Chapter 51: The First Night’s Promise

Shen Ti bathed, changed into clean undergarments, inner garments, and outer robes, then stepped out from behind the screen in the bathing room.

Yin Zhi stood up from the table. “All done?”

Shen Ti hesitated a little, then walked over. “Shall I go now?”

Yin Zhi could clearly see how tense and unnatural he looked.

She lowered her gaze, pressed her lips together, and forcibly held back a smile. When she looked back up, her expression was serious. “Mm. Go ahead.”

For some reason, Shen Ti felt that Yin Zhi’s gaze today was especially… tender.

She hadn’t looked at him like that during dinner.

Strange.

He nodded and turned to leave, but after a couple of steps, Yin Zhi called out behind him, “Ji Yun!”

He turned around to look. Yin Zhi’s eyes were filled with laughter.

She said, “Congratulations.”

Tonight, he would be a groom for the first time—marking a modest milestone in life.

And it was also his first time, in every sense.

Congratulations from your elder sister, little brother.

Shen Ti gave a slight nod and left.

Outside, night had fallen so thoroughly that one could hardly see. Changchuan held a lantern to guide the way.

Feng Luoyi had been placed by Madam Shen in a room within the east courtyard—not too far, but not too close either. Just right.

Her courtyard now had all the proper attendants, young and old.

A lantern hung above the entrance. A young maid peered out and, spotting the distant glow of a lantern approaching, immediately ran inside: “He’s coming!”

Shen Ti entered the courtyard, where a young maid waited with a lantern to lead him.

He turned and instructed Changchuan on when to come get him the next morning. “The end of the Mao hour (around 5:30 AM).”

Changchuan acknowledged with a “Yes,” and waited outside the courtyard gate. Once Shen Ti stepped inside, he turned to leave.

The maid carefully lit the way up the steps. At the main room, another maid lifted the curtain and bowed. Shen Ti lowered his head slightly and stepped in. More maids lifted curtains until he reached the inner chamber.

Red candles flickered and crackled, casting their warm glow across the room.

By the bed, Zhaoxiang supported Feng Luoyi as she rose and bowed to Shen Ti. “Hanlin (Court Academician).”

She wore ceremonial bridal attire. Her slim shoulders looked delicate beneath the layers, and her head was modestly bowed.

Shen Ti paused, then stepped forward and gently said, “Luoniang, I’m here.”

Feng Luoyi looked up at him with trembling eyes. Before she could speak, her eyes reddened. “Shen Lang…”

Just as Yin Zhi had predicted, Shen Ti had been tightly wound the entire evening. But the moment he saw Feng Luoyi—frail and pitiful—the tension in him suddenly eased.

Compared to him, wasn’t she even more nervous?

To him, this was merely taking a concubine.

To her, it was her entire life’s security.

He was the man who needed to shelter her under his roof. How could he show any uncertainty or nervousness? That would only make her feel unsafe.

He looked at her and said, “It’s been a while. You’ve lost more weight.”

In his memory, Feng Luoyi had always been slender. But now she looked even thinner—so much so that even in her festive attire, she seemed as though the fabric might swallow her whole.

Feng Luoyi smiled through her tears. “Missing you made it hard to eat. Of course I lost weight. But now that I’ve seen you, I’ll eat well from now on.”

Looking at her beautiful face and tear-filled eyes, Shen Ti gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

He reminded himself: Shen Jiyun, remember—never show nervousness, indecision, or hesitation in front of Feng Luoyi.

She has only you to depend on for the rest of her life.

You must be a pillar of strength for her.

“Have you bathed?” he asked.

Feng Luoyi nodded.

“Then,” Shen Ti said, “let’s rest.”

Feng Luoyi lowered her eyes, her lashes wet. Then she looked up. “Shen Lang… may we share a cup of nuptial wine?”

Zhaoxiang stepped forward with a tray holding two cups.

They were made from a halved gourd, tied together with a green silk thread in the shape of a lover’s knot.

It was an ancient custom—few still used gourds in the Da Mu Dynasty. While gourd cups were still sold, most had shifted to wooden, gold, or silver ones. Shen Ti and Yin Zhi had used gold cups for their nuptial wine.

Traditionally, the bitter taste of wine in a gourd symbolized enduring hardship together—sharing both sweetness and sorrow, till old age.

But this ceremony was reserved for official wives. Concubines did not receive such rites.

Yet Feng Luoyi’s tear-filled eyes watched him, hopeful.

Had fate not interfered, she should have been his wife. But the heavens were cruel, and her path twisted—she became a concubine instead.

Though she had been informed of the arrangements in advance, her cousin said she would still be anxious these past few days.

Yes, of course.

In Shen Ti’s heart, there had always been a clear line between “wife” and “concubine.”

He had resisted marriage at first because he knew this line too well.

A wife is an equal. He cherished Feng Luoyi, but if he married someone formally, he would owe her respect.

At that time, he thought: if he wanted to protect Feng Luoyi and avoid violating propriety, then the best solution was not to marry at all.

No wife—no risk of favoring a concubine over a wife.

That was a year ago. Looking back, he realized how naive that thinking had been. No wonder his cousin called him childish.

Favoring a concubine over a wife was wrong, of course. But refusing to marry altogether for a concubine’s sake—wasn’t that even more wrong?

He’d been stuck in his own logic.

Luckily, he met Yin Zhi.

He recalled what Yin Zhi had told him in the covered corridor yesterday evening: Feng Luoyi would likely be feeling very insecure these days.

Her gaze had been clear; her sympathy, genuine.

So… she wouldn’t mind, would she?

Shen Ti picked up the other gourd cup.

No guests. No feast. No ceremonial bows to heaven and earth. Everything was simple.

Other families sometimes held banquets even for taking a concubine. But because of her father, everything was kept low-key. Feng Luoyi knew this must not have been Shen Ti’s choice—it must have been Lord Shen’s.

It was Lord Shen who had once tried to send her far away, despite Madam Shen’s protests. Lord Shen had never intended to keep her.

Fortunately, Shen Ti had returned in time, stood up to his father, and protected her.

But even so… she could no longer be his wife.

Feng Luoyi drank the bitter wine, tears spilling down her cheeks.

According to ancient rites, there was no need to cross arms. The popular “cross-cup wine” had only emerged in the past hundred years.

Shen Ti also drank his half.

The cups were tossed under the bed. Zhaoxiang peeked under and clapped her hands. “One up, one down—an auspicious sign.”

She packed up, then turned and saw Shen Ti gently wipe Feng Luoyi’s tears before lifting her into his arms.

Zhaoxiang quickly left and shut the inner doors.

Moments later, the light behind the windowpaper disappeared—the candles inside had been blown out.

Shen Ti left no lamp burning. In the dimness behind the bed curtains, it was easier to relax.

He could feel how stiff her body was—she truly was more nervous than him.

Girls… were always afraid their first time.

Shen Ti gently kissed her, embraced her, and slowly undressed her.

Feng Luoyi gradually softened in his arms.

Their bare bodies met. Her delicate arms wrapped tightly around him.

She bore the pain and welcomed him.

That night, Shen Ti and Feng Luoyi both came into adulthood.

A new chapter of their lives began.

Afterward, Feng Luoyi lay curled in Shen Ti’s arms, listening to his heartbeat.

“Shen Lang,” she murmured, “Will we be like this… for the rest of our lives?”

“Yes,” Shen Ti gently stroked her smooth shoulder, kissed her, and promised, “For life.”

A young man and woman, newly awakened to intimacy—at that moment, the world outside the bed could wait.

Rituals, hierarchies, careers, families, joys, and sorrows—all forgotten.

He was eighteen—young and full of passion. She was seventeen—like a flower in bloom.

The bed curtains swayed. Whispers, kisses, and desire tangled in the dark.

A night of indulgence.

Yin Zhi woke even earlier than on the previous four mornings.

Today was the day Shen Ti’s favored concubine would formally offer tea to her. Only after this ceremony would she be considered a concubine in name.

Though “a concubine in name” was in itself a phrase filled with sadness and irony.

Still, in the marriage agreement between Shen Ti and Yin Zhi, the most important term was: he would give her a stable life, and she would help him with his woman.

“What are you sneaking glances for? If you're going to look, look properly,” Yin Zhi scolded Kui’er, who was peeking at her through the mirror.

Kui’er pouted. Pu’er and Ying’er kept their eyes glued to the floor.

“Your lips are about to hang a bottle of oil,” Yin Zhi said. “Didn’t we know this back in Huaixi?”

She had spread the news on purpose back then.

Yes, they’d known early on that their young master would have a concubine. But now that it was real, the maids couldn’t help feeling frustrated on her behalf.

“You girls need to see the big picture,” Yin Zhi said. “I told you—if not for this arrangement, I wouldn’t have married into the Shen family in the capital.”

“You can’t have everything. Be satisfied with what’s sweet. If you want it all, ask yourself—what have you done to deserve it?”

Her words eased their frustration a bit.

Breakfast was laid out, but there was no sign of Shen Ti. He had clearly said he’d return to eat breakfast with Yin Zhi.

Not that she believed him.

He was just a clueless virgin confidently making plans. She couldn’t bear to burst his bubble, so she just nodded along.

And sure enough, he was a no-show this morning.

Hah. Virgin boy’s first night—like he could get up on time. Even if he did, he’d probably want another round in the morning.

So young, so full of energy.

Yin Zhi waved her hand. “We’re not waiting. Let’s eat.”

Meanwhile, Changchuan had arrived on time at Feng Luoyi’s courtyard—but saw no sign of his young master.

Strange. The young master was usually so disciplined.

Then Zhaoxiang came out with a smile and handed him several large coins. “Go inform the young madam—the Hanlin says he’ll eat here and then come over.”

Changchuan looked at the closed window. It didn’t seem like anyone inside was getting up anytime soon. He took the money and rushed off to deliver the message.

Inside the room, the bed curtains still hung down.

As Yin Zhi had guessed, a young couple’s first taste of intimacy could only end in entangled indulgence, lost in repetition, addicted to the sweetness.

Eventually, they finally quieted down and got up. Feng Luoyi shyly presented a crumpled white silk cloth, stained with blood and other traces.

Compared to the fake one he and his cousin had crafted, this was far more convincing. Good thing they’d fooled everyone.

After Shen Ti looked it over and nodded, Feng Luoyi blushed and let Zhaoxiang store it away.

Zhaoxiang took the chance to sneak a few glances at her.

Feng Luoyi’s skin was tender. After a whole night of passion and more in the morning, marks were visible on her neck, chest, even her back.

Clearly, the night had been passionate.

Zhaoxiang was relieved. Feng Luoyi had cried so much, she’d worried her master would lose interest.

A concubine doesn’t have a noble status or a powerful family behind her. All she has is the man’s affection. And that’s never something reliable.

But it seemed alright now. Shen Ti clearly cherished her—this sort of thing worked on him.

So it would be fine.

Let her cry as much as she liked.