The brocade box opened, revealing an intricately carved silver mirror. Its surface was so bright it reflected a person's reflection. A crooked piglet was inlaid with silver thread along its edge, its tail deliberately curved into the shape of a chili pepper. "A self-defense mirror," Xiao Yu raised an eyebrow. "Next time someone disturbs your bridal chamber, just dazzle them with the mirror—you'll avoid turning your bridal chamber into a pharmacy."
"I know!" Shen Weiwan responded, but her fingers secretly stuffed a bag of freshly ground pepper into his sleeve, "Your Highness, try this new flavor? It's added with osmanthus honey. It tastes sweet first and then spicy, with a strong sense of layering."
Xiao Yu sighed helplessly, but took the opportunity to hold her in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head and smelling the jasmine powder remaining in her hair: "I have fallen into the hands of you, little devil." The embers of the red candle danced in his eyes, reflecting her sly smile, just like when they first met, she was hiding behind the rockery, with a calculating light in her eyes.
Outside the window, the night watchman struck the second watch, and the laughter and chatter of the patrol guards drifted in, mixed with newly composed rhymes. Shen Weiwan leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and suddenly remembered this moment in her past life—she was huddled in the corner of a dilapidated temple, wearing old, open-toed shoes, listening to the howling wind and snow outside. And now, the mutton-fat jade "Trick Token" around her waist itched, and the person next to her cupped the back of her hand, their fingertips gently stroking the knuckles where she'd been pricked by needle and thread in her past life.
"Your Highness," she suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight, "At the next palace banquet, I want to prepare a 'surprise' for the Empress Dowager... I'll use the self-defense mirror you gave me to dazzle the old maid next to her."
"Whatever you want." Xiao Yu lowered his head and kissed her forehead, his tone so indulgent it could drip water. "As long as you're happy, even if you shake the paint off my father's throne room, I'll hand you a rag."
Moonlight streamed in through the carved window lattices, illuminating the scattered spicy rice cakes and unopened postcards on the table. No one could have known that this wedding night, ruined by the itching powder, would become a constant topic of conversation for the capital's citizens for the next six months. Storytellers coined the tale of "Seven Imperial Concubines Sprinkling Powder to Disrupt the Bridal Chamber," recounting it daily in teahouses. And with that packet of "happy powder" that instilled fear in the court, the legend of Chen Weiwan's "deception" officially began its even more bizarre and absurd prologue within the palace. After all, in the Great Sheng Dynasty, what could be more exhilarating than watching those sanctimonious individuals flee in tears?
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