The Prisoner of Beauty - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Tiger's Back

For days, Lady Ding could neither eat nor sleep, her brow permanently furrowed in grief. Xiao Qiao stayed by her side from dawn until dusk, offering what little comfort she could. It was only when evening fell that she finally stepped out of her aunt’s quarters, accompanied by her wet nurse, Nurse Chun.

 

As they walked along the winding corridors, the distant sound of bustling activity drifted over the high walls.

 

The Qiao family had ruled Yanzhou with a benevolent hand, earning the deep devotion of the local populace. For the past two days, the manor gates had been crowded with citizens who came to offer gifts, their faces bright with relief. Though Xiao Qiao had not set foot outside, she had sent Nurse Chun to gather news. The entire city now knew that the impending alliance between the Qiao and Wei families had successfully averted a bloody siege. The people were profoundly grateful.

 

As Xiao Qiao approached the entrance of her own courtyard, she spotted her father, Qiao Ping. He was pacing back and forth, a heavy, suffocating aura of worry hanging over him.

 

"Father," she called out, quickening her pace.

 

Qiao Ping stopped, looking at her with a conflicted expression, his lips parting as if to speak, yet no words came. Recognizing his hesitation, Xiao Qiao led him inside. Once the doors were closed, she decided to address the rumors directly. "Father, I heard the people outside talking about the wedding. Is it true?"

 

Qiao Ping’s brow furrowed deeper. He looked at his daughter, his eyes filled with a sudden, sharp sorrow. "Manman... it is true. Your father has failed you."

 

His voice cracked. His beloved daughter had already been promised to a wonderful match in Langya. Now, through a cruel twist of fate, she was to be thrown into the jaws of the tiger in place of her cousin. The thought of his delicate daughter living isolated and defenseless in the ruthless northern courts filled his heart with a bitter, unspeakable anguish.

 

Xiao Qiao felt her chest tighten. Observing her father’s profound guilt and the strange timing of the public announcements, the puzzle pieces instantly clicked into place.

 

Da Qiao was gone, yet the wedding announcements were being loudly proclaimed throughout the city. Her father was drowning in shame.

 

"Father," she said slowly, her voice remarkably calm. "Am I to take Sister’s place?"

 

Though Qiao Ping could not bring himself to nod, his silence was a definitive answer.

 

The reality of the situation hit Xiao Qiao like a physical blow. Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribs. When she had urged Da Qiao to flee, she had done so to save her cousin from a tragic fate, fully believing their father could convince her uncle to forge an alternative alliance with Chenliu. Furthermore, she herself was already betrothed. She had planned to find a clever way to dissolve her own engagement to the Prince of Langya once the dust settled.

 

Never in her wildest calculations did she imagine that the Qiao family would double down on the Wei alliance—and that she would be the sacrifice.

 

"Manman, the Wei family sent word. They have accepted the match, and their envoys will arrive shortly," Qiao Ping explained, his voice trembling. "With your cousin gone, your uncle literally knelt and begged me. I... I had no choice."

 

He looked away, his eyes brimming with tears. "Your betrothal to the Prince of Langya... I will have to break it. Manman, I am so sorry."

 

Xiao Qiao stood frozen for a long moment, her mind a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. Yet, looking at her father’s broken demeanor, she forced her features into a serene mask. She looked up, offering a fragile but reassuring smile. "Father, I understand. My mind is a bit cluttered right now. May I please be alone for a little while?"

 

Seeing his daughter smile in the face of such devastating news only deepened Qiao Ping’s agonizing guilt. He let out a long, ragged sigh and stepped out.

 

Through the closed doors, Xiao Qiao heard her father whispering to Nurse Chun, softly instructing her to watch over her with the utmost care. As his heavy footsteps faded into the distance, a profound silence enveloped the room.

 

Later that evening, the news reached her younger brother, Qiao Ci.

 

Nurse Chun later whispered to Xiao Qiao that the boy had flown into a terrifying rage. He had stormed directly into his uncle’s study, shouting his furious opposition to the arrangement. Though Qiao Yue had always treated his nephew like his own son, the high stakes of the political crisis left no room for defiance. Qiao Ci was struck, dragged out by guards, and locked away in the isolation chambers.

 

Sitting alone in the dark, Xiao Qiao did not close her eyes all night.

 

She knew her father loved her above all else. If there had been even a sliver of an alternative, he would have fought to his last breath to protect her. But the news of the marriage had already been strategically leaked. The populace, desperate for peace, was ecstatic. Her father was trapped on the back of a riding tiger, bearing the weight and expectations of two hundred thousand souls. He had no retreat.

 

A bitter smile touched her lips as she recalled the lie she had told Da Qiao: “I want the status and power he can provide. It is I who am begging you to fulfill my wish.”

 

She had spoken those words merely to alleviate Da Qiao’s guilt, knowing her cousin would never leave if she thought she was ruining Xiao Qiao’s life. She had prided herself on altering the tragic trajectory of her past life, determined to forge a new path.

 

Instead, reality had violently brought her back to earth. The path had changed, yes—but it had simply diverted her into a different version of the same dead end.

 

Running away like Da Qiao was impossible. Even if she wanted to, her uncle had clearly learned his lesson. For the past two days, whenever she moved about the estate, three or four sturdy, stone-faced matrons from the main house followed her every step.

 

As the first light of dawn broke through the window lattice, Xiao Qiao finally accepted her fate. Since history refused to be entirely rewritten, she would simply have to survive the chapter she had been given.

 

The following day, the Wei family’s wedding envoy arrived. His name was Cai Xun, an official from Yuyang.

 

Qiao Yue, alongside Qiao Ping and a full assembly of retainers in formal attire, received him with lavish hospitality in the grand hall. After three rounds of wine, Qiao Yue assumed an expression of deep sorrow and regret. He explained that his eldest daughter had suddenly been struck by a grave, debilitating illness, and the physicians had declared her unfit for marriage. However, fortune smiled upon them, as his younger brother possessed a daughter whose beauty and talent far surpassed the eldest. He proposed that the second daughter take her place to fulfill the alliance between their noble houses.

 

Though his advisor, Zhang Pu, had assured him the Wei family would accept, Qiao Yue’s heart pounded with anxiety, fearing the envoy would view this as an insult.

 

To his immense relief, Cai Xun didn't display a shred of displeasure. He smiled warmly, conversed with effortless charm, and promised to dispatch a rider to inform his lord immediately. Ten days later, the official confirmation returned from the north.

 

The Wei family had agreed.

 

According to ancient custom, a marriage between grand clans required the observance of the Six Rites, a process that typically spanned at least half a year. However, both families shared a single, urgent objective: to conclude the marriage as swiftly as possible.

 

Within days, the Wei family’s betrothal gifts arrived in Puyang. The display was breathtaking: a staggering ten thousand pieces of gold and twelve magnificent warhorses—a hoard just one tier below the imperial wedding standards. The procession entered through the city’s northern gate, accompanied by grand music that echoed through the streets. The citizens lined the roads, whispering in awe at the sheer scale of the wealth.

 

The wedding date was set for the eighth day of the following month—an auspicious day for travel and marriage.

 

By mid-November, the entire Qiao manor was swept into a frenzy of wedding preparations. In this era, aristocratic families took immense pride in extravagant dowries. Because Da Qiao’s dowry had already been meticulously prepared, the Qiao family, eager to maintain their grand reputation, combined both sisters' dowries into one colossal fortune for Xiao Qiao.

 

Furthermore, Qiao Ping, consumed by guilt, practically emptied his personal treasury for his daughter, knowing that a woman with vast wealth would command more flexibility and respect in a hostile household. Combined with generous contributions from the main house, Xiao Qiao had effectively become a remarkably wealthy young woman overnight.

 

When the wedding day arrived, the groom, Wei Shao, was conspicuously absent.

 

In his stead, he had sent Wei Liang, a General of the Tiger Braves and a prominent member of the Wei clan. Standing nine feet tall with a thick, bristling beard and a massive thirty-six-jin saber strapped to his side, Wei Liang was one of the ten legendary generals under Wei Shao’s command. Unlike the polite and diplomatic Cai Xun, Wei Liang was arrogant and cold, treating the Qiao family with blatant dismissiveness. Qiao Yue was privately insulted, but given their subordinate political position, he swallowed his pride and maintained a flawless, deferential hospitality.

 

The next morning marked the day of her departure. The great gates of the Qiao manor were thrown wide, adorned in brilliant festive silks. The local citizens, dressed in their finest attire, gathered by the thousands to send off the daughter of their beloved Governor.

 

Inside her chambers, Xiao Qiao arose early for the ritual bridal bath. At just fourteen years of age, her silhouette lacked the full maturity of an older woman, yet her proportions were perfectly balanced, featuring a slender, supple waist and flawless, snow-white skin that seemed to radiant light.

 

Surrounded by a flock of senior matrons and maids, she was meticulously dressed:

 First, an inner gown of deep xun-red (a sacred, dark reddish-black dyed silk).

 Over it, a formal xuan-black outer robe, secured by a grand ceremonial belt.

 The ritual bixi knee-covers and exquisite jade ornaments hanging from her waist.

 On her feet, fine silk socks tucked into elegant, upturned wooden clogs (geta).

 

Finally, her long, raven hair was swept up into a majestic bridal coiffure, secured with a ceremonial hairpin and adorned with intricate pearl flowers and swaying step-shakes (buyao).

 

When the preparation was complete, the maids gasped in collective awe. She stood before them like a vision of ethereal grace—breathtakingly beautiful, regal, and utterly radiant.

 

Lady Ding took Xiao Qiao’s soft hands into her own, repeating a long list of motherly advice and blessings. Finally, she stared at her niece, her eyes welling with tears. "Manman... I know in my heart that A-Fan’s flight may give her a chance at happiness, but it breaks my heart that you must bear the cross of the Wei family in her place. I thank you on your sister's behalf. You two have always been close. If you ever learn of her whereabouts in the future... please let me know, just so my heart can rest easy. I swear I will never let your uncle know."

 

Xiao Qiao smiled gently, promising to do so. When the auspicious hour arrived, she was escorted by the bridal attendants to the grand hall.

 

Her uncle and father were waiting. Her brother, Qiao Ci, still furious over the marriage, refused to show his face. Qiao Ping’s overwhelming sorrow was visible to everyone in the room, and even the normally rigid Qiao Yue seemed moved, stepping forward to offer standard platitudes about serving her new in-laws with humility and grace.

 

Xiao Qiao turned to her father, fighting back the tears prickling her eyes, and knelt to perform her final prostrations of farewell.

 

As Qiao Ping gently pulled her to her feet, the grand ceremonial music erupted outside, signaling that the bride must depart. Qiao Ping, unwilling to let go, tightly held his daughter’s arms. Seeing this, the advisor Zhang Pu stepped forward, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. "The Marquis of Wei is a brilliant hero, renowned throughout the land," Zhang Pu chimed in smoothly. "He is a perfect match for the Governor’s daughter. My Lord, why such profound sorrow over a grand match?"

 

Xiao Qiao glanced at Zhang Pu. She knew that for successfully engineering this alliance, her uncle had rewarded him with two hundred ounces of gold and two maidservants. He was practically walking on air.

 

Granted, he had acted in the interest of his master, and the alliance had indeed saved Yanzhou from destruction. But Xiao Qiao could not swallow the bitter taste of being manipulated.

 

As she turned to leave, she deliberately stepped closer to Zhang Pu. Hidden beneath the heavy, voluminous layers of her grand skirts, she lifted her foot—shod in a heavy, solid wooden clog—and brought it down with all her might directly onto his toes.

 

The base of the clog was as hard as stone, and Xiao Qiao had channeled every ounce of her frustration into the stomp.

 

Zhang Pu was caught entirely off guard. A sharp, agonized "Ah!" escaped his lips before he could stop it. When he snapped his head up, he met Xiao Qiao’s bright, smiling eyes. Comprehension dawned on him instantly. Feeling the questioning, disapproving glares of the noble guests around them for his sudden outburst in the middle of a solemn ceremony, Zhang Pu could only offer a strained, sweating smile. He bowed deeply, murmuring apologies as he awkwardly retreated. Later, when he finally had a private moment to pull off his footwear, he found his toes swollen and black-and-blue—an injury that would leave him limping for days.

 

Seeing Zhang Pu grimacing in silent agony brought a small, satisfying spark of satisfaction to Xiao Qiao’s chest. She took a final look at her father, thought of her emotional private farewell with her brother that morning, and turned toward the exit.

 

The roads outside the Qiao estate were packed to the brim with citizens. The moment Xiao Qiao emerged, her ethereal beauty striking the crowd dumb, the thousands of onlookers fell to their knees, raising a deafening, thunderous cheer that shook the sky.

 

According to the customs of the era, a groom was expected to fetch his bride in person to show proper respect. Wei Shao’s absence had deeply slighted the people of Dongjun. But because they loved the Governor and were profoundly grateful to Xiao Qiao for sacrificing her future to save their city from war, the citizens had resolved not to let the northern envoys look down on their princess.

 

As Xiao Qiao’s bridal carriage began to move, the citizens showered it with a relentless rain of fresh fruits, melons, and flowers. Before the carriage had even cleared the city gates, the interior was overflowing with gifts. Even ten li outside the city, crowds of peasants still knelt by the dirt roads, singing traditional songs of blessing and farewell.

 

The display of deep, unyielding devotion was so massive that even the arrogant General Wei Liang looked back with a flicker of genuine surprise and respect.

 

Human hearts are not made of stone. Witnessing this overwhelming display, Xiao Qiao felt a profound shift within her chest. For the first time, she truly understood why Da Qiao had been willing to accept her grim fate before running away; the weight of these people’s lives was a heavy, humbling burden.

 

Sitting in the swaying carriage, she clutched a small, crisp apple that had been handed to her through the window by a three-year-old child, and fell into a deep silence.

 

"Stop the carriage!"

 

The bridal train had traveled over thirty li, entering a desolate stretch of barren winter wilderness, when a lone rider came thundering down the road behind them, shouting for them to halt.

 

Wei Liang immediately ordered his vanguard to draw their blades. Recognizing her brother’s voice, Xiao Qiao leaned out of the carriage window to explain. Wei Liang glanced back, and seeing that it was indeed the young master of the Qiao family, he signaled his men to stand down.

 

Xiao Qiao stepped down from the carriage as Qiao Ci threw himself off his horse, sprinting toward her. He grabbed her hands, his breathing ragged.

 

"Sister!" the fourteen-year-old boy gasped, his voice cracking with a mix of youth and raw emotion. "There is something I forgot to tell you. I hate myself for being powerless today, forced to watch you ride away like this. But hear me, Sister! I swear to the heavens above that I will grow strong. I will become a man you can rely on. If that Wei Shao ever dares to mistreat you, your brother will march north and bring you home! I will never let anyone look down on you!"

 

The boy was still in the awkward transition of adolescence, a faint trace of peach fuzz lining his upper lip, yet his words carried the absolute weight of an iron vow.

 

The wind carried his fierce declaration straight to the ears of Wei Liang. The giant general didn't speak, but a cold, dismissive smirk played on his lips.

 

Xiao Qiao had not expected her brother to ride so far into the wilderness just to deliver these words. Remembering how, in her past life, this very boy had sacrificed his life to hold off a horde of killers just so she and Liu Yan could escape, the tears she had held back all morning finally spilled over her cheeks.

 

"A-Ci," she wept, squeezing his hands. "Your sister hears you. I will live well, I promise. Take care of yourself, and remember to look after Father for me!"

 

Qiao Ci nodded fiercely.

 

Watching the emotional farewell, Wei Liang finally lost his patience and barked an order for the train to move. Xiao Qiao gently pushed her brother away, urging him to return home, and stepped back into the carriage.

 

As the wheels began to turn, she watched out the rear window. Qiao Ci’s solitary figure stood motionless by the roadside, gradually shrinking into a tiny black speck before vanishing entirely into the horizon.

 

When Xiao Qiao turned her gaze back to the front, she looked through the window toward the vast, gray winter sky. High above the bleak landscape, a single, solitary wild goose was fighting the wind, flying steadily toward the south.