Chapter Thirty-One: The Wedding (Part Two)

In the end, the two of them never did get to drink their wine, for there wasn’t a single scrap of vegetable left in Shaozhu’s house. Drinking without even a bite to eat—Chen Liang would have to be out of his mind to agree to that! Seeing Shaozhu’s awkwardness, Chen Liang didn’t mock him; after all, a hopeless romantic is doomed to end up with nothing in the end.

Before leaving, Shaozhu handed him a shopping list of ingredients. “Well, I’ll be off then!” Chen Liang said. “But Shaozhu, not to be harsh, but as a cook, if you’ve ended up drinking without even a nibble, you really ought to reflect on your life.”

Chen Liang truly was something else. Shaozhu was already down on his luck—rather than sympathize, he just kept fanning the flames. He really was a shameless fellow.

So the days slipped by one after another. On Sunday morning, when Chen Liang was roused from bed by his mother, Shaozhu had already set up the stove with his apprentice. Seeing Chen Liang still bleary-eyed, Shaozhu couldn't resist teasing, “Wow! You sure are living it up as the groom, not wanting to get up at all!”

Ignoring him, Chen Liang quickly went through his morning routine, then returned to his room to change into the groom’s attire his mother had pressed for him.

The so-called groom’s attire was simply a newly tailored Zhongshan suit; in this era, Western suits and ties weren’t in fashion.

He slipped on his freshly polished black leather shoes, which made him look particularly sharp and spirited.

He tossed a pack of Hongtashan cigarettes to Shaozhu, who was busy directing his apprentice in the kitchen, to shut him up. Then, Chen Dashan grabbed him by the collar and stationed him at the courtyard gate, where he was to stand tall and greet the guests.

All morning, he called out greetings to one uncle after another, until even he was getting confused by all the names. The Chen family was, after all, a family of some standing, and the flow of guests was quite complicated!

“Master Tong! You’re here! Please, come in!” At his father’s call, Chen Liang snapped awake. He didn’t care about his new clothes—he knocked his head three times on the ground in respect, then stood up. “Master, you’re here so early? I was just about to send Da Wu to fetch you by bike!”

In this era, a master wasn’t someone you casually acknowledged. As the saying goes, heaven, earth, sovereign, parents, and teacher. To accept a master was to treat him as a second father.

Especially since Chen Liang had learned all his skills from Master Tong; by the old ways, he was his true inheritor, and it was Chen Liang’s duty to care for his master in sickness and health, life and death.

“No need, I’m not so old and feeble that I can’t walk on my own,” Master Tong replied indifferently.

Master Tong was an old hand from before the founding of the country, rough around the edges and rigidly traditional. Chen Liang had received quite a few thrashings from his whip as a boy!

Once his master was settled in, Chen Liang was pulled aside by his mother, who pinned a large red silk flower onto his chest and brushed the dust off his suit.

She glanced at her strikingly handsome son and nodded in satisfaction. “Alright, it’s about time. Go fetch your bride!”

“Got it, Mom! Don’t worry, I’ll bring your daughter-in-law home safe and sound!” With that, Chen Liang dashed to the courtyard gate.

Cao Dawu and his friends were already waiting outside, each astride a bicycle.

Chen’s father’s old but well-kept bicycle had been polished to a shine, with a red silk ribbon tied to the handlebars, making it look especially festive.

Beaming with joy, Cao Dawu called out, “Let’s go, Liang! Everyone’s waiting to see your bride!”

“Let’s move!” Chen Liang waved his hand grandly, hopped onto his bike, and led the charge out the courtyard.

“Alright, let’s go!” the group of young men cheered, following him with shouts and laughter.

Along the way, many pedestrians turned to look—the wedding procession boasted a full six bicycles, quite a spectacle in those days!

Cao Dawu and his friends, full of youthful energy, pedaled hard. The distance wasn’t far to begin with, so they quickly arrived at the Zhao family’s home.

As soon as they stopped, before Chen Liang could even dismount, a group of children surrounded him at the gate, each reciting auspicious sayings, hoping for a few extra pieces of wedding candy.

Chen Liang signaled to Cao Dawu to hand out the sweets and not to delay the wedding.

Cao Dawu obligingly raised his satchel and called out to the children, “The candy’s over here! Line up, or no candy for anyone!”

“Candy time!” The children cheered and quickly lined up in front of Cao Dawu.

He counted them and handed out two pieces each—there weren’t that many candies, after all, and he couldn’t give out more than Chen’s mother had prepared.

Once the children had been sent on their way, the friends lined up at the gate. Cao Dawu produced a string of firecrackers and hung them high over the doorway with a bamboo pole, then lit them with a match.

With the crackle and pop of firecrackers filling the air, Chen Liang and his group entered the courtyard, which was already bustling with people eager to join the festivities.

Weddings in this era were much simpler than in later times; there were no red envelopes, no door games, no raucous pranks. Chen Liang and his friends simply strode straight to the Zhao family’s door.

At the entrance, Chen Liang called out, “Comrade Zhao Yusheng, I’m here to take you home!” and stepped inside.

This was the northern custom—a groom’s shout at the door signaled to the bride’s family that he was about to come in.

The lively group entered the main hall, where Comrade Xiaoyu was already packed and waiting, sitting quietly in her red dress, her face touched with a hint of face cream, her whole demeanor radiating festivity.

Her father, mother, elder brother, and younger siblings were all gathered around her. When Chen Liang entered, Zhao’s sister-in-law brought out a bowl of rice and dishes.

Xiaoyu, who had been cheerful, fell suddenly silent at the sight of the food, tears welling in her eyes as she choked down a mouthful.

This was known as the “separation meal” in the north—a dish that every member of the bride’s family must share before she marries, signifying that she is now becoming a member of her new family.

Zhao’s mother, thinking of the daughter she had raised for twenty years who was about to leave, couldn’t hold back her tears.

No matter how hard it was, she took a bite through her tears. Seeing her mother’s reddened eyes, Xiaoyu could no longer contain herself and wept openly.

She threw her arms around her mother, sobbing, “Mama, I don’t want to leave you!”

Her mother gently patted her back and said, “Silly girl, this is a happy occasion. Why are you crying? You should be happy!”