Becoming a literary master starting from the story of Minglan

Chapter 474 Marriage
……

In the days that followed, the entire Sheng family fell into an eerie and hurried silence.

Preparing a marriage for a concubine's daughter is not usually a big deal, but this time it's different.

There was no festive noise, no congratulations from relatives, only an unspoken sense of oppression and urgency, like the suffocating calm before a storm.

Madam Wang took care of things "with all her heart and soul".

She indeed "picked out some surplus, unimportant" headdress and clothing materials—mostly outdated patterns and insufficient weight of gold ornaments, gilded pieces that looked like they were made of full gold, and gemstones that were of extremely poor quality; as well as several bolts of silk that were old-fashioned in color, of ordinary quality, and even had a hint of being leftover stock.

She meticulously managed the money allocated to her by the public treasury according to the allowance for a concubine's daughter, and used it to purchase mostly ostentatious but impractical items that looked respectable but were made of thin materials and crudely crafted, such as thin-walled and fragile porcelain and woodenware with dull lacquer.

The dowry list was drawn up, a long string of items, but upon closer inspection, it revealed a deliberate perfunctory attitude and cold calculation, just like the thin, hypocritical "compassion" on Madam Wang's face.

She didn't even bother to visit Mo Lan at Linxi Pavilion, instead sending a stern-faced, cold-eyed head maid to "teach her manners."

The old woman recited the "Admonitions for Women" and "Rules for Women" in a monotonous manner, as if she were completing a task. Her voice was flat and emotionless, but her eyes were filled with undisguised contempt, making Mo Lan feel like she was sitting on pins and needles, and every moment was torture.

Mo Lan was locked in the embroidered chamber, like a condemned prisoner awaiting execution.

Outside the window, the sounds of servants hurriedly preparing for their wedding—the shouts of carrying chests and the rustling of cutting red silk—shouted out joy, but to her ears, they sounded like a death knell.

Inside the window, there was a deathly silence, with only her suppressed, intermittent sobs echoing in the empty room.

The wedding dress that was delivered was made overnight by the embroiderers. The stitches were fine but also messy and rushed. The phoenix embroidered with gold thread had a dull and lifeless look in its eyes and stiff feathers. It was not lifeless and had no desire to take flight. Instead, it looked like a caged bird nailed to the brocade, just like her state of mind at this moment.

She tried on the clothes in front of the blurry bronze mirror. The glaring red, like thick, fresh blood, burned her eyes and made her dizzy.

The woman in the mirror was as pale as a ghost, with dark circles under her eyes and a vacant, numb gaze. The delicate charm and scheming she had once cultivated had long been devoured by despair, fear, and endless regret.

She missed her mother so much that her insides felt like they were being torn apart, a heart-wrenching pain. But when she thought of Changfeng's twisted and terrifying crippled hand, the poisonous hatred in her father's eyes, and the threat of her grandmother's "sudden death," immense fear gripped her tightly, making even crying out loud a luxury.

She could only bite her already scarred lower lip tightly until the strong taste of blood filled her mouth, reminding her that she was still alive.

"Mo Lan, you must hold on!" Mo Lan silently encouraged herself. "As long as you're alive, there's always a chance!"

"We can definitely rescue my daughter!"

Mo Lan wiped away her tears, and hope rekindled in her heart...

……

The auspicious day will arrive in the blink of an eye.

Before dawn, the alley outside the side gate of the Sheng Mansion was already faintly filled with a deliberately created "liveliness" that was completely different from the deathly silence inside the mansion.

Several long strings of red firecrackers were raised high, and several servants dressed in brand-new short jackets held long incense sticks, waiting for the auspicious time.

The neighbors, who had gotten up early to see the spectacle, were drawn by the commotion and gathered from a distance, peering over and discussing the grandeur of the Earl's wedding.

Inside the mansion gates, the faint, deliberately raised shouts of servants, tinged with feigned joy, drifted out: "Hurry up! Don't miss the auspicious time!" "Carry the chest securely!"

"..."

These sounds, as if separated by a thick curtain, could not penetrate the depths of the inner courtyard; they were only meant for outside eyes and ears to see and hear—the Sheng family's daughter's wedding was still dignified.

Outside the mansion gate, Liang Han, the sixth son of the Yongchang Marquis's family and the groom, was dressed in a brand-new crimson auspicious robe, riding a magnificently decorated steed, with the typical smile of a noble scion, a smile that was both reserved and smug.

Behind him followed a wedding procession that, while not grand, was still quite well-organized, with the musicians waiting lazily.

Liang Han pondered in his heart that although he had used some means to marry the fourth daughter of the Sheng family, the Sheng family was ultimately a respectable family, and he had to make sure that they would not be too negligent. He waited for his father-in-law, Sheng Hong, or his brothers-in-law to come out and greet him, and then they would go through the formalities.

However, when the heavy side door of the Sheng residence creaked open, Liang Han's smile froze slightly and then faded almost imperceptibly.

Only the butler and a few servants who looked like stewards came out of the door. Each of them wore a respectful but distant smile and bowed to Liang Han, saying, "Congratulations, Sixth Young Master! Please wait a moment, the bride will be here shortly." There was not a single direct descendant of the Sheng family in sight!

Even the man standing behind the steward was a young man with a cold expression and a calm face—it was Sheng Changquan, the illegitimate son of the Sheng family.

Sheng Changquan did not go forward to exchange pleasantries with Liang Han. He simply nodded slightly from a distance, his posture impeccably polite, but his eyes remained calm and undisturbed, as if the noisy wedding procession before him had nothing to do with him.

He stood there like a silent pine tree, exuding a cold aura that kept strangers at bay. It was clear at a glance that his presence was merely to maintain the most basic dignity of the Sheng family, so that outsiders wouldn't think that the Sheng family couldn't even send a decent male member to escort the bride.

But his "presence" itself was a silent separation—he stood in the shadows inside the door, far from the bridal sedan chair, his gaze never truly falling on Liang Han or the sedan chair, as if he were merely performing an official duty that he had to do.

This attitude made Liang Han feel even more embarrassed and disrespected than her complete absence.

A feeling of shame and anger at being slighted welled up in Liang Han's heart.

What does the Sheng family mean by this?
He, the son of a noble count, came to personally marry a concubine's daughter, yet not even a proper master of the house came out to greet him.

Is there only one illegitimate son standing far away, just there to make a show of things?
He suppressed his displeasure and maintained the composure of a young master from a prominent family, though his smile had become somewhat stiff.

His gaze swept across the room, trying to find Sheng Hong or any other familiar faces, but he found nothing.

Just then, a figure finally appeared in the side passageway behind the butler.

Two matchmakers carried the bride, who was dressed in a bright red wedding gown and had her head covered, out of the room.

The bride's steps were unsteady, relying entirely on the matchmaker for support, as if a gust of wind could blow her over.

Liang Han's gaze fell on Mo Lan. Although her wedding dress was bright red, it looked rushed and stiff, lacking the vitality of a new bride.

What made his heart sink even more was that there was still no one behind the bride!
There were no parents to see them off, no brothers to protect them, only a few servants with their heads bowed and hands hanging down!

Liang Han's smile almost vanished. He subconsciously glanced at Sheng Changquan, who was standing in the shadows. The other man remained indifferent, seemingly oblivious to the awkward situation before him.

A surge of anger, feeling mocked, welled up in Liang Han's chest. Was the Sheng family trying to embarrass him in public?
This marriage... could it be that the Sheng family is so unwilling?

The butler seemed to sense the eerie atmosphere and quickly announced loudly, "The bride has arrived! Please, Sixth Master, escort the newlyweds to the sedan chair!"

Liang Han took a deep breath, suppressing her surging anger.

This was not the time to lash out; he couldn't afford to lose face for the Earl's mansion in public.

He dismounted, his movements still maintaining the elegance of a noble young man, but his steps carried a subtle stiffness.

He walked up to Mo Lan and, according to custom, took the red silk ribbon attached to the bride from the matchmaker's hands.

Just as his fingers touched the red silk, a figure finally strode out from the side door.

It is Sheng Hong.

Sheng Hong was dressed in casual clothes, not formal attire, and his face showed a mixture of fatigue, embarrassment, and a forced calm.

He didn't look at Liang Han. His gaze lingered on Sheng Changquan for a moment, carrying a complex and indescribable meaning that seemed to be both praise and guilt. Then he turned to Liang Han, cupped his hands in greeting, and said in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft, with the smoothness of a person in officialdom: "Sixth Young Master Liang, my daughter... is entrusted to you."

He paused, his gaze finally settling on the red veil. There was no reluctance of a father to let his daughter go, no fatherly love in his eyes, only a deep weariness and an almost cold-blooded understanding.

He spoke to Mo Lan, who was hidden under the veil, in a voice that could only be heard by a few people nearby, yet possessed a strange penetrating power, enunciating each word clearly:

"Mo Lan, today... is the path you chose yourself. You'd better take care of yourself from now on."

These words, like a cold hammer, struck Mo Lan's already wounded heart beneath her veil, and also clearly reached Liang Han's ears.

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