The wedding customs of the Qin and Han dynasties differed from those of later eras, based on the ancient "Six Rites."
In Xianyang Palace, there was no matchmaker, no parents, no master of ceremonies to officiate the wedding, no grand sedan chair, no festive clamor.
Within Zhangtai Palace, there were only Roy and Yu Ji.
Yu Meiren shed her black dress and donned the black-and-red wedding robes. Her hair was elegantly pinned up in the style of a married woman, her enchanting face free of makeup, her every glance captivating enough to topple cities.
The walls of Zhangtai Palace were lined with flickering candles, and the entire hall was draped in red cloth, brimming with jubilance. Even in the vast emptiness of the palace, the atmosphere was vibrant.
Roy, too, wore black-and-red ceremonial robes, a crown of the same colors atop his head. He gazed down at Yu Meiren, who was blushing shyly with her head slightly lowered, and chuckled softly. Taking her snow-white wrist, he guided her with light steps to a red table.
On the table lay red cords, bowls, and plates—all red inside and black outside. In the center was a bronze basin filled with warm water.
The wedding had no guests, no witnesses, yet it was solemnized by heaven and earth. Roy was both the groom and the officiant. With hands clasped together as if holding incense, he stood before the altar table, slightly bowing his head, and spoke clearly:
"...By the division of heaven and earth, all things are nourished; the sun bestows its essence, the moon its radiance. Within lies the profound mystery of natural order, and through marriage, humanity establishes its rites. With offerings of three sacrificial animals, we share the feast; with joined cups, we drink together."
"...From this moment of ceremony, our fates intertwine like branches, our spirits paired as wings. Though trials and tribulations may come, we vow to face them together; through sickness and prosperity, we pledge never to abandon one another. Lofty as the mountains, our love shall endure; vast as the heavens, our devotion shall span generations. With mutual respect, we fulfill our duties; in harmony, our household shall prosper—unchanging, unyielding, everlasting. A union blessed by heaven and earth, under their divine protection!"
As Roy finished the ceremonial words, both he and Yu Ji clasped their hands in the incense-holding gesture and bowed deeply toward the altar table.
This was the ritual of bowing to heaven and earth—though in Roy's view, it was also a bow to the Counter Force. At the same time, it served as the bow to the parents. Yu Ji, born of nature itself, could well be called a child of Gaia.
Both Roy and Yu Ji were solemn, their expressions grave. Though this ancient rite appeared merely as human custom, it was, in truth, a ritual steeped in mystery.
Humanity distinguished itself from beasts by mastering the crafting of tools, and it was through the establishment of "ritual" that they evolved from savagery into civilization.
Ritual is heritage. Ritual is "Human Order."
During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the collapse of rites and music marked the decline of civilization. The loss of these ancient ceremonies in later generations of the Central Plains was, without doubt, a regret.
Yu Ji disliked human civilization—but that was the civilization of later ages, rife with hedonism and materialism, steeped in filth and greed. Yet she greatly approved of these ancient rites, for they were, in essence, mystical ceremonies.
After bowing to heaven and earth, the two turned to face each other and bowed deeply once more—this was the mutual salutation.
Yu Ji then unfolded a folding fan, concealing her peerlessly beautiful face—a bridal tradition known as "què shàn" (the bride's fanning).
Next, they approached a bronze basin, lightly rinsed their hands, and dried them with red silk.
Within the Zhangtai Palace of the Qin imperial complex stood nine cauldrons. In the Zhou dynasty, the Son of Heaven performed rites with nine cauldrons, feudal lords with seven, high officials with five, and scholars with three. By using nine, Roy was effectively marrying Yu Ji with the rites of a sovereign.
In ancient times, cattle were forbidden to be slaughtered for meat, as they were vital to agrarian civilization. Only the Son of Heaven could prepare beef—and within these nine cauldrons, beef was indeed being cooked.
The two shared a single piece of beef from the cauldron—this was the "tóng láo" (shared feast) rite. Then, they returned to the altar table and poured two cups of wine.
Roy handed one cup to Yu Ji. Through the fan that veiled half of her delicate face, he gazed into her shimmering eyes, brimming with tender affection. Their eyes locked as they curved their arms, slowly drinking the ceremonial "jiāo bēi jiǔ" (crossed-cup wine).
Finally came the most crucial part of the ceremony.
During his travels in the late Qin era, Roy had always concealed his unusual hair color with magecraft. This time, he dispensed with concealment. Plucking two strands of his pale silver hair, he offered them, while Yu Ji likewise drew two strands of her raven-black tresses.
The four strands were entwined, forming two knots—this was "jiě yīng jié fà" (the binding of hair), symbolizing their union.
In the world of magic, hair is a crucial part of the human body. Many magicians, regardless of gender, prefer to grow their hair long to store magical power within it. In emergencies, they can use their hair as a sacrifice to cast more powerful spells. At the same time, hair is also one of the human organs, and certain curses can be cast through it.
Thus, magicians rarely allow others to obtain their hair. Even naturally shed strands are carefully collected or burned...
Twisting two strands of hair into a knot, with each spouse holding one, symbolizes mutual trust and shared hardships between husband and wife.
Neither Roy nor Yu Ji were ordinary people. While typical couples might simply preserve these hair knots, Roy and Yu Ji used magic to weave the two strands directly into their scalps, nourishing them with their own blood.
Moreover, they could use these strands as a medium to sense each other's condition or even location—this was the mystical significance of marriage.
Among Roy's silver hair, there was a streak of black, while within Yu Ji's raven locks, a silvery thread shimmered like a lone star in the night sky.
Roy smiled tenderly as he slowly raised his hand to grasp Yu Ji's delicate wrist, gently placing it by her side while also lowering the folding fan that had concealed her jade-like face.
"My king..."
Yu Ji lowered her lashes, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly, her cheeks flushed with a charming shyness.
She knew the meaning behind lowering the fan—it signaled the final act.
"Yu Ji..."
Roy murmured softly as he smoothed a few stray strands of hair by her ear. His gaze lingered on her enchanting figure, now nearly pressed against his chest, and her exquisite face, her peach-blossom eyes shimmering like rippling water.
Taking a deep breath, Roy lifted his head to gaze at the ceiling of Zhangtai Palace and chuckled, "...This most solemn and majestic place of Qin, where the First Emperor once governed the realm day and night, is perfectly suited to serve as our bridal chamber."
Qin revered the color black, and thus their wedding attire blended black and red—red for celebration, black to align with Qin's symbolism. Since they were following Qin's matrimonial rites, Zhangtai Palace, the highest hall of Qin where the lords of the six states once paid homage, was the most fitting venue for Roy and Yu Ji's wedding.
With a soft cry from Yu Ji, the air filled with layers of crimson phoenix imagery, and the poppy flowers bloomed in full splendor.
"Among a hundred flowers competing in spring's glory, the poppy stands supreme.
Brief is its vibrant bloom, yet its branches overflow.
Peach and plum blossoms scatter everywhere, shifting with the wind.
But why is this flower so precious, yet fearful of being known?"
The poppy, also called the spring beauty or fairy grass, was indeed like a celestial maiden—the most beautiful of all flowers.