Old Xiucai’s house was the liveliest place in Taoxi Village today. The bridal sedan chair had not yet arrived, yet the courtyard was already crowded with people.

Old Xiucai had been standing outside the gate for a long while, but he did not look tired in the least, always wearing a full smile as he welcomed each guest who came bearing gifts.

“Old Zhou, congratulations, congratulations.”

Mengshi handed over the things in his hands, smiling.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Old Xiucai received the items and passed them to his eldest son beside him, then noticed, in the distance, a pair of youths walking very slowly, not yet close enough—“Those would be your niece and nephew?”

“Wrong.”

Mengshi noticed at a glance several young girls who had come with their parents looking in that direction. A thought crossed his mind, and he shook his head, smiling amiably. “One is my niece, the other is my niece’s husband.”

“Niece’s husband?”

At the small school, Old Xiucai had often heard Mengshi mention his niece, but never that boy. Hearing this now, he was somewhat surprised. “Already married?”

The one marrying today was Old Xiucai’s late-born son. His eldest son’s daughter was already fifteen or sixteen now. Previously, at the small temple fair in the village, many had seen that boy’s fine looks—his granddaughter included. He had even wondered whether a marriage might be arranged, but they turned out not to be siblings?

At this moment, the boy and the girl gradually approached. Old Xiucai looked them over again—indeed, they did not resemble each other. The girl’s complexion was much darker; though her features were pretty, her face bore many blemishes. Then, looking again at the boy…

They did not seem… all that well matched.

“A childhood betrothal,” Mengshi said calmly. “Both our families have fallen on hard times, so we can only rely on one another. My niece’s husband is determined to obtain scholarly honors, and then welcome my niece through the door in an eight-carried bridal sedan. If not for his needing a quiet place to study, we would not have come to this place.”

“So that’s how it is…” Old Xiucai stroked his beard. Seeing the handsome youth looking listless, clearly someone who had stayed up late studying by lamplight, and noticing how, even while yawning, he still did not forget to pull the girl beside him aside to avoid a small puddle in the middle of the path, Old Xiucai completely gave up his earlier thoughts.

“Uncle Mengshi.”

Shang Rong did not know what they were talking about, but the gazes of the people gathered at the gate were all fixed on her and Zhe Zhu, making her somewhat uncomfortable.

“This is Old Zhou.” Mengshi smiled as he introduced the old xiucai to her.

Shang Rong saw that Old Xiucai’s beard and hair were both completely white. She gave a slight nod and said, “Old Mister Zhou.”

Old Xiucai smiled, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening. Just as he was about to say something, he heard the sound of music and clamor drawing nearer. His eyes instantly brightened, and many people in the courtyard ran out as well, crowding together and shouting, “The bride has arrived.”

Shang Rong could not help but turn her face, following everyone’s gaze. There were no horses in the village; the young groom rode a donkey, wearing a brightly colored wedding robe as he walked at the very front.

Everyone surrounded that red sedan chair, all with joy on their faces, beating gongs and drums with great enthusiasm.

The sedan stopped at the gate. The matchmaker twisted her plump figure as she called for the groom to kick the sedan door. The people around were noisy and bustling. Zhe Zhu leaned against the courtyard wall, watching with evident interest.

The bride, holding a round fan to cover her face, entered the door with the groom, holding a length of red silk together. The people gathered at the gate also surged into the courtyard all at once.

This was the first time Shang Rong had watched someone get married.

She followed Zhe Zhu into the main hall. On the table, dragon-and-phoenix red candles burned brightly; longan and peanuts were piled into small mountains on plates; the red paper-cut double happiness character (囍) on the central wall shimmered with a glowing sheen.

Everyone laughed and joked as the newlyweds bowed in ceremony amid the chanting.

“When Yaoyao’s mother and I married, there weren’t this many people.” Mengshi watched as the bride was escorted to the bridal chamber. Clapping his hands, he said to Shang Rong and Zhe Zhu beside him.

He was an orphan, with few family members. His master at Baiyu Zichang Temple had been unable to attend, and his wife’s natal family was also small. Living in the mountains with hardly any neighbors, it had never been this lively.

“Are people who get married all this happy?”

Shang Rong looked at the groom with a face full of smiles, yet in her mind surfaced Xue Danshuang’s face. When the Xue family and the Zhao family had set the wedding date, she had been the same—her eyes and brows always curved gently.

“It depends on whom you marry,” the surrounding voices were noisy, so Mengshi leaned closer to the two of them and said, “If you marry someone you truly cherish, then naturally every glance and smile will be steeped in sweetness. But if you marry someone for whom you feel nothing, then it can only be torment.”

After hearing this, Shang Rong said nothing for quite a while.

Dusk soon arrived. Banquet tables were set up in the courtyard, and the fragrance of food and wine filled the entire Zhou family courtyard. The villagers at the same table discussed spring planting and farm work. Shang Rong suddenly felt her sleeve tugged. She turned her face and saw the boy’s eyes shining. He pointed at the young people running toward the back courtyard and said, “It looks like something fun is happening.”

“They’re going to tease the bridal chamber,”

Mengshi was drinking with others. Hearing this, he turned his head to look and said with a smile, “Why don’t you two go have a look as well?”

What was teasing the bridal chamber?

Shang Rong did not understand, but before she could ask Mengshi, the boy had already pulled her to her feet, and she was passively led along with his steps toward the back courtyard.

Laughter filled the bridal room. As Shang Rong followed Zhe Zhu inside, she saw that the bride had already completed the qushan ritual, revealing a face like blossoming peach flowers. Her eyes flowed with shy emotion, and together with the groom, whose cheeks were also flushed, she drank the hejin wine.

Zhe Zhu glanced at the two wine cups placed on a tray by the bride and groom, connected with red silk.

So this was how one drank wine when getting married.

The groom had several close friends. Taking advantage of the couple’s shyness, they tossed out teasing remarks one after another.

The bride’s face flushed completely red. Suppressing her laughter, she grabbed the red dates and longans spread over the bright red quilt and threw them at them.

The few people standing in front of Shang Rong suddenly dodged aside. She was unprepared. Just as the red date was about to strike her forehead, a hand reached out and steadily caught it.

Shang Rong’s eyelashes fluttered once as she stared at the beautiful lines of the boy’s hand.

Without her noticing, the sky outside had dimmed somewhat. The orange-yellow lamplight in the room reflected on his profile. Shang Rong watched as he popped that red date into his mouth, then slowly peeled the skin off a longan and held the plump flesh to her lips.

Everyone was watching the newlyweds on the wedding bed, including him.

Even when feeding her the longan flesh, he did not look at her. He still watched with interest as the wedding matron made the newlyweds do this and that.

Amid the lively noise, people crowded both in front of and behind Shang Rong. She bit down on the longan flesh. Its moist sweetness filled her lips and teeth. She silently gazed at the boy’s profile, watching his eyes curve.

The corners of her lips moved slightly, lifting faintly, unconsciously.

The full moon hung high, the sky full of stars like frost. Shang Rong and Zhe Zhu came out from the bridal room, and the clamorous voices from the front courtyard were clearly audible.

“You stared at the bride’s headdress for a long time.”

As he walked, Zhe Zhu crushed the swaying shadows of the trees on the ground beneath his feet.

“The golden phoenix on her crown was very beautiful.” Shang Rong followed him as she answered.

Even she herself had not noticed that from some moment tonight, her tone had become a little lighter than before.

“What’s so rare about that? If you marry, you’ll have one too,” Zhe Zhu said, then felt something was off, so he turned his face to look at her. “Perhaps yours would be ten thousand times more beautiful than hers.”

Moonlight fell on the boy’s shoulders, casting a silver-white glow. Hearing his words suddenly, Shang Rong could not help but lift her head and meet his gaze.

An inexplicable emotion churned in her chest, restless and unceasing. She suddenly turned her face away and shook her head. “I cannot marry, Zhe Zhu.”

Zhe Zhu was taken aback. “Why?”

“That is something decided from the moment I was born,” Shang Rong’s voice grew very soft, carrying a trace of confusion. “I myself don’t know why. There are so many things in this world that others can do, but I cannot.”

Without realizing it, her head lowered further.

Laughter and chatter kept drifting over from the front courtyard. Beneath the dense shade scattered with flecks of moonlight, the boy quietly gazed at the crown of her jet-black hair. Suddenly, he lifted a finger and pressed it lightly against her chin, forcing her to raise her head.

“Didn’t you say you have eaten meat with me, drunk wine with me,” Zhe Zhu stared at the face she had deliberately painted with various blemishes, “how is it that those rules can be broken, but this one cannot?”

“Shang Rong,” the boy’s cool features were unrestrained and striking, “on what grounds must you abide by things imposed on you by others?”