On the wedding day, my wife was abnormal

The first day of the first month of the fourth year of the Shenghui era.

Chang'an City.

While the northern city of Longcheng was still shrouded in the deepest cold and darkness before dawn, the imperial capital of Chang'an, five thousand miles away, was already immersed in a boisterous celebration.

Just past the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), outside the Chengtian Gate of Taiji Palace, officials had already gathered in droves, banners fluttering in the wind. Civil and military officials, dressed in elaborate court robes, stood solemnly according to their rank on the white marble plaza, their breath forming a continuous white cloud in the dim morning light.

The palace lanterns illuminated the magnificent outline of the palace, making it appear resplendent in gold.

At the exact hour of Mao (5-7 AM), bells and drums sounded in unison, and solemn music resounded through the sky.

The massive gates of the Zichen Palace slowly opened, and the imperial entourage marched out in a magnificent procession.

Murong Yan, adorned with a nine-phoenix and four-phoenix pearl crown and a black robe embroidered with the twelve symbols of the sun, moon, and stars, and covered by a flowing cloak intricately woven with gold phoenixes in flight, exuded majesty. Accompanied by Lin Zhen, she slowly ascended the Chengtian Gate Tower to receive the homage of the people. A deafening roar of "Long live the Emperor!" surged forth like a tidal wave, shaking the cold air.

Standing atop the high city tower, looking down at the densely packed faces below, filled with awe and joy, and gazing at the phoenix lanterns dancing in the distant streets and alleys and the deafening gongs and drums, Murong Yan wore a dignified and graceful smile befitting an emperor.

Only when she slightly turned her head to exchange glances with Lin Zhen, who stood shoulder to shoulder beside her, would a faint, imperceptible warmth, belonging to humanity, be revealed deep in her eyes.

Compared to the grand state ceremony on the city tower, the New Year's Day family banquet inside the palace was much more intimate.

The banquet held in the Ganlu Hall, though not as solemn as the ceremonies of the outer court, was still extremely luxurious for the royal family.

The hall was warm as springtime, with incense wafting from the huge gilded bronze beast-shaped incense burner.

The imperial kitchen presented a dazzling array of delicacies, with palace maids and eunuchs bustling about.

The black and gold Suzhou brocade cotton nightgown that Murong Yan was wearing close to her body—the Divine Phoenix Descends to Earth Dress—was still the same color as she was at this moment.

Under the bright palace lanterns, the jet-black Suzhou brocade fabric gleamed with a deep luster. The gold cotton velvet woven into it and the phoenix pattern embroidered with gold thread were faintly visible against the backdrop of the crimson palace dress, exuding a restrained elegance.

The black and gold mink shawl was not worn because of the warmth inside the palace; it was held by a palace maid behind her.

The five-zhang-long Suzhou brocade train was cleverly concealed within the floor-length skirt of her palace dress. Although it did not appear messy, its unique weight and texture were still something she could constantly feel.

Lin Zhen sat beside her, dressed in a prince's casual attire, exuding composure.

The Emperor and Empress occasionally spoke in hushed tones. Murong Yan would sometimes smile at the innocent blessings of the imperial children, and would also cast a tender glance at Lin Zhen as he served her food.

The banquet was in a harmonious atmosphere, with the sounds of silk and bamboo instruments filling the air, and dancers gracefully moving their sleeves, creating a scene of peace, prosperity, and family reunion.

"Your Majesty looks very well today," an older royal princess flattered with a smile. "It's a sign of a new year bringing new beginnings and lasting blessings."

Murong Yan smiled slightly and raised her glass in greeting:

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty. May our Great Qian Dynasty enjoy favorable weather and abundant harvests, and may the country be prosperous and the people at peace."

Her gaze swept over the hall filled with laughter and merriment, but a thought of comparison couldn't help but flash through her mind.

The warmth, luxury, and tranquility of this palace were worlds apart from the plight of the Kong family orphan struggling to survive in the harsh northern desert, as described in the secret reports of the guards.

But the thought only flashed through my mind and was quickly overwhelmed by the festive atmosphere of the banquet.

She was the Empress of the Great Qian Dynasty, and her compassion should first and foremost be extended to her people and this land.

Meanwhile, in the northern desert city of Longcheng.

There are no bells and drums here, no worship, no grand feasts.

While Chang'an was bathed in the New Year's Day dawn, Longcheng was just beginning to be greeted by a gray, utterly cold light. The biting wind still howled, whipping up snowflakes and lashing against every felt tent.

There were some signs of the New Year in the royal court, such as the hanging of auspicious animal bone ornaments at the entrance of some felt tents, and people exchanging New Year greetings. However, all of this was shrouded in a rough and oppressive atmosphere, which contrasted sharply with the prosperity and refinement of Chang'an.

Inside the tent where Kong Zhiqian lived, the tallow lamp burned all night, casting a dim light.

He had already gotten up and was wearing a heavy fur robe. He was in a corner of the tent, practicing wrestling techniques from the northern desert with an old warrior assigned by Uvi.

The cold air caused his breath to be accompanied by white mist, and his movements appeared somewhat clumsy and slow due to the heavy clothing.

There was no heating in the tent, only a small charcoal brazier, whose heat barely dispelled the chill in one corner.

Breakfast consisted of cold milk curds and a piece of dried meat, so coarse that it was hard to swallow.

He chewed silently, finding no flavor in his mouth. Outside the tent came the sounds of Princess Saren and several maids laughing and playing, seemingly engaged in a game typical of children from the northern deserts, with the occasional clear sound of bells ringing out.

But the laughter did nothing to affect him. He only felt that the noise only highlighted his loneliness.

In the morning, as was customary, he went to the main tent of the Left Wise King Uvi to pay his respects and receive new "instructions".

Uwe seemed to want to show his "importance" to him, and even on New Year's Day, he did not slack off in "training" him.

In the large tent filled with the smells of alcohol and meat, Uvi accepted New Year's greetings from his subordinates while scrutinizing Kong Zhiqian with a drunken, sharp gaze, asking him a few questions about the New Year's customs of the Central Plains. It seemed like casual conversation, but in fact, it was a subtle test.

Kong Zhiqian answered cautiously, weighing each word carefully in his mind, afraid of revealing the slightest flaw or emotion. He had to play the role of the "deeply grateful" and "single-mindedly devoted to the northern desert" prince consort.

In the afternoon, he was allowed some free time.

Unlike other young nobles from the northern deserts who went to participate in horse races or drink and make merry, he rode alone to a high slope on the edge of Dragon City where he could look south.

Beneath my feet lay a vast snowfield, a deathly white expanse between heaven and earth. This starkly contrasted with the heart-wrenching scene of New Year's Day in Qufu, where incense smoke filled the ancestral hall, clansmen gathered, and children in new clothes chased and played.

He could almost smell the sweet aroma of his mother's homemade rice cakes and hear his father's solemn voice as he read the eulogy in the ancestral hall... That familiar, suffocating sorrow welled up in his throat once again.

He gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white, forcing himself to suppress all these memories and transform them into a deeper hatred.

Back in the yurt at dusk, Princess Saren happily brought out the New Year's gifts bestowed upon her by Uvi—a delicate little dagger inlaid with gemstones and a new fox fur hat.

The little girl's face was filled with innocent joy as she chattered away.

Kong Zhiqian forced a smile, accepted the gift, and thanked him, but his heart was ice-cold.

These gifts were nothing more than tools for Uvi to win people's hearts, each one a reminder of the humiliation of being dependent on others.

As night fell, Dragon City descended into even deeper cold and silence.

There were no dazzling lights, no boisterous banquets, only the sound of the wind echoing across the wilderness like the cries of wronged souls.

Kong Zhiqian sat alone in the tent, turning the pages of the worn-out Analects by the dim light.

The handwriting was his father's, and the content was something he had read since childhood, but reading it now, every word felt like a dull knife cutting into his heart.

The teachings of sages and the sentiments of family and country stand in stark contrast to the barbaric land before them and the reality of recognizing a thief as one's father, creating an absurd and cruel irony.

He blew out the lamp, lay down on the cold wolf-skin rug, and stared into the darkness above the tent.

In the distance, the monotonous chirping of the night watchmen and the howling of wolves could be faintly heard.

He knew that at this very moment, in distant Chang'an, the woman who had taken everything from him was enjoying the worship of the people, living a life of luxury, and sharing the joys of family life with her lover.

A fierce hatred burned within him like a poisonous flame, threatening to consume him.

This hatred was the only fuel that kept him alive on the ice field.

Meanwhile, in the Ganlu Palace in Chang'an, the grand banquet was drawing to a close.

Murong Yan felt a little tired, and accompanied by Lin Zhen, she set off to return to Zichen Palace.

Sitting in the warm imperial carriage, listening to the distant, incessant folk songs that seemed to echo all night long, she gently leaned on Lin Zhen's shoulder, closed her eyes, and savored this rare moment of peace.

She was completely unaware of the overwhelming hatred surging in the heart of that young man far away in the northern desert. Perhaps even if she had known, she would have considered it to be a trivial emotion befitting a remnant of a traitor.

On one side, there is the grandeur of the imperial palace, with its music and the warmth of spring in the inner chambers; on the other, there is the desolate tent, the lonely lamp, and the blood and tears on the icy plains.