The funeral dirge swelled, a discordant symphony of suffering that vibrated through He Xiaotian’s bones. The figure, draped in crimson silk, drifted through the archway, her movements unnaturally smooth, not quite touching the ground. Her trailing gown, a ghastly canvas of stiffened, dark red, seemed to absorb the meager light in the grand, decaying hall. A heavy, embroidered veil, the color of dried blood, obscured her face, casting frosted vapors into the warm lobby. [NEW BROADCAST RULE: THE BRIDE IS PRESENT. ALL EYES ON THE GROOM!] Director Gu’s voice boomed, overriding the dirge for a moment. He Xiaotian, still maintaining his million-watt grin, carefully scanned the floating rule list. He’d only managed to skim the first few in the chaos. Now, as the bride advanced, the words flickered into sharper focus around him. [RULE #1: THE GROOM MUST ALWAYS SMILE. A GRIM FACE INVITES THE CEREMONY OF SILENCE.] [RULE #2: THE BRIDE MUST BE PLEASED. DISPLEASURE LEADS TO THE CEREMONY OF SHADOWS.] [RULE #3: DO NOT MEET THE BRIDE’S GAZE WITHOUT HER EXPRESS PERMISSION. TO DO SO INVOKES THE CEREMONY OF RUSTED PINS.] He Xiaotian’s eyes flicked to Su Ting, who had slowly lifted her head. Her face was chalk-white, eyes wide with a terror that clawed at her throat. The sheer, overwhelming presence of the bride seemed to paralyze her. Her gaze, unfocused and trembling, drifted upwards, inexorably drawn to the silhouette beneath the veil. Air caught behind her teeth in a sharp rattle. [VIEWER FEED: OOH, FRESH MEAT!] [CHATTER: SHE LOOKED! GET HER!] [STREAM POST: #RUSTEDPINS!] Before He Xiaotian could shout, before he could even move, the air around them crackled. Two of the paper-effigy servants, previously standing stiffly by the doors like forgotten mannequins, suddenly lurched forward. Their painted faces, fixed in vacant smiles, seemed to stretch, and their elongated, papery hands shot out, sharp-edged as forgotten grievances, aiming straight for Su Ting’s throat. “Woah there, easy does it!” He Xiaotian’s voice, a bastion of bright, unyielding cheer, cut through the rising panic. He didn’t drop his smile, not even as Su Ting let out a choked cry, cowering away from the lunging figures. His eyes, however, were not on her, nor on the accelerating paper figures. They were fixed, with an almost exaggerated politeness, on the crimson-veiled bride. [RULE #7: THE GROOM SHALL GUIDE THE BRIDE AT ALL TIMES. HER PATH IS HIS CONCERN.] “My apologies, ma’am!” He Xiaotian called out, his voice carrying just a touch of playful exasperation, as if addressing a slightly overzealous wedding planner. “It seems my lovely guest here is a little overwhelmed by your… grand entrance. A common occurrence, really, you have such presence!” He took a smooth step forward, interposing his body between Su Ting and the rapidly approaching paper figures. His hand, still outstretched, now offered itself to the bride. “Allow me to properly guide you to the altar, my dear. These fine folks just need a moment to compose themselves. Wouldn’t want anyone to miss a single moment of our beautiful wedding, now would we?” He spoke directly to the veiled figure, his tone gentle, almost intimate, as if he were simply reassuring a shy new acquaintance. His smile remained unwavering, even as the paper fingers, now inches from Su Ting, froze in mid-air, trembling with frustrated, papery rage. The attendants, seemingly overridden by an unseen force, slowly retracted, rustling like dry leaves. The veiled bride halted. Her head, previously held high, tilted ever so slightly. The air of ancient dread around her didn't dissipate, but it seemed to shift, like a heavy curtain stirred by an unexpected breeze. She had expected fear, outright terror, or perhaps a desperate, fumbling attempt at appeasement. She had certainly not expected this easy charm, this audacious, almost flirtatious address from a mortal who dared to interrupt her spectral attendants. “You are… bold,” a voice, silken and cool as moonlight on a winter’s night, emanated from beneath the veil. It carried the faint echo of ages, of sorrows long past, yet it lacked the raw, guttural malice of Director Gu. The bride’s voice was the sound of a forgotten lullaby played on glass chimes. “Mortals usually… tremble.” “Well, I’m not just any mortal, am I?” He Xiaotian chuckled, taking another small step closer. His hand, still extended, remained open and inviting. “I’m your groom! And a good groom makes sure his bride is comfortable, no matter the… circumstances.” He paused, his head cocked. “Though, if I may be so bold, ma’am, your veil seems to have shifted a little. Wouldn’t want it to get in the way of your grand procession, would we?” Without waiting for a response, He Xiaotian reached out, his movements fluid and unhesitating. His fingers, surprisingly warm, gently brushed against the heavy, crimson silk near her temple. The fabric felt cool, like old grave-cloth, but he didn’t flinch. He carefully adjusted the intricate lacework, easing it back into its proper position so it framed her face more evenly. For a fleeting instant, his knuckles grazed something impossibly cold beneath the veil – the faint outline of a cheekbone, perhaps, or a jaw. He withdrew his hand smoothly, his smile softening just a fraction, a genuine warmth radiating from it that seemed to momentarily thaw the frigid air. The woman in crimson stood utterly still. No one, not in centuries, had dared to touch her, not with such casual, almost tender familiarity. The soft brush of his fingers, the unexpected warmth, the gentle, teasing confidence in his voice – it was utterly disarming. The ancient fury that had simmered within her, a constant, burning ember, suddenly felt… distant. The silence stretched, broken only by the mournful dirge and Su Ting’s ragged breathing behind He Xiaotian. [AUDIENCE COMMENT: HE DIDN'T GET EATEN! BOOOO!] [AUDIENCE COMMENT: WHAT IS THIS?! I CAME FOR GORE!] [AUDIENCE COMMENT: CUTE! BUT WHERE'S THE BLOODSHED?] [RATING CRITICAL! 2.8 STARS!] Director Gu’s voice, now laced with a dangerous edge, sliced through the quiet. [VIEWERS DISAPPOINTED! NO CHAOS! NO DRAMA! WE CAN'T HAVE THAT, GROOM!] He Xiaotian barely had time to register the plummeting ratings before the Broadcast Interface flashed violently, a dizzying swirl of colors and urgent warnings. [UNSCRIPTED HAZARD ALERT!] [CROWD PARTICIPATION INITIATED!] “Looks like our viewers are getting a little antsy,” Director Gu announced, his voice dripping with malicious glee. “But don’t you worry, Groom! We’re just getting started! Let’s give them something truly unforgettable, shall we? Something… *immersive*.” As the last word hung in the air, a chilling, distant chorus of unseen voices began to rise from the depths of the opera house, a cacophony of whispers and faint, mocking laughter that promised a terror far more personal than any paper attendant. The vast doors to the main stage, previously closed, now slowly began to creak open, revealing a cavernous darkness from which a new, sickeningly sweet aroma began to drift. The show was far from over. It was about to get interactive

Rule Number Three