The died-Stained Bridal Veil

Seeing that I was too stunned to speak, Gongsun Bai finally broke the silence.
“I find it strange as well. Gongsun Yanshu, though he has married dozens of concubines over the years, has never once used the First-Wife’s Rite to wed a woman. I once asked him why, and he told me that such a ritual would be reserved only for the one he truly loved. Hmm… I never expected that the woman he claimed to truly love would be a cook—an elderly cook at that.”

I spoke cautiously, weighing every word.
“Well… if you think about it from another perspective, perhaps this cook’s culinary skills are extraordinary. You know the old saying: ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ We shouldn’t immediately jump to prejudice. Right? By the way, when your cousin arrives later, make sure he keeps a safe distance from me.”

“……”

At a quarter past noon, the ritual began. The master of ceremonies intoned the ancient verses in a slow, sonorous voice that echoed through the grand hall:

"What splendor, what bloom, the blossoms of the tangdi tree! Why not honor them with solemn reverence? The carriage of the royal princess passes. What splendor, what bloom, like peach and plum blossoms! The grandson of King Ping, the son of the Marquis of Qi. What is it that he casts for? It is silk as his line. The son of the Marquis of Qi, the grandson of King Ping. Today there is a fair consort, fit for home and household. What more could a man desire? Let the three households celebrate together—"

Perhaps it was only my imagination, but when the master of ceremonies reached the phrase “Today there is a fair consort,” the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Then came the sound of silk and bamboo, heralding the entry of the bridal pair.

The rustling of ceremonial robes swept across the floor. The crowd turned as one, eager to glimpse the bride. A young man entered through the great doors, his festive robe bright crimson against the pale light of day. He was about the same height as Gongsun Bai, but thinner—his frame even more elongated, like a reed bent by the wind. His features bore an uncanny resemblance to Bai’s: the same family blood, yet with a very different aura. Bai’s broad forehead and square jaw radiated dignity, while Yanshu’s narrow eyes and pale irises seemed carved with arrogance and disdain.

But he entered alone.

The guests craned their necks, whispering. Where was the bride? There was no delicate maiden in a bridal veil, no bashful beauty awaiting her vows. Instead, the only figure visible was what he carried in his arms.

A frail shadow. Limbs dangling, skin turned a ghastly blue-purple.

A faint odor seeped into the air.

The stench of decay.

It hit me then—the bride was not merely an old woman. She was already dead.

I mouthed silently to Bai: You’ve got to be joking. Your cousin’s tastes are this twisted?

Bai’s lips moved, forming two calm syllables: Inherited.

For a bizarre moment, I felt oddly reassured.

Clutching the corpse of the elderly cook, Yanshu strode across the hall, passed before the ancestral tablets, and performed the full ritual of three kneelings and nine prostrations. The guests froze, unable to protest. At last the master of ceremonies announced that the feast could begin. But judging from the faces around me, everyone had long since lost their appetite. They murmured excuses, slipping away one by one. Whole tables of delicacies sat untouched, spoiling in the air.

I forced down a few bites before stepping outside in search of a latrine. By chance, I overheard several maids sweeping in the courtyard, their voices hushed and conspiratorial.

One whispered,
“The last time I saw the young master so devoted was with Lady Pear.”

Another gasped,
“Lady Pear? You mean that legendary shrew—the butcher’s daughter?”

“Yes. That was three years ago. You weren’t here yet, so you wouldn’t know. But she was infamous. Fierce as a storm, jealous as fire, always trampling the young master beneath her heel.”

The maid glanced about, then lowered her voice to a whisper.
“It really happened. No one knew what madness seized him, but he insisted on marrying the butcher’s daughter. We were terrified. But he liked her—who could stop him? He brought her in with an eight-carriage procession, doted on her above all. Once, when he teased a courtesan at Nanfeng Pavilion, Lady Pear stormed in with a butcher’s knife and nearly split the woman in two. It caused an uproar, but instead of anger, the young master said, ‘Let her rage—I like her that way.’ Well, once the young master spoke, who dared say otherwise? After that, she grew ever more domineering. Out of jealousy, he dismissed the thirteen wives and concubines he already had, leaving only her.”

“And what happened after?” asked the youngest maid, entranced.

“After? Nobody knows. One day, Lady Pear vanished. Just gone. The young master never asked after her. We servants sighed in relief, thinking that demoness had finally departed. But who could have guessed, soon enough, along came a cook—seventy years old at that! Honestly, I’d prefer Lady Pear. At least she was young and pretty…”

Lady Pear. My ears pricked up, eager to hear more. But the maids were summoned away to sweep the garden, and the chance slipped through my fingers.

Suppressing my curiosity, I returned to the great hall. It was nearly empty now, save for Bai, who sat in silence, sipping tea.

I was about to tell him the gossip I had overheard when he abruptly rose.
“Didn’t you want to meet Yanshu? Come—I’ll take you.”

We left the hall, winding through the gardens. Crabapple trees formed a maze of paths, until I was nearly dizzy from the turns. At last, we emerged before a secluded courtyard named The Pear Garden. At its gate stood a young page, tears streaking his cheeks.

Bai called out,
“Shi Wen, why are you crying here? Go and tell Yanshu I’ve come—and that I’ve brought someone who may ease his troubles.” He pushed me forward lightly.

Shi Wen’s eyes widened. He scrubbed at his face, then nodded.
“Very well. Please wait.”

A quarter hour later he returned, eyes still red, his voice trembling.
“Please, sirs… please go inside. Save our young master!”

The Pear Garden lived up to its name. The courtyard was filled with pear trees, their branches stretching toward the gray sky. But now it was early autumn, the blossoms long gone. Only gnarled limbs remained, clawing upward as though reaching for something beyond.

Shi Wen pointed to a shuttered door.
“The young master is inside. He hasn’t slept for two days. His spirit and strength are nearly at their limit.”

“Why has he come to this?” Bai asked.

Shi Wen clenched his teeth.
“I don’t know. But I swear, it has everything to do with Lady Pear! She appeared from nowhere, vanished into nothing, and since then he has been bewitched. If not for her, how could our young master fall for this old kitchen maid—this Wan Da-niang?” His rage was palpable, his voice thick with loathing.

Startled, I muttered without thinking,
“Or maybe it’s simply because your young master… likes this sort of thing?”

We pushed open the door.

The room inside was steeped in darkness. The windows were sealed with black paper, no lamps lit. I nearly stumbled into a table, saved only by Bai’s quick hand. Groping for a chair, I sat down, eyes straining to adjust. At last I saw the bamboo bed before me.

Upon it sat Gongsun Yanshu.

He was cross-legged, holding in his arms the very cook we had glimpsed earlier in the hall—the elderly bride. Her corpse.

He cradled her with infinite tenderness, whispering against her ear:
“You see? I told you I would marry you—didn’t I keep my word? My tongue may be slick, but with you, I am true. I said I would dismiss the others—I did. I said I would marry you with the First-Wife’s Rite—I did. I even carried you before the ancestral tablets, let them see. How about that? Am I not remarkable? I’ve never cared what others think. Wan Ling, you know that—I’ve never cared for their eyes. So how could I despise you? You’ve come back, then why hide? Why conceal yourself? Did you think I wouldn’t accept you?…”

Over and over, he murmured these fragmented words, senseless, circling like a madman’s prayer.

Bai stood silently for a long while, then finally spoke.
“Yanshu.”

A long pause. Slowly, Yanshu raised his head. His eyes were streaked with blood, the whites crimson with sleeplessness.
“You’ve come. Shi Wen said you brought someone who can help me.”

His gaze shifted, inch by inch, until it rested on me.
“Is it you?”

I didn’t know how to answer. But seeing him so broken, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. I nodded.
“What do you need of me?”

Slowly, Yanshu lifted the bridal veil from the corpse in his arms, revealing the lifeless, long-decayed face.

“Can you make her live again? I… I have questions I must ask her.”

I sighed heavily.
“I cannot bring back the dead, nor raise dry bones.”

His lips twisted into a bitter smile.
“I knew it.”

I forced myself to remain calm.
“Then tell me—what is it you wish to ask? Perhaps there’s another way I can help.”

He was silent for a long time. At last, his nails grazed the withered cheek of the old cook.

“I want to ask her… her name.”