When the sun dipped below the horizon, orange and warm, the bell jiggled in Han's household, signaling the finalization of a union.
Han Sanxi, second daughter of the Han household, stood before the Méi Rén (male matchmaker), poised to seal the union. Her lips trembled as the Méi Rén read out the vows, her hand slick with sweat.
A slow, bitter tear slid down her cheek just as the Méi Rén declared:
"With the power bestowed in me, I now proclaim Han Sanxi, first daughter of the Han household, and Yu Tan, Lord over the five empyrean states, as husband and wife!"
The room erupted in applause, bright grins lighting every face. If only they knew the turbulence in her heart. If only they saw the horror on her face.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
In fact, she had risen that morning with a wide grin, hopeful and expectant. She had floated through the household, ensuring everything was perfectly in order for the day ahead.
She had joined the servants in the kitchen, helping them stir pots and garnish dishes for the guests.
She had assisted in the bride's dressing room, helping the maids lay out the ceremonial gown with meticulous care.
She had attended to the guests personally, asking after their needs, offering refreshments, making sure they were satisfied.
So much so, the guests had begun to whisper. Some speculated she was trying to gain favor with Lord Yu's household. Others said she loathed her sister—after all, no sane person would be this cheerful about their sister marrying a man known to be a devil.
The latter was true. Her sister had originally been betrothed to Lord Tei San, Governor of Baiju City, one of the five empyrean states. And despite knowing of Sanxi's feelings for him, she had boldly proposed to their uncle that she be the one to marry him instead.
When Sanxi heard, she confronted her. What began civilly had soon spiraled into chaos—hair yanked, voices raised—until her sister stabbed her across the face with a hairpin. It had all begun with her sister accusing her of seducing Lord Tei San. And though the accusation was false, their uncle, Lord Han, had punished Sanxi instead.
That rainy night, Sanxi cried herself to sleep. By morning, their father—Lord Han of the Han household—announced that her sister would marry Lord Yu.
What a miracle from the heavens! She hadn't even prayed, yet her prayer had already been answered. Han Sanfei of the Han household was now set to marry Lord Yu, Lord over the five empyrean states—and Sanxi would take her sister's place in marrying Lord Tei San.
Han Sanfei also seemed perfectly fine with her betrothal to Lord Yŭ, which came as a surprise to Sanxi, considering Sanfei had always had eyes for Lord Tei San alone.
She had even sworn upon the sacred Tiāntái Fēng mountain that she would marry no one but Lord Tei San. Yet Sanxi had quickly interpreted this sudden change as a sign—the heavens were finally favoring her. Not only had fate given her the man of her dreams, but it had also turned her rival's heart toward someone else.
So, she hadn't questioned Sanfei's sudden interest in marrying Lord Yŭ. Only the rest of the family did.
Her cousin had suggested, time and again, that Sanfei was either being manipulated by someone who desperately wanted the union with Lord Yŭ to succeed—or worse, that she was bewitched.
Sanfei had never concealed her disdain for Lord Yŭ, even when she knew it could cost her head—as it had for Mayor Lî. She once claimed to have witnessed Lord Yŭ behead a nobleman simply for standing in his way in the capital.
And that incident was merely the tip of the iceberg.
Lord Yŭ had led 70,000 troops to seize 50 cities in the North, slaughtering over 800,000 people. He had executed 60 mayors and 58 governors, accused more than 20 lords of treason when they refused to support his campaign, conquered over 80 southern cities, and planted his men in them. He had disbanded 94 clans and burned down 126 courtyards, leaving entire households homeless. He wasn't just feared—he was loathed. He wasn't merely a devil; he was a demon.
So, when Han Sanfei suddenly expressed interest in marrying him, the entire household was stunned.
Sanxi should have been suspicious. She should have seen the signs—should have known that her good fortune was too perfect to be true. She should have realized that Han Sanfei was plotting something far more sinister.
And now, because she had been foolish enough not to question it, she stood in Han Sanfei's place—Lord Yŭ's new wife.
An outstretched hand comes into her view, adorned with a bracelet decorated with jade stones. A ring with sparkling diamonds settled on his index finger. Slowly, she forced her eyes at him. And cold, emotionless shade of dark brown stared back at her, unblinking.
With another tear sliding down her face, she rested her hand on his, and he holds it in a firm grip, guiding them down the aisle, past the guests as they clapped and whooped. Her gaze rested on her mother, who smiled back at her forcefully.
From being the happiest person to being the most unfortunate person, in just an hour. Wasn't fate interesting?
ONE HOUR AGO
The bell jiggled—an indication that the bride was set to walk down the aisle in her attires in an hour. Sanxi bit down on her lips, anxiously poised at the corner of her sister's chamber while her mother sat by the table, clutching onto her hairpin.
The hairpin was a generational heirloom, passed down from the family's great-grandmother and only bestowed upon the first daughter to marry. Madam Bi clutched it so tightly that the blade pierced her skin, drawing blood. Sanxi was just about to approach her and tend to the wound when she was abruptly interrupted—Head Maid Ruilan burst in, prompting both Sanxi and her mother to whip their gazes toward her. Ruilan slowly locked the door behind her.
Madam Bi, mother to Sanxi and Sanfei, looked at Ruilan with expectation. But Ruilan shook her head slowly, the gesture alone enough to confirm she had failed to find Sanfei.
"Madam Bixia, I met Lord Chen and asked him about Sanfei."
Madam Bixia looked up, her eyebrow arching.
"He—he said he saw that the Moonstone Gate was wide ajar."
Madam Bi fell into momentary thought. Then realization dawned on her. "She escaped through the Limang Lake," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.
"That's great then. We can still catch up to her. I'm sure she hasn't gone too far. Right, Mother?"
But Madam Bi didn't respond. Her stare remained fixed into space, as though she were calculating something.
"But we have no time left. If she took the Limang Lake, we'll need a boat to trace her. The wedding officially commences in less than an hour."
"Can't we distract the guests, then? Delay them until we can get a hold of her and bring her back?"
Sanxi turned to her mother, expecting support for the plan. But Madam Bi's gaze remained unreadable—cold and expressionless, as if something darker was taking shape in her mind.
"None of the guests know which sister Lord Yŭ is marrying today," Madam Bixia began. "No one outside this household knows, either. The only people who do are within these walls—and they can be controlled if they dare to spill a thing."
"Right? So just tell them the wedding has been postponed—"
"You," Madam Bixia cut in, "are going to pretend to be your sister, Sanxi."