039

Red candles burned brightly, illuminating the entire room. Inside the Jiaofang Palace, large red "double happiness" characters adorned the window frames, and a brocade quilt with mandarin ducks was spread on the couch, the air filled with a faint fragrance of acacia. Si Mianmian, wearing a heavy phoenix crown and an elaborate wedding dress, sat gracefully on the edge of the bed. All she could see was crimson; she could only glimpse her slightly sweaty hands, clasped together on her knees, through the narrow gap beneath her veil.

The boisterous music and celebratory shouts from the guests outside the hall gradually faded into silence. Footsteps approached, steady and powerful, and stopped in front of her. Si Mianmian's heart suddenly raced; she could feel that familiar, scrutinizing gaze upon her.

The cool touch of the jade ruyi gently lifted a corner of the veil, slowly moving upwards. As the view gradually opened up, the first thing that caught the eye was the corner of a black robe embroidered with golden dragon patterns. Above that, there was a slender waist bound with a jade belt, a broad chest, and finally, a pair of unfathomable dark eyes.

Xuan Jing stood before her, holding a jade ruyi scepter. He had removed his imperial robes, wearing only a dark red casual robe, which made his handsome face even more striking. However, his usually calm eyes now held an undercurrent of emotions that Si Mianmian could not fathom. He gazed at her silently, his eyes sweeping from her meticulously drawn eyebrows to her glistening lips, finally settling on her long eyelashes that trembled slightly with nervousness.

"All of you, step back." His voice was low and emotionless.

The palace attendants standing by felt as if they had been granted a pardon. They quietly bowed and withdrew, gently closing the palace door behind them. The vast bedchamber was now left with only the two of them. The soft crackling of the burning red candles sounded exceptionally clear at that moment.

Survival Handbook Rule #39: The wedding night is the beginning of marriage, but also the prelude to a new round of games. The intimacy at this moment most easily reveals true feelings and is the best time to test each other's true intentions.

Si Mianmian lowered her eyelashes, avoiding his overly direct gaze, her hands unconsciously tightening on her knees. She could smell the crisp scent of alcohol on him, mixed with the familiar, uniquely his cool pine fragrance, bringing an invisible sense of oppression.

Xuan Jing stepped forward and sat down beside her. The bed sank slightly, and Si Mianmian's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.

"Nervous?" he suddenly spoke, his voice close to my ear, slightly hoarse from drinking, but his tone remained calm.

Si Mianmian took a deep breath, forced herself to raise her head, met his gaze, and tried to make her voice sound steady: "Your Majesty is joking. Today is a day of celebration for the whole world, and Mianmian... feels only joy in her heart." She paused, then added, "It's just that this phoenix crown is heavy, and it makes my neck a little sore."

This statement was half true and half false, both responding to his question and subtly showing weakness by attributing the tension to external burdens.

Upon hearing this, Xuan Jing's gaze fell upon the magnificent phoenix crown adorned with pearls and jewels on her head. He reached out, his fingertips brushing against her temples, awkwardly unfastening the clasps of her hair. His cool fingertips occasionally brushed against the warm skin of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Si Mianmian held her breath, not daring to move.

The phoenix crown was removed and placed on a side table with a soft thud. Si Mianmian immediately felt a lightness on her head and involuntarily let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Are you feeling better now?" Xuan Jing asked, still standing very close.

"Yes, thank you for your consideration, Your Majesty," Si Mianmian replied softly, subconsciously raising her hand to rub her sore neck. This subtle movement caused her wide sleeve to slip down, revealing a section of her fair and slender wrist, and the exquisite daylily jade pendant on her wrist—the very one that Xuan Jing had given her many years ago.

Xuan Jing's gaze lingered on her wrist for a moment, his eyes darkening. He suddenly reached out and grasped her wrist. His large, warm palm, calloused like that of a martial artist, enveloped her slightly cool skin.

Si Mianmian trembled and tried to pull her hand away, but he held it even tighter.

"You're still wearing this jade pendant." He stroked the smooth edge of the jade pendant, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger.

"I will never forget His Majesty's gift," she replied, her eyes lowered, her heart pounding. This jade pendant was one of the few tokens of affection between them, and mentioning it now carried complex meanings.

Xuan Jing chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in his laughter: "Is it that you dare not forget, or... cannot forget?" He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her earlobe, "Si Mianmian, tell me, as you sit here today in this wedding dress, what are you thinking in your heart, the princess of the Yu Dynasty, or my wife, Xuan Jing's wife?"

This question, sharp and direct, tore away all pretense of warmth. Si Mianmian was deeply shaken, knowing that this was the real test of the night. If she answered that she was a princess of the Yu Dynasty, she would be seen as harboring ulterior motives; if she answered that she was his wife, she would appear hypocritical and eager.

She raised her eyes, looking directly into his deep, almost touching eyes, which reflected the flickering candlelight and her somewhat pale face. She didn't answer immediately, but instead asked, "And what about Your Majesty? Your Majesty offered the entire empire as a dowry, forcibly taking Mianmian into the palace. Is it that the Emperor of Yan Dynasty needs an Empress from Yu Dynasty to stabilize the people's hearts? Or..." She paused, her voice trembling slightly, yet carrying a hint of desperate courage, "or does Xuanjing want Si Mianmian?"

Survival Handbook Postscript: Sometimes, throwing the question back at the other party is the best defense. Especially in a close contest, honest questioning is more powerful than a perfect answer.

Xuan Jing was clearly taken aback by her question; a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, quickly turning into a deeper inquiry. He gazed at her, the two locked in a silent standoff under the swaying candlelight, the air thick with unspoken tension.

After a long while, Xuan Jing suddenly released his grip on her wrist, but did not pull away. He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across her tightly pursed lips, the gesture carrying an almost intimate undertone.

"Sharp-tongued," he commented, though his tone seemed to soften slightly. "It seems that in the past two years, you've improved more than just your appearance."

His hand slid down her chin and rested on the intricate buttons of her wedding dress. Si Mianmian's body tensed instantly, and her breath caught in her throat.

"Your Majesty..." she called out subconsciously, her voice carrying a barely perceptible plea.

Xuan Jing stopped moving, looking at the undisguised panic and resistance in her eyes, a half-smile curving his lips: "What? My Empress, only now do you remember to remain chaste?"

Si Mianmian's cheeks flushed crimson, filled with shame and indignation, yet she was powerless to resist. She closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling violently, as if awaiting final judgment.

However, the expected further action did not occur. Xuan Jing merely unbuttoned the symbolic top button of her collar before withdrawing his hand. He straightened up and created some distance between them.

"The nuptial wine has not yet been drunk." He turned and walked to the table, pouring two glasses of wine.

Si Mianmian froze, momentarily speechless. Looking at Xuan Jing's tall, straight back, she felt a mix of emotions. Was his action just now a test? A joke? Or… ultimately, a sliver of reluctance lingered?

She got up as instructed and walked to the table. Each of them held a glass of wine, their arms intertwined, and drank the wine symbolizing their union. The wine was spicy, burning all the way from their throats to their stomachs.

Setting down his wine glass, Xuan Jing looked at her cheeks, slightly flushed from the smell of alcohol, and suddenly said, "It's late, let's get settled."

He blew out most of the candles, leaving only a dim palace lantern in the distance. The light in the hall dimmed instantly, and the atmosphere became ambiguous. He took off his outer robe first, leaving only his undergarments, and lay down on the outer side of the bed.

Si Mianmian stood frozen in place, caught in a dilemma.

"Come here." His voice came from the darkness, carrying an unquestionable command.

Si Mianmian bit her lower lip and finally slowly moved to the edge of the bed, lying down on the innermost side, furthest from him, her body stiff as a stone. She could clearly feel the warm body temperature emanating from beside her, and that powerful presence, making it impossible for her to relax.

In the darkness, the two slept in the same bed, yet an invisible chasm separated them. The red curtains and soft couch should have been a scene of perfect beauty, but now they were filled with silent tension and suspicion.

After an unknown amount of time, just when Si Mianmian thought he would remain silent until dawn, Xuan Jing's deep voice suddenly rang out:

"Si Mianmian".

"Hmm?" she responded instinctively.

"Remember what you said today." He turned over to face her, his gaze sharp as an eagle in the darkness. "Now that you've entered this Jiaofang Palace, from this day forward, you belong to me in life and in death. Put away your petty thoughts and do your duty."

His words carried a cold possessiveness, yet strangely mixed with a hint of an indescribable... promise?

Si Mianmian opened her eyes wide in the darkness, her heart churning with turmoil. Before she could respond, Xuan Jing had already turned his back again, as if what he had just said was merely her imagination.

The Survival Manual concludes: The wedding night is not the end of the war, but the beginning of another. Physical intimacy does not necessarily signify spiritual submission. This night is not about romance, but about the long, intertwined struggle of power and emotion that will continue for years to come.

The red candle burned out, and dawn was breaking. That night, some tossed and turned, unable to sleep, while others were lost in thought. And their story had only just begun to unfold a truly magnificent chapter.