People say the wedding night is the night of love —
the beginning of dreams, the moment when husband and wife become one.
But for these three people…
it was a night of silence, of pain, of things no one dared to say.
/The Bridal Chamber — Where Two People Lie Beside Each Other, Yet Their Hearts Are a Lifetime Apart/
The bridal room in the Vũ residence was decorated with quiet elegance:
– warm golden lights softly illuminating every corner
– thin white curtains swaying gently with the night breeze
– lilies and lily-of-the-valley placed at the head of the bed, their pale beauty solemn and delicate, as if meant only for sacred moments
– a faint fragrance drifting slowly through the air
That night, the entire mansion was strangely quiet.
No noise.
Only the faint whisper of wind outside the corridor.
Dĩ Yến stepped out of the bathroom.
Her white silk nightdress flowed lightly around her, her hair still slightly damp, like a gentle painting under the warm lights.
Ngạo Thiên sat on the sofa, his shirt open at the collar, a glass of water in his hand.
His eyes were looking out the window, not at her.
When he noticed her, he stood.
A soft smile appeared on his lips — the smile of a perfect husband.
"Are you tired?"
His voice was so gentle that even stone might melt.
"I'm… fine."
She smiled softly, though a hint of nervousness lingered in the eyes of a new bride.
Ngạo Thiên stepped closer and placed his hand against her cheek.
His touch was careful.
Tender.
As if he feared hurting her.
Then he lowered his head and slowly kissed her forehead.
A kiss without desire.
Without possession.
Without hunger.
Instead, it carried something else.
Struggle.
Restraint.
And fear.
Fear of falling.
He whispered quietly,
"You should sleep. You've had a long day."
Her eyes widened.
"But… tonight is our wedding night."
He brushed his fingers gently through her hair and smiled — the flawless smile of a perfect husband.
"I know.
But I don't want you to be tired.
We have a lifetime ahead of us."
The words were perfect.
Too perfect.
Too gentle.
Yet inside his chest, his heart trembled like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.
He did not touch her.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because he was afraid.
Afraid that touching her would make him love her enough to betray his hatred.
Afraid that one moment of weakness would destroy a plan built over nearly twenty years.
Afraid he might forget the vow he made before his mother's grave.
So he chose another way.
He lay beside her.
Pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
Held her in his arms like a devoted husband.
His warmth surrounded her.
But his heart tightened painfully.
Dĩ Yến closed her eyes.
Her heart felt warm.
Yet somewhere deep inside lingered the faintest trace of disappointment.
She did not know what that feeling was called.
She only knew one thing.
Their wedding night was very… quiet.
A silence that felt almost frightening.
/Ngạo Thần — The First Time in His Life He Drank Until He Was Drunk/
In another room of the Vũ residence, Ngạo Thần poured himself a drink.
He was never a heavy drinker.
All his life he had remained clear-headed, rational, calm enough to handle anything.
But tonight… he did not want clarity.
He wanted to forget.
To forget the ceremony.
To forget the moment she looked at him.
To forget the pain crushing his chest as she walked beside his brother down the aisle.
To forget the moment she spoke her vows.
To forget the truth that she had become his brother's wife.
He drank one glass.
Then another.
Then another.
Even when his vision blurred slightly, he forced a smile.
"Congratulations… Yến."
He spoke to his reflection in the mirror.
But his voice was hoarse.
Broken.
So painful that even he felt a chill hearing it.
At that moment, his mother passed by the doorway and saw him sitting alone in the dark.
She stopped.
She didn't enter.
But she couldn't walk away either.
She knew he was hurting.
Hurting so deeply that he needed alcohol just to keep himself from breaking apart.
Yet he continued drinking as if the wine alone could restrain the heart cracking inside him.
Triệu Ái Huệ stood outside the door.
A tear slipped down her face quickly.
She could not touch that pain.
She could not save her son from his own heart.
She could not change the truth that the woman he loved had become his sister-in-law.
/Two Rooms — Two Different Silences/
That night, the entire Vũ residence slept.
Except for two rooms.
One room — the bridal chamber.
Silent.
No urgent breaths.
No passion.
Only a gentle kiss on the forehead and restrained emotions.
Another room — where wine spilled across the floor, and a man's heart fell with every drop.
Ngạo Thiên lay beside his new wife, his eyes open in the darkness.
He listened to her steady breathing.
He breathed in the soft fragrance of her hair.
Everything about her made his heart want to destroy his own plan.
Quietly, he held her hand as she slept.
For a moment, he wanted to keep her forever.
But staring at the ceiling, he whispered softly:
"Mother… I'm about to return everything."
She did not hear.
She did not know.
She could not know.
In another room, Ngạo Thần had fallen asleep at the table.
A bottle lay tipped over.
A drop of red wine slipped from the rim of the glass and fell onto his wrist.
It looked like… a drop of blood.
Message of Chapter 16
Some wedding nights are not meant for love, but for silence.
Some husbands restrain themselves not because they do not want to — but because they cannot allow themselves to.
And some men drink not because the wine is strong…
but because their hearts are too fragile.