Love Like the Galaxy

The messenger sent to the Capital City had not yet returned, but the mourning hall was already prepared.

Cui Hou wept until he fainted several times. Shao Shang had the Imperial Physician brew a potent dose of Tranquility Soup and coaxed the dizzy, tearful Cui Hou into drinking it, telling him it was a tonic to refresh his mind. This way, he could muster the strength to handle Madam Huo's funeral arrangements.

After entrusting the deeply sleeping Cui Hou to the care of the servants, Shao Shang went to the quiet mourning hall.

Ling Buyi had already dismissed everyone and knelt alone before the empty altar, his back straight as a sword, his shoulders broad as a mountain ridge. Shao Shang suddenly felt a sting in her eyes—whether facing disaster or upheaval, sorrow or suffering, Ling Buyi always remained as silent as the vast ocean, as unchanging as towering peaks, bringing immense comfort to those around him.

Yet what truly lay in his heart, perhaps no one knew.

Ling Buyi turned his head. His face was pale, his lashes long as feathers, his eyes carrying a peculiar emptiness and fragility.

He smiled faintly, as he had countless times before: "Shao Shang, have you come to console me? There's no need. I understand. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are inevitable. Life is but a fleeting moment, like grass in spring. No feast in this world lasts forever. No matter how close or reluctant, there will always come a time to part."

Shao Shang found his words somewhat odd and replied, "Though parting in life and death is unavoidable, as long as the heart holds remembrance, neither the underworld nor a thousand miles can alter its essence. The human heart is fickle, yet it is also steadfast. If my heart refuses to change, what can the shifting seas or the transforming clouds do to me?!"

Ling Buyi seemed dazed. "Is that truly so?"

Shao Shang laughed. "Haven't you heard of Jingwei filling the sea or the Foolish Old Man moving mountains? When faced with true stubbornness, even the gods are powerless!"

Ling Buyi gazed at her for a moment before suddenly saying, "If that's the case, why don't we make a blood oath on the arm?"

What? Shao Shang took two steps back. What was this about?

People of the time took oaths very seriously, often requiring a ritual involving blood. For instance, not long ago, when Old Man Wan swore to Madam Xiao about cultivating his character, he beheaded seven white-feathered roosters in one go. The courtyard before Nine Dapple Hall was splattered with chicken blood, and Qing Cong led the servants in cleaning for days to rid the place of the stench.

But animal blood was far less noble than human blood, so heroes often bit their fingers to swear oaths—since fingers were doomed anyway, arms weren't far behind.

"Uh... how about we just behead some chickens or ducks? No need to bite our arms," Shao Shang suggested. She wasn't afraid of swearing oaths, but she was afraid of pain.

Ignoring her protest, Ling Buyi gently but firmly pulled her to kneel beside him, his tone resolute. "Before Mother, you say it—that you will never change your heart toward me."

Shao Shang leaned back warily. "Don't take advantage. I can only say, 'If you don't change, neither will I.'"

Ling Buyi smiled, his expression tinged with sorrow. "Fine. Say it like that."

His voice was as gentle as ever. Unable to refuse, Shao Shang could only solemnly swear before Huo Junhua's spirit—"By the spirits above and the gods as witness, I, Cheng Shaoshang, vow that if... if..." She glanced at Ling Buyi. "If he does not change his heart toward me, I will never change mine toward him."Then, Ling Buyi lifted her sleeve and unceremoniously bit her fair, tender arm. Shao Shang recoiled as if facing a dentist, repeatedly slapping his back. Her initial glimmer of hope and underestimation of the severity turned into furious rage upon seeing the bloody tooth marks on her skin. Summoning all her strength, she retaliated by sinking her teeth into Ling Buyi’s muscular arm, leaving behind two rows of blood-streaked indentations.

Ling Buyi seemed impervious to pain, his gaze at the marks even carrying a hint of dissatisfaction, as though Shao Shang had skimped on effort and failed to bite hard enough. But heavens knew she had strained her jaw muscles to the point of soreness.

The next day, after returning home, Zhu bandaged Shao Shang’s bite wound while shaking her head. For once, she didn’t report the incident to Madam Xiao. “Having just lost his mother and with a father like Ling Hou, Lord Ling is truly pitiable.”

Clutching her still-throbbing upper arm, Shao Shang exhaled a heavy breath laden with resentment—nonsense! If not for Ling Buyi’s recent bereavement, she would never have tolerated him like this!

Huo Junhua’s funeral rites were grand, with the Emperor burying her with nearly the same honors as his own sister. Naturally, Ling Buyi performed the rites as her son. The awkwardness lay in the positioning of Cui You and Ling Yi—one a former husband, the other a would-be current husband who never got the chance. The protocol officials of the Honglu Temple displayed remarkable creativity by assigning Cui You the role of Huo Junhua’s elder brother from her maiden family, while Ling Yi was relegated to a guest seat.

In Shao Shang’s view, former spouses who had fallen to such enmity had no reason to attend each other’s funerals, especially since the Emperor held no favor for Ling Hou. Yet she clearly underestimated Ling Hou’s resilience. On the day of the burial, he not only showed up but brought Ling Buyi’s stepbrother along. Even Princess Yuchang attended as the future bride of the Ling family. Ling Yi initially tried to stand beside Ling Buyi but was unceremoniously shouldered aside by an exasperated General Wu.

Shao Shang inwardly sneered. With the inconvenient former wife gone, the powerful eldest son returning home, a newly promoted second son, and a princess bride—what a thriving, flourishing Ling clan!

In the end, Ling Yi left hastily. Cui Hou wept uncontrollably throughout, his grief so overwhelming he could barely stand, requiring Ling Buyi’s support to board the carriage. Under the crowd’s pointed gazes, Ling Yi could no longer maintain his refined facade and excused himself to retreat to the back.

Before departing, Ling Yi came to bid Shao Shang farewell, but Princess Yuchang interjected softly, “What a pity. In a few days, it would have been His Lordship’s fiftieth birthday. The household had already prepared a banquet, but now…”

The future Ling son-in-law, clutching two semi-gold bricks, bowed and replied gently, “Thank you for remembering my father, Princess. After a lifetime of toil, he has never truly known comfort. We had hoped this celebration would bring him joy, but alas… Still, the Ling family is deeply grateful for your concern.”

Princess Yuchang gazed at the handsome young man and cooed, “Why such formality? Am I not soon to be part of the Ling family?”Shao Shang watched the theatrical exchange between the two men with cold eyes, though she feigned surprise on her face. "Ah, I was completely unaware of this! How remiss of me. Fifty is indeed a grand age, Lord Ling. You should celebrate properly, but..."

Ling Yi waved his hands repeatedly, his expression humble. "The deceased must be respected. Zisheng's mother has just passed, and our household is in mourning. How could I possibly host lavish banquets?" With that, he departed with his second son and Princess Yuchang.

Shao Shang watched them leave, another cold laugh forming in her heart. Mourning? What nonsense!

With Huo Junhua's death, Ling Buyi should have observed three years of filial mourning. Naturally, the Emperor couldn't postpone the wedding for three years, so he decreed that the originally scheduled wedding date would remain unchanged, allowing his adopted son to marry during the mourning period. The Empress said to Shao Shang with some regret, "This means your wedding ceremony cannot be as grand as it should be."

Pointing to the brocades, gold, and jade that filled half the side hall, Shao Shang laughed, "Your Majesty, how much more lavish could it be? You've already given me so many dowry gifts that my home can barely accommodate them all."

With only ten days left until the wedding, the Empress reluctantly sent Shao Shang back to the Cheng Residence along with the additional dowry, sternly instructing Ling Buyi to observe propriety and not sneak over to see her. Ling Buyi held the girl's hand, gazing at her over and over, finding it unbearably difficult to part.

The Empress couldn't help but laugh. "Don't be so hopeless. You'll have a lifetime to look at her... The Emperor is waiting for you. Cen Anzhi has been outside for quite some time, yet you're still dawdling. You'll soon be in mourning, so you must settle your affairs before handing them over. Now, let go of her hand—it's time for Shao Shang to leave!"

Seated in the palanquin personally bestowed by the Empress, Shao Shang turned to look back at the high palace steps of the Everlasting Autumn Palace. The Empress stood smiling in the center, waving to her from afar. Ling Buyi, held back by two junior palace attendants, could only gaze longingly at the departing procession. The golden-red sunset stretched his shadow long and far, its direction pointing toward the retreating figure of his beloved.

As they approached the Upper West Gate, Shao Shang spotted the Second Princess and Third Princess, along with the Third Prince dressed in a riding suit, seemingly preparing to leave the palace. The three siblings appeared to be arguing.

"...Such a small matter, and you're still dragging your feet! If Second Brother-in-law hadn't caught a slight chill and couldn't go out, we wouldn't even be asking you!" The Third Princess stamped her foot in frustration.

The Third Prince, unusually raising his voice, retorted, "I've already said—Elder Brother the Crown Prince has tasked me with an urgent matter. I must visit the Red Willow Camp in the next few days to interrogate a few people. It's pressing, and I need to return to my residence to pack. How could I possibly have time to accompany you to the memorial ceremony?"

The Second Princess tried to mediate. "Enough, don't make things difficult for Third Brother. He's always been straightforward—if he says it's urgent, then it must be. The two of us can go by ourselves."

The Third Prince hastily clasped his hands in farewell and turned to leave. The Third Princess continued grumbling, her complaints unrelenting even as the Second Princess tried to calm her. By the time Shao Shang approached, she could still hear the Third Princess muttering, "...Third Brother has always been this heartless since childhood! Even if it's urgent, would it kill him to say a few kind words to us? Hmph! If I'd known, back when he had that high fever from the chill, I would've added an extra handful of coptis to his medicine!"

Descending from the palanquin, Shao Shang smiled and bowed to the two princesses. As she rose, she caught the Second Princess's meaningful glance, signaling her to change the subject. Playfully, she remarked, "Oh? So His Highness the Third Prince has also suffered from chills and high fever before? In all my time at the palace, I've only ever heard that he's been robust since childhood, never falling ill or suffering any serious ailments."After being thoroughly disciplined by the Emperor and Consort Yue, the Third Princess had clearly improved her temper and hadn’t given Shao Shang any trouble since. She merely rolled her eyes dramatically and said, “Third Brother isn’t a deity—how could he never fall ill? Minor ailments happen, but as for serious illnesses… Ah, Second Sister, was there only that one time?”

The Second Princess thought for a moment before laughing. “You’re right. It does seem like it was just that one occasion.”

The Third Princess snorted. “Serves him right! In the chilly early spring, while we were still huddled indoors by the fire, he ran outside like a madman, half his clothes soaked by the snow. No wonder he ended up with a high fever!”

Shao Shang’s heart stirred, and she tentatively asked, “May I ask Your Highnesses, which year was this?”

The Third Princess waved her off impatiently. “Why do you care so much… Probably eleven, no, twelve years ago.”

The Second Princess shook her head. “No, it was thirteen years ago. That year, the war had just eased, and Father wanted to hold grand sacrificial rites for our long-departed grandfather and grandmother. Right after the Lantern Festival, he took us to the Winter Cypress Mausoleum. That’s where Third Brother fell ill.”

A vague thought flickered in Shao Shang’s mind, elusive like a shadow in thick fog—visible but impossible to grasp.

The Second Princess looked at her curiously. “Why do you ask about this?”

Shao Shang forced a smile. “This humble one was merely making conversation.”

Upon returning to the Cheng Residence, Shao Shang found that Madam Xiao had already refurbished the estate, preparing everything inside and out for the upcoming wedding.

The thought of his daughter soon marrying filled Old Man Cheng with melancholy. He sighed as if weighed down by debts, while Madam Xiao, unusually gentle, didn’t pressure Shao Shang to study or scold her for lazing about. She indulged her in everything.

A few times, Shao Shang sensed that Madam Xiao wanted to impart some marital wisdom, but the atmosphere never felt right. Often, Madam Xiao would sit in Shao Shang’s room for a long while, mother and daughter silent, until it was time for a meal.

Eventually, Madam Xiao seemed to resign herself. She told Shao Shang, “Forget it. Before my own wedding, your grandmother lectured me endlessly, yet I still made a mess of things. Zisheng is a man of foresight—you needn’t fret over every little thing. Some lessons are better learned through experience than advice. Besides, I wasn’t exactly a model new bride myself.”

Shao Shang found this reasoning sound.

While Madam Xiao and Madam Qing Cong busied themselves with wedding preparations and dowry arrangements, the daily affairs of the Cheng household remained in Cheng Yang’s capable hands.

Seeing Shao Shang idle and bored, Cheng Yang occasionally invited her to help with accounts and other matters—with Shao Shang around, she didn’t even need counting rods. Her cousin could skim through numbers and mentally calculate the answers for her.

One day, while inspecting the vacant rooms in the estate, Cheng Yang meticulously checked every corner. Shao Shang remarked, “No one lives here, and wedding guests won’t be barging into the inner quarters. Why go to such lengths? Your father has finally returned—you should spend more time with him. Once you’re married, you might not even get the chance to talk properly with Uncle.”

Cheng Yang smiled. “Father isn’t like Eldest Uncle, who can lecture or praise for hours. We said all we needed the day he returned home. After that, we just sat in awkward silence… Ah, never mind.”She then instructed the servants to carefully inspect the walls and roof for any leaks or dampness. "After your wedding ceremony, it'll be Eldest Cousin and Sister Xu E's turn, followed by Second Cousin's adoption rites—we'll surely need to invite a few clan elders from the countryside then. These empty rooms will come in handy. Rather than leaving Eldest Aunt overwhelmed later, I might as well organize things in advance..."

Seeing Cheng Yang covered in dust from her busy work, Shao Shang whispered, "Thank goodness we have you at home. Mother has gained a great helper."

Cheng Yang turned and smiled, "Eldest Aunt is extremely capable. It's just that several matters have piled up recently. Otherwise, she and Qing Yimu could handle everything effortlessly without my help."

Shao Shang sighed. Well, Madam Xiao hadn't misjudged whom to cherish.

The two sisters led the servants to an exceptionally exquisite pavilion filled with various musical instruments—qin, xiao, xun, sheng, drums, flutes, both long and short, twenty-five-stringed and fifty-stringed se... There was even a set of smaller bronze bianzhong bells.

Shao Shang admired, "This must have been Grandfather's room originally."

Cheng Yang: "Exactly. Grandfather loved spending time here before he passed... though Grandmother didn't care for this place."

—Nonsense! With her husband obsessively immersed in music all day and neglecting her, Cheng Mu would have to be crazy to like it!

"What's this? A waist drum?" Shao Shang pointed to a small black round drum in the corner with wide hanging straps.

Cheng Yang examined it and hesitated, "...Hmm, it should be a Pi drum. Eldest Aunt mentioned it when she first brought me here—used in military campaigns to command troops, playable even on horseback."

Shao Shang approached and struck the Pi drum with her palm. The deep, resonant sound vibrated faintly in her heart.

That night, Shao Shang woke up drenched in sweat. Staring at her trembling fingers, the dazzling red wedding gown with golden embroidery hanging nearby suffocated her—a masterpiece crafted by twelve of the finest palace embroiderers over a full month, yet it filled her with unspeakable dread.

After a long daze, she draped on her robe, carefully avoiding the sleeping Lian Fang, and walked alone into the courtyard.

The night was deep as an abyss, cool as water. Wandering aimlessly, she unconsciously returned to the pavilion she'd visited during the day, approaching Cheng Taigong's music chamber.

Holding the Pi drum, she sat facing the moon by the window.

With the first strike, distant warhorses galloped, their hooves thundering, shaking heaven and earth; with the second strike, gleaming blades revealed their edges as soldiers clashed, blood and flesh flying amidst suffocating metallic fury; with the third strike, an eagle soared across the vast azure sky, clear and cloudless; with the fourth strike...

Shao Shang covered her stinging, trembling eyes with her palm as silent tears streamed down her face.

At last, she understood why she'd been plagued by inexplicable anxiety, why she'd instinctively adopted defensive postures. The truth had been before her all along—she could sense the unease but couldn't articulate it.

Life is like grains of sand crawling along the shore, wave after wave crashing down. Whether gentle white foam or towering tsunamis, there seems no alternative but to stiffen one's neck and endure.

Shao Shang lowered her tear-stained hand and straightened her back—she couldn't just sit and weep. She'd never been one to await doom passively since childhood. There was still much she needed to do.Author's Note: Well... don't bother guessing, you won't get it right anyway. The answer will be revealed soon.