Chapter 362: Do You Prefer the Lights Off or On?

In the Zhou and Qin eras, aristocratic weddings followed a complete set of formalities — caina, wenming, naji, nazheng, and so on. Over the past few months, Heifu had already completed these procedures: he had asked the old general Wang Jian to act as his matchmaker for the caina. The Wang clan was on fairly good terms with Heifu, and Wang Jian had readily agreed.

But the subsequent wenming and naji proved somewhat awkward. After the Ye clan agreed to the marriage, Wang Jian still had to ask for the bride's eight characters and birth date on Heifu's behalf, and Heifu then had to take the woman's name and eight characters to the ancestral temple for divination…

At this, Heifu — eight generations of dirt-poor farmers behind him — could only roll his eyes.

"Ancestral temple? What's that?"

He had no choice but to hastily build an ancestral temple at his new residence and retroactively install his never-met, bargain-bin father and all the ancestors before him.

He knew his bargain-bin father's name, but he had no idea what the names of the previous generations were, and his mother could not answer him either. Heifu could only shut his eyes and fabricate them.

So he flourished his brush and wrote on the spirit tablets:

"Grandfather: Chongba. Great-grandfather: Wusi. Great-great-grandfather: Chuyi…"

This way, he at least scraped together four spirit tablets and could muddle through the naji rites. Yet these bizarre names left Zhang Cang staring in bewilderment. He recalled the "abacus" Heifu had commissioned craftsmen to make and assumed this was a family tradition of learning. Curious, he asked:

"Were your grandfather and father both fond of numerology?"

Heifu shook his head. "The family was too poor to have a surname, so names were chosen casually — either birth-order names like Bo, Zhong, Shu, Ji, or directly taken from the birth date."

Zhang Han, Zhang Cang, and the others looked at each other. They felt like laughing but could not bring themselves to, increasingly aware of just how hard it must have been for Heifu to reach his current position…

At the same time, they felt that compared to Chongba, Wusi, and Chuyi, "Heifu" actually sounded like a proper name.

"In the Spring and Autumn period, Duke Huan of Zhou was called Black Shoulder, and Duke Cheng of Jin was called Black Buttocks…" The erudite Zhang Cang launched into textual research, his chubby face utterly serious.

According to ritual, on the wedding night, the groom's family was to "prepare wine and food to summon the village elders, colleagues, and friends," who in turn were to bring gifts to offer congratulations and also assemble carriages to help Heifu escort the bride. Zhang Han, Zhang Cang, Gong Ao, and other friends and former subordinates all arrived to support Heifu.

That day, Heifu wore a ceremonial cap, black robe, pale-yellow skirt, and black sash — the groom's full attire. He rode in a black lacquered carriage, seated beside the ritual-savvy Zhang Cang, who served as the "usher." Behind were two secondary carriages, driven by the higher-ranking Zhang Han and Cheng Shang respectively. There was also a curtained women's carriage, driven by Jing.

The party drove their tall carriages in a grand procession toward the residence of the Intendant of the Capital, Teng. By now dusk was approaching. Torches led the way in front, while drums and wind instruments played behind. The common folk strolling back from the market knew a noble was getting married and stopped to bow and offer congratulations.

Heifu did not strictly follow the era's etiquette. He had Gong Ao, Ji Ying, and others in the rear carriages hand out paper-wrapped brown sugar to the bystanders along the road, thanking them for their well-wishes — wedding sweets, in effect. This drew a burst of cheers. Children, sugar melting in their mouths, happily followed the wedding carriages all the way to the Intendant's residence…

The usher Zhang Cang dismounted and went inside to announce them. A moment later, the Intendant of the Capital, Teng, dressed in the dark formal robes, came out past the main gate.

Perhaps because his only daughter was marrying out, Teng, who had consented to the match, looked to be in a foul mood, his face stern. Still, he followed the rites: facing west, he bowed twice. Heifu hurriedly dismounted and, facing east, returned the bow.

Step by step, bow by bow, they finally reached the entrance of the Ye clan ancestral temple. Heifu presented the wild goose he had been holding all this time as a gift, then bowed twice and pressed his head to the ground — signifying that he was reporting to the Ye ancestors that he was about to take their granddaughter in marriage.

Ye Teng said slowly, "The Ye clan originates from the Mi surname of Chu, with Zhuanxu as our distant ancestor, and we honor Ye Gong Zhuliang of the Spring and Autumn period as our founding ancestor."

"People all say Lord Ye loved dragons — he loved what seemed like a dragon but was not a true dragon."

"I admire your talent, yet the thought of you marrying my daughter still leaves a strange feeling in my heart… I only hope you will treat her well."

After a sigh, Ye Teng finally stepped aside, revealing the bride waiting outside the temple gate.

She was not in the bright red attire favored in later ages but in plain dress corresponding to Heifu's dark robes: a black gown with pale trim, wide sleeves hanging long, held up behind by a maidservant. Today Ye Zijin had put her hair up in a married woman's style, her head full of fine gold and jade ornaments, yet her face bore only light makeup. From several paces away, Heifu could only see her face above the bridge of her nose, because the bride held a gorgeously feathered "magpie fan" that covered her mouth and nose.

This magpie fan was the equivalent of the red bridal veil of later times. Fortunately, Heifu could see her eyes — intelligent yet lively, and when their gazes met, there was a trace of shyness.

After another round of admonishments from father and mother, the bride bowed to her parents and ancestors, then fell in step behind Heifu, following him step by step as they walked out.

Ye Teng did not see them out. He stood in the temple, somewhat despondent.

Once a daughter leaves the family gate, she belongs to another household…

"Ye ancestors above, I only hope this decision I have made is the right one!"

…

"The long night is not yet spent, the courtyard torches blaze. I think of my lord, in dark coat and crimson skirt. That lovely maiden of Jiang, her bridle bells chime. Her face like the hibiscus bloom, so graceful and refined. I take her hand in mine, together we shall thrive…"

The groom had already escorted the bride back to his residence, and the melodious wedding music resounded inside and out.

As a newly risen noble of Xianyang, Right Chief of the Masses Heifu's wedding was a lively affair. Though some ill-intentioned guests had hoped to see this poor boy make a fool of himself during the ceremony, with the ritual-and-music virtuoso Zhang Cang acting as the "guest attendant" to manage everything, the aristocratic wedding banquet was conducted with solemn grandeur and proper form — no one could find fault with it.

The wedding rites were complex, but every step was indispensable. Since they differed considerably from later eras, Heifu found it all quite novel.

For instance, on the path from the gateposts of Heifu's residence into the main wedding hall, the bride still did not utter a word. Holding her magpie fan, she followed step by step behind Heifu. Upon reaching the main hall, Heifu had to turn and bow deeply to her, and the bride returned the bow.

This was arranged by Zhang Cang: "When the bride arrives, the groom bows to her as she enters." In every household's wedding, the new husband first bowed to the new wife before entering the chamber to complete the rites.

The color scheme of the wedding hall was, astonishingly, dominated by black and white. A modern person unfamiliar with Qin tastes might well think this was a funeral! The groom in black, the bride in plain dress — understated and solemn, it almost had the feel of a Western suit and wedding gown. They sat together on the mat.

The first rite was "putting aside the fan." Heifu invited the bride to sit and took from her the magpie fan she had held for so long — the equivalent of lifting the veil in later times.

Behind the brilliantly colored feathers was the face of a beautiful young woman, with the purity of a seventeen-year-old girl, yet the married woman's hair ornaments lent her a touch of allure.

At this sight, the guests all praised them as "a fine couple, talent matched with beauty." Whether anyone was secretly cursing "a black boar rooting up a white cabbage" was impossible to know, and Heifu did not care — he was even growing a little impatient.

Attendants brought over a bronze ewer filled with clear water for the two to wash their hands.

Two pairs of hands reached in together. Heifu's hands were dark, Ye Zijin's were fair. The ewer was not large, so their hands inevitably touched. When skin met skin, Heifu noticed that in the candlelight, the bride's complexion was tinged with crimson…

After cleansing their hands, they first ate cooked, sticky millet, then shared a meal together, slicing thin pieces of roast suckling pig, dipping them in sauce, and savoring them. They then rinsed their mouths with rice wine, arriving at the final procedure: drinking from the nuptial gourd.

A bottle gourd was split in two, each half filled with wine. The two accepted them, and for the first time faced each other directly, eyes meeting. They did not cross arms as in later ages; they simply exchanged the gourd cups in their hands and drained them in one go!

The taste buds registered bitterness, but what lingered after swallowing was a sweet aftertaste. The bottle gourd is bitter, so wine served in it is inevitably bitter wine. The gourd split in two symbolizes that through the wedding, husband and wife are joined as one, sharing both sweetness and bitterness.

Heifu noticed that after drinking, the bride's vermilion lips were moist, a tiny bead of wine at the corner of her mouth. Unobtrusively, she gave it a light lick. Catching Heifu staring at her, she smiled faintly and resumed her serene, dignified composure.

The drinking done, amid the guests' merry clamor, the bride and groom rose. The preliminaries had concluded. All that remained now was "consuming the leftovers and setting out the bedding" — what was commonly called the bed-joining rite, to formally become husband and wife.

…

The attendants took the candles and withdrew. The door was gently closed. After the stifled laughter faded into the distance, only the two of them remained in the room.

Inside the bedchamber, bronze vessels and wine jars for dining were arrayed. Dozens of fragrant candles, thick as a child's arm, lit the nuptial chamber bright as day.

Heifu turned to look at the new bride sitting on the wedding couch, hands twisting together, silent. Her "wedding dress" — the outer garment — had already been removed by the maidservants, leaving only the plain white inner robe. In the candlelight, the sight stirred his heart.

He too shed his heavy outer robe, walked over, and said with a smile, "From the moment I came to escort you until now, you haven't spoken a word. Could it be you're unwilling to marry me?"

"That's not it."

Ye Zijin hurriedly explained, "It's just that during the wedding rites, I dared not speak too much, for fear the guests would laugh at me."

Then, perhaps to ease the ambiguous and awkward atmosphere, she told a joke widely circulated in the Central Plains.

There was a man in Wei who went to fetch his new bride. As soon as the bride got into the carriage, she asked, "Whose horses are those on the outer traces?" The driver said, "Borrowed." The bride then told the driver, "Whip the outer horses, but don't hit the shaft horse in the middle."

When the carriage reached the groom's gate, the bride had just been helped down when she instructed the bridesmaid, "Quick, go put out the fire in the stove — be careful of a fire hazard."

She walked into the house, saw a stone mortar on the floor, and said, "Quick, move it outside the window. Leaving it here gets in people's way."

Her new in-laws heard this and couldn't help laughing at her. The three sentences were not wrong in themselves, yet they inevitably drew ridicule — because the bride, before even marrying into the family, had already assumed the air of the mistress of the house and spoken words that were not hers to say.

"I, for one, do not find that bride of Wei laughable."

Heifu sat down beside the bride without any change of expression and said, "Perhaps she loved her betrothed so deeply that, even before the wedding rites were complete, she already regarded herself as his wife."

"Husband..." The bride used this form of address for the first time. She lowered her head and said, "Husband looks to be a man of very firm opinions, not the sort who favors a talkative wife. I do not wish to invite your displeasure."

"That depends on what is being said. Within the bedchamber, I would rather like to hear more of your voice."

Like brown sugar — dark on the outside, sweet within — Heifu began to exercise his special talent. He praised her voice endlessly, saying he had never forgotten it since first hearing it at the Shangsi Festival, and went on to extol her features and bearing, which grew more beautiful the older she became.

The bride's face grew redder and redder, and the more Heifu praised her, the more restless his hands became — now holding her small hand, now playing with her hair — and he pressed closer and closer, his breathing gradually quickening. What followed, of course, was the natural and proper completion of the final step.

Fear, worry, shyness — a tangle of emotions made the bride, as if possessed, catch hold of Heifu's hand as it reached around her waist, stopping his next move.

"What is it?" Heifu already had the beauty in his arms. He whispered by her ear, "Shall I blow out the candles?"

"Don't..." The bride had been very nervous, but at these words she could not help breaking into laughter, and she ended up burying herself in Heifu's embrace, laughing for a long time.

"What are you laughing at?" Heifu was utterly baffled.

The young girl lifted her head and looked at his bronze-hued face. Dark though Heifu was, he was not ugly; on the contrary, he possessed a certain rugged handsomeness that Qin people rather admired.

She averted her gaze. "It is far too impertinent. I dare not say."

"Out with it." Heifu would not let her off. He wrapped his arms around her waist again, growing more and more excited.

"If I say it, I hope my husband will not take offense."

"No offense, no offense. Within the bed-curtains, between husband and wife, what is there that cannot be said?" Heifu was quite enjoying the atmosphere.

Having secured Heifu's promise, Ye Zijin leaned close to his ear and whispered a single sentence.

"I was afraid that if the candles were blown out and the room fell into dusk, I would no longer be able to see my husband..."

Heifu was first stunned, then it dawned on him.

"Fine!"

He sprang to his feet and stared at the innocent-faced girl, taking in her eyes full of mischief, her lovely features, her long slender neck, and the willowy waist beneath her black robe...

Heifu's anger surged up uncontrollably. He did not bother blowing out the lamps. He yanked the bed curtains shut, pushed her by her frail shoulders, and pressed her down onto the bed.

Though his hands were gentle, the words from his mouth were fierce:

"You dare mock your husband for being dark-skinned! Today I will show you what true darkness is!"

On the wedding night, the lamps in the bridal chamber burned all the way until daybreak...

(End of chapter)