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墨書 Inktalez
In the dead of night, as the guests had all departed, Zhou Tangyan staggered back to his bedroom. The room was simple and elegant, devoid of any red decorations, a stark reminder of the humiliation he felt for standing in as the groom today. He surveyed the room's arrangement, his brow furrowed in discontent.
He sat down at the table opposite Jiang Wanxia, his sharp gaze fixed on the blood-red bridal veil that lay before him. He remained silent, his expression cold. The bride across from him seemed increasingly restless; he had been in the room for an hour without uttering a word, refusing even to lift the veil, clearly intent on making her uncomfortable. Jiang Wanxia shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her wedding dress.
“Cousin, are you angry?”
Jiang Wanxia cautiously lifted a corner of her veil to peek at him and asked softly. The gentle sound of “Cousin” floated into his heart like a soft breeze, tickling yet comforting, tinged with a hint of timidity.
Suddenly, he recalled how she used to call him that when she was little. Back then, she was always close to Shiyu and would look frightened whenever she saw him. His gaze softened momentarily but quickly returned to its usual sternness.
“What exactly are you playing at?”
He couldn't believe that she was such a casual woman, indifferent to who she was marrying. His frown deepened as he questioned her.
“During the ceremony, you didn’t refuse me. I thought… I thought you liked me,” she murmured quietly, twisting the edge of her wedding gown with anxious hands, her head bowed low in fear.
Zhou Tangyan felt an inexplicable anger rise within him. She had always been afraid of him—first as a child and now as an adult. Did she really think he would harm her?
His expression darkened further, a hint of helplessness flickering in his eyes.
“It’s getting late; we should… we should rest,” she stammered, her face flushed as she hesitantly reached for the buttons of his robe. Her movements were gentle yet laced with shyness.
The sudden intimacy made Zhou Tangyan's body tense up. He subtly pushed her hand away with swift yet gentle motion and replied coldly, “I still have accounts to review; you don’t need to wait for me.”
He almost fled from the room, his steps hurried and frantic, as if he were trying to escape something.
He was happy that she married him, but he couldn't bear the gossip outside, nor could he tolerate the fact that her heart still belonged to Zhou Shiyu.
He understood that her marriage to him was merely an impulsive act; she wanted to take revenge on Shiyu for abandoning her and to humiliate him.
This thought drove him mad, so he dared not stay in the room with her. Leaning against the wall outside, he breathed heavily, his emotions tangled.
Zhou Tangyan stood outside the door, watching her pace back and forth inside. The candlelight flickered steadily; she had waited all night, and he had watched from outside for just as long, his eyes filled with a mix of reluctance and conflict.
He recalled her words from last night: "In the wedding hall, you didn't refuse. I thought... I thought you liked me."
There was truth in her words; he did like her. When they were children, she would wear two adorable braids and always followed him and Shiyu around. Shiyu often made her laugh, while he would scare her to tears. Deep down, he wanted to talk to her and make her smile, but it always backfired.
On the second day of their marriage, as was customary, they were supposed to go to Madam Zhou's room to serve tea. Wan Xia had not slept all night but still gathered her spirits and changed into a suitable dress, carefully adjusting her makeup in front of the mirror.
Hearing from a servant that he was in the study, she cheerfully went to call him to pay respects, her steps light.
"I'm not going." He replied curtly without looking up from the account book, ignoring her completely as his pen continued to scratch across the pages.
A bit dissatisfied, she stepped forward and snatched the account book from his hands, gently closing it and setting it aside. She then wrapped her arms around his arm with a playful pout typical of a young girl: "We are juniors; according to custom, we should..."
"I said I'm not going. Do you not understand?"
He angrily shook off her hand, his movements rough. Seeing the tears she was desperately holding back in her eyes made his heart ache unexpectedly. He knew his harsh words had hurt her, but he couldn't help it; he hated Madam Zhou, hated Wan Xia's mother, hated the entire Zhou family, and his gaze was filled with hatred.
He couldn't forget how Madam Zhou and her sister, Wan Xia's mother, had once dragged his mother's hair at the Ten Thousand Fragrance Pavilion, cursing her as a whore and humiliating her until she took poison and died.
Now, every time he looked at her beautiful, innocent face, he couldn't help but be reminded of those old grievances.
Thus, he had harbored hatred for her since childhood. No matter how much he liked her deep down, he always put on a fierce demeanor to keep her at bay. He sighed helplessly.
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