Qingmo stared until his eyes filled with tears. “Young Master…”

Shen Yuheng looked at the bronze mirror. The person in the reflection was still him: Shen Yuheng of the interstellar era, who had died beneath strange stars, and Shen Yuheng of the Shen House of Rites, who had endured sixteen years beneath old eaves. The two lives did not tear him apart. They met beneath the red wedding robe and stood together.

He lifted his hand and touched the edge of his sleeve. “Why are you crying?”

Qingmo wiped his face quickly. “This servant is happy. Lord Lanyin would also be happy if he could see Young Master today.”

Shen Yuheng’s gaze softened. In the original owner’s memories, Shen Lanyin’s face had already blurred with time, but the warmth remained: a hand touching his hair, a voice teaching him how to hold a brush, and the faint scent of lotus incense on winter clothes.

“He will see,” Shen Yuheng said.

Qingmo cried harder.

On the wedding day, Tianjing was bright and cold. The seventh prince’s wedding procession filled the street, and Xiao Jingyuan rode at the front on a black horse, dressed in crimson wedding robes. The color should have softened him, but on him, it looked like battle banners beneath the sun. His shoulders were broad, his posture straight, and his sharp eyes made the festive procession seem strangely solemn.

Yet those who watched carefully noticed that his gaze kept moving toward the bridal carriage, as if he feared someone might steal it on the road.

The people of Tianjing crowded the streets.

“Is that the seventh prince?”

“He looks terrifying.”

“Terrifying? He is handsome.”

“I heard his spouse is the Shen family ger who looks like an immortal.”

“Did you see the betrothal gifts? Inner armor! A dagger! Who gives a dagger to a ger?”

“A prince who guarded the border, apparently.”

Inside the carriage, Shen Yuheng sat beneath a red veil. The veil softened the world into red shadows, while Qingmo sat outside with the dowry attendants. The sound of drums, hooves, wheels, and distant voices wrapped around him like a tide.

The system spoke.

【User heart rate slightly elevated.】

Shen Yuheng closed his eyes. “Mute.”

【Confirmed.】

After a pause, the system added:

【This is within normal marriage-related emotional parameters.】

“System.”

【Muted.】

The wedding rites were long. They bowed to Heaven and Earth, to the emperor’s decree, to the ancestral tablets, and finally to each other as husband and spouse. Under the red veil, Shen Yuheng saw only the movement of Xiao Jingyuan’s robe and the brief shadow of his hands.

When they bowed to each other, Xiao Jingyuan lowered himself very steadily. It was not perfunctory, nor careless. A prince was bowing to his spouse before the watching eyes of two households and imperial officials. Shen Yuheng understood the weight of it, and so did everyone else.

Madam Xu’s smile remained fixed. Shen Yulan watched from behind the women of the household, her nails nearly breaking against her palm.

The ceremony continued until Shen Yuheng was finally sent into the bridal chamber. The seventh prince’s residence was less luxurious than many noble estates in Tianjing, but its order was strict and clean. Servants moved quietly, guards stood at a proper distance, and the wedding chamber had been arranged with red silk, dragon-phoenix candles, carved screens, and fresh flowers. The bedding was bright crimson, embroidered with auspicious patterns.

Shen Yuheng sat on the wedding bed. The room smelled faintly of pine incense.

Safe.

Xiao Jingyuan had remembered.

Shen Yuheng’s fingers moved slightly beneath his sleeve.

Outside, the banquet continued. Princes and nobles drank, ministers congratulated, and some tested Xiao Jingyuan with jokes about beauty and marriage. Others hinted at future side spouses and household expansion.

Xiao Jingyuan answered very little. When someone laughed and said, “Seventh Highness has married such an immortal-like spouse today. In the future, ordinary beauties may no longer enter your eyes,” Xiao Jingyuan looked at him.

The man’s smile faltered.

Xiao Jingyuan said evenly, “Then they need not enter.”

The table quieted.

Another prince laughed to smooth things over. “Seventh Brother has only just married. Naturally, he speaks with youthful devotion.”

Xiao Jingyuan lifted his wine cup. “I speak of my own household. It has nothing to do with youth.”

This time, no one continued. The emperor, seated above, heard of this exchange and merely smiled into his wine. Empress Ji also heard, and her interest in Shen Yuheng deepened by another layer.

Night finally fell completely. The wedding chamber doors opened, and Shen Yuheng heard the attendants kneel and greet Xiao Jingyuan. Then footsteps approached, steady and slightly slower than usual. The door closed behind him, and the room fell quiet.

Shen Yuheng sat beneath the red veil, listening as Xiao Jingyuan stopped a few steps away. For several breaths, neither spoke.

Then Xiao Jingyuan said, his voice low, “I am going to lift the veil.”

Shen Yuheng almost smiled. “Does Your Highness intend to report every step?”

A pause followed. “I feared startling you.”

“Your Highness climbed my window before marriage. It is too late to worry about startling me now.”

Xiao Jingyuan was silent for a moment before a faint laugh escaped him. It was low, a little helpless, and unexpectedly warm.

The golden rod slid beneath the veil. Red silk lifted, and light entered.

Shen Yuheng raised his eyes. Xiao Jingyuan stood before him in wedding robes. The crimson made his already sharp features more striking. His hair was bound with a prince’s crown, his eyes were dark, and his posture remained controlled. Yet the moment he saw Shen Yuheng clearly, that control nearly broke.

Under the wedding candles, Shen Yuheng’s beauty was almost unbearable. The red robe made his skin look like snow warmed by fire. His black hair fell over his shoulders, glossy as ink. His lips were redder than usual beneath the candlelight, and his calm, deep eyes reflected twin points of flame. He looked like an immortal who had been coaxed into the mortal world by red silk and candlelight.

Xiao Jingyuan’s throat moved. Shen Yuheng saw it, and his own fingers tightened lightly against the bedding.

He was not unaffected. Xiao Jingyuan had looked dangerous in court, solemn on horseback, and awkward at the window. Tonight, in wedding crimson, with his gaze fixed so intently that it seemed to burn, he made the room feel smaller than it was.

The attendants entered to present the ceremonial wine. Xiao Jingyuan sat beside Shen Yuheng, not too close at first. Then, as custom required, they each took a cup and crossed arms. Their sleeves brushed, and Shen Yuheng felt the warmth of Xiao Jingyuan’s wrist through layers of silk.

The wine was sweet and strong. The system spoke dutifully.

【Alcohol detected. Low volume. Safe.】

Shen Yuheng drank, and Xiao Jingyuan drank too, his gaze never fully leaving him.

The attendants withdrew with red faces and carefully closed the doors. At last, only the two of them remained. The dragon-phoenix candles burned quietly, and wax slid down in red tears.

Xiao Jingyuan looked at Shen Yuheng and seemed, for once, truly at a loss.

Shen Yuheng tilted his head slightly. “Your Highness commanded troops at the border. Is a bridal chamber more difficult than a battlefield?”

Xiao Jingyuan answered honestly, “Yes.”

Shen Yuheng laughed softly, and the sound loosened something in Xiao Jingyuan’s chest. He leaned closer, then stopped.

“May I hold your hand?”

Shen Yuheng looked at him. A prince asking permission in his own wedding chamber was an awkward question, but also a serious one.

Shen Yuheng extended his hand.

Xiao Jingyuan took it carefully. His palm was warm and calloused, while Shen Yuheng’s hand was slender in his, pale against the darker tone of his skin. Xiao Jingyuan looked at their joined hands for a moment, as though confirming this was real.

Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Shen Yuheng’s knuckles. The touch was light and restrained, but heat still traveled from Shen Yuheng’s fingers to his wrist.

His lashes lowered. Xiao Jingyuan saw the movement and nearly lost his remaining discipline.

He had wanted Shen Yuheng from the moment he saw him beneath the palace lamps. Not only the face, though Heaven knew that face could ruin a man’s restraint, but also the calm eyes, the quiet intelligence, and the loneliness hidden beneath noble composure. He wanted the person who spoke of another life without begging to be believed, who calculated poison with a steady voice, and who laughed when Xiao Jingyuan answered too bluntly.

Now that person sat on his wedding bed in red robes, hand resting in his palm.

Xiao Jingyuan’s voice became lower. “Yuheng.”

The name, spoken without title, made the candlelight seem to tremble.

Shen Yuheng looked up. “Yes?”

Xiao Jingyuan leaned closer. This time, he did not stop completely.

“May I kiss you?”

The question should have cooled the atmosphere. Instead, because his voice was so restrained and his eyes were so dark, it only made the tension sharper.

Shen Yuheng’s heart beat once, distinctly. He was calm, but not made of wood. He understood desire, restraint, and the fact that this marriage had begun with truth, while trust was still something built breath by breath.

He looked at Xiao Jingyuan for a long moment. Then he said, “You may.”

Xiao Jingyuan’s control frayed. His hand found Shen Yuheng’s waist, careful at first, then tightening when Shen Yuheng did not retreat. The kiss came down with the restraint of a man who had held battle lines for years and lost discipline only before one person.

It was warm, firm, a little unpracticed, and intensely sincere. Shen Yuheng’s fingers curled against Xiao Jingyuan’s sleeve. The red candles burned, silk rustled softly, and outside the doors, attendants stood far enough away to hear nothing but their own nervous breathing.

When Xiao Jingyuan drew back, his eyes had darkened. Shen Yuheng’s lips were slightly redder than before, and his breathing remained even only because he forced it to be. He looked composed, but the faint color at the corners of his eyes betrayed him.

Xiao Jingyuan stared.

Shen Yuheng lifted his eyes. “Your Highness.”

Xiao Jingyuan’s voice was hoarse. “Call me Jingyuan.”

Shen Yuheng paused before saying softly, “Jingyuan.”

The name nearly undid him. Xiao Jingyuan lowered his forehead against Shen Yuheng’s shoulder, breathing once as if suppressing himself.

Shen Yuheng was silent for a moment. Then he raised his hand and lightly touched Xiao Jingyuan’s hair. The gesture was gentle and trusting.

Xiao Jingyuan went still.

After a long while, he said against Shen Yuheng’s shoulder, “If you are afraid, I will stop.”

Shen Yuheng’s gaze softened. “I am not afraid.”

Xiao Jingyuan lifted his head.

Shen Yuheng looked at him beneath the candlelight, beautiful enough to make breath hurt and calm enough to make the next words feel like a gift rather than surrender.

“I am only still learning how to rest beside someone.”

Xiao Jingyuan’s expression changed. The possessiveness in his eyes did not vanish, but it softened around the edges, becoming something steadier and more careful.

“Then we learn slowly.”

Shen Yuheng smiled faintly. “Slowly?”

Xiao Jingyuan looked at his lips, and his restraint wavered again. “Perhaps not too slowly.”

This time, Shen Yuheng laughed aloud. Xiao Jingyuan kissed him again.

The second kiss was deeper, still restrained, but no longer uncertain. Shen Yuheng’s hand tightened around his sleeve, and Xiao Jingyuan drew him closer, the crimson wedding robes folding together like two streams of fire meeting beneath the candlelight.

The system, very wisely, remained silent.

Outside, the moon climbed above the seventh prince’s residence. Inside, red candles burned through half the night. At some point, the bed curtains fell, and the rest belonged only to them.

When Shen Yuheng woke, morning light had softened the red silk around the bed into a warm haze. For a moment, he did not move. The room was unfamiliar, and the scent was different from the Shen residence: pine incense, clean bedding, faint metal from the sword stand near the wall, and the lingering warmth of extinguished candles.

An arm rested around his waist, firm, careful, and possessive even in sleep. Shen Yuheng lowered his eyes.

Xiao Jingyuan was still asleep beside him, his face less severe in the morning light. Without the coldness of court or the sharpness of battle, he looked younger. Nineteen, after all. A prince, a commander, and now his husband.

As if sensing movement, Xiao Jingyuan’s arm tightened slightly. Then he opened his eyes.

For a breath, he looked at Shen Yuheng without speaking. The morning made the gaze softer than the night had been.

“You’re awake,” Xiao Jingyuan said.

“So is Your Highness.”

Xiao Jingyuan frowned faintly. “Jingyuan.”

Shen Yuheng looked at him. Then he smiled. “Jingyuan.”

The frown disappeared.

Very easy to coax, Shen Yuheng thought.

The system chose that moment to speak.

【User status: stable.】

【Residual fatigue detected.】

【Marital transition complete. Current identity: seventh prince’s principal spouse.】

Shen Yuheng’s lashes lowered.

Seventh prince’s principal spouse.

Not a neglected ger of the Shen household. Not a dying soul beneath strange stars. Not a pawn waiting for someone else’s decision.

He had crossed another threshold.

Xiao Jingyuan watched his expression and quietly took his hand beneath the quilt. Shen Yuheng did not pull away.

Outside the door, attendants waited for the new spouse of the seventh prince’s residence to rise. Inside the red bed curtains, Shen Yuheng closed his fingers around Xiao Jingyuan’s hand.

A new life had begun.