Chapter 636: Chapter-636
"Of course, Wife," Samuel replied smoothly, his deep, resonant voice easily carrying through the thin red silk. "I am a traditional, virtuous man marrying into a highly prestigious military household. I must protect my modesty from the wandering eyes of these corrupt officials."
A few of the younger Vanguard lieutenants in the back actually doubled over, howling with laughter.
"System," Heena thought, her shoulders shaking slightly. "Take a picture of this. Frame it."
"Already on it, Host," the System replied, the sound of digital camera shutters rapidly clicking in her mind. "This is absolute gold."
An attendant approached, carrying a silver tray that held a long red silk ribbon with a massive, intricately tied rosette in the center.
Traditionally, the groom would hold the ribbon and gently lead his veiled, submissive bride into the hall.
Heena picked up the ribbon. She held one end firmly in her hand, and without a shred of hesitation, handed the other end to Samuel.
Samuel took it, his large, powerful hand wrapping around the delicate red silk.
Heena turned around to face the main hall, her dark eyes sweeping over the pale, horrified faces of the civil court and the Prime Minister. She didn’t say a single word to them. She didn’t need to. The visual alone was a brutal, flawless execution of her political dominance.
With her chin held high, the unveiled, fiercely radiant Vanguard Madam began to walk, leading her towering, veiled scholar husband up the stone steps toward the ancestral hall to bow to the heavens.
The rhythmic beating of the ceremonial drums echoed through the massive estate as Heena led Samuel into the main ancestral hall. The red ribbon stretched between them, a vibrant lifeline connecting the fierce, unveiled female general and the towering, veiled scholar.
The civil officials were forced to trail behind them, their faces varying shades of green and gray as they witnessed the complete dismantling of patriarchal tradition. Every step Samuel took in his heavy red robes was an insult to their scholarly pride, yet the man himself walked with the confident, arrogant stride of an emperor conquering a new territory.
Inside the grand hall, the old Marquis and the Marchioness sat on intricately carved mahogany chairs at the highest point of the room. The grandfather looked like he was one second away from bursting into proud, boisterous tears, while the grandmother sat with perfect posture, a deeply satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she watched the horrified civil court file in.
The Master of Ceremonies, an old, scarred Vanguard veteran who had swapped his armor for a ceremonial red tunic, cleared his throat loudly. His booming voice echoed over the crowd.
"First bow, to Heaven and Earth!"
Heena turned toward the open courtyard doors, the night sky illuminated by the thousands of flickering diyas. Beside her, Samuel turned as well. In perfect unison, the dying general and the genius scholar bowed deeply to the world outside, sealing their vow to the heavens.
"Second bow, to the High Hall and Ancestors!"
They turned around to face the grandparents. Heena bowed low, a genuine warmth filling her chest as she looked at the two people she had ripped the timeline apart to protect. Beside her, Samuel bowed even lower, showing the absolute, undeniable respect of a son-in-law entering the household. The grandfather aggressively wiped his eyes with his sleeve, muttering something about the incense smoke being too thick, while the grandmother nodded gracefully.
"Third bow, husband and wife bow to each other!"
Heena and Samuel turned to face one another. Heena looked at the red silk veil covering his face. Even through the fabric, she could feel the intense, burning heat of his golden eyes locked entirely onto her. They bowed, their heads dipping toward each other, the red ribbon dipping between them. In that brief, silent moment, the political theater faded, leaving only a profound, unspoken weight between them.
The Master of Ceremonies gestured to a maidservant, who brought forward a silver tray holding two delicate porcelain teacups. It was time for the tea ceremony.
Heena knelt first, taking a cup and offering it to her grandfather. "Grandpa, please drink the tea." The old Marquis downed it in one gulp, laughing loudly.
Then, it was Samuel’s turn. With the grace of a deadly predator masquerading as a virtuous bride, he knelt onto the embroidered cushion. He took the second cup with both hands, raising it respectfully toward the matriarch and patriarch.
"Grandfather, Grandmother," Samuel’s smooth, deep voice echoed from beneath the veil. "Please drink the tea."
The civil scholars collectively shuddered at the sound of the most terrifying politician in the capital playing the role of a submissive daughter-in-law. The grandfather took the cup, glaring down at Samuel for a brief second before drinking the tea. "Treat her well, boy. Or I will use your bones to grind my sword."
"I would expect nothing less, Grandfather," Samuel replied flawlessly.
Finally, the Master of Ceremonies stepped forward, handing Heena a long, slender golden rod. The most anticipated moment of the night had arrived—the lifting of the bridal veil.
The entire hall fell completely silent. The Generals leaned in, eager to see the scholar’s humiliation.
Heena took the golden rod. She stepped close to Samuel, looking up at his towering figure. With a slow, deliberate movement, she slid the golden rod under the edge of the sheer red silk and gently lifted it upward, flipping the veil back over his head.
Instead of looking humiliated, emasculated, or embarrassed, Samuel looked absolutely devastating. His long, dark hair was tied back with a ruby hairpiece, and his handsome face was illuminated by the golden light of the hall. He looked down at Heena, a slow, utterly shameless, dark smirk spreading across his lips as his golden eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered obsession.
"Are you satisfied with what you see, Wife?" Samuel murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.
Heena didn’t blush. She just scoffed, tapping the golden rod against his chest. "You are passable, Mr. Son-in-law. Try not to cause trouble in my house."
"The ceremonies are complete!" the Master of Ceremonies roared, completely ignoring their whispering. "Send the groom to the bridal chamber! Let the banquet begin!"
In a traditional wedding, the bride would be sent to the bedroom to sit in silence while the groom drank with the guests. But tonight, the rules were flipped.
A group of elderly maids immediately surrounded Samuel, respectfully ushering the towering, highly dangerous man out of the hall and toward the inner courtyards to "wait for his wife."
Samuel didn’t protest. He just shot Heena one last, deeply promising look before disappearing down the corridor.
Left behind in the grand hall, Heena turned to face the crowd of stunned civil officials and cheering generals. She tossed the golden rod onto a tray, grabbed a massive ceramic bowl of strong Vanguard wine, and raised it high into the air.
"Drink!" Heena ordered, the terrifying, charismatic Vanguard Madam taking full command of the night. "No one leaves this estate sober!"
The banquet swung into a completely robust, deafening rhythm, and the true life of the party was, without a doubt, the Generals.
There was a profound, fundamental difference between the military commanders and the civil officials.
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