The next day was Qiwu Jun’s wedding. On Lingxiao Peak, Qingshan Jun welcomed guests arriving from all directions. On Chaoxia Peak, Wuyang Xianzi had already donned her phoenix crown and ceremonial robes, composed and elegant, waiting for Qiwu Jun to come fetch his bride. Mu Lin Jun was bustling everywhere, arranging each detail with a grin that made his whole face bloom like a flower — as if he were the one getting married.

　　There was still no sign from Lone Egret Peak. Mu Lin Jun worried: could the master have forgotten what day it was? He went straight to Lone Egret Peak; it was as quiet as ever.

　　The Wutong Residence doors stood wide open, so Mu Lin Jun strode in — something he would normally never do. Officially he was an elder brother; in reality, he didn’t surpass Qiwu Jun in cultivation, and Qiwu had always pushed people away like an icy wall, showing face only for the sect master. But today, with urgency, Mu Lin Jun acted on impulse.

　　What he saw inside left him speechless: wine jars and teacups scattered across the table, the room still smelling faintly of last night’s alcohol. Even more shocking were garments strewn everywhere — men’s and women’s clothes mixed in a tangle.

　　Following the trail of clothes into the inner chamber nearly made his jaw drop. There, on the bed, were two people. He rubbed his eyes and looked again — yes, there were indeed two. Seeing the mess of clothing, Mu Lin Jun was utterly bewildered.

　　Sensing someone’s presence, Qiwu Jun snapped upright and eyed the petrified Mu Lin Jun warily.

　　Mu Lin Jun fanned himself with an open folding fan, stammered, “I… I…” and couldn’t finish a coherent sentence. He took the hint and retreated, thinking he’d just witnessed a ghost in broad daylight — and the idea that this could happen to the usually frigid Qiwu Jun seemed beyond belief.

　　Ruoshui heard the commotion and stirred. When she opened her eyes she saw Qiwu Jun standing naked — and, with a start, realized she was naked too. She clutched the blanket around herself, ashamed, but the white sheet beneath them was stained a shocking crimson.

　　Qiwu Jun showed no visible emotion. With a single motion he put on his clothes and left. At the doorway he glanced back at Ruoshui — the look held a cold and unfathomable meaning that made her skin prickle. She froze in the corner, terrified and stunned. How could things have turned out this way? She remembered drinking — how did it become like this?

　　Outside, Mu Lin Jun hurried up to Qiwu Jun. “What’s going on? Who is that girl? Where did she come from?”

　　Qiwu Jun closed his eyes and said nothing.

　　“What are you going to do?” Mu Lin Jun fretted. Lingxiao Peak was already full of guests, Chaoxia Peak’s bride was ready, and suddenly this scandal erupted. What now — proceed with the wedding or not?

　　Qiwu Jun, conflicted, looked at the messy table and said nothing; the situation was thorny.

　　“Should I call the master and the bride so we can figure this out together?” Mu Lin Jun offered, out of options.

　　Qiwu Jun didn’t reply, which counted as assent.

　　Soon Qingshan Jun, Wuyang Xianzi, and Yingyue Xianzi gathered at Wutong Residence. Lone Egret Peak had never been this lively in its long history.

　　Qingshan Jun’s old face was tight with fury. “Master,” he said, “Wuyang sister — about this matter…” Qiwu Jun knew he had no good defense; he himself didn’t understand what had happened.

　　“Brother,” Wuyang Xianzi said, eyes moist with hurt, “if you truly don’t want to marry, just say so — why humiliate me like this?” She, the sect master’s daughter, felt betrayed: the man who normally kept a distance from all women had apparently shared a night with another. How could she swallow that?

　　“Not what you think,” Qiwu Jun insisted. “This was an accident.”

　　“Accident?” Wuyang scoffed. “You’re a respected immortal lord — if you weren’t willing, you would have been forced?”

　　The truth was messy and slow to emerge. Mu Lin Jun fretted like someone on hot coals. “Guests at Lingxiao Peak are almost all here, and the auspicious hour is fast approaching. What will you do? Is the marriage on or off?”

　　Wuyang, in anger, snapped, “How can I go through with this now?”

　　“But the guests outside—” Mu Lin Jun hesitated. Everything was ready; canceling now would be a disaster.

　　“Is Wuyang refusing to marry?” Qingshan Jun asked.

　　“If not for my father’s last wish, who would marry him? After this, how could I?” Wuyang said scornfully.

　　“Then so be it,” Qingshan Jun said. “We must not let Wuyang suffer, nor let Zhaoyao Mountain lose face. Let the girl step in for her; cover her with the red veil and no one will know.” In other words: replace the bride and proceed.

　　And so it was decided.

　　Ruoshui remained curled in her corner, hearing the muffled conversations outside. Her shame was unbearable — she felt beyond redemption.

　　Everyone dispersed to handle their tasks, leaving Qiwu Jun with Yingyue Xianzi and Wuyang Xianzi.

　　Qiwu Jun turned to Wuyang in his plain tone. “I owe you an apology.”

　　Wuyang, injured and tearful, could barely speak. The man she was to wed had spent the night with another. She felt a mix of humiliation and a perverse curiosity: what kind of temptress could stir this centuries-old iceberg? She was almost impressed. For years he’d been only polite with her; now this betrayal stung deeply.

　　Yingyue Xianzi noticed the wine jars on the table. “Did Brother drink last night?” she sniffed.

　　“Yes,” Qiwu Jun admitted.

　　Yingyue took a whiff from a cup. “There’s aconite in this liquor,” she observed. “Aconite can lull the soul. Mixed into wine, it can make someone sleep as if drunk and lose consciousness.”

　　Qiwu Jun inspected the cup and realized the situation wasn’t simply a drunken lapse. Someone had set a trap. He scanned the room mentally and felt foolish for having been fooled by a seemingly insignificant girl.

　　Wuyang had assumed the affair had been mutual, but it seemed someone had indeed exploited the night to their advantage.

　　Ruoshui heard Yingyue’s words and finally understood. She scrambled to put on clothes and rushed out to explain herself. But before she could speak, Wuyang cracked her bone-whip. Ruoshui barely had time to react before the sting hurled her against the wall; the parcels on the table were knocked down and scattered. Her red wedding garments lay in a heap.

　　“So she even brought wedding clothes? She really came ready,” Wuyang sneered, then flung the red veil aside and strode away.

　　Ruoshui could do nothing but grit her teeth. Pain surged through her — the bone-whip lived up to its name: it struck fleshless yet hurt to the bone. She tried to resist but was paralyzed by pain. Looking up, Qiwu Jun stared at her for several seconds. She turned her head away. By then she had no energy left to argue; who would believe her explanation anyway?

　　“Put the robe back on. We’ll perform the rites, then you will come with me,” Qiwu Jun said coolly without looking back.

　　Yingyue Xianzi, seeing Ruoshui’s pitiful state, felt a twinge of familiarity she couldn’t place. By rights she shouldn’t intervene, but her heart softened.

　　She helped Ruoshui into the bridal robe and arranged her hair. “Thank you,” Ruoshui whispered.

　　Yingyue didn’t answer.

　　“I didn’t know the wine had aconite in it. I only wanted to stay by him — I never meant to steal his bride or ruin things. I don’t understand how it turned out like this,” Ruoshui said, voice shaking with humiliation.

　　When Yingyue finished placing the red veil — salvaged from what Wuyang had tossed — over Ruoshui, she murmured, “This will have to do. Good luck.” Then Yingyue left.

　　After some time, Qiwu Jun finally dressed in his ceremonial robes and, late and solemn, led Ruoshui — veiled and blind to the world — to Lingxiao Peak. She felt terrified and tried to reach for Qiwu Jun’s sleeve, clutching it gently, though she dared not hold his hand.

　　Qiwu Jun’s face was still unreadable. The wedding rites were shortened; the usual public toasts were skipped. After a brief ritual to heaven and earth, Qiwu Jun escorted Ruoshui back to Lone Egret Peak — and then he disappeared, never to be seen.

　　Qingshan Jun and Mu Lin Jun hosted the guests. The festive air had turned forced: Qingshan Jun wore a stern face, and Mu Lin Jun forced smiles, terrified of scandal. Fortunately the ceremony proceeded without further mishap and the guests departed. When the last carriage left, Qingshan Jun finally exhaled.

　　At Lone Egret Peak, Ruoshui sat on the bedside and replayed the days’ events in her mind. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relief — she had won the chance to stay near Qiwu Jun — or shame at the vile way it had happened. Exhausted by the emotional roller coaster, she slept and collapsed into dreams.