Chapter 87: Taking a Wife Has Always Been a Difficult Task

Zhang Miaoke was in pain but also filled with joy, while Yun Hao felt an overwhelming urge to die. Heaven knows where his mother had found this woman, who stripped Yun Hao bare and shoved him into a tub to bathe him. He’d seen people of the opposite sex giving baths before, but using willow branches to flog him was simply outrageous. This wasn’t bathing—this was outright child abuse. Not only did Madam Zhao not intervene, she stood by with a delighted smile. Yun Hao seriously wondered if he had been a free gift thrown in with a phone top-up.

The sound of his pig-like wailing echoed from inside the house, making Qi Biao and Lai Shun’s faces turn pale. Together, they glanced back at Hou Junji, who, at least, managed to keep his composure, though the hand holding his wine cup trembled, spilling wine all over his robe.

After pocketing a hefty bag of money, the women left, thoroughly satisfied. Only Yun Hao remained, draped over the edge of the bath barrel, tongue lolling in exhaustion, while Qi Biao and Lai Shun, faces aghast, fished him out. Hou Junji handed Yun Hao a jar of wine. “Brother Hao, endure it. After today, you’ll have a bride.”

Getting married, as ever, was no easy feat. Yun Hao longed for those days when, with a band of brothers and a bicycle, he could whisk a bride away. Now he was a puppet at others’ mercy—powdered, flowered, and dressed in an oversized robe. If he’d only had a wig, he’d have been a living Barbie doll. After a hazy glimpse in the bronze mirror, Yun Hao felt truly hopeless.

The Yun family’s wedding procession was a grand spectacle. In front rode four knights from Li Er’s retinue, each mounted on formidable western steeds—ferocious didn’t even begin to describe them. Behind them, porters carried the dowry, and a tall horse pulled a brand-new bridal sedan. Perched atop the horse, Yun Hao couldn’t shake the feeling of a monkey on a camel.

He’d ridden a horse once before, during a trip to Inner Mongolia in his previous life, but all he’d done was be led around while someone else held the reins—not sure if he was walking the horse or the horse was walking him.

The weather chosen by that old fox Hongren was fine—bright sunlight overhead, a crisp autumn breeze brushing his cheeks. With so many layers on, the coolness was refreshing. This truly was the perfect autumn day.

The Yun and Zhang households weren’t far apart—just two streets away. Yet, at Madam Zhao’s insistence, the whole procession paraded halfway around Jinyang City, as if in a grand pageant, to flaunt the Yun family’s wealth.

Qi Biao and Lai Shun didn’t seem any more skilled at riding than Yun Hao. Bodies stiff, hands clenched tight on the reins, they muttered under their breath. Hou Junji, meanwhile, was in his element—waving left and right, relishing the attention. To onlookers, he could have been the groom himself, and he seemed to enjoy the spotlight immensely.

By mid-morning, the party finally arrived at the Zhang residence. The main gate was shut, but that posed no trouble for Yun Hao. Tossing in a large bag of coppers, the doors swung open with a thunderous crash. The Zhang servants, wholly unprincipled, were all smiles as they counted their coins. The wedding ceremony hadn’t even begun when someone bowed and addressed him, “Young Master!”

Money could indeed make the devil turn the millstone—Yun Hao now understood this more profoundly than ever. He was just about to step inside when Hou Junji yanked him back. The ever-gullible Qi Biao and Lai Shun, having entered first, immediately sensed they’d been tricked—a crowd of young girls, armed with sticks, waited inside. Before the two could recover from their daze, the sticks rained down like a storm. Even though the batons were wrapped in burlap, they still hurt like the devil. Attempting to retaliate, they found themselves surrounded by a sweet fragrance, hands unable to land, forced instead to shield their heads and withstand the downpour of blows. Their pitiful screams made Yun Hao wince in sympathy.

While the two were getting pummeled, Hou Junji, quick as lightning, dragged Yun Hao inside. Was this a wedding or an escape for their lives?

Standing beneath the embroidered tower was Zhang Wenzhong’s eldest son, who looked down at his future brother-in-law—barely up to his waist—with utter disdain. He stretched out his claws, head tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, refusing even to look Yun Hao in the eye.

Damn! Getting looked down on—what’s a nouveau riche to do? Throw money! If that tycoon Dong could win over the milk tea girl with cash, surely Yun Hao could bury this kid with coppers and put up a monument to boot.

Hou Junji, with a massive bag of coins hanging from his wrist, gave the brother-in-law a hefty shove. Yun Hao worried that if this fellow threw out his back, who would carry the bride for him? Though Zhang Miaoke wasn’t heavy, Yun Hao certainly couldn’t manage to carry her himself.

At the door above, Zhang Miaoke’s personal maid, Xing’er, stood waiting. This was her last day in the Zhang household and her final chance to collect a windfall. She’d served her mistress since childhood, and the young lady had always treated her kindly. Yet, because of this girl, Xing’er had been given away to another. Everyone knew a personal maid would become the future master’s concubine. Since the Yun family wanted only the lady and not her, Xing’er considered it a grave humiliation.

Now, seeing her enemy, Xing’er’s eyes blazed with fury, her silver teeth grinding audibly. Without a word, she thrust a small bamboo basket forward.

Hou Junji was momentarily stunned—most maids would be falling over themselves to curry favor with the new young master. But this one… Lately, he’d been on good terms with the Zhang family’s second son, so after a brief aside, he nodded in understanding. For her final windfall, at least she hadn’t brought a big basket—she was still giving the Yun family some face.

Was it just money? With a wave, a Yun family guardsman brought over a sack of coins. The golden coppers poured out—no sooner did a string of coins peek out than the basket was full. Xing’er was overjoyed, carrying the basket down the stairs without so much as a customary poem at the door. Her dowry was now secure, and she would not be looked down upon at her new household.

The door opened, and behind the wedding matron stood Zhang Miaoke, resplendent in scarlet wedding robes, her hair adorned with pearls and jade. Her face was painted in thick, ghostly white powder.

Why women always wept at their weddings was beyond Yun Hao—Zhang Miaoke was clearly more than willing to join the Yun family, yet as she left her home she was in tears. Zhang Wenzhong, too, was heartbroken. Zhang Miaoke bowed again and again, the scene carrying an air of final parting, so much so that Yun Hao nearly wanted to call off the wedding and go home. He dared not voice such a treacherous thought to Zhang Miaoke though—she really might kill him for it.

It wasn’t until the wedding matron brought out a bowl of wontons and Zhang Miaoke had eaten them that, amid sobs, several women asked if she would bear children. Only then did Zhang Miaoke choke out, “Yes.”

Yun Hao walked in front, while Zhang’s eldest son carried Miaoke behind. Traditionally, the groom would carry the bride out, but the groom was only eight years old. So, Zhang’s eldest, with some reluctance, bore his own sister to the bridal sedan.

The wedding matron immediately brought out a pair of red shoes for Zhang Miaoke to change into, symbolizing that she would no longer tread her mother’s soil.

After giving Zhang’s eldest another bag of coins, Yun Hao led his beautiful bride on, the parade continuing—only half of Jinyang City had been covered; now for the other half. As the crowds along the street whispered and pointed, Yun Hao felt utterly ridiculous.

“Stop!” A thunderous shout split the air.