The Interrupted Wedding

Once again, I was summoned into Bai Xi’s dream realm.

A pale mist rose around me, thick and endless. Bai Xi stood within it, her outline flickering in and out of sight. She extended her hand toward me.
“Qiao Qiao,” she said softly, “congratulations.”

I said nothing.

She tilted her head, her tone half-mocking.
“My, you are in quite a hurry. Marriage is a great affair for a woman, yet you’ve known this man for mere days and you’re already rushing to hand yourself over? Are you afraid that if you miss this one, no other man will dare to marry you?”

I stared at her blankly, then said coldly, “That’s none of your business.”

Bai Xi’s expression sharpened, though her eyes were still smiling.
“How can it not be my business? You and I share the same body. When you marry, I marry too. What if I do not consent to this marriage?”

My voice was steady. “If you interfere, I’ll kill you.”

A fierce wind rose, howling through the mist, whipping it across the mountains.
For the first time, the thick fog parted, and Bai Xi’s face became clear—pale, lovely, and cruel.
She stood amidst the dispersing mist, smiling faintly.
“Can you really kill me?”

My fingers brushed across my face—it felt smooth, unscarred.
In dreams, I could not feel the raised marks of my wound. It didn’t matter.

“I can’t kill you,” I said slowly, “but I can kill myself. If you dare to ruin this marriage, I’ll destroy both of us. You’ll die with me, Bai Xi. Don’t force me.”

That was my only bargaining chip.

Bai Xi listened quietly, her face unreadable.
At last, she said softly, “And what if it were Gu Yi?”

I froze.

She continued, her tone laced with mischief.
“What if he came for you? What if Gu Yi stood before you now, asking you to leave this mortal man, to run away with him—what then?”

I swallowed; my throat was dry. “He’s already married.”

“What if he isn’t?” she asked, voice smooth as silk. “What if something merely delayed him, and he hasn’t come yet?”

My heart surged painfully. A dull ache blossomed inside me, like a lotus seed long since rotted.
Finally, I said hoarsely, “Even if he came… I’d kill him.”

This was my wedding.
No one would ruin it.

As the wedding day approached, Zhao Xiao grew busier with each passing hour.

A fever epidemic had swept through nearby villages, and he had patients waiting in every direction.
He rushed about from dawn to dusk, sometimes skipping meals entirely.
When he finally returned home, his lips were cracked and blistered.

I knew why. He was worried about money.

Weddings and funerals—both devour silver like beasts.
Zhao Xiao was but a country doctor. His fees were modest, and his kindness even greater; he often treated the poor for free, sometimes even paying for their medicine himself. After years of doing so, he owned almost nothing.

More than once, I told him not to trouble himself with ceremony.
“A few bows to Heaven and Earth are enough,” I said. “We don’t need anything grand.”

But Zhao Xiao only smiled.
“Qiao Qiao, you don’t understand. Marriage comes once in a lifetime for a woman. It mustn’t be careless.
Even if we simplify everything else, at least let me give you a phoenix crown and scarlet robe.”

After saying that, he donned his straw hat, lit a lantern, and headed down the narrow path to a distant house call.

I touched the silver hairpin on my head—and understood.

Marriage was not a solitary affair.
If I truly wished to sever myself from my past, I no longer needed to keep relics of it.

That night, I sold the hairpin and slipped the few silver coins into his purse.

On our wedding day, Zhao Xiao presented me with a full bridal gown.

It was as cumbersome as any human wedding attire—layer upon layer of silk.
By the time I’d struggled into it, I could hardly breathe.

It was already May, and the heat pressed against my skin like invisible hands, yet the robe wrapped me like a cocoon.
After that came the intricate coiffure, and finally the bridal veil—a heavy red cloth adorned with pearls that covered my face completely.

I could see nothing.
Feeling my way along the wall, I began to move toward the door.

Outside, a sudden burst of suona music split the air—shrill and festive—followed by a thunderous rhythm of drums.

The clamor was overwhelming, lively to the point of suffocation.
I lifted my veil slightly, peering out.

No one.

Only, from the end of the courtyard path, a red figure approached.
He wore a red sash at his waist and carried a suona in his hands.
With every step he took, a note rang out—clear, sharp, celebratory.

At last, he reached me and placed a red silk ball into my palm.

“Qiao Qiao,” he said softly, smiling, “I’m here.”

Under the open sky, sunlight slipped through the trees, scattered like gold dust upon the earth.
Before Heaven and Earth, we bowed three times.

Three sticks of incense curled smoke into the air.
Zhao Xiao handed me a small cup of wine.

“Qiao Qiao,” he said gently, “this is the wedding cup. Once we drink it, you’ll be my wife.”

My fingers trembled. It took all my strength to lift the cup.

It felt impossibly heavy—like it carried the weight of my entire past.

Zhao Xiao frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

I shook my head. “No. Let’s drink.”

He raised his own cup. Just as our hands were about to meet, a flash of silver sliced through the air—

An arrow.

The wine cup in my hand shattered, impaled against a nearby tree.
The force jolted my wrist, pain shooting up my arm.
And yet, deep inside, I felt… relief.

A voice rang out, echoing through the hills—distant, taunting, unmistakable.

“Congratulations, Lady Bai Xi! Such a joyous day, and yet you didn’t invite me.
Afraid I might bring too generous a gift?”

From the bushes came the rustle of silk.

A figure stepped forth, cloaked in purple, face hidden beneath a hood.
But I knew that voice.

Jin Xiu.

My heart sank.

If she dared to appear, it meant she was confident—prepared.
Had it been only me, I might have risked it—
died fighting, perhaps dragged Bai Xi out and ended everything once and for all.

But now Zhao Xiao stood beside me.
I could not let him die for my sins.

Jin Xiu smiled coldly.
“Well, well. The groom is silent.
Tell me, Your Highness,” she said over her shoulder, “am I wrong?
Lady Bai Xi was once your acquaintance.
Shouldn’t you at least have been invited to her wedding?”

The bushes behind her stirred.

Lightning split through me.

Your Highness.

Could it be—Gu Yi?
He was supposed to be far away, married by now.
It couldn’t be him. It mustn’t be him.

My heart thudded painfully.

The red silk on my body felt like burning chains.
If it was him, I didn’t want him to see me like this—
dressed as a bride, belonging to another.

My palm stung sharply as I clenched it, my heart twisting with the same dull pain.
I stared at the brush, hoping—
and dreading—
for the man to step out.

Zhao Xiao, sensing my trembling, took my hand.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

I forced a smile.

He moved to stand before me, his voice ringing firm and clear.
“You’re mistaken, miss. My wife’s name is Qiao Qiao, not Bai Xi.
And on our wedding day, we’ll invite whom we please—it’s none of your business.
Please leave.”

Jin Xiu laughed softly and drew back her hood.
“Oh? Is that so? Only a few days apart, and Lady Bai Xi already goes by another name.”

She brushed invisible dust from her sleeve.
“I had no intention of ruining your happy occasion.
But I am under orders to capture a thousand-year fox demon.
And wouldn’t you know—your lovely bride happens to be that demon.
So I advise you, good doctor, open your eyes and see what you’re really marrying.
Otherwise, you’ll die not even knowing how.”

Zhao Xiao’s face flushed red with fury.
“Silence! My wife is not yours to slander!”

He rolled up his sleeves, ready to confront her, but I grabbed his arm.
I had never seen him angry before. Even gentle men could burn when pushed.

Jin Xiu’s cold eyes slid past him.
“Your Highness,” she called, voice sweet as poison, “come greet your old friend.”

The bushes parted.
Birds burst upward in a black cloud.

And then—he appeared.

A man in a silver robe, wide sleeves billowing in the wind.
His long hair, once neatly tied, now flowed freely over his shoulders.
Dappled light fell through the trees across his face.

His bow was drawn.
An arrow aimed straight at me.

The eyes were his.
The face was his.
Gu Yi.

Yet it was a Gu Yi I had never seen before—cold, remote, unrecognizable.

He bowed slightly to Jin Xiu.
“Your Highness.”

Then he looked at me—expressionless, eyes empty of all emotion.

I never imagined our next meeting would be like this.
The pain in my chest was sharp and deep,
as though someone were reaching inside to tear my heart apart.