Red Makeup, Plain Wrap

The winter sunlight was thin, spilling through the window lattice onto the desk, barely driving off a fraction of the chill in the room.

Chen Ping ground the inkstick, its fragrance curling around his nose. He lifted his brush and set characters down on red paper, the strokes steady and forceful, the ink biting through the paper.

This invitation was sent to only a handful of people—no grand summons to rally heroes far and wide.

He now held the title of Imperial Military Examination graduate and had a thousand gold in his pocket, but this world was like the biting wind outside—it cut to the bone.

The Jin Family's funeral had just passed. If he threw a boisterous celebration now, it would be like rubbing salt into Jin Zhenshan's wounds—practically asking for a short life.

"Low-key—that's the way to last."

Chen Ping murmured to himself, folding the finished invitations neatly.

Aside from Tie Niu and a few genuine neighbors, he invited no one.

In the inner room, Yun Niang sat on the edge of the kang, sewing her wedding dress.

The fabric was red silk Chen Ping had specially bought from the South City Cloth Shop—not top-grade Suzhou tribute brocade, but in Yun Niang's hands, it surpassed a thousand golden-thread garments.

She kept her head down, focused, the silver needle darting through the red silk. Every stitch was fine and dense, as if she were sewing the peace of the rest of her life into it.

Occasionally she paused, raised a hand to smooth a stray lock at her temple, and let her gaze fall on the dress. A thin film of moisture glazed her eyes.

Once upon a time, she thought her whole life would be spent in the back kitchen of Lin Manor, guarding the Kitchen Stove until she grew old alone. Now, this sea of red burned so hot it made her heart ache.

"Brother Ping, look at the collar buttons—should I use the Ruyi Knot or the Double Happiness Knot?"

Yun Niang's voice was soft, carrying the shyness of a bride-to-be.

Chen Ping set down his brush, walked over to take a look, and said warmly:

"Double Happiness Knot. Tied hair, tied hearts, white heads never apart."

Yun Niang's cheeks flushed faintly. She hummed a low reply, and the needle in her hand moved even more briskly.

Two days hadn't passed before the courtyard door was pounded like thunder.

"Brother Ping! I'm here!"

Tie Niu's booming voice carried in before he even stepped through the door.

The moment the door opened, there stood the black-tower of a man, half a side of raw pork slung over his shoulder. The meat was streaked red and white, at least a hundred catties, pressing the Blue Stone slabs beneath his feet a few degrees deeper.

"My ma said no gift is as solid as meat!"

Tie Niu grinned foolishly and thumped the half-side of pork onto the stone table in the yard. Bang! The teacups on the table jumped.

Chen Ping looked at this gift of pure "violent aesthetics" and burst out laughing. The tight, scheming pressure in his chest eased quite a bit.

"Good brother! I accept this gift!"

Without ceremony, they set out wine right in the yard. Chen Ping didn't use his inner energy to burn off the alcohol—he drank bowl for bowl with Tie Niu.

The strong liquor went down hot, warming his stomach.

Looking at Tie Niu's utterly guileless face, Chen Ping sighed inwardly. In this chaotic world, having a brother who bared his heart to you was harder to come by than winning the top scholar title.

Just as they were drinking with gusto, another guest arrived at the door.

This time it was Liu Sanjin, the uncle from the Weiyuan Escort Agency.

Liu Sanjin wore a brand-new padded silk jacket, held a brocade box in his hands, and his face was wrinkled into a smile that looked uglier than a cry.

"Aiyo, my honored graduate, such great joy!"

The moment Liu Sanjin stepped inside, his back bent like a shrimp. He offered the brocade box with both hands.

"This is a pair of jade ruyi. The quality isn't top-notch, but it's your uncle's little token. If you ever have time at the yamen, I'd be grateful if you could look after our escort agency's business..."

Chen Ping glanced at the jade ruyi. The jade was mottled, far from fine, but for a miser like Liu Sanjin, this was bleeding his savings.

Three years ago, this man had sold him a "broken book" for two taels of silver. Now, he was plastering his whole fortune on to beg for protection.

Chen Ping didn't take the brocade box. He just lifted his wine bowl, took a sip, and let a playful glint show in his eyes:

"Uncle is too kind. I've just entered officialdom—my words carry little weight. I'm afraid I can't bear the burden of 'looking after' anything."

The smile on Liu Sanjin's face froze for a moment, but he was an old fox. He quickly climbed the pole:

"Not at all, not at all! You're a star of literature and a star of martial arts descended to earth. You'll surely rise high. Keep the gift—consider it a little something for Yun Niang's dowry."

Chen Ping gave a noncommittal smile and signaled Yun Niang to accept it.

That was how this world worked. If you were strong, even dogs came to lick your boots. If you were weak, you were worse than a dog.

Keeping this jade ruyi was fine—consider it repaying the favor for that Longevity of Pine and Crane manual from back then.

On the day of the wedding.

No ear-splitting firecrackers. No blaring suona bands.

Just a few neighbors from the alley carrying eggs and brown sugar to offer congratulations. The yard was plastered with red paper, radiating a quiet, clean festivity.

Chen Ping changed into a bright red groom's robe.

He wasn't a handsome scholar, but the red robe, paired with the tall, sturdy frame he'd forged through day-and-night cultivation, gave him a presence as steady as a mountain.

The auspicious hour had arrived.

The main hall was lit with tall incense sticks, red candles blazing high.

Yun Niang, her face veiled by a red bridal cloth, was helped out by Granny Wang from next door.

She walked slowly, each step feeling like it landed on Chen Ping's heart.

"First bow to Heaven and Earth!"

The two turned and bowed deeply toward the sky and earth beyond the door.

"Second bow to the parents!"

Chen Ping's parents had died young, and Yun Niang was equally alone in the world.

On the altar sat only two nameless red spirit tablets.

Chen Ping knelt straight as an arrow, silently reciting in his heart:

Father, Mother, your son is married.

"Husband and wife bow to each other!"

Chen Ping turned to face the figure in red.

Through the tassels of the bridal veil, he could faintly make out Yun Niang's tear-filled eyes.

This bow wasn't about romance—it was two people struggling to survive in the mire, finally grasping each other's hands.

"The ceremony is complete!"

As Granny Wang's loud announcement rang out, the stone that had been weighing on Chen Ping's heart finally settled.

From now on, he was no longer a rootless duckweed. He had a home, someone he would protect with his life.

The feast was laid out in the courtyard, just two tables in total.

Neighbors came up in turns to toast, spouting auspicious words.

Chen Ping wore a gentle smile, but the wine cup in his hand only ever touched his lips.

"Scholar Chen, on this joyous day, won't you drink a few more cups?"

Some neighbors teased.

Chen Ping waved his hand with a laugh, secretly channeling inner force through his palm to expel the alcohol vapor, his gaze remaining clear:

"My wife is still waiting in the room. I dare not indulge."

The crowd burst into laughter, assuming he was eager for the bridal chamber, unaware that Chen Ping's hand in his sleeve never strayed more than three inches from the dagger at his waist.

That old bastard Jin Zhenshan hadn't made a move yet, but the dogs that bite don't bark.

The more relaxed the moment seemed, the more danger lurked.

His current peaceful days had been carved out one blade stroke at a time—he couldn't let a single cup of wine ruin it all.

Night deepened. The guests dispersed.

After the clamor, the small courtyard returned to silence.

A cold wind swept up the red paper scraps from the ground, rustling softly.

Chen Ping stood under the eaves, gazing at the red everywhere, his eyes gradually turning cold and sharp.

Today's red was the red of celebration.

But he knew well—if he wasn't strong enough, tomorrow's red on the ground might be blood.

"The Jin Family..."

Chen Ping's fingers lightly traced the rough porch pillar, his mind calculating.

Jin Zhenshan would never let this go. Rather than wait to be slaughtered, why not...

A gust of cold wind blew past, and Chen Ping reined in the killing intent in his eyes.

Tonight was his wedding night—he shouldn't be thinking about fighting and killing.

He turned and walked toward the bridal chamber, where a warm yellow glow seeped through the window.

Pushing open the door, a soft creak sounded.

Inside, red candles flickered, casting light on the seated figure by the bed.

Yun Niang flinched slightly at the sound of the door, her hands twisting the handkerchief in her grip, both nervous and expectant.

Chen Ping closed the door behind him and slid the bolt into place.