Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Preparing for the Wedding
On the day the auspicious letter arrived at the door, Song Ning was sitting by the window drinking tea.
The tea was freshly picked from this year's harvest. When the hot water poured over it, the young leaves unfurled inside the cup, releasing a fine layer of delicate white buds.
He could not see any of that—he could only feel the warmth of the teacup through his fingertips and catch that faint, elusive fragrance through his nose.
Outside, a loud shout suddenly rang out:
"The auspicious letter has arrived! The Betrothal Rite!"
Then came the gongs and drums—ding ding dang dang—clamoring with festive energy.
The sound drew near from a distance, like a lively, leaping fish darting straight into the courtyard.
Song Ning's hand holding the teacup paused, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly.
"Young Master, you should go out to receive the auspicious letter sent by the Qi family." A crisp voice rang out behind him.
The young girl who had been tidying the tea set behind him put down what she was doing and took a few steps around to his side, craning her neck to peek out the window.
The girl wore a pink skirt, and her beautiful eyes were exceptionally lovely—within their flowing gaze lay a naturally delicate and charming grace.
Yet the undisguised curiosity on her face ruined that air of serenity. She was called Xia Ling, Song Ning's personal handmaiden.
Another handmaiden stood by the door dressed in a blue-green skirt, clutching a long sword to her chest, leaning against the doorframe with an expressionless face. Her name was Xia Shuang.
Song Ning set down his teacup, was silent for a moment, then waved his hand:
"You two go out and receive it."
Xia Ling's eyes lit up. She immediately answered and darted outside like a sparrow, the hem of her skirt trailing a gust of wind behind her.
She reached the doorway and still remembered to turn back and wave at Xia Shuang:
"Hurry up, they're already at the door!"
Xia Shuang leaned against the doorframe. She was in no rush—she simply shifted the sword from her chest to her back and slowly set off.
Outside the door, it had already become a lively commotion.
A group of women dressed in bright red festive clothes stood in a long procession, each carrying various items—silk, celebration cakes, jewelry—stacked neatly on lacquered red trays, gleaming with joyful brilliance in the sunlight.
Gong and drum players led the way at the front. The ding ding dong dong sounds startled the sparrows resting under the eaves and sent them flying.
The lead handmaiden noticed someone come out from the Song household and quickly stepped forward to bow.
"This is the auspicious letter." She held out the tray with both hands and bent slightly. "By our master's order, it is delivered to Young Master Song."
The Betrothal Rite.
A divination of good fortune—an announcement of blessing—a minor formal engagement.
Once this auspicious letter was accepted, the two families would be considered officially betrothed.
From this point on, Song Ning and Qi Chuyao's names would be written together, recorded in the family genealogy, enshrined in the ancestral hall, and reported to the ancestors.
The betrothal would transition from a private arrangement to a public engagement—no one could easily back out.
Xia Ling leaned in to take a look at the red-and-gold letter, but she was in no hurry to accept it.
She tilted her head and smiled, her voice sweet and pert:
"Oh? For something this important, your Qi Chuyao didn't come to deliver it herself?"
The handmaiden froze, and the smile on her face stiffened.
"Your Qi family is really too thoughtless, if you ask me." Xia Ling wound the lock of hair that hung at her chest around her finger, her tone still sweet, though the words weren't kind at all.
"There's been a betrothal since childhood, hasn't there? Why has she never once come to visit?"
The Qi family's handmaidens exchanged glances with one another.
The lead one moved her lips but ultimately said nothing, only replying vaguely:
"Miss is joking—our young lady is very busy, diligently pursuing her studies and martial training……"
"Oh, busy, is she." Xia Ling dragged out her tone.
The handmaiden's composure crumbled further.
She was only a runner delivering a letter—what right did she have to respond to something like this?
Whatever private matters existed between the two families, it wasn't a servant's place to speak out of turn.
At a time like this, the best thing she could do was complete her errand properly.
She lifted her head, a trace of silent pleading in her eyes, and looked toward Xia Ling.
They were both servants—why make things difficult for each other?
Only then did Xia Shuang step forward.
She extended both hands, took the tray, and without looking at anyone, turned and walked away.
Her posture was straight, her steps unbroken.
Xia Ling pursed her lips and followed after her.
The lead handmaiden let out a breath as if reprieved.
The Qi family's group stood in place for a moment before quietly withdrawing from the courtyard.
The gongs and drums faded into the distance, and the festivity dissolved with them.
The room returned to silence.
Song Ning still sat beside the tea table—only now, a white cat had settled into his arms.
The cat had slipped in at some point, and was now curled into a ball on his lap, its fur glowing with a soft luster in the sunlight, while his slender fingers slowly stroked along its spine.
He was exceptionally handsome. His plain white robe made his features appear all the more refined and unhurried.
Beneath his lashes was a pair of completely white irises—without focus, vacant, yet remarkably clear.
Xia Shuang entered and placed the tray on the table. The cover of the marriage contract was a deep red pressed with gold patterns.
Once she had done all of this, she retreated to the doorway, resumed holding her sword, and stared blankly into the distance.
Song Ning's fingers did not stop.
"She still didn't come." He said softly.
Xia Ling walked to stand behind him and draped a hand over the back of his chair, giving a little huff through her nose:
"She's never once come! And they're about to get married! She still won't come!"
She studied Song Ning's expression—she couldn't read anything from it—and added another line:
"Honestly, I don't even know if she's human."
The white cat shifted in Song Ning's arms, changed positions, and went back to sleep.
Song Ning's knuckles grazed the tips of its ears. He didn't speak for a long time.
His mood was quite calm, actually.
He could largely guess why his betrothed had never shown herself.
He was blind—had been since childhood.
In this world, how many people would be willing to marry a blind man?
Even with a betrothal between old family friends, even with elders who had pushed hard to make it happen—when it came down to her, she was unwilling in the end.
Yet he felt no particular regret.
His previous life had lasted over twenty years. Every landscape worth seeing, he had seen. Every experience worth having, he had lived through.
Then he'd had a "stroke of luck" and been reborn into this world, where he opened his eyes at birth to nothing but darkness.
At first he found it difficult to adjust, but slowly he grew accustomed. He wasn't entirely blind in the strictest sense—after all, he had witnessed so many colors in his past life.
"Xiao Shuang." Song Ning spoke suddenly.
"What do you think?"
Xia Shuang stood by the doorway, her blue-green skirt swaying in the breeze, her sword held steadily in her arms.
Her face was cold and expressionless, wearing its usual cool look.
But if you looked closely, you could see her brow was furrowed ever so slightly.
"She is no good." Xia Shuang spoke, her voice a little stilted—as though she rarely said so much in one breath.
"Heart…not sincere."
"Young Master, don't marry her. Give her up."
"I…can…provide for you."
As if it took great effort, she finally finished her words, and held her sword tightly to herself.
Song Ning let out a quiet laugh and tilted his head back, those blind eyes directed toward the ceiling.
Sunlight fell on his face, casting a faint shadow beneath his eye sockets.
"Whether she likes it or not, it's already been decided." He said, yawning, casual and indifferent.
"We cannot be the ones to withdraw from this marriage. The head of the Qi family would not consent to having the Qi family come to break off the engagement either."
Song Ning laughed lightly again: "To be honest, the head of the Qi family has treated me rather well."
That was the truth.
When the Song and Qi families had first arranged this marriage, both families were pleased.
The Song and Qi families had been old family friends since the founding of the Qian Dynasty—ties spanning several generations. To draw even closer through marriage was considered a wonderful thing.
But when the child was born, they discovered he was blind.
In another household, even if they didn't withdraw from the engagement, there would inevitably be some grumbling.
The head of the Qi family, however, not only raised no objection—she even extended care and support at every turn.
Every year during holidays she would personally visit Song Ning, showing warm and considerate concern.
On one occasion, the head of the Qi family took Song Ning's mother by the hand and said:
"You need not worry about Ning'er's future—leave it all to our Yao'er! With our two families' standing, only by entrusting Ning'er to the Qi family can I be at ease. I wouldn't feel the same with anyone else!"
Song Ning's mother had originally been concerned that the engagement had become a burden and had several times thought to bring up withdrawing from it—but after hearing those words, she found she couldn't say them.
In this world, women held the highest place.
Most men were little more than dependents—after marriage, they were confined to the inner chambers, supporting their wives, raising daughters, managing the household, with little prospect of great achievement in their lives.
For a blind man to receive such treatment was already a rare and uncommon honor.
"So Young Master, you're just going to go ahead and marry into their family?" Xia Ling's voice had gone flat.
She leaned against the back of the chair, face buried in her palms, staring blankly out the door.
Her tone was full of indignation—in her eyes, her young master, though blind, had exemplary character, exceptional looks, and many talents. Everything about him was good.
That Qi Chuyao from the Qi family—they had barely even laid eyes on her. What did she deserve?
If only it could be……
She shook her head, and with a slightly guilty look, glanced over at her older sister Xia Shuang.
Song Ning did not reply.
He sat quietly, fingers continuing to stroke along the white cat's spine.
The cat was so comfortable under his touch that its purring grew louder and louder, its whole body going soft as a puddle.
The matter of marriage was something he didn't really dwell on.
What weighed on his mind was something else entirely.
The Great Qian Dynasty had been founded by its First Emperor, and had now endured 255 years.
When a dynasty reached this age, what followed was an endless host of problems with no easy solutions.
Like an elder entering the twilight years, ailments riddling every part of the body—not much time left.
Song Ning carefully turned over the current situation in his mind.
At court, a powerful eunuch faction wielded control over the dynasty, its followers filling every corner of the government.
The Emperor was consumed by elixirs and paintings, and had long since abandoned the affairs of state.
Lately it was said his health had deteriorated further—he hadn't even been attending court. The vast empire was like a rudderless ship, drifting through turbulent waters.
The previous Emperor had waged 3 great wars—known as the Three Great Campaigns—and had emptied the treasury completely in the process.
By this reign, military strength had long since declined.
The Northern Rong from the northeast swept south every year to raid and plunder, and the frontier suffered terribly. Fortunately there was still General Li of the Northeast to hold the line, and for now no great catastrophe had broken out.
The great clans of the south monopolized tax revenues, underreported their landholdings, colluded with salt merchants, and wore an outward air of compliance while quietly defying taxation.
The court could not collect its revenues, and the treasury grew emptier by the day.
In Yuzhou and Bingzhou, disasters had struck for years running, yet the local officials continued to pile on taxes and exploit the people.
With no way to survive, the people had no choice but to rise up.
News of peasant uprisings came every few days. Though none had gathered real momentum yet, who could say whether a rebel king might emerge in the future?
Even more coincidentally, it was said the Emperor had not a single daughter—all of them had died in infancy.
There was only one younger sister, bearing the title Princess of Trust.
If the Emperor were to die, the throne would likely pass, by ancestral decree, from elder sister to younger.
Song Ning tilted his head back, those blind eyes fixed on the void.
He could see nothing—yet the images in his mind were vivid and clear.
This scene was far too familiar.
Familiar enough that he could almost predict what would happen next.
Let the Great Qian fall if it must—but what about the Song family?
The Song family—dozens of people—his sworn elder sister, his sworn younger sister, and all those who had accompanied him.
He had to find a path forward for the Song family, in this turbulent and uncertain age.
And there was the Northern Rong.
If the Northern Rong were to take over the Central Plains, what would become of the people of this land?
The Northern Rong were ferociously brutal—wherever they passed, they burned, killed, and plundered, leaving nothing standing.
"We can't withdraw from this engagement. Even if she despises my blindness, the two families cannot afford to fall out." Song Ning murmured to himself.