Volume 1, Chapter 36: The True Heiress Is a Powerhouse

An Huantu was growing anxious, seeing that An Qianqian remained unperturbed.

"Little sister, someone is trying to provoke you and vie for favor, why aren't you worried?"

"Rest assured, even if I were to agree, Si Chengnian would not. Besides, what kind of precedent would it set to designate a secondary consort before the primary wife has even entered the household? That would be nothing but an insult to the primary wife."

"But what if Si Chengnian truly does it?"

An Qianqian thought carefully before replying, "If he truly does, I will not make it easy for him."

Watching his sister's serious expression, An Huantu promised, "Little sister, rest assured. If Si Chengnian truly wrongs you, your brother will not let him off. However, once he ascends the throne, he will eventually have to hold a selection. Little sister, you..."

"Fifth Brother, I will not share a man with anyone else."

An Qianqian said no more. Some things were better left unsaid, as they were far more audacious than anything one could voice.

"Fifth Brother, leave these gifts here for now; we shall deal with them after the wedding. As for the formal invitations, decline them all and say that I will hold a banquet after the wedding."

Deciding whether or not to return the gifts was not a choice for her to make alone. With Si Chengnian’s imminent ascension, this was a critical moment; she could not afford to falter. The ascension of a monarch concerned the welfare of the entire nation. She would not let personal grievances dictate her actions.

"Little sister, I was worried you would be heartbroken today, but seeing you so rational, I am relieved."

The siblings chatted for a while longer about the recent events in the palace. Upon confirming that Si Chengnian’s position as Crown Prince was secure, An Huantu began to fortify the An estate, particularly the guards, ensuring there was no room for negligence. If their enemies were driven to desperation, they might well target the estate.

His concerns were well-founded.

In the dead of night, the day before the wedding, the An estate was suddenly besieged. Hundreds of skilled assassins swept over the walls like a tide, landing silently and lunging toward the sleeping quarters.

"Move! Take An Qianqian first!" the leader in black hissed, his blade pointed directly at the back courtyard—An Qianqian’s residence.

However, as they reached the courtyard gate, they were met by Lingyi. Dressed in dark, form-fitting attire, she gripped two short daggers, her movements as swift and ghostly as a phantom. She had just dispatched three assassins; before the blood could even drip from her blades, a dozen more swarmed her.

"Just you?" Lingyi sneered. She tapped her toe against a pillar, vaulted into the air, and traced two silver arcs with her daggers, precisely piercing two throats. Landing, she seized a long halberd from the veranda, sweeping it horizontally and forcing the remaining attackers to retreat.

"This woman is a handful! All together now!"

Dozens of men in black swarmed in a fan formation, their blades weaving a dense net of steel. Lingyi remained unfazed. In her hands, the halberd seemed to come alive—at times like a dragon piercing the clouds, knocking weapons aside; at others like a tiger descending the mountain, the tip whistling as it struck for lethal points.

In moments, the corner of the courtyard was littered with corpses. The survivors, seeing her blood-stained figure, were too terrified to advance.

"Is it me you are looking for?"

A cold, clear voice came from the direction of the bedroom. They turned to see An Qianqian pushing open the door.

"Take her!" someone shouted, desperate, and charged with a blade.

An Qianqian did not even blink. With a flick of her finger, a jade bead shot out, striking the man’s wrist with lethal precision. With a loud *clatter*, his scimitar dropped, and he screamed, clutching his dislocated wrist.

"Lingyi, clean this up."

She commanded coldly, turned, and retreated into her room. The door clicked shut behind her, as if the carnage outside had nothing to do with her. She was a woman getting married tomorrow; she needed her beauty sleep.

Lingyi acknowledged the order, sweeping her halberd and hurling an assassin into the crowd like a ragdoll. Screams echoed one after another. Within the span of a single incense stick, most of the hundred-plus assassins had fallen. The survivors, seeing the situation was lost, attempted to flee over the walls, only to be cut off by the sudden arrival of the Black Armor Guard.

"Leave no one alive."

Lingyi wiped the blood from her daggers, her tone as indifferent as if she were commenting on the weather.

As the horizon turned a faint, pale grey, the An estate returned to silence. The blood in the courtyard was washed away before dawn, leaving only a faint metallic scent in the air as a reminder of the night’s harrowing counter-slaughter.

Soon, the An estate was bustling with activity once more. Today was the wedding day of An Qianqian and Si Chengnian.

On the dressing table lay the auspicious time card calculated by the Imperial Observatory. An Qianqian sat before the mirror, allowing the bridal attendant to comb her hair into a "Flying Immortal" bun, pinning nine pairs of gold swaying tassels into her tresses.

"Miss, this phoenix coronet was specially commissioned by the Empress of the Yan Kingdom. Every single Eastern Pearl inlaid upon it is perfectly round; it’s worth half a city," Chuntang said, holding the gilded coronet, her eyes filled with wonder.

An Qianqian glanced at it. The pearls glowed with a warm luster in the morning light; it was indeed exquisite. She allowed the attendant to place it upon her head. The heavy weight pressing down on her gave her a strange sense of solemnity.

At the hour of the Dragon, Si Chengnian’s procession arrived outside the estate.

Unlike the standard marriage rites for ordinary princes, the Crown Prince’s wedding featured "Nine Streamer" flags. Surrounded by three hundred Black Armor Guards, the procession of horses draped in red silk stretched from one end of the street to the other. The sound of drums and music was so loud that neighbors peered through the cracks in their doors.

"The bride is entering the sedan chair—" the attendant sang out, tying the wrists of An Qianqian and Si Chengnian together with a red silk ribbon.

As they stepped over the brazier, An Qianqian’s hem caught, and Si Chengnian steadied her, the warmth of his palm seeping through the silk. He lowered his voice, smiling, "Don't be afraid, I am here."

An Qianqian ignored him, though she stepped heavily on the saddle, causing him to grunt in pain. Despite herself, the corners of her lips curled upward.

The procession stopped at the main gate of the palace, where, by custom, they transferred to the "Zhai Carriage." This ceremonial carriage, painted with pheasant patterns, was reserved solely for the Crown Princess.

Si Chengnian helped her into the carriage himself. As the curtain fell, he suddenly pressed a piece of warm jade into her hand: "The palace has many rules. If you grow tired, just hold this, and I will find an excuse to take you away from the banquet."

An Qianqian gripped the warm jade, her heart softening inexplicably.

The ancestral temple ceremony was long and solemn. Si Chengnian led her to kneel before the tablets of the past emperors. The priest chanted the ritual text, which essentially spoke of "inheriting the lineage of the ancestral temple and continuing the bloodline of the Imperial House."

An Qianqian followed Si Chengnian in the three-kneels and nine-bows. She was grateful for the knee pads Chuntang had made for her; otherwise, it would have been quite an ordeal.

Halfway through the ceremony, a palace attendant hurried over and whispered into Si Chengnian’s ear. His expression shifted slightly, but he moved to shield An Qianqian behind him first, saying to the Minister of Rites beside him, "Continue according to the rites. I will return shortly."

An Qianqian watched his departing figure, understanding immediately. It was undoubtedly the other princes making trouble again. She took a teacup from Chuntang and sipped it slowly, showing no trace of panic.

Half an hour later, when Si Chengnian returned, there was a smear of blood on his dark ceremonial robes. He walked to An Qianqian’s side and whispered, "Chengyu attempted to lead men into the temple, but he has been apprehended."

An Qianqian looked up, meeting the apology in his eyes: "Did I scare you?"

"No," she said calmly, "let us continue."

The nuptial wine was served in two halves of a gourd. Si Chengnian handed one to her, the wine sliding down her throat with the sweetness of honey water.

He leaned in close, whispering where only the two of them could hear: "Earlier, at the temple, I made a wish."

"What wish?"

"To grow old with you."