Auspicious Day
Dawn crept over Qianlin cautiously, as if unsure of itself.
Light washed across the grey-tiled roofs in thin strokes, slipping through the trees and shimmering down into the quiet streets. The road had been swept long before the sun rose – cleared of villagers, cleared of carts and chatter – leaving only a long weaving line of attendants, dressed in bright ceremonial robes that felt too bright for such an early hour.
It was a mild morning with a soft breeze – carrying the scent of crushed petals and sandalwood ash drifting from the censers held by priests pacing slowly at the head of the imperial procession.
The perfect morning for a wedding.
The Bai family was sending their eldest daughter to the palace today: the new Princess Consort to the highly favoured Prince Wenzhuo.
The entourage gathered by the mouth of the Bai estate. The retinue of gilded chests and armoured guards stood imposingly behind the imperial envoys, but the envoys themselves looked tense. They glanced repeatedly at the estate gates, the sky, the shadows.
One leaned close to the captain of the guard. “Why are they so late? We’ll miss the auspicious hour.”
The captain forced a shrug, though his eyes betrayed concern. “Perhaps the lady is still preparing.”
A palace maid stood on her toes, peering over the sea of heads at the main gates. “She is beautiful, they say,” she said to another maid, her beady eyes glimmering with excitement. “Terrible temper, though – delicate as porcelain.”
The other girl didn’t reply. Preparing? Or stalling? She thought to herself silently.
At last, the gates groaned open. Curious onlookers pressed forward instinctively.
Two servants emerged first, heads bowed. And then – the bride.
She stepped across the threshold like a figure stolen from a painting: layers of crimson silk cascading around her, phoenix coronet sparkling beneath the morning light. The veil hid her face, but the way she held herself told enough – graceful, elegant, untouched by hardship.
At once, the mood shifted. Townsfolk bowed. Attendants called auspicious blessings. The musicians lifted their instruments. The procession exploded to life as she was guided into the magnificent palanquin – lacquered red, brushed with gold. Tassels swayed gently as she disappeared behind its curtain.
The Bai matriarch dabbed her eyes. The maid watched the men heave the bride away, and a sense of pity gathered in her throat.
Poor lady, she thought. Whatever waits for her... it’s too late to turn back now.
The forest greeted them with cold.
Bamboo crowded the road, bending inward until the sunlight thinned to scattered flecks. As they entered, a shiver tightened at the base of the maid’s spine. She glanced uneasily ahead. This route was narrow, rocky. She’s heard rumours about this route. Why would the envoys choose to take this way?
“Do you feel–” she began, but her companion was laughing at something another maid said.
A sudden pulse of cold swept through the air. Lantern flames flickered – then went dark. The air seemed to contract. The guards tightened their formation, exchanging wary glances.
Before anyone could speak, shadows dropped from above.
A flash of cold silver, and red spattered across her eyes.
“Protect Lady Bai!” someone shouted, but the words came too late – swallowed by the eruption of clashing metal and frantic screaming. The shrill shriek of horses rearing filled her ears. The ceremonial drums collapsed into discordant chaos.
The world tilted.
She wiped her eyes, the blood smearing across her cheeks. She’d fallen somehow, her robes now mottled with mud and moss. Men stumbled past her. Someone cried out. Something heavy hit the ground nearby and she flinched.
Further ahead, the bridal palanquin sat deserted, toppled on its side in the road, its silk curtains torn, the cloth door hanging open like a gaping wound.
Her heart jolted. She crawled her way across the mess of bodies and broken banners, grabbing at the frame with shaking hands. “My Lady–”
Nothing answered her. It was empty.
A sharp cry tore from her throat. The captain shoved past her, eyes panic-stricken as he desperately searched the interior. His face drained of colour.
“Search the forest!” he screamed. “Don’t let them get away!”
The maid stumbled back, body crumbling into a trembling mass. The cold dread in her chest spread, seeping into her bones. She stared at the torn red silk flapped weakly from the ruined palanquin.
“It’s over,” she whispered, “for all of us.”
