The Bride Who Brought Him Luck - Chapter 1

I. The Wedding

I had just turned nineteen when I was married into the general’s household to bring good fortune to a dying man.

My husband was Song Yiting, son of the Grand General. Like his father, he had once won great renown on the battlefield. But blades have no eyes. An injury to his lower spine had left him bedridden and paralyzed for years.

That summer, word spread through the capital that he was gravely ill and close to death. The family summoned imperial physicians and wandering healers alike, but none could make him better.

Within days of the rumors, matchmakers began turning up at our door. Soon the general’s household sent betrothal gifts, claiming my birth chart was a perfect match for his. We were destined for each other, they said.

It was a marriage to ward off his death. They made it sound so lovely. I wondered which crackpot Daoist had put the idea into the Songs’ heads.

My mother wept. I had only just turned nineteen, she said, and was still so young; she wanted to refuse the marriage. My father would hear none of it.

A family of minor officials like ours could spend generations praying for a marriage into the general’s house, he said. Even if I had only just reached adulthood, we would still be reaching above our station. How could we refuse?

Besides, the emperor had decreed the marriage. Father had no say in it anyway.

The capital was exceptionally lively on my wedding day. Festive decorations stretched for miles along the streets, and people of every age came out to watch. The general’s residence was louder still, with drums and firecrackers sounding without pause over a joyful clamor of voices.

For all that excitement, I never saw Song Yiting.

After being pulled about all day, I was starving. I waited until evening with my stomach growling before they finally took me to the east courtyard.

That was Song Yiting’s courtyard. Its gates were quiet, a stark contrast to the front of the house. I discreetly asked one of the maids and learned that his illness truly had worsened. He could not bear the noise, so they had waived all the wedding rites in his courtyard.

The maid said the family’s second son was angry about the marriage. He had already been refusing his medicine, and now his temper was worse than ever.

The room was stifling. Even beneath my bridal veil, I could smell the strong, bitter medicine.

It would have made a healthy person miserable, let alone someone confined to bed.

I sat in silence for a long while, unsure what to do. At last the man on the bed spoke, his voice faint. “Take off the veil. Everyone’s gone.”

I was timid. Mother and the matron who had instructed me in wedding etiquette had warned me against acting too freely, and I knew at least this much about the rites.

My answer was softer than his voice, barely a whisper. “Mother said my husband has to lift it.”

Another long silence followed. Eventually he seemed to shift an arm on the bed. “Come here.”

I moved toward his voice, a little closer to him.

A thin hand caught the red veil and tugged gently. Just as I thought he would lift it, he stopped. “What’s your name?”

“Wanwan.”

“Zhang Wan? Lord Zhang Shuli’s only daughter?”

I lowered my head slightly. “Mm.”

Mother had said the general’s family cared about the wedding, not about me. She had been right. On our wedding night, my husband did not even know my name.

“You’re still so young. Are you afraid to be thrown into this pit and married to a man who is about to die?” Song Yiting asked from beyond the veil.

I did not know. I had heard the rumors: after years of illness, the once handsome Song Yiting had wasted away until he scarcely looked human.

But I dared not say I was afraid.

I looked at his frighteningly pale knuckles and lied. “No.”

He sounded as though he was laughing. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my husband.”

The veil came away suddenly, and the red before my eyes gave way to the warm yellow of candlelight. I raised a hand against the brightness. Peering between my fingers, I saw Song Yiting lying against his pillow.

To my surprise, he was handsome. Perhaps because he had spent so long in bed, his face had grown exceptionally lean, its clear brow and straight nose giving him a striking, almost rugged beauty. His skin was much paler than mine.