Chapter 1: The Wedding of Humiliation

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmurs of disdain. Lin Mo stood at the entrance of the Li family's grand hall, his hands clenched tightly around the edges of his threadbare robes. The fabric, once a deep indigo, had faded to a dull gray, a stark contrast to the vibrant silks and jewels adorning the guests around him. He was a weed in a garden of peonies, out of place and unwelcome.

The Li family's ancestral hall was a monument to their wealth and power. Intricately carved wooden beams stretched high above, painted in gold and crimson. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room, but their light did little to warm Lin Mo's chilled heart. He could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on him, each gaze sharper than a blade, cutting into his pride.

"Lin Mo," a voice called, sharp and imperious. It was Madam Li, his soon-to-be mother-in-law, her face a mask of barely concealed contempt. "Come forward. It's time."

Lin Mo swallowed hard, his throat dry as dust. He stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. The guests parted like a sea, their whispers following him like a shadow.

"Look at him," someone sneered. "A beggar in a nobleman's hall."

"How could the Li family stoop so low?" another muttered.

Lin Mo kept his head down, his cheeks burning. He knew why he was here. His family's poverty had left him no choice. His father's death and his mother's failing health had forced him into this arrangement—a marriage of convenience, a transaction disguised as a union. He was to be the Li family's son-in-law, a mere ornament to their name, a pawn in their game of power.

At the front of the hall stood Li Wan'er, his bride-to-be. She was beautiful, her features delicate and refined, but her eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. She glanced at him, her lips curling in a faint sneer before she looked away, as if he were beneath her notice.

The ceremony began, a blur of rituals and incantations. Lin Mo recited his vows in a voice barely above a whisper, his words drowned out by the murmurs of the crowd. When it was over, he felt no joy, no sense of accomplishment. Only a deep, gnawing emptiness.

The feast that followed was a spectacle of excess. Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies—roast duck, steamed fish, dumplings filled with minced pork and fragrant herbs. Lin Mo sat at the edge of the table, ignored by the guests around him. He picked at his food, his appetite gone.

"Lin Mo," a voice said, cutting through the noise. It was Li Wan'er's cousin, a young man with a cruel smile. "Tell us, how does it feel to marry above your station?"

The table erupted in laughter. Lin Mo's hands trembled, but he said nothing. He had learned long ago that silence was his only defense.

The night wore on, the laughter and chatter growing louder. Lin Mo slipped away, seeking refuge in the quiet of the courtyard. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. He leaned against a tree, closing his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

"Pathetic," a voice said, sharp and cold. Lin Mo opened his eyes to see Li Wan'er standing before him, her arms crossed, her expression one of disdain. "Do you really think you belong here? You're nothing but a burden to my family."

Lin Mo met her gaze, his heart pounding. "I didn't ask for this," he said quietly.

"And yet here you are," she replied, her voice dripping with scorn. "Remember your place, Lin Mo. You may wear the title of son-in-law, but you will never be one of us."

She turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the night. Lin Mo stood there, his fists clenched, his chest tight with anger and shame. He looked up at the moon, its cold light a reminder of his loneliness.

But as he turned to leave, something caught his eye—a glint of gold beneath the tree's roots. He knelt, brushing away the dirt to reveal a small, intricately carved box. Inside was a book, its pages yellowed with age. The title, written in elegant calligraphy, read: The Celestial Codex of Feng Shui.

Lin Mo's heart raced as he flipped through the pages, his eyes widening at the diagrams and symbols within. This was no ordinary book. It was a treasure trove of ancient knowledge, a key to a world he had never dared to dream of.

For the first time that night, a faint smile touched his lips. Perhaps this was his chance—not just to survive, but to rise above the humiliation, to carve out a place for himself in a world that had always looked down on him.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of plum blossoms. Lin Mo tucked the book into his robes and stood, his resolve hardening. The night was no longer cold, the moon no longer distant. He had found his path, and he would walk it, no matter the cost.