside world that you’ve married into my family, so that I can keep the property my parents left behind. My family still has a bit of money. Once the house and land are transferred under my name, the finances will start to circulate again. I’ll hire the best doctor in town for you and use the best medicine to treat your wounds. Once you recover, whether you stay or leave will be up to you.”

Xie Zheng raised his eyes. The upward lift at the corners made the chill and indifference around him even more pronounced. “Aren’t you afraid that after I leave, your uncle will come to demand your property again?”

Fan Changyu said, “Once the house and land have been transferred, no matter how he makes trouble, I won’t fear him. Besides, when you leave, I’ll just say you went away on business for a while. Others won’t know if it’s true or false.”

Xie Zheng said ambiguously, “You’ve really thought it all through.”

Fan Changyu couldn’t tell if his words were praise or mockery and asked awkwardly, “Then… what do you think?”

“Let me think about it.” His eyelids drooped halfway, and the look in his eyes was unreadable, as though he truly was considering it.

Fan Changyu couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. She recalled everything she had just said—though she’d mentioned that he could leave after he recovered, she hadn’t said she would give him anything when he left, nor what she could offer if he stayed.

She hurriedly thought again and added, “If you wish to leave once you’re well, I’ll give you enough travel money. If you have nowhere to go…”

She stole a glance at his pale face and wounded body. Because the underclothes he’d worn yesterday were soaked with blood again, Carpenter Zhao couldn’t find any spare garments for him to change into, so he’d simply put him in one of his own old, ragged coarse hemp tunics.

His hands—aside from being covered with abrasions—were also calloused and cracked, clearly belonging to someone who hadn’t lived an easy life.

At this moment, he truly was both ill and impoverished, so Fan Changyu boldly promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill pigs and raise you!”

Xie Zheng: “.…”

His expression at that instant was truly a sight to behold.

If anyone who knew him had been present, just hearing those words would’ve been enough for them to start thinking about what sort of death awaited them.

To dare boast so shamelessly about “raising” him—beneath heaven, this woman was probably the only one capable of that.

But if she knew his real name, she would surely never say such words to him again. She might not even have saved him from the snow in the first place.

At this thought, a trace of mockery flickered in Xie Zheng’s eyes.

He asked, “Why?”

Fan Changyu didn’t understand. “What?”

He was surprisingly patient at this moment, as though he truly wanted to know the reason behind her words. “You and I are neither kin nor acquaintance. If my injuries never heal, I’ll most likely become a cripple. You want to ‘raise’ me—what for?”

Fan Changyu replied honestly, “Because you’re good-looking.”

Xie Zheng froze on the spot, utterly unprepared for such a shallow reason. After a long moment, he frowned and asked, “Only because of that?”

Fan Changyu blinked, as if to say, “Otherwise what?”

Xie Zheng naturally knew his looks were not poor, but this was the first time someone had ever complimented him so bluntly. He said, “There are countless people in the world with outstanding looks.”

Fan Changyu said, “But the one I happened to carry back from the snow just happened to be you.”

She only meant to respond to his remark about how there were many good-looking people in the world, yet after she said that, his gaze on her grew even stranger.

Fan Changyu belatedly realized her words might have sounded ambiguous, so she quickly explained, “I mean, perhaps everything happens because of fate…”

She was someone who judged by looks—and it just so happened that the one she picked up was particularly good-looking. So she thought that if he had nowhere else to go and their temperaments matched, it wouldn’t be so bad to just make do together.

If the other party had no such intention, she naturally wouldn’t insist—after all, a melon forcibly twisted off the vine is never sweet.

Unfortunately, before she could finish explaining, the other party frowned and interrupted her, saying, “Once I recover, I, Yan, will take my leave on my own. I won’t trouble the young lady any further.”

The ends of his eyes and brows were filled with cold indifference, as if he had already assumed she harbored improper intentions toward him.

Fan Changyu was at a loss for words. “…Very well.”

It seemed he wished to have nothing more to do with her, nor to owe her anything. His voice was cold again as he said, “The young lady may name one wish. For the grace of saving my life, I shall repay it someday.”

Fan Changyu, disheartened, waved her hand. “If you’re willing to go through a false matrilocal marriage to help me keep my family property, that’s already a great favor to me.”

She decided not to speak rashly again—being misunderstood was truly unpleasant.

Who would have thought she’d hear him say instead, “A false matrilocal marriage can at most count as repayment for the kindness of taking me in.”

Fan Changyu was stunned. She lifted her gaze to that exceptionally handsome face and asked uncertainly, “You mean—you agree to the false marriage?”

Xie Zheng gave a light nod.

Fan Changyu nearly wept with joy. “Then we can draw up a written contract as proof and set a time limit for the marriage. When the term is up, I’ll immediately write you a letter of divorce—absolutely no forcing you to stay. If you wish to leave early, I’ll give you both the travel money and the divorce letter, and I won’t stop you.”

That way, he wouldn’t have to worry she might have improper intentions toward him or refuse to let him go.

Xie Zheng said, “…That won’t be necessary.”

Lowering his gaze again, he asked, “What is the young lady’s wish?”

Fan Changyu thought for a moment and said, “I want to get my father’s pigpen running again as soon as possible. In the future, it’d be best if I could raise a hundred pigs.”

“…”

That wish was truly plain and unadorned—and once again, about pigs.

Xie Zheng was silent for two breaths. “The young lady may think on a grander scale.”

Fan Changyu thought to herself: a hundred pigs would be worth at least over a hundred taels. In town, a two-courtyard house cost just about the same—how was that a small wish?

Suppressing her conscience, she gave another number. “Then two hundred pigs?”

Xie Zheng: “…”

Forget it. When he left in the future, he’d just give her more silver.

Seeing his silence, Fan Changyu thought she had gone too far and said awkwardly, “There’s an old saying—‘Saving a life surpasses… surpasses building a pagoda.’ I’m actually not asking for your repayment…”

When Xie Zheng heard her say “Saving a life surpasses building a seven-storied pagoda,” his eyelid twitched slightly, and he interrupted her: “I, Yan, will remember the young lady’s kindness.”

Since he’d said so, Fan Changyu couldn’t continue on that topic. She asked, “Then… since you’ve agreed to the false marriage, is there anything else you wish to ask me?”

The man sitting by the window merely gave a slight shake of his head, as though he hadn’t taken this so-called marriage to heart at all.

Fan Changyu thought about it and figured that made sense. After all, it was fake—they weren’t truly getting married. There was no need to inquire into each other’s family backgrounds down to the eighteenth generation.

She said, “The wedding might be a little rushed—most likely within the next two days.”

Xie Zheng simply said, “Arrange it as you will.”

His lashes, dark as crow feathers, drooped halfway, hiding all depth in his eyes. “However, my household registration papers were taken by the mountain bandits as well. I suppose I’ll have to get a replacement at the yamen.”

Fan Changyu said, “That’s not difficult. Since you’ll be marrying into my family, we’ll just have your name added to our household register then.”

Since both parties had reached an agreement, Fan Changyu no longer lingered and rose to return home to make preparations for the wedding.

Before leaving, she noticed that the bowl of pig-lung soup in front of him had barely been touched, and reminded him, “The soup must have cooled by now—you should drink it.”

Xie Zheng: “…Mm.”

Did she not realize that the soup she had cooked tasted rather strange?

Once inside the room, only Xie Zheng remained. He opened the window and looked out toward the mountain peaks gleaming beneath the clear sky after snow, his gaze gradually deepening.

The man who had taken over his military command was a mad dog. Without finding his corpse, he would surely begin investigating the refugees who had fled to nearby prefectures.

He had managed to fabricate a false identity, but he could not forge household registration documents. If the officials in Jizhou began inspecting refugees without household records, he would soon be exposed.

According to the laws of the dynasty, if a man married into a wife’s family, he could be registered under her household.

That was the true reason he had agreed to the false marriage.

As for that woman…

His gaze unconsciously fell upon the bowl of pig-lung soup placed beside him.

He had already granted her one wish; she too had her own motives for arranging the false marriage. There were no further debts between them.

Thinking of the way she had said, with such matter-of-fact confidence, “Because you’re good-looking,” his fine brows furrowed slightly.

Heh. Superficial.

He lifted a finger to his lips and blew a clear, melodious whistle. Before long, a pure-white gyrfalcon swooped down from the sky and landed steadily on the window ledge.

Xie Zheng handed the bowl to it. “Eat.”

The gyrfalcon stared at the cooked pig lung in the bowl with its bead-like black eyes, then stubbornly turned its head aside.

One glance from Xie Zheng, and the bird reluctantly picked up a piece of pig liver in its beak and swallowed it down.

· ─ ·✶· ─ ·

Coincidentally, just as Fan Changyu had finished arranging the false marriage, Head Constable Wang secretly sent someone to inform her that Fan Da had indeed hired someone to draft a petition and submitted it to the county yamen. The case would likely be heard soon.

When the old carpenter Zhao and his wife heard the news, they grew so anxious that blisters appeared on their lips, but Fan Changyu remained calm. She said, “The wedding will be kept simple. We’ll just invite the neighbors over for a meal so everyone knows I’ve taken a husband—that will be enough.”

To keep the elderly couple from worrying too much, and to avoid arousing suspicion from others, she hadn’t yet told them that the marriage was fake.

Aunt Zhao fretted, “But there’s no time to make the wedding clothes…”

Fan Changyu didn’t take it to heart. “Wearing something red will do, won’t it?”

All the money she had—from selling pork and the compensation from the gambling house incident—added up to only three taels. That sum had to be spent wisely.

She herself still had a new outfit, but the man who was to marry into her family didn’t. His clothes had been slashed to tatters; while recovering from his injuries, he wore nothing but a loose inner robe with an old coat lent by Carpenter Zhao. No matter what, he ought to have a decent set of clothes for the wedding day.

Clenching her teeth, Fan Changyu spent half a string of cash to buy a bolt of dark reddish fabric from the cloth shop and asked the seamstress who lived down the alley to tailor a new set of garments for him.

She had chosen that muted red color thoughtfully—it could serve as wedding attire on the day of the ceremony and as ordinary clothing afterward.

When the seamstress heard that Fan Changyu was getting married, she offered many words of blessing. Knowing the hardships of Fan Changyu’s household, she refused to accept any payment, saying that making the wedding clothes would serve as her wedding gift.

Still, the measurements had to be taken.

Fan Changyu had wanted to ask Uncle Zhao for help, but he had gone out to purchase various supplies for the wedding. Thus, she could only go up to the attic herself. “You don’t have any proper clothing for the wedding day,” she said. “I’ll take your measurements and have something made for you.”

Xie Zheng complied readily with a nod.

To measure his size more accurately, he didn’t wear Carpenter Zhao’s old jacket—only a thin inner garment, his back exposed before Fan Changyu.

Fan Changyu spread her thumb and forefinger, measuring from his left shoulder to his right. Through the thin layer of fabric, the skin beneath her fingertips felt warm and firm.

Although she had touched his back once before—when she helped him breathe more easily after he coughed up blood—that had been a matter of life and death, her mind completely clear of any distractions. This time, with both of them silent and the room so still that even the sound of their breathing seemed audible, she couldn’t help but feel a trace of embarrassment.

Afraid that he might again misunderstand her intentions, she tried to minimize any unnecessary contact, forcing herself to ignore the warmth beneath her fingers and focus solely on taking his measurements.

“One chi and five cun¹Chi (尺) and cun (寸) are traditional Chinese units of length.,” she said once she finished, quickly handing him the old jacket so he could put it back on—her movements almost as if fleeing the scene.

She couldn’t help muttering inwardly—he looked lean, yet his shoulders and back were broad and solid, almost the same size as her father’s.

Before leaving, she told him about the general plan for the wedding the next day. “The ceremony is set for tomorrow afternoon. Since it’s inconvenient for you to go downstairs, Uncle Zhao will carry you down then.”

The word for marriage (婚) shared the sound of dusk (昏); thus, dusk was an auspicious hour.

For some reason, he declined sharply. “No need. I’ll go down myself with a crutch.”

Fan Changyu worried, “Won’t that reopen your wounds?”

“No matter.”

Seeing his resolve, Fan Changyu didn’t press the issue and went home to continue her preparations.

A wedding banquet, however simple, couldn’t be omitted. She spent a tael of silver to buy a whole pig. Aunt Zhao, who would be cooking, went around the neighborhood to invite a few skilled aunties to help with the dishes the next day.

She also had to prepare wedding candies and pastries.

Though she had said the ceremony would be simple, once she added up all the expenses, the three taels of silver she had were entirely gone.

Fan Changyu was so busy she didn’t have a moment to rest until the hai hour (around 9–11 p.m.). Aunt Zhao, who had no children of her own, busied herself alongside her—fussing over the wedding as though preparing for her own daughter’s.

Once Changning went to bed, Aunt Zhao mysteriously slipped Fan Changyu a small booklet.

Fan Changyu opened it for a glance and immediately shut it again, half embarrassed and half flustered. “He’s injured like that… I don’t think we’ll be needing this, right?”

Aunt Zhao glared at her. “You’ll need it sooner or later.”

Fan Changyu could only brace herself and tuck the booklet away.

The seamstress was a deft-handed woman; that very night, she finished the wedding garments and delivered them.

Fan Changyu had only planned to make a set for Xie Zheng, but the seamstress had cleverly saved enough leftover fabric to make a matching outfit for her as well.

Smiling, the seamstress said, “How can the bride and groom wear different clothes at a wedding? I saw there was just enough fabric left for another set, so I rushed to make it. My work may not be the best, so don’t you dislike it.”

Fan Changyu had ordered clothes from this seamstress before, so her measurements were already on hand.

A swirl of emotion rose in her heart. “Thank you, Aunt Fang.”

The seamstress urged, “Go on, try it on so your auntie and I can see. If it doesn’t fit, I can still adjust it tonight.”

Because the fabric hadn’t been enough, the design was kept extremely simple—no elaborate embroidery, looking much like ordinary clothing—but the cut was clean and elegant.

After changing and stepping out of the room, both Aunt Zhao and the seamstress praised her appearance. The seamstress teased with a grin, “Once the bridal veil covers your face tomorrow, you’ll be a beautiful bride indeed!”

Fan Changyu asked, “Since it’s a matrilocal marriage, shouldn’t the bridal veil be placed on the groom instead?”

The seamstress and Aunt Zhao both burst out laughing. “You silly girl…”

Fan Changyu was merely curious. After all, if she really made that man wear a bridal veil and marry into her family, he’d probably turn on her on the spot.

At the mention of the groom, the seamstress grew curious. “I heard your future husband—the one you’re marrying into the family—was rescued by you after being attacked by mountain bandits at Tiger Fork Pass. Is he handsome or not?”

Before Fan Changyu could respond, Aunt Zhao answered for her, “You’ll see for yourself at the wedding tomorrow, won’t you?”

The seamstress chuckled, teased her a few more times, and then went home.

When Aunt Zhao was left alone with Fan Changyu, she couldn’t help feeling emotional. Thinking that this girl would be married by tomorrow, her heart ached with mixed feelings. “Those young ladies from rich families,” she sighed, “on their wedding day, they’re carried down from the embroidered chambers, then taken in a bridal sedan with music and drums all the way to the groom’s house…”

Fan Changyu, however, didn’t feel sad. Instead, she suddenly recalled how she’d told Yan Zheng earlier that Uncle Zhao would carry him downstairs for the ceremony—only for him to coldly refuse right then and there.

Could that be the reason why?

· ─ ·✶· ─ ·

That night, the lamps that burned late belonged not only to the Fan household but also to the Song family a few doors away.

When Madam Song got up in the middle of the night, she noticed her son’s room still lit. She knocked gently on the door and said, “Yan-ge’er, it’s already so late. You should rest.”

A calm male voice came from inside. “I’ll go to sleep once I finish this scroll.”

Half worried and half comforted, Madam Song told him not to stay up too late and went back to her room.

Inside, the candlelight flickered high. Song Yan held a book in his hand but had not turned a single page for a long time. The inkstone and brush had already been knocked to the floor, ink staining the room in disorder.

The hand gripping the scroll was clenched so tightly that the joints had turned white.

She—was getting married?

Footnotes

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  Chi (尺) and cun (寸) are traditional Chinese units of length.