As if to confirm what Fu Youqin had said, the Jiao family’s wedding procession arrived a full half-hour late, hurried and chaotic.
The ceremonial team looked as though they’d rushed the entire way—disheveled, out of formation, stumbling their way to the Wen family gates before finally stopping to reorganize, banging drums and clashing cymbals as they prepared to receive the bride.
Wen Shuyue was already fully dressed, her hair meticulously styled, and she wore the wedding gown she had embroidered herself.
She sat on the bed covered in layers of red silk, nervously twisting a handkerchief in her fingers, her face a blend of anxiety and shy anticipation.
“The Jiao family’s here!” Dai Fu rushed in, grinning ear to ear.
Wen Tian stepped forward to place the red bridal veil gently over his sister’s head. Without much context, he asked offhandedly, “Is Jiao Changxian here?”
Dai Fu froze. The wedding party had arrived late and was already rushing to avoid missing the auspicious hour.
In the noisy confusion, Wen Tian’s question triggered a realization—he hadn’t seen the groom. It had seemed like the procession was led by one of Jiao Changxian’s older brothers.
“I didn’t see him… It’s chaos out there.”
The corners of Wen Tian’s lips twitched slightly, but he hid his smile and relaxed. He handed Wen Shuyue over to her personal maids with instructions to take care of her, then turned to Dai Fu.
“Let’s go take a look.”
Before even stepping outside, Wen Tian could hear the deafening clang of drums and gongs. But inside the Wen residence, the servants had all fallen silent, as if waiting for something.
In the main hall, Jiao Changxian’s cousin, Jiao Changqing, sat stiffly in the guest seat, looking deeply awkward.
Fu Youqin and Wen Boli sat in the seats of honor. The room was heavy with uncomfortable silence, a stark contrast to the cheer outside.
“Father, Mother, what’s going on?” Wen Tian’s arrival broke the silence. His expression feigned confusion as his gaze swept over Jiao Changqing.
Forcing a thin smile, Jiao Changqing explained, “It was an accident—Changxian fell from his horse just before mounting. The horse was startled, threw him off… he hurt his leg.”
“Oh?” Wen Tian glanced at everyone, his voice casual, almost teasing.
“What strange timing for a fall. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Jiao family was trying to back out of the marriage.”
As expected, Fu Youqin and Wen Boli’s expressions darkened.
Jiao Changqing’s eye twitched. His hands clenched tight in his sleeves. Truth be told, he was furious himself.
Jiao Changxian, his younger cousin, had always overshadowed him. Even in marriage, he had gotten ahead. But what had he done on the night before his wedding?
He had snuck off to a brothel.
When he hadn’t returned by morning, the entire Jiao household panicked, fearing something had happened.
Servants were sent out across town in a desperate search—only to find him passed out in a brothel, having spent the night in debauchery with four courtesans.
When they’d arrived, he’d still been sprawled atop one of them, unwilling to move, the room filled with unspeakable mess.
And the worst part?
The Jiao family had already stirred up public attention while searching. Now, with him being dragged out of a brothel, practically the entire town knew what had happened.
Their family’s reputation was shattered—and Wen family would be furious.
They dragged him back, but Jiao Changxian, high on aphrodisiacs and completely out of control, had even tried to sleep with a maid while getting dressed.
With time ticking and the marriage impossible to delay, they decided to lie—sending Jiao Changqing to fetch the bride in his place.
Once the bride was brought to their home, it would be too late to back out.
Jiao Changqing had hoped the wedding would fall apart, but he couldn’t disobey the elders. He swallowed his frustration and forced an apologetic tone.
“You’ve misunderstood. Changxian is devoted to the young miss. He insisted on coming despite his injury. But with a broken leg… my grandmother insisted I come in his place.”
His words were sincere enough that even Fu Youqin and Wen Boli began to waver.
Wen Boli glanced outside, where the festive noise was still going strong. He hesitated and turned to his wife.
“Qin-niang, the hour is almost here… should we just…?”
Fu Youqin sighed. Her heart was heavy—her daughter was being sent off without the groom even present.
But making a scene now would make things worse. And an injury was, after all, an accident. After a long pause, she reluctantly nodded.
A relieved smile appeared on Jiao Changqing’s face as he stood and bowed.
“Thank you for your understanding.”
With time slipping away, Jiao Changqing hurried out to make preparations. Wen Boli and Fu Youqin followed.
Wen Tian lingered behind.
Tugging lightly on Fu Youqin’s sleeve, he spoke softly, “Mother, isn’t it a little too convenient for him to break his leg on his wedding day? Shouldn’t we send someone to check on the Jiao family first?”
Though unhappy about Jiao Changxian’s absence, Fu Youqin hadn’t thought that far. She hesitated.
“Changxian has always been kind to your sister. Maybe it really was just an accident… besides, checking now might delay everything.”
Wen Tian had anticipated this response.
Jiao Changxian had always played the part of a perfect gentleman—visiting every holiday, sending little gifts, making himself look sincere.
If Wen Tian hadn’t known what was coming, he might have believed it too.
But in truth, everything Jiao Changxian had done was calculated, aimed at one thing: Wen Shuyue’s dowry and the Wen family’s wealth.
He’d seen it before. Just like how his own father, Wen Boli, had discarded his original wife and seized the Fu family’s assets to elevate a concubine.
Jiao Changxian had done the same—seducing that very concubine’s niece.
“I’ve already sent Dai Fu to take a shortcut to Lehe Town to investigate. It won’t take long,” Wen Tian tugged on her sleeve gently.
“Mother, I’m just worried. If everything’s fine, great. But if the Jiao family is lying, wouldn’t it be better to pull back midway than let my sister suffer for life?”
Her heart clenched at his words. Wen Shuyue was her only daughter—graceful, talented, and kind.
If the Jiao family had truly deceived them, she would rather cancel the wedding entirely than see her child bullied.
“Fine. Let Dai Fu check.” She patted Wen Tian’s head—he was already taller than her, but still retained his soft, childlike ways in her eyes. Yet today, for the first time, he felt grown.
Wen Tian gave Dai Fu directions to find the old fisherman, then turned toward the back courtyard.
Time was slipping away. Fu Youqin fed Wen Shuyue a few bites of rice, gently wiped her lips, and forced a smile through teary eyes.
“You must eat before you go.”
Mother and daughter locked eyes, both overcome with emotion.
After the bride’s departure meal, it was time to leave. Wen Tian carefully re-covered her veil, knelt down, and let Wen Shuyue climb onto his back.
She was a head shorter than him. Carrying her wasn’t difficult. Steadying her carefully, he walked step by step out the door.
Outside the Wen residence, firecrackers exploded and drums roared. Wen Tian carried her across a brazier and gently placed her in the bridal sedan.
The curtains fell. Wen Tian mounted his horse, bade farewell to his parents, and followed the procession toward Lehe Town.
But instead of the official road, they veered off onto a narrow path toward West Mountain.
They were behind schedule. To make it before the auspicious hour, Jiao Changqing led them through the shortcut—even though the West Mountain path was infamous for bandits.
Their group was large enough that few dared attack. A long line of red wound its way up the mountainside.
***
“Brother Changxi, they’re heading straight for our mountain!”
A boy, about ten years old, darted over a hill and whispered excitedly to the large man crouched in the grass beyond it.
The man’s name was Changxi, a bandit of West Mountain.
He’d come down from the hills specifically to lie in wait—word had it that the scumbag young master of the Jiao family was getting married today, and Changxi had plans to teach him a lesson.
He’d been racking his brains on how to strike with so many people around, and then—lucky day—the wedding procession wandered straight into his territory.
“Heh… perfect,” Changxi grinned, spitting out the stalk of grass between his lips and slinging the boy onto his back.
“The brothers were itching for a way to help you avenge Sister Xiao Qiao anyway. Let’s get back and set up an ambush. Today, we give that Jiao brat a taste of justice. No one gets to bully the women of West Mountain!”
The West Mountain sat at the western edge of Sifang Town, a narrow stretch of hills extending from Qitian Ridge.
Its terrain made it easy to defend, difficult to attack, and perfect for a hideout. The West Mountain stronghold had been around for years, home to a ragtag crew of farmers, elders, women, and children.
Most of the men worked the land and only occasionally did “side business”—robbing the wealthy passing through.
But ever since their leader and military advisor had joined, the gang had grown stronger, their name striking fear across Sifang Town. Few dared take the shortcut through the West Mountain anymore.
The Jiao family only dared because they had numbers on their side.
Changxi, familiar with the terrain, raced back and rallied a few of his toughest brothers. They crouched in ambush on both sides of the narrow road.
Wen Tian rode beside the sedan, chatting quietly with Wen Shuyue while casting frequent glances over his shoulder. Dai Fu had taken a faster water route and should be returning any moment with news.
“Is it him?” Changxi asked, pointing at Wen Tian, who was dressed in red and clearly the most striking of the group.
The boy nodded.
“Sister Xiao Qiao said the Jiao groom was very handsome—and he’s the best-looking one here. Must be him.”
Changxi narrowed his eyes. Only one man fit the description: tall, elegant, and riding beside the bridal sedan. That had to be the groom.
He made a subtle hand signal to his comrades—capture that one.
On the other side, someone returned a confirming gesture. Hidden in the grass, the bandits lay in wait.
The procession crept slowly forward.
Wen Tian looked back for the 101st time—and finally spotted Dai Fu riding toward them at the tail end of the line. His lips curled into a faint smile.
He glanced at the Jiao family up front, then quietly beckoned Dai Fu over.
“What did you find out?” Wen Tian asked in a low voice, slowing his pace so the sedan would move ahead, out of earshot.
Dai Fu, panting from the ride, leaned in and whispered urgently.
The news was just as Wen Tian had expected—Jiao Changxian’s scandal had already spread across Lehe Town. Dai Fu hadn’t needed to dig deep; the entire town was gossiping.
“The Jiao family has gone too far!” Wen Tian’s expression turned stormy as he raised his hand and shouted, bringing the entire procession to a halt.
Jiao Changqing, startled, turned his horse around.
“What’s the matter?”
Wen Tian didn’t bother hiding his fury. He glared at Jiao Changqing, voice ringing out: “Your Jiao family has gone too far!”
Jiao Changqing froze, secretly gleeful. Could it be they’d already heard the whole story?
“Brother Wen, what are you—”
“Do you want me to say it out loud?” Wen Tian’s face flushed red with rage.
“Shall I list the disgraceful acts of your so-called young master right here, in front of everyone?”
The Jiao entourage turned pale. Jiao Changqing’s heart leapt, but he still forced a calm front.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Let’s discuss this after we arrive—”
Wen Tian cut him off with a cold laugh.
“You claim to be a family of scholars. But next to Jiao Changxian, even beggars look noble. This marriage is off!”
He turned.
“Dai Fu, take the young miss home!”
“Yes, young master!” Dai Fu barked, and immediately directed the sedan bearers to turn around. Confused and startled, the rest of the crowd parted to let them through.
A few Jiao men tried to block their path—but Wen Tian lashed out with his whip. Two men cried out in pain, clutching their arms.
Jiao Changqing started forward but flinched at Wen Tian’s icy glare and backed off.
“This isn’t over,” Wen Tian said coldly.
***
“Wait, what just happened?” The bandits hidden in the bushes were dumbfounded.
They hadn’t heard the argument clearly, but suddenly the groom had stopped everything, turned the bridal sedan around, and started heading back.
“Are they… canceling the wedding?” someone whispered.
Changxi spat into the grass.
“Tch. Good-looking guys are always trash. He ruined Sister Xiao Qiao and now he wants to go ruin someone else’s daughter?”
The crowd was splitting in two, leaving a small group isolated in the middle. A perfect chance to strike.
Changxi raised his hand.
“Brothers—go!”
Four or five burly bandits charged down like a storm.
Before anyone could react, Changxi reached Wen Tian in one leap, knocked him out with a clean chop to the neck, slung him over his shoulder like a sack, and sprinted back up the mountain.
“What are you doing?” Jiao Changqing shouted in shock.
But the bandits didn’t care. They beat down a few others, shouted, “Tell the Jiao family—bring silver if they want him back!” and vanished into the hills.
Jiao Changqing sat dazed in his saddle.
“What… they kidnapped someone from the Wen family—why are we supposed to pay ransom?”
By the time anyone came to their senses, the bandits were long gone.
Dai Fu looked between the direction Wen Tian had disappeared and the worried face of Wen Shuyue peeking from the sedan.
He clenched his jaw and shouted, “We’re going back to the Wen estate!”
***
Changxi led the charge back to the bandits’ hideout, tossed the unconscious Wen Tian onto the floor, and tied him securely to a pillar with thick hemp rope.
The others circled around, whistling.
“So this is the pretty boy who fooled Xiao Qiao? No wonder…”
Changxi kicked one of them.
“Shut it! Go fetch Xiao Qiao. We caught the guy who hurt her—she can do whatever she wants with him.”
Soon, Xiao Qiao arrived, still in her plain linen dress, her hair tied up with a twig. She was delicately pretty, with the soft elegance of a well-bred girl.
Changxi’s grin stretched wide.
“Look, Xiao Qiao! I caught Jiao Changxian for you!”
Xiao Qiao had been dragged here mid-laundry and was thoroughly confused—until she heard that name.
Her face twisted in fury, and she punched Changxi hard.
“Say that name again and I’ll rip your ears off!”
Then she turned back to Wen Tian, blinking at the unconscious man. “Wait… who is this?”
Changxi, nearly 7-feet tall, now cowered like a scolded puppy.
“Isn’t he… um… that guy… you know who I mean?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You mean Jiao Changxian?”
Changxi nodded hopefully, like a big dog waiting for praise.
But instead of a pat on the head, he got another beating.
“This isn’t Jiao Changxian, you idiot!”
“Then… who is he?” Changxi looked like his world had ended.
“How should I know? You’re the one who grabbed him!”
They looked at each other in silence.
“We even told the Jiao family to bring ransom money,” Changxi muttered. “But we got the wrong guy…”
Xiao Qiao rolled her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared.
“The boss will be back soon. Ask him what to do.”
Changxi mumbled, “He’ll just beat me again…”
Everyone else dispersed, leaving Changxi alone, staring at Wen Tian in despair.
“…Maybe you could just let me go,” Wen Tian suddenly opened his eyes and suggested.
He’d woken up halfway through being carried like a sack of rice—ropes, bumps, and all—but had pretended to stay unconscious to assess the situation.
Changxi jumped back in fright. “You were awake?!”
“Just now,” Wen Tian lied smoothly.
Changxi tried to act tough.
“I’m not letting you go. No ransom, no release.”
“But you got the wrong guy,” Wen Tian said with a sigh.
“The Jiao family’s not going to ransom me. They’re broke, anyway.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that!”
“Just woke up and heard that part,” Wen Tian said innocently.
“Tell you what. I’ve got a grudge against Jiao Changxian too. You let me go, I’ll go home and deal with him myself. Maybe even help Sister Xiao Qiao get revenge.”