Forced to Marry a Republic-Era Tycoon to Bring Him Good Fortune

The early years of the Republic of China.

In the pitch-black night, the lights in every home had gone out, and the bright moon hung high overhead.

On a deserted street, a line of middle-aged men in red robes, bells tied around their waists, carried an embroidered sedan chair with tassels, moving forward in silence.

At the head of the procession, the matchmaker waved a wedding handkerchief and smiled. With every step, she signaled the leader to scatter red-and-gold paper streamers into the sky. The musicians pretended to play their gongs and drums with all their might, but not a sound came out.

Their faces were painted in vivid makeup, but their eyes were cold and lifeless. Amid a sky full of falling red petals, they moved in eerie unison toward a single destination.

Inside the sedan chair, Rong Qing sat upright in a bright red wedding robe.

A phoenix coronet adorned his head, and his light makeup only enhanced his gentle, unparalleled beauty.

His family had been poor since he was a child. His mother died early, and his father was a drunk and a gambler. Somehow, he found a fortune-teller and, for money, married Rong Qing off to the eldest son of the Ji family to bring him good luck.

The Ji family held absolute power in the capital. Their sole heir, Ji Baisheng, was frail and never without a bowl of medicine, whatever the season. Rumor had it that he was born under an inauspicious fate, in a yin year and yin month, offending the King of Hell. He was therefore bedridden with illness, his yang energy weak and fleeting.

The Ji family hired a Taoist priest to perform a ritual. The priest proposed a solution: two yin forces would clash and neutralize each other. By ill fortune, Rong Qing was the perfect choice for this marriage meant to bring good luck.

The sedan chair lurched and swayed as it entered the Ji family estate.

This was no ordinary wedding. The ceremony skipped the lively gathering of guests and went straight to the bridal chamber, where Rong Qing was helped inside.

After a long while, the wooden door creaked open. Faint footsteps and a weak, dry cough approached, and someone stopped in front of him.

Rong Qing's veil was lifted. It was his first time seeing Ji Baisheng: refined features, a sickly pallor, and especially those eyes, dark and deep, with no end in sight.

The air held only the scent of incense and the lingering traces of medicinal herbs on the other man's clothes. Between the wavering red candles and their shadowy figures, they stood just a step apart. Ji Baisheng gazed at him, his long, narrow eyes narrowing slightly. After a long silence, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice: "Don't be afraid."

His voice was thick with a nasal quality. It was the first time Rong Qing had realized that a person's voice could sound so beautiful. Ji Baisheng stood before him, tall and slender, and held out a hand, long and delicate as warm jade.

Rong Qing's vision blurred. Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it in Ji Baisheng's palm.

It was cold as ice, sending a shiver through his heart.

Reader's guide:

A trope I've wanted to write for a long time. HE, an old-fashioned Republican-era setting.

Also known as "A Joyous Wedding"

2023/12/25

All blurbs have been screenshotted to preserve their original timestamps. Please do not copy them.

Theme: Believe if you must, but always show reverence