Chapter Ten: The Terrifying Betrothal

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I thought I’d misheard, so I asked, “What, my betrothal gift?”

“You heard right. This is your betrothal gift.”

As she spoke, Granny Wang pushed the redwood box toward me. I was stunned. Then she said, “What’s wrong? Are you not a man of your word? Didn’t you just say you’d do anything? Now you’re backing out?”

“If you don’t want to save Lin Tianjian, I won’t force you. After all, he’s your grandfather, not mine!” she added, making a motion to take the box back.

I immediately pressed my hand on the box.

“Wait.”

In the countryside, marrying a wife isn’t easy, especially in a remote, poor village like ours at the foot of Old Jieling Mountain. The local girls all dreamed of marrying out, and no outsiders wanted to marry in. That’s why, when Honest Brother got married—his wife being so beautiful—it caused such a stir in the village. Most of those who spoke ill at first were simply envious.

Now that this was a betrothal gift, Granny Wang’s intentions were obvious: she wanted to arrange a marriage for me. If I could settle my lifelong affair and save my grandfather at the same time, wouldn’t that be killing two birds with one stone?

But then again, could such a good thing really fall into my lap?

The only explanation I could think of was that Granny Wang truly was my grandmother—she just refused to admit it, but still cared for her own grandson.

These thoughts flashed through my mind, and I asked, “Granny Wang, you mean to say you’ll arrange a marriage for me, and then my grandfather can be saved?”

“Exactly!” she replied without hesitation.

I’d thought I misunderstood, but Granny Wang really did mean that. I pressed further, “Then... can you tell me whose daughter she is? What is she like?”

Granny Wang’s lips curved in a subtle smile. “Her family name is Ye. Her given name is Weiyang. In both figure and looks, she’s absolutely first-class. I’m not exaggerating—there’s not another girl in ten neighboring villages who can even compare.”

Ye Weiyang. A pleasant name.

Still, Granny Wang’s words sounded a bit too extravagant—no matchmaker in the village could spin tales like she did.

Sensing my disbelief, she added, “Don’t doubt me, child. Every word I say is true.”

If she were truly that beautiful, why would she need a matchmaker?

I figured she must have some flaw.

Of course, I still had to agree for now—saving my grandfather came first, and the rest could be dealt with later. With that in mind, I stuffed the wooden box into my pocket and said, “Alright, Granny Wang, I’ll leave my lifelong happiness in your hands. But... my grandfather’s situation is urgent. Could you help him first? Don’t worry—no matter who the girl is, whether she’s mute or simple-minded, as long as you can save my grandfather, I’ll accept it!”

Granny Wang smiled again. “Don’t worry, she’s neither mute nor dull. When you meet her, you’ll surely like her.”

“Child, if you want to save your grandfather, you must first settle your engagement. Because the one who can save him is not me, but your future wife,” she added.

“She’s a shaman too?” I asked, puzzled.

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My question made Granny Wang burst out laughing. Shaking her head, she said my future wife wasn’t a shaman; in modern terms, she was an unparalleled goddess.

I’d thought she would save my grandfather first and let me worry about marriage later. After all, I believed a loveless marriage could never be happy.

But my calculations were off—Granny Wang was even shrewder than me. She insisted on sealing the engagement before any help could be given. Left with no choice, I asked about my grandfather’s condition, whether there’d be issues if we waited. She reassured me: as long as his “second nine” had not arrived, he’d be fine. Once my engagement was set and the karmic bond formed, my grandfather’s trouble would be a trivial matter.

I inquired about this “second nine.” Granny Wang said there were seven days left—which, as it happened, would be my eighteenth birthday.

All I wanted was to save my grandfather, so I suggested setting the engagement the very next day. But Granny Wang said she had already checked our horoscopes—the next day wasn’t auspicious. The right day was in seven days, precisely the “second nine” deadline.

So she told me to wait in peace.

She specifically instructed me not to open the redwood box before then. If the secret were revealed, not only would I lose my bride, but my grandfather would lose his life.

As I left, I asked if she had a photo of my future wife. Usually, blind dates come with pictures. Granny Wang said no, as if determined to preserve the mystery to the end.

Then she gave me a protective talisman.

It was a yellow paper charm, folded into a triangle and strung on a red cord. She tied it around my wrist. I asked what it was for. She said, to keep me safe from spirits if I walked at night.

With that, my courage grew.

I fixed my bicycle and headed home alone, heavy-hearted. Though my happiness was at stake, at least there was hope for my grandfather.

The next day, I heard that Old Gen had passed away. He’d exchanged the yellow fox pelt for a good sum from the peddler, but never got to spend it. Neighbors said they’d seen the peddler visit Old Gen’s house at dusk, and soon after, Old Gen left with him.

I remembered what the peddler had said before leaving—he needed to borrow water from another house. He must have gone to Old Gen’s.

Niu Dahuang told me privately that yellow foxes were sinister creatures. The peddler hadn’t really bought the pelt; he’d bought Old Gen’s life.

Niu Dahuang warned me to be especially wary of the peddler in the coming days. Don’t open the door, especially at dusk or on cloudy days.

Those seven days felt endlessly long.

The corpse spots on my grandfather grew by the day.

Later, Niu Dahuang gave him a different, purplish-black pill to hold in his mouth, which seemed to slow the spread of the spots.

Several times, I was tempted to open the redwood box to see what was inside. But after much thought, I resisted.

After all, my grandfather’s life depended on it—this was no game.

I couldn’t help but imagine what my future bride would be like. Was she really as stunning as Granny Wang described?

I doubted it. If she were that amazing, would a poor boy like me ever have a chance?

Granny Wang never insisted I keep this engagement secret. When Niu Dahuang asked, I didn’t hide it. He just nodded, not looking too surprised.

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He said, “After all, she’s your grandmother. She’s still looking out for you.”

Erpang came over to visit, and when he heard about my engagement, he grinned from ear to ear. He teased that I was still a boy and already had a wife lined up. He even joked about me having a child so he could be called uncle.

I kicked him, and rubbing his backside, he muttered that Granny Wang was always mysterious, often seen with the Taoist nuns from Baiqing Temple in the county. Why was she suddenly matchmaking?

Then Erpang seemed to think of something. “Boss, Granny Wang isn’t setting you up with one of those nuns from Baiqing Temple, is she? Think about it—if the girl’s as beautiful as she says, why would she be used as a bargaining chip to save your grandfather? I bet one of the nuns wants to return to secular life, so she asked Granny Wang for help. Granny Wang couldn’t refuse, and right then, you came along needing her help—perfect timing for her to do you both a favor.”

His reasoning left me dumbstruck, my mind in chaos.

It wasn’t that I had anything against the nuns at Baiqing Temple, but I’d been there with my grandfather to burn incense, and all the nuns were in their forties or fifties—completely inappropriate!

They say growing up comes with troubles, but I never expected to face such a thorny one so soon.

It felt like my life had suddenly sunk to a low point.

I asked Niu Dahuang about it. He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his pipe, then ruffled my hair and told me not to worry. Granny Wang’s choice might be older than me, but not by that much.

Was that supposed to be reassuring?

Seven days passed without incident. My grandfather’s condition remained stable, and the peddler never returned.

As agreed, on the morning of the seventh day, I went to Granny Wang’s home in Dongwa Village. I asked if I should prepare any gifts or money for the engagement. The little wooden box in my hand seemed so meager. Granny Wang said there was no need—she’d taken care of it all.

I asked where the girl’s family lived. I had no other relatives, so only Granny Wang could accompany me as an elder.

But Granny Wang said there was no rush—it would be done that evening.

“An engagement at night, Granny Wang? Isn’t that a bit improper?” I thought she’d misspoken and asked.

She countered, “What’s improper about it? Child, I checked your horoscopes. Tonight is the right time.”

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing strange. The timing is right for a harmonious marriage and a happy union. It’s all for your own good,” Granny Wang said.

I had no way to refute her—matters of yin and yang, fate and fortune, were beyond me.

Then Granny Wang took me to check over the engagement gifts, and I was completely stunned. Only then did I understand why, despite her hatred for my grandfather, this marriage could become the price for saving him.