Wedding.
A marriage.
A bride’s departure.
The joyous union of two souls.
This was a day worth celebrating—one that Aunt Zhang had specially consulted the almanac for, selecting an auspicious date well in advance.
Under Xu Xi’s watchful gaze, Niu led a grand wedding procession with a shy smile, taking away the bride clad in her crimson wedding attire.
Vibrant red silks hung elegantly from the carved eaves of the house.
Candles flickered atop the ornately decorated altar in the hall.
The excited voices of the crowd.
The rustling of movement as people walked about.
All of it stirred faint breezes, making the candle flames sway at their tips.
Indirectly, the shifting light cast undulating shadows across the walls, spreading like a gentle, flowing embrace.
Bathed in the interplay of light and shadow, Niu and Cui Er stepped into the house, their bodies trembling slightly from nervousness.
“Bow to the elders!”
A master of ceremonies bellowed at the top of his lungs.
There was no ritual of bowing to Heaven and Earth.
For the survivors who had broken free from the cages of demonic oppression, their deliverance had not come from divine favor.
Instead, it was earned through their own labor, step by step, until the soles of their shoes wore ragged—carving their own path toward tomorrow.
Thus, at Niu’s wedding, the couple bowed only to their parents.
The honest man had once suggested to Xu Xi that, on this important day, he should also bow to him in gratitude for his past kindness.
But Xu Xi had merely smiled and refused.
“Niu, the one who truly saved you wasn’t me—it was yourself.”
“If you really want to thank me, just bring me a sheaf of wheat at harvest.”
Whoosh—!
Whoosh—!
Whoosh—!
Dressed in formal attire and looking slightly stiff, Niu followed the ceremonial master’s lead, completing the final mutual bow with his bride, whose face was hidden beneath a red veil.
The crowd erupted into raucous cheers.
The surging energy of martial cultivation—the lifeblood of warriors—resounded over the house.
Among the guests were survivors from the Resistance, as well as new friends Niu had made in the real world.
One such friend was Wang Dali, a muscular martial artist who had once accompanied Xu Xi into the ruins of the Heavenly Sword Sect.
At that moment, the burly man was shedding tears like a sentimental giant, shouting, “Brother Niu, you better be happy!”
The scene was so absurd yet heartwarming that Xu Xi couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Smoother than expected.”
“Then again, not everything has to go wrong.”
At the wedding banquet, Xu Xi picked up a piece of tender shrimp with his chopsticks, savoring it slowly.
At the same time, he withdrew the spiritual energy he had been using to envelop the wedding house.
From beginning to end, he had been watching over Niu’s ceremony, silently safeguarding it against any unforeseen mishaps.
Luckily, everything had gone smoothly.
Following tradition, after the mutual bow, Niu and his bride retreated to the inner chambers for further ceremonial rites.
Aunt Zhang had been meticulous about this, giving Niu endless reminders.
“Ma, I got it!”
Niu responded with his usual good-natured grin.
As the newlyweds disappeared into the inner chambers, the spacious hall was left to the guests, who raised their cups in merriment.
…
Xu Xi and Wu Yingxue were seated apart from the others.
They had an entire red-lacquered table to themselves.
The table was laden with an extravagant spread—cold dishes and hot delicacies intermingled.
Xu Xi ate slowly, his mouth savoring the flavors while his eyes reflected the passage of time.
“I hope Niu stays happy from now on,” he silently wished.
No one lacked rice anymore.
No one starved to death anymore.
It was only natural that little Niu should have his own happiness.
“Sir, open wide—ah—”
A voice sounded beside him.
Xu Xi instinctively parted his lips, only realizing belatedly that Wu Yingxue had just popped a fried meatball into his mouth.
“Sir, you shouldn’t look so gloomy on such a happy occasion.”
“Here, eat more.”
Wu Yingxue sat beside him, dressed in a pale green gown, her hair adorned with floral pins. Her eyes curved like crescent moons as she smiled.
Then, with lightning speed, she piled a small mountain of food onto Xu Xi’s plate.
The embroidered cuffs of her sleeves rippled with her movements, outlining the shape of her arms as they rose and fell over the table.
“Yingxue.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“I’m not actually that hungry.”
“Huh!?”
The princess blinked.
She had apparently, out of habit, equated her own appetite with Xu Xi’s, serving him far too much.
If he didn’t eat it, didn’t that mean she had just caused him trouble?
“It’s fine, Yingxue.”
Xu Xi, noticing her embarrassment, smiled. “It’s not like I can’t finish this much. Just don’t add any more.”
“Really, Sir?”
“Really.”
He resumed eating at a leisurely pace.
Wu Yingxue sat beside him, her movements more refined than usual—perhaps due to the long dress—chewing delicately, her demeanor poised.
Occasionally, she would fuss over herself.
Adjusting the strands of hair at her forehead.
Rearranging the pins in her hair.
Smoothing the collar of her dress.
Did Sir notice these imperfections?
Would he think less of her because of them?
Should she be more meticulous, making herself more beautiful to leave a better impression?
Thoughts like these flitted through her mind as she ate, slowing her pace until her appetite seemed to shrink entirely.
The sunlight streamed in, hazy and indistinct—much like the princess’s restless heart.
Finally, Wu Yingxue abandoned such worries.
Because Xu Xi caught onto her restlessness and lightly tapped her forehead.
“You already look lovely. No need to change anything.”
Sir said she was lovely.
He said it himself.
So, the princess grinned foolishly and settled down at last.
She ate the wedding feast’s dishes while mimicking Xu Xi’s manner—observing the guests, witnessing the turning point in Niu’s life.
“Sir, are you interested in marriage?”
The princess suddenly asked.
Xu Xi thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Not particularly. I just wanted to see Niu’s wedding through to the end.”
Time moved silently.
Ever-flowing, unceasing.
The honest young man who had once trailed behind Xu Xi, calling him Big Brother Xu with every other breath, had finally reached the age of starting his own family.
Xu Xi smiled, happily witnessing that growth—and feeling genuinely pleased.
“Then…”
Wu Yingxue’s voice paused. “Has Sir ever thought about when he might marry?”
Her fingers twisted a strand of hair.
Winding it tightly, then letting it unravel.
She asked the question while tilting her head slightly away, her tone airy—as if it were nothing more than a casual inquiry.
“I don’t really have any thoughts on that right now.”
Xu Xi answered honestly.
“Oh?”
Wu Yingxue’s eyes narrowed, her voice lilting upward.
She set down her chopsticks, cleared her throat with a fist pressed to her lips.
“Ahem, ahem!”
Perhaps she was steadying her nerves.
Or maybe steeling her resolve.
After a deep breath, under Xu Xi’s puzzled gaze, she spoke solemnly:
“Sir, I have a bold proposal.”