No Life Town.
Lin An’s hometown.
More than twenty miles southeast of Grey Wastes City, not too far, but it’s far less bustling than Grey Wastes City.
It was already close to midnight.
Looking down from above, the entire town was pitch black, with only a few scattered lights still on.
The sound of the night watchman came from the other end of the town, “The weather is dry and things are flammable, be careful with fire!”
Lin An slowed down, gliding over the town.
His home was on the south side of town, next to a small bamboo grove.
It was a bit out of the way, but at least it was quiet.
Soon, the familiar courtyard wall came into view.
Then, he saw that lamp.
Aunt Yan’s room was still lit, with orange-yellow light shining through the window, looking especially warm in the night.
Lin An frowned slightly, a look of concern appearing on his face.
Aunt Yan must be rushing to finish work again.
Really, no matter how many times he told her, she wouldn’t listen.
It’s not like the household needed the expenses.
He sighed, lowering his altitude and descending toward the courtyard.
The courtyard wall drew closer.
He could see the silhouette of the old locust tree in the yard, the flowers and plants Aunt Yan had planted in the flowerbed, and a few pieces of clothing still hanging on the drying rack.
He landed on the courtyard wall, and just as he was about to jump down, his vision suddenly went dark.
Something pounced at him from the side, so fast he had no time to react.
A warm, soft body with a cloying sweet scent pressed against him, arms tightly encircling his waist.
“Mm~ little brother, you smell so good.”
A woman’s voice sounded right by his ear, soft and sweet like honey-soaked cotton candy.
“Let big sister take a bite, okay? Just one bite~”
Lin An’s pupils contracted.
He struggled with all his might, trying to pull a talisman from his bosom, but his body was no longer obeying him.
His limbs went weak, his eyelids grew heavy, and his consciousness felt like it was being grabbed by an invisible hand, dragged down bit by bit.
‘What the hell is this?’
That was his last thought, and then the world plunged into darkness.
…
…
Red.
Boundless red.
Red curtains hung from above, red lanterns suspended beneath the beams, red silk flowers adorned the pillars.
Candle flames flickered, bathing the entire hall in a warm halo, like honey that wouldn’t melt, sticking to the skin with an indescribable weight.
Lin An stood in the center of the hall, wearing a large red wedding robe embroidered with gold thread in a double lotus pattern, a jade belt around his waist, and black boots on his feet.
He frowned.
‘Where… am I?’
He looked up and around.
There were people, many, many people.
But he couldn’t make out their faces.
It was like looking through frosted glass, their features blurred into a mass, only their outlines flickering in the candlelight.
They were laughing, talking, raising glasses in celebration, but the sounds came as if from underwater, muffled and indistinct, a droning buzz.
Lin An only knew that they were all looking at him.
‘Am I getting married?’
‘To whom?’
He couldn’t remember.
He didn’t remember that he was supposed to get married today, didn’t remember who the bride was, and didn’t even remember why he was standing here.
In this blurry reality, only one person was clearly visible, standing beside him.
A red wedding dress, embroidered with a golden phoenix, the hem trailing on the floor like flowing rouge.
She wore a red veil on her head, with small golden bells hanging from its four corners.
When she moved, the bells chimed softly.
Ring—ring—
The sound seemed to come from very, very far away.
Lin An turned his head.
The woman stood there quietly, hands folded in front of her, her posture dignified, unmoving.
‘Who… is she?’
Lin An wanted to ask her name, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.
He wanted to see her face under the veil, but when he reached out his hand, his arm wouldn’t lift.
‘…Forget it, I’m here anyway.’
A strange thought appeared in his mind.
He couldn’t remember when the ceremony ended.
The bowing, the toasting, the noise, the dispersal—everything felt like it was behind a layer of fog, sliding by blurrily, leaving no impression at all.
By the time he came back to his senses, he was already standing inside the bridal chamber.
The room was large, the candlelight very bright.
Red candles burned quietly on the altar, wax dripping down the candle bodies drop by drop, congealing into small red hard lumps on the candlestick.
On the table were a wine pot and two wine cups, along with a golden weighing rod.
The bed was spread with a large red brocade quilt, embroidered with a pattern of mandarin ducks playing in water, and scattered with peanuts and red dates.
Lin An stared blankly at everything, his mind empty, as if something had been scooped out of him.
‘Then… what should I do?’
He just stood there for who knows how long, until a voice came from the direction of the bed.
“Husband, it’s time to rest.”
The voice was soft, gentle, very familiar, with a hint of a smile.
“Won’t you lift your wife’s veil?”
Lin An suddenly snapped back to reality.
‘Right, lift the veil.’
He turned to look.
The bride sat on the edge of the bed, her hands properly placed on her knees.
The red veil hung down, covering her face, only revealing her chin and neck.
Her posture was relaxed, not stiff like those nervous brides.
Lin An walked to the table and picked up the golden weighing rod.
The rod was heavy, cool to the touch, engraved with patterns of dragon and phoenix symbolizing good fortune, glinting darkly in the candlelight.
He turned and walked step by step toward the bed.
The bride’s voice earlier was very familiar to him, but he couldn’t remember who it was no matter how hard he tried.
He extended the golden rod, inserted it under the edge of the veil, and gently lifted it upward.
The red veil slid down slowly, revealing a face.
The woman appeared to be over thirty, yet she showed no signs of age.
Her face was like a full moon, plump cheeks like jade, gently curved brows, lips touched with vermilion, her whole person as full as a ripe cherry.
The phoenix crown and colorful cape set off her fair, full neck.
When she lowered her eyebrows, there was a hint of mature beauty and gentle warmth hidden within her dignified charm.
Those eyes looking at her husband were filled with gentle, familiar light that made it hard to look away.
But upon seeing the woman’s true face, Lin An froze completely.
The golden rod slipped from his hand, clatter, rolling twice and stopping in the corner.
“Aunt… Aunt Yan?”
His voice trembled, his lips trembled, and his whole body trembled along with them.
This face in front of him, he had been looking at it for over ten years.
From infancy to youth, from youth to now, this face had never changed.
Gentle, serene, dignified, mild, the smile that never left her lips—like a spring breeze across a lake, like winter sunlight falling on snow.
But at this moment, this face appeared in a place it shouldn’t be, wearing clothes it shouldn’t wear, sitting on a bed it shouldn’t sit on.
“This…”
Lin An subconsciously stepped back.
As soon as he lifted his foot, his body was suddenly entangled by something.
White silk threads, soft yet tough, surged from all directions, wrapping around his wrists, ankles, waist, and abdomen, layer after layer, tightly constricting.
He staggered and fell backward, but he didn’t hit the floor; instead, he fell onto the soft bed covered with brocade quilts.
The silk threads didn’t stop.
They continued to wrap, fixing his arms at his sides, binding his legs together.
He struggled to get up, but the threads only tightened, digging into his clothes and skin with an irresistible force.
The woman stood up from the edge of the bed, her red wedding dress flowing like blood.
She leaned down, lying on top of Lin An.
Her warm, soft, delicate body pressed against him, carrying a faint sweet-sickly scent.
Her face came close to Lin An’s, close enough to see the curve of her eyelashes, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.
“My little An’er,” Yu Zhiyan curved her red lips, her fingertip gently tracing his face before landing on his lips, “Don’t you like Aunt Yan?”
Lin An turned his head away, dodging her hand.
“No, you’re not Aunt Yan. Who are you?”
Yu Zhiyan’s finger stopped at his lips, freezing slightly.
Then she laughed.
It was Aunt Yan’s laugh, with curved brows and eyes, a slightly upturned mouth, and even the dimples were in the exact same place.
“This child,” she withdrew her hand and gently patted Lin An’s chest, “I am your Aunt Yan.”
Her voice was very soft, like coaxing a sulking child.
“Don’t say you don’t like me, or I’ll be sad.”
Lin An stared at her intently.
The same voice, the same expression, the same smile, the same gentleness.
Every detail was flawless, like a mirror reflecting the entirety of Aunt Yan as he remembered her.
But he knew—no, this woman was not!
Aunt Yan wouldn’t wear a wedding dress… at least not sit in their bridal chamber wearing one.
Aunt Yan wouldn’t look at him with that kind of eyes.
Aunt Yan certainly wouldn’t… tie him to the bed.
“You’re not,” Lin An said through clenched teeth, each word deliberate, “You’re not her!”
Yu Zhiyan did not answer.
She just kept smiling, her eyes downcast, looking at him with a gaze that Lin An couldn’t understand.
Then, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to his.
Such a real, soft touch made Lin An’s body tense up abruptly, his eyes wide open.
He wanted to push her away, but his hands were bound.
He wanted to turn his head to dodge, but his face was held.
He wanted to clench his teeth, but the other’s tongue had already pried open his lips.
It was as if countless tender little hands were teasing his soul, and countless affections enveloped his body.
Lin An’s consciousness began to blur again.
The red before his eyes faded, the candlelight went out, and that familiar face gradually grew hazy.
The last sound he heard was Aunt Yan’s voice.
“Sleep, my little An’er. After you wake up, everything will pass.”
“You, you belong to me forever, forever…”