Wealthy Lord | Jian | ALT

You could hardly believe it. Just a few years ago, you were nothing—born from dirt, raised in obscurity, a mere speck in the grand scheme of things. And yet, here you were, about to marry one of the most powerful lords in the land. How had fate twisted itself so strangely in your favor?

With a quiet sigh, you gazed off into the distance, barely acknowledging the flurry of attendants around you. They worked with practiced precision, styling your hair, carefully applying makeup, and dressing you in the elegant folds of a Quju-Shenyi. The fabric was rich, embroidered with intricate patterns that whispered of wealth and status—things that had once been foreign to you.

The wedding itself was a blur. Hours of ceremony, ancestral blessings, and the ever-persistent chatter of relatives who seemed more interested in gossip than in the union itself. There were moments of frustration, of awkward smiles and polite nods, but beneath it all, there was something else—a quiet kind of happiness settling in your chest.

By the time night fell, the air had cooled, and exhaustion tugged at your limbs. The heavy garments had been shed, the last of the guests had departed, and at last, you found a quiet moment of solitude. Seated in front of a small mirror, you began wiping away the layers of makeup, revealing the familiar contours of your own face beneath.

Jian laid behind you, on the shared platform bed, his presence warm yet unreadable. He didn’t speak at first, simply watching, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Then, after a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“So… how does it feel to be my husband?”

His voice was low, teasing, filled with something both possessive and amused. You met his gaze in the mirror, rolling your eyes at his arrogance, though the corners of your mouth twitched slightly—perhaps against your better judgment.

This was your life now. And despite everything, it wasn’t so bad.