The day after the engagement was settled, Sun Yunniang went into town to buy supplies.
Zhu-ge’er’s wedding date had been set very soon, so she needed to hurry and purchase red cloth to make wedding clothes. She also wanted to prepare new quilts and sew new garments for him. Although their circumstances were no longer what they once were, she still wished to give her child the best she could manage.
Since Lai Lao’er lived in town—even though Pei Mu had already dealt with that trouble—she still didn’t feel at ease letting Zhong Yizhu go along. So she had him stay at home while she went alone.
Inside the Zhong household, Zhong Yizhu placed a peach-pink sachet into Liu Mingtao’s palm.
“Wow!” Tao-ge’er exclaimed, delighted, lifting it to his nose and taking a deep sniff.
“It smells amazing! I noticed the scent when I came close to you earlier but didn’t get the chance to ask. Is this for me?”
His eyes shone as he looked at Zhong Yizhu.
Zhong Yizhu nodded. “I said before I would make one for you and Aunt Zhou, but things came up. I only just finished them these past two days—sorry to have kept you waiting.”
The night Lai Lao’er attacked him, the half-finished sachet had been lying by his pillow. It had been torn that night, and he hadn’t touched needlework for several days afterward.
Only yesterday, when he saw Aunt Zhou, did he suddenly remember the unfinished gift. He hurriedly found new scraps of cloth and made another.
Tao-ge’er didn’t know any of this—he was simply overjoyed.
“What waiting? I’ve never smelled anything like this before! I love it so much—thank you, Zhu-ge’er!”
“You’re welcome,” Zhong Yizhu said with a small smile, handing him the other sachet meant for Aunt Zhou.
Tao-ge’er sniffed one, then the other, looking utterly blissful. Zhong Yizhu couldn’t help but press his lips together in amusement.
After carefully putting them away, Liu Mingtao hesitated, then finally asked in a small voice, “Zhu-ge’er… are you really going to marry Hunter Pei?”
At the mention of Pei Mu, Zhong Yizhu thought of yesterday’s events and felt a bit embarrassed. He nodded softly. “Yes.”
Tao-ge’er frowned, troubled. “But he’s so fierce… what if he hits you?”
He had once witnessed Pei Mu brutally break Pei Jin’s leg. As a young ge’er, it had been the first time he’d seen such violence, leaving a deep impression. Even though Chen Xiaorong had later reassured him that Pei Mu didn’t hit people indiscriminately, he was still afraid of him.
He simply couldn’t understand why Zhong Yizhu would choose someone like that.
Zhong Yizhu knew he was worried and explained carefully:
“Why would he hit me? Didn’t you say he’s never hit women or ge’ers? When Carpenter Pei and Madam Tian schemed against him, he only hit Pei Jin and didn’t trouble Pei Shui, right?”
Tao-ge’er nodded, then shook his head. “Well… he did hit someone. Zhang Guihua got a huge bump from him—but honestly, she deserved it.”
Zhang Guihua had been struck by Pei Mu yesterday, then pretended to faint. On the way back, she kept bumping into things. She endured it in public, but once out of sight, she “woke up” and began scolding the two women helping her.
Those two weren’t easy to bully either. They shouted back, and soon the argument turned into a fight. Zhang Guihua ended up being pinned down and beaten—her face bruised and swollen in all colors.
Just hearing about it had delighted Liu Mingtao. He wished he’d been there—maybe he could’ve snuck in a kick or two.
After all, he hadn’t forgotten how Zhang Guihua had spread rumors to slander Zhong Yizhu and Aunt Sun. Fortunately, everything had now been cleared up, and she’d gotten her comeuppance.
Liu Mingtao didn’t stay long. With the harvest approaching, his household had much more work to do.
After chatting for a while, he skipped away happily, clutching the sachets.
Zhong Yizhu walked him to the door. From the slightly higher ground on the north side of the village, he could see the rice fields in the distance—now golden.
Only then did he suddenly realize how much time had passed.
When he had first returned to the village, the fields had still been green. Back then, he couldn’t even tell rice from weeds—and he hadn’t cared to.
It had only been a little over a month since his return, yet it felt as though a lifetime had passed—longer, even, than the many years before.
He stood at the doorway for a while before turning back inside.
For the next several days, no rain fell. Hot winds swept across the fields—the early rice was ready to harvest.
The villagers no longer had time to gossip about Pei Mu and Zhong Yizhu’s marriage. Every household became busy.
Harvesting, threshing, drying grain—they worked from before dawn. Even the mischievous children were assigned tasks like delivering food and water, too busy to play.
After the harvest came taxes—more counting and transporting grain. Time flew, and soon it was late in the month.
On the twenty-third day of the sixth month, loud firecrackers exploded in the western part of the village, jolting everyone out of their labor.
Only then did they flip through their almanacs and realize—
Today was the wedding day of that ill-fated Pei Mu and the Zhong family’s young ge’er.
In the past half month, while villagers worked the fields, Zhong Yizhu and Sun Yunniang had stayed home sewing clothes and quilts, rarely stepping outside.
In Zhong Yizhu’s room, two red-cloth-covered boxes sat on the bed—one filled with embroidered quilts, the other with all his belongings.
He had risen early to bathe and scent himself. Now dressed in wedding robes with his hair neatly arranged, he had yet to apply makeup when the wedding attendant began praising him nonstop, claiming he had never seen such a beautiful ge’er in all his years.
Over the past half month, Sun Yunniang had cooked especially well—perhaps worried he wouldn’t get enough meat after marriage. Zhong Yizhu had been well-fed.
Though still slim, he was no longer gaunt. His peach-blossom eyes sparkled, his hair was glossy black, and his skin pale. Dressed in red, he looked radiant—like a spring blossom waiting to be picked.
After finishing his grooming, the attendant finally left, leaving mother and son alone.
Sun Yunniang gently touched his hair. “Our little Zhu-ge’er is so beautiful.”
It was a childhood nickname he hadn’t heard in years. His nose stung instantly. “Mother…”
“Don’t cry,” she said softly. “If you go to bid farewell to your father with tear-streaked cheeks, he’ll laugh at you.”
As Zhong Yizhu nodded, he noticed her slipping her dowry bracelet onto his wrist.
He tried to pull back, but she held him firmly.
“Keep it. It’s for your security. Don’t foolishly tell him about it. I can’t do much for you—once you marry, you’ll have to rely on yourself.”
He bit his lip, but tears still came. Throwing his arms around her, he sobbed.
Soon, the matchmaker called from outside.
Sun Yunniang covered him with the red veil, her voice offering blessings even as tears streamed down her face.
The Zhong family had no relatives in the village, but the village chief’s family and a few elders came to send him off. It wasn’t lively, but not lonely either.
With his vision obscured, Zhong Yizhu could only follow the attendant’s guidance. The surrounding voices blurred together.
Suddenly, something was placed in his hand—a strip of red cloth.
Through the veil, he saw the hem of a man’s wedding robe.
His fingers tightened unconsciously.
After bidding farewell, he was helped onto an ox cart and taken to an unfamiliar house.
The wedding feast wasn’t particularly lively. Many came to watch, but few stayed to celebrate. Even Pei Mu’s parents didn’t attend.
By dusk, it was over.
When Pei Mu entered the bridal chamber, the red decorations briefly dazzled his eyes before he focused on the figure seated at the bed.
Zhong Yizhu sat upright, hands neatly placed, though his pale fingertips betrayed his tension.
Pei Mu lit a red candle and lifted the veil.
He already knew Zhong Yizhu was beautiful—but now, dressed in wedding attire, he was even more striking.
Zhong Yizhu blinked at the sudden light, then lowered his gaze nervously.
Pei Mu leaned in, studying him until his breathing became uneven, then straightened.
“So afraid of me?”
Zhong Yizhu shook his head. He wasn’t afraid—just nervous.
Pei Mu raised a brow. His tone softened slightly. “There’s food on the table. Go eat.”
After eating, Zhong Yizhu returned.
Night had fallen.
Pei Mu entered, the candle casting dim light.
He approached step by step until Zhong Yizhu was completely enveloped in his shadow.
Zhong Yizhu tensed, bracing himself—but nothing happened.
After a long pause, Pei Mu spoke:
“Why are you sitting there? Do you want to sleep outside?”
Startled, Zhong Yizhu quickly moved aside.
Pei Mu undressed, blew out the candle, and lay down.
Soon, his breathing steadied—he had fallen asleep.
Zhong Yizhu lay there, stunned.
He had been taught what to expect… and feared it.
But nothing happened.
Relieved, he quietly changed and slipped under his quilt.
In the darkness, he turned his back to Pei Mu and closed his eyes.
Neither slept well.
Zhong Yizhu, in a strange place.
Pei Mu, unused to someone beside him.
Only in the latter half of the night did Pei Mu finally fall into deep sleep.
The next morning—
A burning smell.
Pei Mu frowned, half-awake, thinking someone had burned their pot—
Then remembered there were no neighbors nearby.
His eyes snapped open.
The smell was real.
The space beside him was empty.
He got up quickly, face darkening as he headed outside.
Recalling Zhong Yizhu’s disastrous laundry skills from their first meeting, he couldn’t help but think—
Setting the house on fire on the very first day of marriage… was entirely possible for him.
…So this was his retribution.