Chapter Twenty: The Emperor's Intent, Not My Own!

After Zhou Qing’s outburst, the already sparse number of guests dwindled even further. When the bridal procession returned, Zhou Qing was being punished in the small courtyard, the sound of her wailing faintly drifting over.

The atmosphere in the main hall, previously subdued, now gained a hint of liveliness. Guests watched the couple perform the wedding rites, each with their own thoughts and expressions.

Everyone knew this wedding was not what the Zhou family had wished for. Yet, now that it had come to this, they had to put on a display of happiness—an awkward act at best.

Some keen observers noticed, however, that not all the Zhou family members were merely pretending; among them, two wore genuine smiles. Zhou Xinyi’s wife, Lady Wang, was all smiles, gentle and kind. Baili Mingsu’s brother, Baili Mingda, was so excited he could barely contain himself, almost jumping for joy. Anyone unaware of the truth might have thought he was the groom.

Because this was a matrilocal marriage, the ceremony was simplified. Under the watchful eyes of the guests, the couple quickly completed the bows: first to Heaven and Earth, then to the elders, and finally to each other. Since Han Fu’s parents were both deceased, he only bowed to Zhou Xinyi and his wife.

This was also why Han Fu was so resolved to rebel—after all, with his parents gone, what ties remained but to the heavens, limitless in their power.

After the rites, custom required the groom to be introduced to the Zhou family elders. At this moment, Baili Mingda enthusiastically stepped forward, saying, “Brother-in-law, from today on, we’re truly family! Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”

With that, he led Han Fu around to meet each relative. Baili Mingsu, veiled, followed silently.

“This is Eldest Brother Zhou Yuanshan…”

“This is Second Brother Zhou Yuantou…”

“And this is…”

In his three days at the Zhou residence, Han Fu had formed different impressions of the two young masters. Zhou Yuantou was neither warm nor cold, and after the spitting incident with Zhou Qing two days prior, Han Fu knew the man bore some resentment.

“I won’t say much, just this: don’t let Mingsu down,” Zhou Yuantou said, offering a terse admonition.

This was a brother-in-law who knew the boundaries between kin and outsiders. Though their meeting was brief and words few, Han Fu nonetheless formed this opinion.

Indeed, Zhou Yuantou’s feelings were as Han Fu surmised—though Han Fu’s actions had disrupted the alliance between the Zhou and Qin families and left a bitter taste, the matter was settled and could not be changed. No matter how much he disliked Han Fu, the latter was now family; while he might show his displeasure at home, he would never cause him to lose face before outsiders.

Compared to Zhou Yuantou, Zhou Yuanshan was slightly more cordial, though not exactly warm.

“I heard from Steward Ge that since entering the household, you’ve been practicing some soft, feeble martial art. Can it kill a man? We should spar sometime. If you beat me, I’ll teach you real fighting techniques—the killing kind…”

Zhou Yuanshan was dark-skinned and broad-shouldered, towering and sharp-eyed—clearly a seasoned martial artist.

Han Fu was eager, about to reply, but Baili Mingda interrupted, scoffing, “If someone can beat you, why would they need your lessons?”

Personal combat was different from the chaos of the battlefield, and Han Fu only knew the former. Battlefield skills were useless to him—after all, in the advanced world of his previous life, battles were fought with guns and missiles, not bayonets.

Yet Baili Mingda gave him no chance to answer, pulling Han Fu along as he muttered, “Brother-in-law, pay him no mind. He’s obsessed with swordplay—challenges everyone he meets.”

“Have you been beaten by him before?” Han Fu asked, curious.

“Hmph…” Baili Mingda’s fair, round face grew sullen. “He hits too hard, no restraint. Since then, I don’t play with him anymore.”

You don’t play with him anymore? Han Fu couldn’t help but remark, “When did that happen?”

“Six years ago.”

Han Fu was speechless but realized Baili Mingda was one to hold a grudge.

“I’ll help you get even someday,” Han Fu said with a smile.

Since Zhou Yuanshan offered him a chance to grow stronger, Han Fu would not let it slip by. He had been searching for a teacher.

But Baili Mingda looked at him skeptically. “You?”

Han Fu swept his sleeve and walked away. Baili Mingda quickly put on a flattering smile and hurried after him. “Come now, brother-in-law, don’t be angry! I didn’t mean it that way—I’m touched by your intentions, truly. Please don’t be upset. You don’t understand—Zhou Yuanshan really is formidable. He’s mastered eight-tenths of Steward Ge’s skills. I can’t just let you suffer.”

After another round of introductions, Han Fu had finally met all the Zhou relatives. Next came the rounds of toasting at each table—an endless exchange of pleasantries. Han Fu smiled through it all, taking the chance to glean what he could about everyone, laying groundwork for the future.

Baili Mingsu had already returned to the bridal chamber, waiting quietly, veiled and seated on the bed’s edge.

Han Fu stayed behind to play his part. Yet, as a solitary groom joining the Zhou family, and with all guests being Zhou kin, he felt detached and only endured it for the sake of gathering information. Otherwise, he would have left at once.

Zhou Qing’s spitting and subsequent punishment became a joke, whispered to Han Fu by Baili Mingda.

Han Fu laughed heartily, genuinely pleased.

Revenge was sweet—he drank three cups in celebration.

The wine was weak, nothing like the fiery liquor of his previous life—barely ten degrees, if that. Even after several rounds, Han Fu was only slightly tipsy.

At last, having fulfilled his obligations, the guests broke off into small groups, drinking with their close friends. The focus had shifted from the wedding itself, and Han Fu prepared to withdraw.

It wasn’t his own idea to leave; Baili Mingda was urging him on, encouraging him to hurry to the bridal chamber and produce a fat, healthy son as soon as possible.

Such an enthusiastic brother-in-law was a rare find.

Han Fu hadn’t married into the Zhou family for Baili Mingsu herself. Yet as one of Dingxing’s three great beauties, her looks were beyond question. For the sake of his ambitions, a little indulgence in beauty to enrich and refine his life seemed no hardship.

Yet just as Han Fu was about to depart, the imperial eunuchs arrived.

Not only Wang De, but a dozen young eunuchs accompanied him, two of them carrying a chest between them.

“By His Majesty’s command: fifty pieces of jewelry, two chests of gems, one hundred bolts of fine silk, and a thousand gold coins—bestowed as wedding gifts.”

Zhou Xinyi hurried to lead everyone in giving thanks.

The eunuch smiled broadly, showing gleaming white teeth. “Duke of Peiguo, His Majesty says these gifts are not for you, but for your son-in-law, Han Fu. He is alone here in Dingxing, and now that you are all family, do not think him just a son-in-law to be slighted or bullied.”

At Wang De’s words, reactions varied. Some were surprised, some thoughtful, and some seemed suddenly enlightened.

Previously, they had wondered why such honor was being shown for a mere matrilocal marriage. Now it made sense.

Those who understood cast meaningful glances at Han Fu.

“Your humble subject thanks His Majesty for his great favor,” Han Fu said, bowing deeply, relief flooding his heart.

Thank heavens the Xu Dynasty no longer required kneeling, or he would have found himself in a truly awkward position.

At the same time, Han Fu pondered—what was Emperor Xiaokang’s purpose in doing all this?