Streaks of dawn crept over the grey-tiled roofs of Qianlin like a soft exhale, lazy rays of sunlight seeping through the trees and brushing through the town streets. The road had been swept three times before dawn, cleared of all common folk – leaving only a long retinue of attendants, their bright red robes too dazzling for the early hour.
It was a mild morning with a soft breeze – carrying the scent of crushed petals and sandalwood ash drifting from the censers held by priests pacing slowly at the head of the line.
It was, by all accounts, the perfect morning for a wedding.
Today, the Shen family was to marry their eldest daughter into the palace. The first noble consort to the newly crowned Emperor Jinghe.
The imperial entourage waited at the foot of the Shen estate – the nervous expressions of the envoys a striking contrast with the ostentatious line of gilded chests and towering imperial guardsman behind them.
One of them frowned, leaning toward the captain of the ceremonial guard. "Why are they so late?" he murmured, "We're going to miss the auspicious hour."
The captain shrugged, then glanced uneasily at the sky. "Perhaps the lady is preparing."
A palace maid teetered on her toes, peering over the heads of the crowd at the main gates. "She is beautiful, they say," she said to another maid, her beady eyes glimmering with excitement. "Spoiled, temperament like fine porcelain… but beautiful."
The other girl didn't answer. Preparing… or stalling, she thought silently.
At last, the gates groaned open. Curious onlookers pressed forward instinctively.
A pair of servants stepped out first, their gazes lowered. Behind them, the bride crossed the threshold with the elegance of a painted immortal: swatched in layers of crimson silk, her phoenix coronet gently shimmering beneath the morning sunlight. Beneath her veil, a faint silhouette betrayed the posture of a well-raised noble daughter – graceful, measured, untouched by hardship.
At once, the mood shifted. Townsfolk bowed. Attendants called auspicious blessings. The musicians lifted their instruments. The procession exploded to life as the bride was guided into the magnificent bridal palanquin – lacquered red, edged with gold, dripping with glittering red and yellow tassels that swayed in the cooling breeze.
The heavy cloth door swing shut with a resolute flick. The Shen matriarch wiped her eyes discreetly. The maid watched the men heave the imperial consort away – toward the town gates, towards her new life – and a sense of pity gathered in her throat.
They had just entered the old bamboo forest when sense of foreboding shivered down her spine. She kept glancing at the road ahead – a rocky grove where the road narrowed and sunlight barely reached the ground. She's heard rumours about this route. Why would the envoys choose to take this way?
"Do you feel–" she began, but her companion was laughing at something another maid said.
A sudden pulse of cold swept through the air, snuffing out several lanterns on the outer edge of the procession. The guards tightened their formation, exchanging wary glances.
Shadows dropped from the trees. A flash of cold silver, and blood spattered across her eyes.
"Protect Lady Shen!" someone shouted, but the words came too late – swallowed by the eruption of clashing metal and frantic screaming. The shrill shriek of horses rearing filled her ears. The ceremonial drums collapsed into discordant chaos.
Within a few moments, the forest plunged into silence again.
She wiped her eyes, the blood smearing across her cheeks. She'd fallen somehow, her robes now mottled with mud and moss. Further ahead, the bridal palanquin sat deserted, toppled on its side in the road, its silk curtains torn, the cloth door hanging open like a gaping wound.
She crawled her way across the mess of bodies, and threw her body over the wooden frame. "My Lady–"
It was empty.
A sharp cry escaped her lips, her eyes panic-striken. The captain of the guard rushed forward and thrust her aside, desperately searching the interior. Their gazes crossed – he couldn't believe it either. He raised a shaky wail, shrieking orders tinged with horror:
"Search the forest!"
"Don't let them leave!"
She stumbled back, body crumbling into trembling mass, cold dread seeping into her bones as she fought the nausea rising in her throat. She stared at the tattered red silk fluttering from the broken carriage door.
"It's over," she whispered, "for all of us."
Streaks of dawn crept over the grey-tiled roofs of Qianlin like a soft exhale, lazy rays of sunlight seeping through the trees and brushing through the town streets. The road had been swept three times before dawn, cleared of all common folk – leaving only a long retinue of attendants, their bright red robes too dazzling for the early hour.
It was a mild morning with a soft breeze – carrying the scent of crushed petals and sandalwood ash drifting from the censers held by priests pacing slowly at the head of the line.
It was, by all accounts, the perfect morning for a wedding.
Today, the Shen family was to marry their eldest daughter into the palace. The first noble consort to the newly crowned Emperor Jinghe.
The imperial entourage waited at the foot of the Shen estate – the nervous expressions of the envoys a striking contrast with the ostentatious line of gilded chests and towering imperial guardsman behind them.
One of them frowned, leaning toward the captain of the ceremonial guard. "Why are they so late?" he murmured, "We're going to miss the auspicious hour."
The captain shrugged, then glanced uneasily at the sky. "Perhaps the lady is preparing."
A palace maid teetered on her toes, peering over the heads of the crowd at the main gates. "She is beautiful, they say," she said to another maid, her beady eyes glimmering with excitement. "Spoiled, temperament like fine porcelain… but beautiful."
The other girl didn't answer. Preparing… or stalling, she thought silently.
At last, the gates groaned open. Curious onlookers pressed forward instinctively.
A pair of servants stepped out first, their gazes lowered. Behind them, the bride crossed the threshold with the elegance of a painted immortal: swatched in layers of crimson silk, her phoenix coronet gently shimmering beneath the morning sunlight. Beneath her veil, a faint silhouette betrayed the posture of a well-raised noble daughter – graceful, measured, untouched by hardship.
At once, the mood shifted. Townsfolk bowed. Attendants called auspicious blessings. The musicians lifted their instruments. The procession exploded to life as the bride was guided into the magnificent bridal palanquin – lacquered red, edged with gold, dripping with glittering red and yellow tassels that swayed in the cooling breeze.
The heavy cloth door swing shut with a resolute flick. The Shen matriarch wiped her eyes discreetly. The maid watched the men heave the imperial consort away – toward the town gates, towards her new life – and a sense of pity gathered in her throat.
*************************************************
They had just entered the old bamboo forest when sense of foreboding shivered down her spine. She kept glancing at the road ahead – a rocky grove where the road narrowed and sunlight barely reached the ground. She's heard rumours about this route. Why would the envoys choose to take this way?
"Do you feel–" she began, but her companion was laughing at something another maid said.
A sudden pulse of cold swept through the air, snuffing out several lanterns on the outer edge of the procession. The guards tightened their formation, exchanging wary glances.
Shadows dropped from the trees. A flash of cold silver, and blood spattered across her eyes.
"Protect Lady Shen!" someone shouted, but the words came too late – swallowed by the eruption of clashing metal and frantic screaming. The shrill shriek of horses rearing filled her ears. The ceremonial drums collapsed into discordant chaos.
Within a few moments, the forest plunged into silence again.
She wiped her eyes, the blood smearing across her cheeks. She'd fallen somehow, her robes now mottled with mud and moss. Further ahead, the bridal palanquin sat deserted, toppled on its side in the road, its silk curtains torn, the cloth door hanging open like a gaping wound.
She crawled her way across the mess of bodies, and threw her body over the wooden frame. "My Lady–"
It was empty.
A sharp cry escaped her lips, her eyes panic-striken. The captain of the guard rushed forward and thrust her aside, desperately searching the interior. Their gazes crossed – he couldn't believe it either. He raised a shaky wail, shrieking orders tinged with horror:
"Search the forest!"
"Don't let them leave!"
She stumbled back, body crumbling into trembling mass, cold dread seeping into her bones as she fought the nausea rising in her throat. She stared at the tattered red silk fluttering from the broken carriage door.
"It's over," she whispered, "for all of us."