In the banquet hall.
Red silk was hung high throughout the hall, and the wedding candles burned brightly, casting a golden and red glow over the entire space. Even the air was filled with a sweet fragrance.
The guests, all smiles, huddled together in twos and threes, exchanging auspicious greetings and occasionally casting envious glances at the newlyweds in the hall.
Lin Tingwan wore a bright red wedding dress with layers upon layers of skirt, and the phoenix embroidered with gold thread shone brightly in the candlelight, as if it would take flight from the fabric at any moment.
She lowered her head slightly, revealing a section of her snow-white nape. The pearls hanging from her earlobes swayed gently with her movements, making her even more gentle and charming.
Shen Huaixu stood beside her, his crimson wedding attire well-tailored, making his broad shoulders and narrow waist appear even more striking, and his figure as upright as a pine tree.
A perfectly measured smile played on his lips, a smile that seemed to have been carefully calculated; any more would appear deliberate, any less would appear negligent.
His gaze fell on the bride beside him, but it wasn't as passionate as others imagined; instead, it was as deep as a still pool, making it impossible to discern his emotions.
Only the closest official could notice that the veins on the back of his hand, which was gripping the red silk, were slightly bulging, and his knuckles were turning slightly white from the force he was exerting.
The two bowed slowly to the high-pitched chanting of the master of ceremonies, each "bow" drawing cheers from the audience.
In the corner, Shen Jintang stood quietly.
She was exceptionally beautiful, and even amidst a room full of jeweled guests, her innate aloofness still drew people's attention.
But at this moment, her gaze was unfocused and fixed on the distance, as if the lively wedding in front of her had nothing to do with her.
She was trying her best to suppress those inappropriate thoughts.
Ever since she learned from Ye Qingzhou that the South Study was filled with portraits of women covering an entire wall, the idea had been like a thorn in her heart.
Those unfamiliar faces, some smiling and some with lowered eyes, were all carefully framed and neatly hung in Gu Zhixing's most private space.
This matter has been lingering in her mind, refusing to leave, and has even affected her normal judgment.
She hadn't lost control like this in a long time.
Since she learned to hide her emotions when she came of age, she has never let anyone see through her thoughts.
But now, those questions that had been deliberately suppressed surged up again: Who exactly is that woman? What are Gu Zhixing's true feelings for her? What is she, really?
"When can we have a wedding like this?"
A deep voice suddenly sounded in her ear, and warm breath brushed against her earlobe, making her tremble all over.
Shen Jintang didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Gu Zhixing, the person who had made her restless for days!
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Gu Zhixing asked again.
Her heart skipped a beat, her ears instantly burned, and a thin blush spread across her neck.
She didn't dare turn around, but turned her body slightly to the side and softly changed the subject: "...Your Highness looks really beautiful today."
The person behind her was silent for a moment, and then she clearly felt that hot breath approaching, almost touching her earlobe.
"Shen Jintang." He called her name slowly and deliberately, "You're avoiding me again."
This is not a question, but a certainty.
Shen Jintang's fingertips curled slightly as she clenched her fist.
She dared not turn around, afraid that if she did, she would be met with his unfathomable eyes, afraid that she would be unable to resist being captivated by them and never be able to break free.
Gu Zhixing stared at her fair nape, his eyes darkening, and the fire in his chest burned even brighter.
He could barely control himself; he wanted nothing more than to bite her, so she could never hide or escape again.
——
After the ceremony, the guests dispersed in twos and threes, some going to the banquet to drink, and others going to the garden to enjoy the scenery.
Shen Jintang lowered her head and walked quickly out of the hall, wanting only to leave this place of trouble as soon as possible.
Before he could take two steps, his wrist was grabbed.
The palm of that hand was burning hot, and the force was so great that it almost made her wince in pain.
Shen Jintang's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively struggled: "Your Highness! What are you doing?"
Gu Zhixing didn't answer, but grabbed her and strode out, completely ignoring her staggering.
He walked extremely fast, his clothes fluttering, stirring up a cold wind, and Shen Jintang almost had to jog to keep up.
"Gu Zhixing!" she whispered, both anxious and angry, "Let me go!"
He still didn't answer, and led her straight to the carriage parked outside the mansion. He lifted the curtain and half-dragged, half-carried her inside.
The car door slammed shut, cutting off all view from the outside.
The carriage was cramped, and before Shen Jintang could even sit properly, Gu Zhixing had already pressed her against the corner.
His arms braced against her sides, trapping her tightly, leaving her no chance to escape.
“Shen Jintang,” he stared at her with deep eyes, his voice low and husky, “what exactly is wrong with you?”
She turned her face away from him, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible: "I didn't."
"No?" He laughed angrily, reaching out to pinch her chin and forcing her to look at him. "Then why are you avoiding me? Why do you avoid answering my questions about marriage?"
Shen Jintang's eyes reddened slightly, and her lips trembled, but she ultimately didn't say the question—"And what about you? Who is the person in the portrait hidden in your study?"
She closed her eyes slightly, calming herself down. What difference did it make even if she knew who it was? It just wasn't her!
Shen Jintang bit her lip hard, her fingertips digging into her palm, barely managing to suppress the surging sourness.
She gently pushed him away and whispered, "...I'm tired, I want to go back to the palace."
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