Chapter Four: The Grand Wedding

When he was a child, because of the glaringly red score of 46 at the top right corner of his math test’s first page, Su Yuan suffered a double beating from his parents. In a fit of anger, he packed his Ultraman-printed backpack and ran away from home. To call it running away was an exaggeration; all he did was hide in a doghouse amidst a haystack in the neighboring village.

His stomach, however, refused to cooperate. By dinnertime the next day, Su Yuan returned with his head hanging low, only to receive another round of parental onslaught.

Now, years after weathering the storms of society, Su Yuan would never again allow himself to go hungry. Dignity—what did it matter? After all those years of study, after clocking in and out of the nine-to-six grind, what were people striving for? For the sake of the world, for the continuation of the great sages’ teachings, for the peace of all ages? Nonsense! It was all for a meal.

Su Yuan bade farewell to the old man but didn’t return home immediately—it wasn’t mealtime yet. Seizing the opportunity, he wandered leisurely through the village.

Perhaps it was because breakfast was over, but the village roads were starting to fill with people. There were men heading to the fields with hoes slung over their shoulders, and women carrying wooden basins to the river to wash clothes. Men who recognized Su Yuan’s body often greeted him with the indescribable, affable smiles of elders: “Xiao Suhang, out so early today!” The women, on occasion, would reach out and pinch his chubby cheeks.

When he came across a woman of some beauty, Su Yuan would proactively offer his cheek, and as she left, he would take the chance to study her waist and hips. Su Yuan sighed, “Still too many layers of clothing…”

He reminisced about the past—girls striding confidently through neon-lit streets clad in leopard-print bandeaus, leather shorts, or school uniforms, impossible not to inspire wicked thoughts. Yet, strangely, if you stared boldly at their proud chests or exaggerated hips, you’d be scolded as a pervert.

Thinking of the beauties he’d seen on the streets and in short videos, Su Yuan had a bold idea. As a model youth of modern times, he had never stepped foot in those late-night salons glowing red, nor in dim alleys lined with women of special professions. But now, in this ancient time, brothels were surely legal.

The corners of Su Yuan’s mouth began to curl upward. But wait—he lifted his hands and looked at his small, childish palms. He was still too young; could he even hold a woman’s ample bosom? The pain of life was nothing short of having the will but not the strength!

“Hey, heard you fell in the vat yesterday? Hahaha!” A mocking greeting reached him, followed by the laughter of a group of five- or six-year-old children. Su Yuan looked up; two or three zhang away, a group of children—boys and girls, mostly boys—were playing in the square.

The speaker was a tall boy with a red cloth strip pinned to his chest. Beside him stood a petite girl, also wearing a flower crown and the same red cloth strip. Four others formed a square around them, and in front and behind the square, four more stood in pairs. Su Yuan wondered, what kind of formation was this?

The girl with the red sash whispered something to the tall boy. He pointed at Su Yuan and called out, “Let’s go over!” The boy standing at the front right of the formation shrilled, “Lift the sedan!” The fourteen children, maintaining their strange arrangement, approached Su Yuan.

A sedan—so that was it. The children must be playing house, staging a wedding for bride and groom. Su Yuan couldn’t help but laugh. When the odd formation reached him, the tall boy, thinking Su Yuan was mocking him, jabbed a finger and said, “What are you laughing at? Monkey, you’re out—let him carry the sedan instead!”

A child near Su Yuan at one corner of the square stepped aside. Bent double with laughter, Su Yuan thought of a word: pantomime! And with that, his amusement only grew, his whole body shaking with mirth.

Perhaps feeling insulted, the girl with the red sash frowned and nudged the tall boy. He rolled up his sleeves, saying, “Looking for a fight, are you?” Su Yuan stopped laughing, stepped across the square to stand before the girl, lifted her chin with a finger, and studied her closely: fair skin, sword-shaped brows, single eyelids, and a stubborn little mouth—she was indeed much prettier than the other girls around.

Alas, the little lady had no sense of modesty or virtue yet, and at such a young age was to “marry” this big oaf with no prospects. In modern times, Su Yuan had often seen beautiful married women accompanied by either overly confident, ugly, or portly men. There was no helping it—perhaps it was money, perhaps it was that women didn’t love good men.

Lost in thought, Su Yuan murmured, “She’ll be quite a beauty when she grows up.” The tall boy, enraged at seeing his “bride” teased, exploded: “I told you to carry the sedan for me!” Only then did Su Yuan drop his hand, turn to the tall boy, and retort, “Carry it yourself!”

A flurry of fists and feet followed, ending with the parting threat, “Next time I see you, I’ll beat you up again!” Flattened on the ground, Su Yuan watched the departing group and spat, “You’re not even worth it!”