Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Wedding Banquet

He hadn’t even finished speaking when Nalan Xin’er, who had been clinging to Mo Bai’s arm and showering him with questions, was instantly distracted. All her attention was drawn as she watched Wu Luohua take off running, then, with a shake of his hand, strip off all his clothes in one go.

A shrill scream echoed from afar, “You scoundrel!” Standing beside Nalan Xin’er, Mo Bai squinted helplessly and said, “Xin’er, I didn’t see a thing. Why are you shouting?”

Nalan Xin’er’s face turned as red as a September apple, burning with embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Nalan Ziyan’s eyes, under the true spirit transmission of Master Innocent, were finally beginning to awaken.

Drip, drip—the whole of Gan Fortress was bustling with excitement, a scene rare even here. Even when others married or gave their daughters away, nothing could compare to the grandeur of the Lord of Gan’s daughter’s wedding.

The fortress was enveloped in an air of celebration and harmony; everyone seemed to believe today was a most auspicious day. The owner of Solitude Inn had risen at dawn, inspecting the serving boys who had worked through the night, then summoned a dozen chefs, each brimming with energy and sharpening their knives, eager to take their places at the familiar stoves. The proprietor’s face shone with anticipation—for today, Solitude Inn was tasked with welcoming the wedding guests. If he could manage this affair splendidly, the Lord of Gan would surely reward him handsomely. At the thought of those glittering gold ingots, a greedy smile crept across his face.

“Boss, boss, something’s wrong, something’s wrong!” A serving boy came running in, stumbling and almost falling flat on his face.

The boss’s expression turned stern as he barked, “What are you yelling for? Don’t jinx it. Speak slowly—what happened?”

The serving boy scrambled up, not bothering to dust himself off, and gasped, “I heard—the Lord of Gan has fallen gravely ill, too ill to get out of bed. He won’t be able to preside over Miss Gan’s wedding today.” As soon as he finished, most of the chefs looked to the boss, unsure what to do.

The boss’s face darkened as his eyes darted about. Then he shouted at the chefs, “Get back to work! You’ll get your share.” Reassured by the boss’s words, the chefs returned to their tasks.

The boss quietly pulled the serving boy aside. “How did you hear this? Is the wedding still on? Who’s in charge now?”

The boy replied, “My cousin is a gatekeeper at the Gan estate. I went to see him this morning to ask how many guests might be coming, so we could prepare. But my cousin looked dejected and told me the old master had fallen suddenly and gravely ill, unable to rise from bed today.”

The boss inhaled sharply, puzzled. “Go on.”

The serving boy caught his breath and continued, “Seeing how worried I looked, my cousin tried to reassure me. He said that although the old master was ill, Young Master Gan was taking his father’s place to host the wedding, supposedly to bring good fortune. Since we haven’t been told otherwise, we should prepare as planned. My cousin just lamented that he probably won’t get any reward himself.”

The boss’s anxiety lessened. He casually tossed the boy a couple of silver taels and praised, “You’ve got some sense. Work hard and you’ll be well rewarded.”

The boy’s face lit up with joy, then as if recalling something, he said suddenly, “Boss, there’s something even stranger I heard.”

The boss was just about to leave but stopped abruptly. “What is it?”

The serving boy leaned in and whispered, “I heard that Master Gan wasn’t stricken with illness at all, but was actually injured—by the very three people who had a run-in with the Haikun Gang at our inn the other day.”

The boss’s expression grew grave. “Don’t speak nonsense.”

The boy shivered. “I swear it’s true.”

The boss pondered a while before saying, “Don’t breathe a word of this. Just do your job. Today may not be peaceful. You’d better stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Sensing the chill in the boss’s voice, the boy trembled and dared not utter another word.

Drip, drip—the bridegroom rode a tall steed, pride shining on his face. Even though he was marrying into the Gan family, many young men envied his good fortune at winning the hand of Miss Gan. Truly, it was a blessing earned over a hundred lifetimes.

Mo Bai and Wu Luohua melted into the crowd, while Nalan Xin’er, brimming with excitement, perched atop a tall willow. She was decked out like a lively young girl, her feet swinging in pale blue shoes embroidered with tiny yellow flowers. With a giggle, she spat out a sunflower seed shell and began to chew thoughtfully, thoroughly enjoying herself.

Mo Bai smiled slightly and, with a flick of spiritual energy, sent a willow leaf fluttering onto Xin’er’s head. The little enchantress laughed, gestured at Mo Bai, and then, unnoticed, slid down from the tree. A few nimble leaps and she vanished into the Gan family courtyard, leaving only the willow branches swaying in the breeze.

Watching her disappear, Wu Luohua asked, “Brother Mo, where has Xin’er gone?”

Mo Bai chuckled softly and leaned in to whisper a few words in Wu Luohua’s ear. Wu Luohua’s expression changed several times before he nodded eagerly. At last, he solemnly cupped his hands and bowed deeply to Mo Bai. “Brother Mo, thank you.”

Mo Bai shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be behind you.”

Wu Luohua nodded resolutely. Seeing the groom dismount and enter the courtyard, he strode towards the festivities.

“Step over the fire basin, and good fortune will shine!” the matchmaker called out enthusiastically, hoping for a generous reward from the hosts. Lifting her eyes, she noticed the principal seat was empty and paused in surprise. But quickly spotting the eldest son of the Gan family seated in the hall, she beamed, walked over, and bowed. “Congratulations, Young Master Gan. Master Deng has arrived.” She paused deliberately.

Gan Ying, sharp as ever, coughed lightly. “My father is indisposed with a sudden chill and cannot attend. Please forgive us.” With a gesture, he handed a hefty silver ingot to the matchmaker.

Understanding his meaning, the matchmaker smiled broadly. “When the father is absent, the elder brother stands in. Young Master Gan, please take your seat and await the tea ceremony.” She then led Master Deng’s elders to another seat and announced loudly, “The auspicious hour has arrived—bring out the bride!” At her call, the whole hall erupted in excitement.

A young woman in a resplendent red gown appeared, supported by two elderly maids. Though her face was veiled, her graceful figure betrayed her beauty. The sumptuous red dress had an air of elegance, highlighting her charm all the more.

The matchmaker impatiently took the bride Gan Yu’s hand and, with the other, drew Master Deng forward, leading the pair before Gan Ying. “The bride and groom are present. Let the ceremony begin!”

Just as her words faded, a cold voice rang out, “I’m afraid this wedding ends here.”

Gan Yu’s tightly clenched fists finally relaxed, and her foot shifted subtly outward.

The guests looked around in confusion as a man in white strode from the crowd, flicking open a folding fan with effortless grace. His striking looks far outshone the groom, Master Deng, but no one had time to admire his refined features. Instead, the hall was filled with bewilderment and rising anger.

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