Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Wedding Banquet, Mutual Disdain

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye, and the wedding feast arrived as scheduled. The Zhang residence was located in Renshou Lane, a place where high officials and nobles gathered. Zhang Chengxing’s parents were occupied with defending the country’s borders and could not return home, so the wedding arrangements fell to the elder Master Zhang and Old Huang, the instructor.

Both elders enjoyed lively affairs and lacked for nothing. Naturally, they intended to make this wedding as grand as possible—the banquet tables stretched on for three days, and the doormen could barely keep up with recording the guests’ gifts.

Yu Lang spared no expense, presenting a hundred taels of silver’s worth of rare treasures as his gift, but even so, his name paled in comparison to the lavish entries before him. Never mind Xue Wenyang’s millennium-old lingzhi mushroom—just Xie Zhiqian’s antique beast-head artifact alone was a rare item worth a fortune. These companions, who usually couldn’t even pay for their own drinks, were now all eager to display their wealth. On second thought, perhaps they did it to uphold Yu Lang’s dignity as their leader. This notion warmed Yu Lang’s heart.

When Zhang Chengxing’s wedding concluded smoothly, Yu Lang intended to ask his comrades from the Langzi Battalion if any would join him in journeying to Chang’an. His heart yearned for that city—it was, after all, the heart of the Great Tang. Only by meeting the empire’s most influential people could he hope to unravel the mysteries of the Northern Underworld Realm: whose hand had set its intricate design, how had he, a man of a thousand years later, been drawn into this web, and what was the true cause of Yu Jia’ao’s death? He believed only Chang’an held the answers. More importantly, only in Chang’an could Yu Lang hope to truly change the course of history. The An-Shi Rebellion had claimed tens of millions of innocent Tang lives—a catastrophe beyond reckoning. Now, with friends and family in this dynasty, he wanted his presence to make a difference in the fate of the Tang.

Du Fu’s ambition was “to give shelter so that all the poor may wear a joyful face”; Yu Lang’s was to turn back the merciless wheels of history.

Dai Yang and Yu Lang sat at the same table. Though he had lost both legs, Dai Yang showed no trace of gloom—if anything, his smile was even broader than before they’d left for the frontier.

“I don’t think losing my legs is any great tragedy,” he said, squinting happily as he sipped his wine. “You all raised a handsome sum for me, and the academy gave me substantial compensation. That money will keep my family prosperous for generations. Cultivation was always about seeking a better life, wasn’t it? My legs may be gone, but my life’s goal is fulfilled. I don’t see anything wrong with that. I used to love the freedom of running and soaring through the air, but I’ve let go of that now. Wonderful stories aren’t only worth living through yourself—it’s enough to hear them from friends like you.”

Yu Lang admired Dai Yang’s acceptance of fate. In his previous life, Yu Lang had also been easygoing, with little desire for worldly things. But now, burdened by so many expectations and responsibilities, he could only press forward.

It was already the third day of the banquet. The moon hung high, and the remaining guests grew fewer and fewer. The groom, Zhang Chengxing, newly wed, brought his bride, Huang Ying, to toast the brothers of the Langzi Battalion.

Zhang Chengxing, a little tipsy, slurred to Yu Lang, “Brother Lang, we all thought you and Qingqing would marry before the rest of us. Who’d have thought you two would part ways? We’re all men here—tell me honestly, do you still have someone in your heart?”

Sensing danger, Xue Wenyang quickly interrupted with a laugh. “Chengxing, you’ve had too much to drink. Why bring this up on your wedding day? Come, let’s get you to your room—tonight is precious beyond gold.”

“To hell with a precious wedding night!” Zhang Chengxing shouted, his words growing wild. “Brother Lang, I’m not happy with this wedding. Give me a straight answer—do you still love someone else? Is it… is it Huang Ying you can’t let go of?”

That set the whole group abuzz. Xie Zhiqian’s face darkened with anger. “Zhang Chengxing, what nonsense are you spouting? You and Huang Ying are married now—surely you know Brother Lang’s character? Don’t sling wild accusations!”

Thankfully, most present were trusted brothers. Had these words spread, it would ruin not only the Zhang family’s reputation, but Huang Ying would be shamed for life.

Furious and humiliated, Huang Ying slapped Zhang Chengxing hard across the face. “Shameless!”

Old Instructor Huang hurried to calm his granddaughter, bitterly regretting all the times he’d tried to bring Huang Ying and Yu Lang together. In his heart, he felt a pang of guilt toward Zhang Chengxing.

Oddly, after the slap, Zhang Chengxing only grinned. Staggering upright, he shouted, “Fine, call me shameless! I want everyone to see what sort of pair these two really are!”

With that, Zhang Chengxing completely broke with Yu Lang—referring to Yu Lang and Huang Ying as a pair of adulterers.

“Chengxing, mind your manners! You’ve drunk too much!” Old Master Zhang hobbled in, leaning on his dragon-headed cane, bewildered by his grandson’s madness.

“Grandfather, I’m not drunk,” Zhang Chengxing sobbed, clutching a pillar as tears streamed down his face. “The other night, she… she didn’t bleed. She wasn’t a maiden when she married me!”

As the words left his lips, the Zhang family’s courtyard fell into absolute silence. Huang Ying felt the strength drain from her limbs, her spirit fleeing as if a thousand miles away. For a woman, her husband’s words were a death sentence. She had never loved Zhang Chengxing, but considered him honest and reliable, and since her grandfather favored him, she thought she could build a life with him. Who could have guessed that on the third day of marriage, Zhang Chengxing would destroy everything? It was true she had not bled, but she had never been with any man before; she had married him pure and whole.

Li Dahu’s forehead veins bulged in fury. “Zhang Chengxing, have you lost your mind? Do you know what you’re saying?”

Zhang Chengxing’s face twisted, and he pronounced each word with venom: “I, Zhang Chengxing, swear to Heaven—Huang Ying was not a virgin when she married me! If there’s a single lie in my words, may I be struck down by thunder and cast into the eighteen hells!”

“It’s these two—these adulterers!” When Zhang Chengxing pointed a trembling finger at Yu Lang, he dared not meet his eyes. “Listen, Yu Lang, if you’d died seven days ago, I’d still call you brother and accept her as my wife. But since you’re alive, you are my sworn enemy—one with whom my family cannot coexist!”

Old Instructor Huang was sweating with panic. “Master Zhang, you must stop your grandson!”

Old Master Zhang hobbled to his grandson’s side. Everyone expected him to discipline the young man, but instead he turned abruptly, struck the ground with his cane, and commanded in a deep voice, “Sons of the Zhang family, hear my order!”

“We are here!” Dozens of guards and hundreds of servants called out in unison.

“Kill these two on the spot. Deliver their bodies to the authorities tomorrow!”

Old Master Zhang had seen many storms in his life. Now that his grandson had spoken these words, the truth no longer mattered. The accusation of adultery—whether real or not—had to become fact. Only then could the Zhang family’s honor be preserved.