(After this segment, the protagonist should take off.)

Su Moran was very happy today.

Yes, extremely happy! Even though he had fallen off his horse yesterday and shattered his left shoulder, it did nothing to dampen the excitement radiating from his brows. A mere shoulder injury would heal in three or four months—how could it compare to a lifetime of happiness?

He was about to get married!

It was a double celebration. Yesterday, the official red list was posted, and he, Su Moran, had passed the imperial examination, becoming a Xiucai.

The Su Family of Red Cliff Town had been making a living from brewing for generations. They had considerable wealth, but never a scholar. His success had delighted his father, Old Master Su, so much that the old man couldn’t stop grinning, telling everyone their ancestral graves were emitting auspicious smoke.

“Young Master, it’s almost time.” A cool voice sounded beside him.

Su Moran turned his head and met a handsome, spirited face.

The woman was tall and slender, dressed in neat, tight-fitting clothes. A simple ancient sword hung diagonally across her waist. Next to it, oddly, was another sword hilt attached to her belt, hinting at a dual-wielding style.

Qing Shuang.

His personal bodyguard.

She was an orphan girl he and his father had picked up from a remote mountain valley. She had been with the Su Family for seven or eight years.

Old Master Su had originally intended for her to be Su Moran’s Chamber Maid, to warm his bed and serve him. Unexpectedly, this girl turned out to be a once-in-a-century martial arts prodigy. She was practically self-taught.

While others were still practicing horse stances, after just one year of training, she could go up the mountain alone to hunt tigers and bring them back like they were little chicks.

Naturally, she couldn’t remain a simple Chamber Maid. Qing Shuang logically became his bodyguard.

Old Master Su never said it out loud, but in his heart, he regarded Qing Shuang as half a daughter. He had even privately mentioned that after Su Moran married, he would give Qing Shuang a proper status, allowing her to marry into the Su Family with honor as a concubine.

Thinking of this, Su Moran felt a warmth in his heart. He grinned, revealing white teeth.

“Qing Shuang, let’s go! Time to fetch the bride!”

He forcefully suppressed an inexplicable restlessness in his heart. Something felt off about his body.

It wasn’t just the shoulder injury. His entire body felt heavier than usual, as if his inner force was bound by invisible shackles, making his movements indescribably sluggish.

The injury on his left shoulder should have only been from falling off the horse yesterday. Yet now, it hurt abnormally—a deep, throbbing ache like shattered bones rather than a bruise. It made him frown involuntarily.

Perhaps I fell harder than I thought, and the excitement is making me sensitive, Su Moran reasoned. On such a joyous day, he forced these discomforts down with willpower.

Getting married was what mattered!

Enduring the pain, and with the help of servants, Su Moran mounted a chestnut-red horse. Qing Shuang held the reins and walked silently alongside.

Behind them, servants carried the grand red bridal sedan chair amidst music and fanfare. The procession marched through the streets of Red Cliff Town.

Crowds of neighbors lined both sides, watching the excitement.

“Congratulations, Xiucai Su!”

“Young Master Su is truly a literary star descended from heaven! And now marrying a beautiful bride too!”

“A perfect match between talent and beauty!”

Su Moran was elated. With a wave of his hand, he instructed the steward to distribute wedding money and candies, eliciting waves of cheers.

The one he was marrying was the daughter of the town’s Song Family, nicknamed A’Zhu. They were childhood sweethearts, betrothed before birth. Their union was celebrated as a beautiful story in Red Cliff Town.

“You must not marry! You must not marry!”

Amidst the festive harmony, a jarring, crazed voice rang out.

Everyone turned to look. A ragged, lame madman with messy hair hobbled toward the procession, shouting nonsense.

Su Moran’s face darkened instantly.

That mad cripple again!

Yesterday, when he went riding outside the city walls, this same madman had rushed out babbling, “Falling off! Falling off!” His usually gentle horse had gone berserk, throwing him to the ground and breaking his shoulder.

Now, on this joyous day, he was here to bring bad luck again!

“Qing Shuang,” Su Moran said, his voice carrying suppressed anger. “Chase this madman away! Don’t let him ruin my mood!”

Qing Shuang’s gaze remained cool. She nodded faintly. Her figure flickered, appearing instantly before the cripple. With a light push, she sent him staggering backward. Servants immediately grabbed him, covering his mouth and dragging him away.

The mad cripple struggled, making muffled “mmph” sounds. He stared at Qing Shuang with eyes full of terror and despair, desperate to convey something.

But Su Moran couldn’t be bothered. The minor interruption was quickly forgotten.

The bride-fetching went smoothly. The Song Family residence was decked in festive decorations and filled with joy.

After numerous formalities, he successfully brought the veiled bride into the sedan chair. Amidst gongs and drums, they returned to the Su Residence, where a grand banquet awaited.

During the feast, countless toasts were forced upon him. Using his injury as an excuse, Su Moran eventually escaped the guests, rubbing his throbbing temples as he headed toward the bridal chamber.

However, just as he reached the courtyard entrance, a figure blocked his path.

It was Qing Shuang.

She stood quietly under the moonlight like a cold jade statue, looking at him with complex emotions in her eyes.

“Young Master,” she spoke, her voice cool yet carrying a subtle fluctuation absent in usual times.

“Is something wrong?” Su Moran paused. The alcohol’s effects seemed to dilute under the moonlight and her beauty. He knew exactly what she wanted to ask.

“Master said… after you marry, he will give me a proper status.” Qing Shuang looked directly at him. “Young Master, when will you marry me?”

Su Moran sighed inwardly. He stepped forward, reaching out to hold her hand, but she subtly avoided the contact without changing her expression.

He wasn’t angered. He softened his tone further.

“Qing Shuang, don’t worry.” He gazed into her cool eyes, sincerity evident in his voice. “I will fulfill my promise. I will talk properly with A’Zhu. I know her temperament well.”

“But today is the wedding day itself. If I immediately take you as a concubine, it would be improper etiquette and unfair to her feelings.”

“Give me some time. Wait until everything is settled properly. Then I will give you a rightful status, allowing you to marry into the Su Family honorably without suffering any grievances.”

Qing Shuang remained silent for a long moment, her long eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. Finally, she uttered a soft “Mm-hmm,” indicating acceptance.

Relieved, Su Moran smiled warmly. “Good. Qing Shuang, wait for me.”

He bypassed her, pushing open the door to the bridal chamber with eager anticipation.

Creeeak—

Inside, red candles flickered, the festive atmosphere thick and heavy.

His bride, Miss Song Family’s eldest daughter A’Zhu, sat properly on the edge of the bed, covered by a large red veil. Her figure was graceful and serene.

Su Moran’s heart quickened. He stepped forward, picking up the ceremonial wedding scale from the table. Gently, he lifted the red cloth.

Beneath revealed a delicate face, lightly made-up. Her cheeks were flushed with shyness, her eyes watery and expectant. She looked exceptionally radiant.

“Husband…”

“Wife…”

Su Moran’s throat bobbed. His voice was hoarse. He reached out, gently holding her hand. The intimacy flowed naturally between them, needing no words.

He stared at her face, feeling somewhat dazed. An inexplicable sense of familiarity surged within his soul—not just the familiarity of “A’Zhu” the childhood sweetheart, but a deeper, stranger attachment.

He shook his head, attributing the bizarre thought to nerves.

“Childhood sweethearts naturally feel familiar,” he reassured himself.

He leaned in, his hand caressing her cheek, ready for Deep Interaction.

Suddenly, a cold, mechanical voice abruptly resounded deep within his mind, shattering the illusion.

[Ding! Deep Interaction with Beauty Lin Zhiwei. Divine Sense communication points +10!]