Chapter 637: Chapter-637
In the civil court, men fought for positions, whispered behind fans, and secretly prayed for their rivals’ downfall just to climb one step higher on the political ladder. But the generals were a family forged in blood. You could never expect a Vanguard general to covet another’s position, because every single one of them had stared death in the face together. They knew the heavy, agonizing weight of holding the front lines. They respected each other’s survival. There was no jealousy, no backstabbing—only the fierce, unbreakable harmony of men who had spent their lives sleeping in the mud, fighting bandits, and protecting the borders.
Because of this, their way of celebrating was completely feral and utterly beautiful.
Normally, an aristocratic wedding banquet was a stiff, heavily regulated affair. The younger generation would spend their time formally teasing the groom with poetry, while the older generation sat rigidly at their tables, sipping weak tea and watching elegant dances.
The Generals threw every single ounce of nobility and manners straight out the window.
A massive wooden stage had been constructed in the center of the courtyard, originally intended for the famous male and female courtesans hired from the capital’s top pavilions. The courtesans had planned to perform the traditional, silent dances of peace—slowly waving their silk sleeves and fans. Instead, the massive, battle-scarred generals completely hijacked the stage.
They jumped around, beating the heavy ceremonial drums and gongs themselves with deafening, chaotic enthusiasm. They danced wildly with a massive roasted turkey leg in one hand and a sloshing ceramic bowl of wine in the other. They completely abandoned their stiff aristocratic postures, laughing so hard the sound echoed off the estate walls.
The civil officials, huddled in the corners of the courtyard, watched the spectacle in absolute, clutching horror.
"Barbarians," one of the scholars whispered, shielding his face with his silk sleeve as a drop of spilled wine flew through the air. "Complete, uncultured barbarians!"
The generals didn’t give a single damn about the scholars’ disgust. In fact, they found it hilarious. Several of the drunker military commanders actively went out of their way to tease the stiff, terrified civil officials, loudly offering them massive bowls of strong liquor or pulling them by their pristine white robes into the chaotic dancing circle, much to the scholars’ absolute misery.
But what truly cemented the night in the empire’s history was the open doors.
Heena had explicitly ordered the heavy iron gates of the Vanguard estate to be thrown completely open to the public. For the first time in the history of the capital, a high-noble aristocratic wedding was not restricted to the elite. Anyone could enter. Civilians, commoners, and street merchants poured into the outer courtyards, their eyes wide with awe at the thousands of glowing diyas and the colorful rice patterns on the ground.
While the commoners knew they couldn’t cause trouble at a noble’s estate, the atmosphere was so incredibly infectious that the boundary between the aristocracy and the civilians completely dissolved.
People were laughing. Commoners were raising their own cups to toast the generals. And the street children, completely fearless, ran right up onto the wooden stage, joining the massive, scarred generals in jumping around and dancing to the thunderous beat of the drums.
Standing on the steps of the main hall, Heena leaned against one of the thick wooden pillars, holding her cup of wine. She watched a heavily scarred Vanguard lieutenant spin a laughing street child around in the air while the civil scholars sulked in the background.
The pain in her head was still a dull, heavy throb, but looking at the sheer, unfiltered joy radiating through the courtyard, a genuine, completely unmasked smile broke across her face. This was exactly why she had fought so hard. This was the life she was tearing the timeline apart to protect.
.
.
.
After half an hour of Heena completely hijacking the banquet—dancing with her lieutenants, downing bowls of strong Vanguard wine, and laughing loudly enough to make the civil scholars shudder—she finally managed to slip away to the quieter edges of the courtyard to catch her breath.
The heavy dose of painkillers was starting to wear off, and the familiar, dull throb was creeping back up her neck. She stood in the shadows, letting the cool night air brush against her face.
A small, intricately painted porcelain cup of water was suddenly passed to her.
Heena turned to take it, her eyes immediately locking onto the person offering it. It was the Prime Minister’s Third Wife.
Heena accepted the cup with a completely unbothered smile. "I do not remember hiring the Prime Minister’s wife as a waiter."
The Third Wife offered a soft, guarded smile. "And I did not know that a person could dance so cheerfully at an aristocratic wedding."
"You mean a girl, right?" Heena corrected, taking a sip of the water.
The woman nodded slightly. "Well, my lady is really different."
"You mean barbaric?" Heena challenged dryly.
The Third Wife shook her head, her gaze drifting toward the thousands of glowing diyas and the laughing Vanguard generals. "No. I mean I have never seen such a beautiful wedding."
"Your husband actually thinks it’s a barbaric party," Heena pointed out.
The Third Wife closed her eyes for a brief second. When she opened them, a profound, cynical weariness bled through her heavy makeup. "Men always think that when they encounter something that is entirely out of their control."
Heena paused, genuinely impressed. "Nice answer."
She set the cup of water down on the stone ledge beside her.
Seeing the subtle movement, the Third Wife’s smile tightened slightly. "I am not going to poison you."
"Well, I don’t know that for sure," Heena replied casually.
"Fair enough," the Third Wife conceded smoothly. She looked back at Heena, her eyes scanning the heavy red silk and the gold crown. "Well, congratulations on your wedding."
"Hmm, it’s good," Heena shrugged.
The Third Wife tilted her head, her sharp intuition cutting through the joyous atmosphere. "You do not look quite happy like other brides."
"And where do I not look happy?" Heena defended herself, crossing her arms. "I am cheerful, I am dancing, and my family is throwing a massive party. I think I am much happier than any noble lady getting married to some old official she has never met."
"Yeah, you look happy," the Third Wife agreed softly. "But you do not look as happy as a newlywed bride should be. There is no actual love in your eyes."
Heena completely froze. For a second, the cold Vanguard Madam slipped, before she threw her head back and let out a sharp, cynical laugh.
"My lady, I certainly did not expect the ’love’ talk to come from you," Heena countered, raising a mocking eyebrow.
The Third Wife didn’t take offense. She just smiled softly. "Well... fair enough."
Heena leaned against the stone pillar. "So, what about my gift?"
"Well," the Third Wife reached into her silk sleeve. "I originally wanted to give you my jade hairpin. But I thought that you might not like something officially given from the Prime Minister’s house."
"Did you just forget a gift entirely?" Heena asked bluntly.
"No, I brought something else," the Third Wife said, pulling out a delicate, intricate piece of gold jewelry.
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