Chapter 44 The Wedding Night

Meng Qingci gazed at Fu Heng in his bright red, round-necked silk wedding robe. The candlelight flickered, and the lotus flower pattern on the robe was faintly visible. The collar, cuffs, and sleeves were all embroidered with gold thread in the shape of auspicious symbols. The gold and jade belt at his waist shone brightly, further highlighting his handsome and elegant appearance. He was as radiant as the moon and as graceful as an orchid in the courtyard.

His slender eyes held a tender, gentle gaze. If she hadn't known the schemes he had orchestrated and planted in her beneath his gentle exterior, she would have probably drowned in those affectionate eyes that gazed at her with such tenderness.

Meng Qingci's heart suddenly trembled, a surge of emotion washing over her. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, like the silent yet rapid undercurrent of snowmelt when spring ice first cracks, instantly overwhelming her carefully guarded heart.

At this moment, a name long forgotten resurfaced—Gu Yuchen. Looking at Fu Heng before her, Gu Yuchen's features became blurred, as if completely severed from her. She didn't know when, but in her memory, Gu Yuchen's features had become indistinct.

Meng Qingci didn't know if it was because she had been struggling alone in this strange world for too long that she was craving Fu Heng's tenderness for a moment, or if she had already become accustomed to being carefully tamed by him.

This uncontrollable flutter of the heart brought endless panic, as if an invisible hand was trying to seize her soul. This was precisely what made Fu Heng so terrifying, and what made him so suffocating: his almost twisted control and obsession trapped her in a prison, making her feel suffocated.

Fu Heng didn't miss the fleeting glimpse of infatuation in Meng Qingci's eyes. He pressed his thumb heavily against her lips, the soft, moist touch suddenly burning his fingertip.

He couldn't help but caress her, feeling her subtle trembling, and then, unable to restrain himself, he pried open her teeth.

A near-manic joy surged and raged in his chest, almost bursting out of his body and burning away all his restraint.

Meng Qingci turned her head away somewhat awkwardly, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, revealing a slender and delicate neck. Her earlobes were slightly hot, and she said in a low voice, "Aren't you going to the front to entertain the guests?"

Aside from their passionate encounters in bed, Fu Heng had never seen Meng Qingci so shy and timid before, and a deep chuckle escaped his throat.

Fu Heng took her slender, white hand, as delicate as a bamboo shoot, and pressed it to his thin lips, his voice low and husky as if whispering, "Please wait a moment, my wife. I will be right back."

After speaking, Fu Heng lightly flicked his wide sleeves, his fingertips seemingly brushing against the hem of his robe, before rising and walking. Reaching the door, he instructed Xia Guang, who stood respectfully outside the door with his head bowed, "Take good care of your mistress."

Xia Guang hurriedly bowed and agreed, not daring to be negligent in the slightest.

With no outsiders around, Meng Qingci let out a long sigh of relief. She casually tossed aside the round fan she had been holding for so long, and her straight back suddenly softened as she leaned gently against the intricately carved bed frame behind her.

She reached up from her hair and, with a slightly hasty motion, pulled out the heavy gold hairpin, then tossed it aside. The hairpin landed silently on the bright red wedding quilt covered with dates and longans, sinking into the vibrant softness.

Xia Guang moved gracefully, carrying a red lacquered tray with a bowl of warm bird's nest porridge and several delicate pastries. She stepped forward and helped Meng Qingci up, saying, "Madam, please have some food and rest a bit more."

Exhausted, Meng Qingci sighed and said, "Quickly tell them to make the bed and prepare hot water. I want to take a bath."

Seeing the weariness in her eyes, Xia Guang understood. While serving her some porridge and snacks, she instructed the maids to quickly tidy up the room.

Meng Qingci barely ate half a bowl of porridge before pushing the bowl aside, getting up, and taking off her elaborate wedding attire. She casually tossed it onto the mica screen in the bathroom, took a quick bath, and then, wearing a crimson gauze undergarment, went straight to the bed.

Xia Guang hesitated for a moment before saying, "Today is a joyous occasion. Why isn't Madam waiting for Master to return?"

Meng Qingci frowned and replied irritably, "I can wait, but I'm afraid the one in my belly can't."

Xia Guang knew she had worked hard that day, so she considerately dimmed the candlelight in the room and gently lowered the bed curtains before quietly retreating to the porch outside the door to keep watch.

Inside the mansion of the Marquis of Anyi in the capital region, the cold moonlight shone through the window lattices.

Today is the wedding day of his third uncle and Qing'er. Fu Yan'an is alone in his study, wearing a blue official robe embroidered with white pheasant patches, and a plain silver belt buckle at his waist reflecting a faint, cold light. He holds a white jade wine pot in his hand, his body leaning over the table, his thin face half-hidden in shadow, making him appear even colder and more gloomy.

His long, slender fingers slowly traced the delicate portrait of a beautiful woman on the table, his fingertips outlining the exquisite features and bridge of her nose before finally resting on her lips. He chuckled softly, his voice as cold as shattered jade: "...You have such a cruel heart."

"You actually chose him, not me?" He then suddenly tilted his head back and took several gulps from the spout. The amber wine slid down Fu Yan'an's lips, meandered down his chin, and soaked into his clothes. He slammed the wine pot heavily on the table with a dull thud, then sneered, "Don't think you can get rid of me so easily."

That day, he was summoned by the Ministry of Justice and was gone for several days. When he returned after finishing his official business, he found that Qing'er was nowhere to be seen. He then realized that his third uncle had deliberately sent him away.

No wonder his third uncle kept urging him to get married; it turned out he had this in mind. His third uncle was truly cunning, knowing full well that Qing'er was his, yet still vying for her with him. A cold glint appeared between his teeth, but a dark fire ignited in his eyes. Such "care"—what a good third uncle he was, truly unforgettable.

Fu Yan'an clenched his teeth, a metallic, sweet taste rising to his tongue. His third uncle had actually married Qing'er; his third uncle had actually made her his legal wife.

With such preciousness and such a title, Qing'er must be doing this willingly, right? If he hadn't forced her back then, hadn't pushed her so hard, would she already be his wife?

All the memories of the past flashed before Fu Yan'an's eyes like a revolving lantern: her pitiful appearance as a child when she first entered the Marquis's mansion, hiding in a secluded place, crying like a fledgling bird with nowhere to go; her plump figure in her younger sister's courtyard; her first dance; her sweet smile towards him—all were still vivid in his mind...

Regret, like a poisonous vine, entwined Fu Yan'an, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

Deep within the Marquis of Anyi's mansion, the candlelight in the Buddhist hall was dim. A thick layer of ash covered the incense table, and the Buddha statue was half-hidden in shadow, its gaze lowered, seemingly filled with compassion for all living beings.

Granny Shen looked at the old lady, Madam Wang, kneeling on the prayer mat, her hair as white as frost, her figure withered, showing no trace of her former arrogance and domineering nature.

Granny Shen glanced at the untouched food again, and her usually rigid voice now revealed a strange lightness: "Madam, today is the Third Master's happy day, and everyone in the mansion is filled with joy. You, as his mother, should also share in the joy."

The only sound in the Buddhist hall was the occasional crackling of candle wicks popping. After an eerie silence, the old lady, Madam Wang, let out a hoarse, strange laugh.

The laughter was dry, like withered branches scraping against a windowpane, sounding particularly eerie in the empty hall: "Murdering his own brother, harming his nephew, and now, just like the old master, he's married to a maid." She suddenly raised her head, her cloudy old eyes flashing with terrifying hatred. "Old lady, you've truly raised a fine son for me!"

Granny Shen remained unmoved, her tone indifferent: "Third Master is merely removing the rotten flesh from the Marquis's mansion, and treating Fu Shi by removing the bones and removing the poison. Old Madam, you should try to be more open-minded."

"Rotten flesh?!" The old lady, Madam Wang, seemed utterly provoked by these words. She suddenly turned around in a frenzy, her withered fingers gripping the edge of the prayer mat tightly, and roared hoarsely, "My Jizong is not rotten flesh! He isn't! Do you really think I'm senile and know nothing? Don't I know what those brothers are plotting? They sacrificed my Jizong! They, father and son, are not rotten flesh! They are my heart and soul! They are my life!"

Granny Shen looked down at the old lady, Madam Wang, with a numb and indifferent gaze. She felt a sense of satisfaction and said sarcastically, "Now you know how much pain you felt when you lost your son, Madam."

After speaking, Granny Shen turned and left the Buddhist hall without looking at Wang Shi again, completely shutting out Wang Shi's hoarse cries and endless resentment behind the heavy doors.

Only the Buddha statue remained silent in the shadows, its eyes lowered in compassion, seemingly gazing silently at the Wang family's inescapable karmic burdens and absurdities throughout their lives.

In the Minzhou Governor's Mansion, the crimson lanterns hanging high under the eaves reflected double happiness patterns. As the night breeze blew, the lantern shadows flickered, spreading a hazy red glow.

Fu Heng, unusually, drank a couple more cups of wine today. After the banquet, he strode briskly towards the bridal chamber, a slight buzz rising in his head, allowing him to truly appreciate the essence of the "Four Joys Poem": "A timely rain after a long drought, meeting an old friend in a foreign land, the wedding night, and passing the imperial examination." (Quoted from "Zeng Guang Xian Wen")

Meng Qingci was extremely tired today. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep. She tossed and turned in her dream, only to be woken up by Fu Heng's mischievous hands.

Meng Qingci was exhausted today, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep. However, she tossed and turned in her dream, and in her daze, she felt a pair of warm hands moving around and disturbing her. She opened her eyes, disturbed, and met Fu Heng's pair of deep, dark eyes.

His shirt came undone, revealing his muscular chest. Meng Qingci hadn't recovered yet when she felt him gripping her vital parts. She was startled and reached out to grab his slightly damp hair, giving it a tug in annoyance: "Are you crazy? Have you forgotten that I'm pregnant?"

"Don't worry, I've already asked Zhang He, and he'll be fine after three months." Fu Heng chuckled, finding her little gesture of rejection endearing and affectionate, and stroked her hair.

He leaned closer, his hot breath brushing against her ear, each word carrying an irresistible tenderness: "Tonight is our wedding night, a perfect night, how could I let my wife waste it?"

Meng Qingci was unwilling to comply with him, and hurriedly shrank back, pressing her delicate hand against his firm, hot chest, and forcefully shoving him. Unexpectedly, this gave the scoundrel an opportunity to domineeringly take his place.

Hearing his shameful, unpleasant voice, and imagining the playful twists and turns of his long, bamboo-like index finger.

Meng Qingci turned her head away in shame, her eyes reddening, and a hint of spring crept onto her cheeks, blooming even more beautifully. Her voice trembled softly and seductively: "I'm afraid."

Fu Heng gripped her ankle, his long, narrow eyes filled with an abyss of emotion. He asked, "What are you afraid of? Are you afraid you've already forgiven me?"

He already knew her inside and out. Taking advantage of her confused state of mind, he shamelessly pressed his advantage, seizing her and refusing to let go, wanting to invade her entire mind and spirit, as if he wanted to devour her soul.

Seeing her slightly parted red lips, sobbing uncontrollably, looking both delicate and alluring, completely defenseless, he kissed the corner of her lips with satisfaction and asked softly, "Are you still afraid that you've already fallen for me?"

Fu Heng tenderly stroked her delicate face: "Qingci, can you feel it? It's not that hard to like me."

"No..." Meng Qingci bit her red lips, thinking it must be because of the incense.

Fu Heng kissed her lips and sensitive earlobe with utmost tenderness, as if coaxing a sullen little girl: "Didn't you already guess that you're pregnant and no longer affected by the incense?"

Meng Qingci turned her head away unwillingly. It was as if he controlled her emotions. He made her happy when he wanted her to be happy, and he made her feel sad when he wanted her to be sad. However, she did not see the fleeting, obscure look in Fu Heng's eyes.

Fu Heng kissed her tenderly, kissing every inch of her body.

Until, Meng Qingci's eyes widened, and she cried out in disbelief in a weak voice, "No..." The lingering sound caught in her throat, and she could no longer utter it.

Fu Heng held Meng Qingci in his arms. Meng Qingci had her back to him, silently sobbing, her shoulders trembling slightly. She was still unable to recover and could not accept what had just happened.

Fu Heng's large, warm hands gently stroked her back, softly comforting her: "Don't be afraid, you're just too happy, I like it very much."

Before Meng Qingci transmigrated, many people pursued her, but none of them dared to act disrespectfully towards her. Although Gu Yuchen indulged her, he always kept his distance from her.

She had never seen such a shameless scoundrel as Fu Heng! His absurd words left her speechless with anger and frustration. She burst into tears, sobbing and cursing, "You...you shameless scoundrel! How could you...how could you be so...you're so vile!"

"No man could remain a gentleman after meeting you." Fu Heng sighed, "Considering my diligent service to my wife, please show some affection to your husband."

As he spoke, he took her hand and held his own. Meng Qingci felt even more upset. She was already emotionally sensitive during her pregnancy, and her tears flowed even more fiercely as she pounded on Fu Heng's chest.

The next morning, Meng Qingci slowly woke up, but Fu Heng was nowhere to be seen.

After she finished washing up and having breakfast, Xia Guang reported back: "The list of gifts from yesterday's guests has been sent by the master. Please take a look. The master instructed that all congratulatory gifts from various households should be handled by the madam."

Xia Guang paused for a moment, then presented an exquisite gift card and a letter: "This is a gift specially sent by the young lady, and there is also a letter for you."

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Author's Note: Meng Qingci: Just keep lying to me.

Fu Heng: It's because you don't love me.