After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

Five days later, the General of the North's Mansion was brightly decorated with lanterns and colorful streamers. Red carpet stretched from the vermilion main gate to the steps of the wedding hall, and red lanterns along the eaves formed a continuous sea, illuminating the entire courtyard in a crimson glow. Even the two blue stone lions in front of the gate had bright red silk flowers wrapped around their necks, fluttering in the wind.

Shen Hanzhou had spent over a decade in the Northern Shuo army, and the friendships he had built up amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood were spread throughout the entire army. Most of the guests present today were rough-and-tumble military officers, each with a booming voice. Before the banquet even began, the sounds of drinking games and toasts were already shaking the roof tiles.

Shen Hanzhou, dressed in a bright red wedding robe, stood on the steps to greet the guests, bowing to everyone he met and grinning so wide his white teeth were dazzling: "Congratulations! Please come in—Old Zhao, have you prepared your wedding gift money? If not, get the hell out of here and don't even think about mooching off my wedding!"

Guests arrived in an endless stream. Zhao Kuo, the commander of the Imperial Guards, carried a newly forged ring-pommel sword, its scabbard still wrapped in red silk; Zhang Jian, the Vice Minister of War, presented a pair of mutton-fat jade ruyi scepters; even Han Zheng, who was usually unkempt, had changed into a clean black outfit, and with one arm, he carried two jars of unopened Western Border liquor, which he slammed heavily onto the gift table, saying in a deep voice, "To give you courage tonight, kid."

Shen Hanzhou raised his foot as if to kick her, laughing and cursing, "Get lost! What gives me the courage to marry a wife? I've shared a tent with her for two months in the Gobi Desert, I've seen it all!"

The room was filled with laughter.

The moment Xiao Jingyuan and Xie Qinglan stepped into the wedding hall, the clamor abruptly ceased. Xiao Jingyuan was not wearing a dragon robe, but only a dark-colored casual robe embroidered with coiled dragons. His black hair was loosely tied back with a jade crown, and the imperial aura in his eyes had lessened somewhat, but it was still overwhelming.

Xie Qinglan stood beside him, wearing a pale blue gauze shirt as thin as a cicada's wing over a moon-white brocade robe. Her black hair was tied up with a simple silver hairpin. Her aloofness was as pure as snow, which clashed with the bright red in the room and made her the most eye-catching presence.

"His Majesty has arrived—" Gao An announced in a low voice.

"No need for formalities." Xiao Jingyuan raised his hand, his gaze sweeping over the bowing guests. "Today is Shen Hanzhou's auspicious day, there's no need for such formalities. Qinglan and I are merely here to offer a toast to his wedding."

Even so, everyone still bowed respectfully.

Xiao Jingyuan pulled Xie Qinglan to sit in the main seat, and Shen Hanzhou hurriedly brought over two cups of wine, his smile never fading, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes: "Your Majesty, Prime Minister Xie, this humble general toasts you! This humble general is happy today, happier than I have ever been in my life!"

Xiao Jingyuan took the wine glass, his fingertips touching the cool porcelain. Looking at his silly appearance, he unusually refrained from teasing him and simply said, "Congratulations."

Xie Qinglan held her wine glass, her gaze subtly sweeping across the main hall. Zhao Kuo was rolling up his sleeves, playing a drinking game with Han Zheng, while Zhang Jian sat in a corner, leisurely peeling peanuts. Everyone in the hall seemed to be chatting and laughing, but their eyes kept drifting towards the head of the table, filled with curiosity and inquiry towards the prime minister from Nanyue, who was always by the emperor's side.

Suddenly, a warm hand reached out from under the table and accurately grasped Xie Qinglan's wrist. Xiao Jingyuan's fingertips gently hooked his palm, with a hint of barely perceptible flattery.

Xie Qinglan turned her head to look at him, a hint of helplessness flashing in her eyes. She didn't speak, but gently withdrew her hand, picked up her wine glass, and took a sip. The wine was slightly cool, but it couldn't suppress the faint blush that quietly crept up her earlobes.

The auspicious hour was approaching. The emcee drawled out the time, announcing loudly, "The auspicious hour has arrived—please invite the bride into the hall—"

Firecrackers suddenly exploded, accompanied by the sound of drums and music. Shen Hanzhou quickly adjusted the collar of his wedding robe, straightened his back, and nervously twisted the hem of his clothes, but the smile on his face was brighter than the midday sun.

The matchmaker, holding a red silk ribbon, led the bride slowly into the hall. All the guests stood up to look.

The bride was exceptionally tall, more than a head taller than the average woman. Her bright red wedding dress seemed somewhat restrictive on her—the sleeves were too short, revealing her well-defined wrists; the hem barely reached her ankles, and a pair of specially made embroidered shoes were visible, the stitches crooked and uneven, the embroidered mandarin ducks on the toes looking like two fighting ducks. Shen Hanzhou had spent three sleepless nights sewing them by hand.

The red veil covered her face, but judging from her gait—striding with long, steady steps, each step making the ground tremble slightly—she showed no trace of a bride's shyness or coyness, but rather resembled a general reviewing his troops on the parade ground.

Xie Qinglan paused slightly in the hand holding the wine glass. He turned his head to look at Xiao Jingyuan, and their eyes met in mid-air, both seeing the same doubt in each other's eyes.

His figure is far too tall.

Many of the guests wore subtle expressions. Han Zheng's hand, holding the wine bowl, froze in mid-air. He squinted at Zhao Kuo for a moment, then nudged him with his elbow and whispered, "Where did Shen Hanzhou find a girl who's half a head taller than him?"

Zhao Kuo chewed on peanuts and waved his hand dismissively: "The western border is windy and sandy, so what's so strange about girls being strong and robust?"

Han Zheng gave an "oh" and lowered his head to drink.

Only Zhang Jian glanced at him a few more times, his gaze lingering for a moment on the excessively broad shoulders and rock-solid gait, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly. But in the end, he said nothing.

Women from the Western Regions are naturally tall, perhaps just with a larger frame. He took a sip of his wine, suppressing his doubts.

Shen Hanzhou, however, noticed nothing. He watched the bright red figure walk towards him step by step, and his eyes suddenly felt hot. He clenched his sweaty palms, quickly stepped forward, and took the other end of the red silk from the matchmaker.

He lowered his voice, so only the two of them could hear: "Ah Yue, don't be afraid. These are my brothers who would risk their lives for me. They may look fierce, but they are all good people. With me here, there's nothing to be afraid of."

The person under the veil nodded slightly.

Just as the master of ceremonies was about to announce the wedding ceremony, Xiao Jingyuan suddenly turned to the side, and under the guise of holding a wine glass, his thin lips almost touched Xie Qinglan's ear, his warm breath brushing against his earlobe: "I have sent people to investigate."

Xie Qinglan's fingertips twitched slightly: "How is it?"

"In the past three months, there has indeed been an influx of refugees from internal strife into the western border, and scattered soldiers have also been seen in the Gobi Desert. But in the area where Shen Hanzhou rescued her, there are no missing women from any tribes or villages within a hundred miles. This A-Yue appeared out of thin air."

Xie Qinglan put down her teacup, raised an eyebrow, and was about to speak when firecrackers suddenly exploded outside the hall, accompanied by deafening drums and music.

The emcee announced loudly, "First bow to Heaven and Earth—"

The newlyweds bowed in unison. The bride's bow was more decisive and graceful than Shen Hanzhou's, and her red veil was almost thrown off, but she caught it with quick reflexes.

"Bowing to the parents twice—"

Shen Hanzhou had no parents, and the seat in the ancestral hall was empty. He bowed deeply to the empty chair, his eyes reddening.

"Husband and wife bow to each other—"

The two turned to face each other. Shen Hanzhou bowed with tenderness in his eyes, while the bride bowed with meticulous care.

"The ceremony is complete—they are escorted to the bridal chamber—"

Before the emcee could finish speaking, the guests erupted in a cacophony. The military officers slammed their fists on the table, some whistling, others grabbing their wine bowls, all crowding around Shen Hanzhou: "General Shen! What's the rush to the bridal chamber! Let's drink our fill first!"

Shen Hanzhou was grabbed by the arms by several burly colleagues. He struggled and laughed as he cursed, "You bunch of roughnecks! Let go of me! I'm going to keep A-Yue company—"

During the struggle, someone tripped him, and Shen Hanzhou staggered forward, instinctively reaching out to grab the bride's sleeve to steady himself.

The bride instinctively raised her arm to shield herself, and the wide sleeve of her wedding dress slipped down an inch, revealing a section of pale forearm with prominent wrist bones, showing no trace of feminine softness.

A sharp "rip" was heard—

The sound of tearing fabric was exceptionally clear in the suddenly quiet wedding hall. He ripped off the entire left sleeve of the bright red wedding dress, from shoulder to cuff, and held it tightly in his hand.

In the flickering candlelight, the bride's entire arm was exposed to everyone without any cover.

His arms had smooth lines, well-proportioned muscles, and a cool-toned white complexion. His forearms were covered with a layer of light golden hair, not the soft downy hair of a woman, but the ruggedness of a grown man.

The muscles in her upper arms bulged slightly in the candlelight, a smooth arc honed from years of wielding a knife. The veins on the back of her hands were faintly visible, her knuckles distinct, and her nails were neatly trimmed, without any nail polish or beads, lacking even a trace of feminine grace.

The entire hall fell silent instantly. The military officers' hands, holding wine bowls, froze in mid-air, the civil officials were so shocked their jaws nearly dropped to the ground, and even the band that had been playing music forgot to continue, their drumsticks hanging in mid-air.

Shen Hanzhou looked down at the piece of red silk sleeve in his hand, and a string in his mind snapped.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze moving upwards inch by inch from that hand. The bride had untied the red veil at some point and stood there with her hands hanging down. Her bare arm gleamed coldly in the candlelight—long, strong, and full of power, it had nothing to do with the words "soft and boneless".

Shen Hanzhou looked down at his hands again. His fingers were thick and long, with calluses on the knuckles from years of holding knives. He stretched out his left hand as if possessed, placing it next to the bride's left hand.

The bride's hands were bigger than his. The knuckles were more defined, the fingers were longer, and the thin callus at the base of her thumb was exactly the same as his own.

He finally realized, belatedly, that something was wrong.

"Ah, Ah Yue?" Shen Hanzhou's voice trembled violently, his eyes still holding a last shred of desperate hope. "You're a girl, right? You're just a little taller, your hands are a little bigger, your shoulders are a little broader, and your Adam's apple... is a little more prominent... right?"

The bride looked down at him. Through the gap in her red veil, a pair of light golden eyes peeked out. She looked at him, her lips curving slightly, and she sighed silently.

Then, he raised his hands, which were even bigger than Shen Hanzhou's, grabbed the edge of the veil, and pulled it off forcefully.

Red silk fluttered down.

Her pale golden eyes gleamed like amber in the candlelight; her nose was high and sharply defined, her brow bones deep and dark like distant mountains. Her features were strikingly beautiful, almost bewitching, yet perfectly tempered by the cool indifference in her pale eyes, making her appear neither frivolous nor frivolous, but rather captivating. Her long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, contrasting beautifully with her bright red wedding dress, creating a breathtakingly stunning effect.

But the lines of that face—from the sharp brow bone to the defined jawline, from the rolling Adam's apple to the broad shoulders—clearly belonged to a man.

A man who was half a head taller than Shen Hanzhou and had shoulders a hand wider.

A-Yue lowered her head, looking at Shen Hanzhou's face, which was filled with "I don't believe it, I don't believe this is absolutely not true," and gently, helplessly, shook her head.

Shen Hanzhou stared blankly at that face, his mind a complete blank. His heart sank to the bottom with that shake of the head.

But before he could speak, the bride spoke.

The voice was low and hoarse, with a lingering raspiness, and it wasn't the Northern Shuo dialect. No one in the room could understand it, yet everyone could hear it clearly—it was a man's voice.

Shen Hanzhou's mind went blank.

"You're not mute?!"

A-Yue shook her head again and said something else. It was still in an incomprehensible language, and still in a deep male voice.

The guests looked at each other in bewilderment.

"What did he say?"

"I don't know... Where is this language?"

"Like they're from the Western Rong region?"

"That voice...it's definitely a man's, right?"

Shen Hanzhou was completely stunned. He felt as if all the wine he had drunk that day had rushed to his head, turning his reason into a complete mess. He mechanically turned his head and looked at Xiao Jingyuan, who was sitting in the main seat, with pleading eyes.

Xiao Jingyuan held the wine cup, his expression seemingly calm. Yet, his fingers trembled slightly as he gripped the cup, causing the wine to ripple delicately around the rim. He took a deep breath, striving to maintain his imperial dignity, and spoke calmly, "He said—"

He'd barely uttered two words when the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. He quickly coughed, covering his lips with his fist to hide the barely contained smile, before continuing, "He said he's neither mute nor a woman."