Fang Zhuo went with Yan Lie the very next day to register their marriage — lest he spend the nights and days unable to eat or sleep in peace, and never stop whispering in her ear.

The civil affairs bureau wasn’t busy today. In about half an hour, Fang Zhuo held the small stamped red booklet in her hands.

From this point forward, the relationship between the two of them carried a particular significance.

After coming out of the civil affairs bureau, Yan Lie was on his phone continuously.

He told a few of their elders first. Though Yan’s parents had already known it was coming, his speed of action still startled them. Once they recovered, they began immediately planning a celebratory dinner.

Yan Lie told them to arrange whatever they liked, then — very much in character — went to show off in the group chat with his classmates.

A crowd of contemporaries still agonizing over finding jobs saw his photos and cried out that he was “utterly heartless,” threatening to remove Yan Lie from the revolutionary ranks.

The worst of it perhaps fell on Wei Xi.

She had just recently passed her probationary period at work, and was quietly and diligently functioning as a small cog in her department. Coming out of a morning meeting, she spotted the marriage certificate photo in the high school class group chat.

She responded with genuine warmth and a “cheer” emoji.

Less than five minutes later, she saw it again in the University A alumni group. Wei Xi posted a “Congratulations.”

Half an hour later, her parents separately forwarded the photo from the parents’ chat to her, lamenting about other people’s children and their happiness, then asked whether she had a boyfriend yet.

Shortly after, several of her dormitory friends sent her WeChat messages in rapid succession, asking urgently: “Did I hear that Yan Lie and Fang Zhuo got married? Is it real, sister?” and “Our classmate is already married, why are we still single?! [Sobbing]”

Wei Xi was done.

What sin had she committed to deserve this?

Wei Xi found Yan Lie’s account, intending to get him to stop this act of mass carnage.

Wei What: !!

Lord Lie Name: Yes, I got married. Thank you!

Wei What: Look at my name!

Lord Lie Name: Oh? Because we’re mutually in love, emotionally stable, aligned in our future goals, and not afraid of marriage — so we just went ahead.

Wei Xi typed in fury, every arm muscle tensed. What she was actually trying to ask was: why did Yan Lie getting married mean that she had to bear the brunt of a storm?!

Before she could send it, another message popped up in the conversation.

Lord Lie Name: You’ll have to come to the wedding banquet. [Cheers]

Wei Xi calmed herself. She thought that dampening someone’s joy on such a happy occasion was not right, so she deleted everything she had typed and simply asked: “Congratulations — so when are you holding the ceremony?”

Lord Lie Name: When everything’s ready.

A wedding, however, was a tremendously involved undertaking requiring substantial preparation.

Yan Lie was not willing to cut corners, and once the new school year began, progress slowed considerably.

By the time a date was chosen and the specifics confirmed, an entire year had passed.

When Fang Zhuo’s advisor received the invitation, he was genuinely taken aback. Frowning, he kept glancing sideways at the person across from him several times, with barely contained resentment, and said: “Getting married this young…”

Yan Lie said with a smile: “Getting married early has its advantages — once things are emotionally settled, Fang Zhuo won’t be distracted by relationship concerns, and won’t have to face pressure from family to get married or social expectations. It’s better all around.”

The advisor was skeptical, and raised a hand to rub the smooth top of his head.

Who could have predicted that, at his age, he would find himself being smooth-talked by a young man?

But could he trust anything this person said?

“Moreover,” Yan Lie continued, “married life is far more quiet and settled than dating. I can handle the household details for her, which leaves her more energy for her academic research. That way she can move through the postgraduate years steadily — and who knows, she might even stay on to do a direct doctorate with you.” He made his case with considerable conviction, then calmly delivered his final line: “Most importantly, we’re in no rush to have children.”

“There’s some logic to that,” the advisor said, genuinely persuaded, nodding with a look of satisfaction. “All right — if I have time, I’ll bring her fellow students along with me.”

Yan Lie grabbed his hand and gave it a quick firm shake, laughing: “Thank you, Professor — we’ll be expecting you!”

He had already walked two steps away before he turned back to remind him: “Oh — Professor, remember to approve Fang Zhuo’s leave.”

The professor raised his hand with an air of lofty composure, crossed two fingers, and made a small heart gesture.

Yan Lie laughed, and from a distance gave him a big one back.

Fang Zhuo was at that time in the office of a small e-commerce company, helping them organize data.

It was a job her advisor had introduced her to.

He did indeed have many well-paying projects on hand, and knowing that Fang Zhuo was tight on money, he had asked a few interested students to bring her along to get practical experience.

The assistant who handled their liaison work brought over several cups of coffee and set them on the desks.

Fang Zhuo had just turned on her computer and hadn’t had time to say anything before her phone rang — it was her advisor calling.

She assumed he had some instructions, so she answered immediately. As soon as the connection went through, she heard his voice, unexpectedly cheerful: “You’re getting married next month and you haven’t come to request leave yet? I’ve already approved it for you, you know.”

Fang Zhuo said: “I was just about to bring this up with you.”

“Right, I already know,” the advisor said. “Is a week enough? You still have summer holiday coming up — whatever honeymoon you have in mind, save it for then. For now, finish up what’s on your plate.”

That had been Fang Zhuo’s plan all along. “That’s plenty. Thank you.”

She hung up. The assistant beside her asked: “Was that your boss?”

Fang Zhuo nodded.

She had caught a little of it, and asked: “Are you getting married?”

Fang Zhuo’s nod was slightly smaller this time. She said: “Don’t worry — we’ll do excellent work here. My fellow students are all very professional.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” the assistant said quickly with a wave of her hand and a smile. “I also got married last year. All the preliminary preparation work was exhausting. And for you University A students — having to keep up with your studies and arrange a wedding at the same time — that must not be easy.”

For Fang Zhuo, it had actually been manageable, because most things had been arranged by Yan Lie, and she only needed to check the results and give final approval.

The assistant, seeing Fang Zhuo’s expression of quiet contemplation, assumed she shared the same bitter experience, and began venting: “The main thing is that the man does nothing. He’s a hands-off manager about everything. Ask him how to choose the wedding dress? Where to take the photos? Which hotel to book? How to seat the guests? He touches nothing, just lies on the sofa with his phone moaning that he’s tired. Tired of what? He’s got energy enough to charge into ranked matches at midnight — how is he tired? Infuriating.”

Fang Zhuo did not dare make a sound.

Because she — though she hadn’t been lying on any sofas — genuinely had found it tiring.

Tiring going shopping with Yan’s mother.

Tiring choosing the hotel with Yan’s father.

Tiring taking wedding photos with Yan Lie.

Tiring drawing up the guest list with Ye Yuncheng.

After she had half-heartedly participated a few times, she was quietly removed from the core decision-making group.

The assistant gave a clap of her hands and said with indignation: “You can’t let them be that relaxed — just sitting there reaping the rewards. On the actual wedding day, he ignored all the instructions and made me cry from sheer frustration! I was so furious I nearly called the whole thing off on the spot.”

Fang Zhuo lowered her head with a slightly guilty conscience: “Ah…”

“And honestly, you do start to have a little doubt — is this man actually reliable? Is he actually grown up?” the assistant said, with the authority of someone who had been through it, offering solemn counsel: “So you must make sure he’s involved. No matter how much or how little, useful or not — at least let him know that marriage is something two people do together.”

Fang Zhuo rubbed the back of her head in mild distress.

Even after leaving the office, she was still turning the matter over, wondering whether Yan Lie was secretly complaining that she’d contributed nothing.

She sat on the bus back to school, stared out the window for a while, then furrowed her brow and took out her phone to send Yan Lie a message.

Little Sun: [Tap tap] Did you finish getting the wedding dress altered — the sizing adjustments?

Yan Lie replied quickly.

Lord Lie Name: Almost done. Go back in a couple of days for another fitting.

Little Sun: Oh. Has everything for the hotel been confirmed?

Lord Lie Name: All confirmed. My dad’s friend’s hotel. The largest, best banquet hall — reserved for us.

Little Sun: Great, great.

Her boyfriend was far too considerate. Fang Zhuo racked her brain trying to find more questions.

Little Sun: And the route for picking up the bride?

Lord Lie Name: From the city property to the villa, then on to the hotel. Uncle also said that’s fine.

They couldn’t do the bridal pickup from the apartment, after all. So Yan’s mother had planned it from their city property, then out to a villa in the suburbs to collect Fang Zhuo, and then directly to the hotel from there.

The route had convenient access and attractive scenery along the way — the footage would be easier to edit.

Fang Zhuo’s sudden attentiveness put Yan Lie on alert.

Lord Lie Name: What’s wrong?

Lord Lie Name: Relax — it’s not that complicated. I’ll be with you the whole time. Just follow my lead.

Little Sun: No, that’s not it.

Little Sun: Is all the preparing tiring?

Lord Lie Name: Absolutely exhausting! So much heart and effort put into it! Mom and Dad have both been helping nonstop!

Three exclamation marks.

Proof that Yan Lie’s state of mind at this moment was anything but calm.

The words ringing through Fang Zhuo’s head were still the assistant’s “I was so furious I nearly called the whole thing off on the spot,” and she immediately became flustered.

Little Sun: [Hug]

Little Sun: [Pat]

Little Sun: [Pressing close]

Yan Lie took a while to respond.

Lord Lie Name: May I ask — can these three emojis be exchanged for cash?

Fang Zhuo had drifted into a daze and didn’t see the message, and didn’t hear the bus announcement for the stop either. She looked up and glanced around — already at University A — and scrambled off through the back doors.

She came home with her bag to find Yan Lie pacing restlessly in the living room, phone in hand, searching: “What to do if you have pre-wedding anxiety.”

None of the answers were especially helpful, and Yan Lie couldn’t find much comfort in them.

He heard the door, turned around, and his restless gaze met hers. Before he had thought of anything to say, Fang Zhuo put her arms around his waist and held him.

Yan Lie felt warmth flood through him immediately, and all the agitation dispersed as completely as water evaporating off the pavement in June heat.

He pressed his hand to her back and said in a voice low enough for only the two of them to hear, with a warmth and slight edge to it: “Could this procedure’s next phase be transferred to the bedroom?”

Fang Zhuo let go of him. Her expression was comprehensively unspeakable: “How are you so impure?”

“What’s impure about it?” Yan Lie said this sort of thing with a completely composed face. “After getting married, this is entirely legitimate.”

Fang Zhuo studied his expression, decided his mental state was actually fine, and after a moment said hesitantly: “I thought you had pre-wedding anxiety…”

Yan Lie said quickly: “I have tremendous anxiety — I’m anxious that you’ll have anxiety!”

Fang Zhuo was turned around by this for a moment, and said, bewildered: “I’m not anxious about anything. I didn’t do anything.”

Yan Lie pressed two fingers to his temple. He had to admit he had been too on edge lately, jumping at every small thing.

He was also fed up with all the various details, but even more afraid that Fang Zhuo would be, and might just drop everything and walk away.

But now seeing Fang Zhuo’s careful and tentative manner, he felt the jagged, restless edges all smoothed flat.

Though the carefulness carried Fang Zhuo’s characteristic directness — as though she wished she could simply write all the questions she couldn’t solve on her face, so Yan Lie would take pity on her and give her the answers.

This was a student who cheated on tests. And she had the good fortune of meeting an invigilator with no principles at all.

Yan Lie opened his eyes, and his voice softened — somewhere between indulgent and permissive, with a slight smile, as though he were coaxing her through one of her transgressions: “So what do you want to do?”

Fang Zhuo actually didn’t particularly want to do anything. But if she really had to name something, she could probably manage.

That was the thought — but her expression wavered through several iterations, and she still couldn’t get the words out.

This wouldn’t do. She was being terrible.

Yan Lie watched her, found the self-negotiation playing out on Fang Zhuo’s face rather endearing, leaned in close, cupped her face in his hands, kissed her once on the lips, and said: “Never mind all that. Fang Zhuo — you only need to bring my wife into the room. Please keep her in a good mood, and make sure she completes the wedding ceremony without incident.”

Fang Zhuo gave a small nod.

As time went on, Fang Zhuo really did begin to feel a little nervous. But fortunately everything proceeded smoothly, and on the day itself, nothing went wrong.

The day before, everyone ran through the order of events and did a rehearsal at the hotel, ate a hasty dinner, went back to their respective places to rest, and did not do anything to mark the last night of their singlehood.

Yu Qingjiang and Wei Xi were both bridesmaids. They were up early, dressed, and lining up in the room to have their makeup done.

The two girls were quite different in height. Wei Xi felt like she was being overshadowed by Yu Qingjiang, who had nearly ten centimeters on her. She could only make the most of it by cinching her waist as tightly as possible to gain some other advantage.

Wei Xi said: “Don’t take it personally, little sister. There will definitely be plenty of eligible single men today, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle them all.”

Yu Qingjiang hitched up her skirt hem and said in an exaggerated, coy tone: “Sister can, little sister can too.”

The two girls became fast friends with their shared immaturity and were soon playfully jostling each other.

Fang Zhuo stood to one side getting changed, wearing only a fitted undergarment.

Wei Xi suddenly came over and grabbed her by the waist, exclaiming with excitement: “Oh wow —” and before she could say anything outrageous, she was pulled away by Yu Qingjiang.

“You old rascal!”

“Don’t slander me!”

The two dissolved into giggles, shoving each other around, until the makeup artists dragged them apart.

Across a few dressing tables, the vivid, radiant girls were still discussing what games to organize for later.

The makeup artist working on Fang Zhuo’s hair caught a bit of the conversation and said with a smile: “The groom is going to have to get past all you bridesmaids today. Sounds like that won’t be easy.”

Fang Zhuo thought to herself: you’ve rather underestimated Yan Lie, and underestimated computer science boys in general.

In their eyes, there is no such thing as gender difference. They are the truly formidable ones.

In anticipation of the bridesmaids blocking his path, Yan Chengli had prepared several hundred red envelopes in advance, distributed them in bags to each groomsman, with the singular purpose of showing the world that nothing and no one was going to stop his son’s wedding today. If anyone tried, he would throw money at them.

This approach was remarkably effective. Yan Chengli’s sizable red envelopes proved almost universally unstoppable. Even the friends who had come along for the occasion were bought off and stepped aside, letting them pass without incident.

At the door of the bridal house, Yan Lie stood on the back lawn, holding a bag of red envelopes, and tried to sweet-talk Wei Xi into opening the window for him.

Wei Xi, bearing in mind that these were civilized adults, and that several professors would be at the luncheon — making any kind of forceful breakthrough impossible — agreed.

Yan Lie simply scattered several dozen red envelopes through the window and called out with great generosity: “Count all the money in those envelopes within three minutes — and I’ll give you ten times as much on top!”

Wei Xi simply could not withstand the temptation. Neither could Yu Qingjiang.

As professionals in the working world, they had run themselves ragged for the sake of earning a bit more. What ill intentions could they possibly have?

The bridesmaids immediately crouched on the floor to open the envelopes with full investment. When a few had been opened and each one turned out to start at fifty yuan and cap at five hundred, they nearly wept with joy. Just as they thought they were about to strike it rich, the groomsmen leapt directly through the window and, covering for Yan Lie, picked Fang Zhuo up and bolted.

The bridesmaids, pushed to the side and unable to fend off the press of bodies, watched the red envelopes get trampled with aching hearts, and watched Fang Zhuo get carried away with anxious ones. By the time Yan Lie had made his escape in the chaos and they finally found an opening, they rushed to the door and called after him:

“That’s it for the games?! Yan Lie, could you at least play by some basic rules?!”

“You can’t get full footage like this!”

“You’re not going to photograph the bridal room?!”

“What about finding the shoes?! Yan Lie — have you no respect for your own wedding planner?!”

Yan Lie moved quickly, but also steadily. Fang Zhuo held on tightly to his neck, her field of vision filled with the shifting line of his jaw — sharper than usual, muscle pulled taut with the effort.

As they passed an intersection, Yan Lie glanced down at Fang Zhuo, the corner of his lips curving up, eyes full of open, undisguised feeling. He looked back once at the frantic crowd behind them, and his smile became even more pleased with itself.

The noisy pack receded and disappeared.

That group of spirited young people let out triumphant calls, whooping and hollering as though they had pulled off a heist, then dispersed.

Wei Xi, unaccustomed to high heels, had given up halfway and stopped, watching their retreating figures with her heart aching: “He exploited our poverty! Is this acceptable?”

Yu Qingjiang glanced back once, then looked down at the small stack of cash in her hand and made her decision. She gritted her teeth: “It’s ten thousand in red envelopes, sisters.”

The group of them exchanged glances in silence, then hiked up their skirts and flew back like the wind, collected every last envelope, and only then went to the front entrance and got into the wedding party cars.

Wei Xi’s carefully styled hair had come loose from all the running. She sat in the back seat of the car, fixing her flyaways in the mirror, and asked Yu Qingjiang to return the bridal shoes that had been left behind.

Yu Qingjiang took the wedding shoes to find Fang Zhuo in the car ahead. Through the car window, she could already hear a full chorus of male voices singing.

On such a festive day, what they had chosen to sing was “Unity Is Strength.”

When the window came down, Yan Lie was straightening Fang Zhuo’s outfit. Receiving the shoes, he put them on for her with considerable attentiveness and said, as though no one else was around: “Honestly, darling, you don’t have to wear them the whole time — high heels are terribly uncomfortable. Just wear them to walk down the aisle. For everything else, I can carry you.”

Yu Qingjiang looked down at her own flats, jammed onto feet that were too wide, then thought of Wei Xi and her five-centimeter stilettos, and that entire desperate sprint from earlier — and let out a huff of protest.

She had been about to ask her sister to help scold this shameless man, only to find that Fang Zhuo had already been transfixed by Yan Lie’s face and was looking at him in silence without a word.

Yu Qingjiang swallowed her frustration and turned back.

Because Yan Lie had disregarded convention, one part of the schedule had been skipped, and the wedding party arrived at the hotel a full hour ahead of plan. Many of the guests hadn’t been seated yet.

The group settled in the hotel’s bridal suite first. Yan’s mother was also there, and asked with astonishment how they’d arrived so early, and what had happened.

Yu Qingjiang explained. Yan’s mother was caught between exasperation and laughter, but couldn’t say much to Yan Lie, so she just gave him a light smack.

Yan Lie took out his phone and asked: “Hungry?”

Fang Zhuo shook her head.

“Did you eat this morning?” Yan Lie was already opening the app. “Once the ceremony starts there’ll be no time to eat. Even if you’re not hungry, have something small to line your stomach. What do you want?”

Fang Zhuo didn’t have much of an appetite, but perhaps from hearing it brought up one too many times recently, her mouth answered before her mind caught up: “Spicy crayfish?”

Yan’s mother immediately called out: “Crayfish is too greasy — don’t get the dress and your face dirty! Have something easy.”

Fang Zhuo thought she had a point and was about to settle for a bowl of noodles or some crackers, but Yan Lie disagreed. He rolled his sleeve up and said: “It’s fine. I’ll peel them for her. It’s our wedding day — of course she eats whatever she wants. We can’t start being careless on the very first day.”

He said this with such conviction that even Yan’s mother was left rubbing her temples in exasperation.

The hotel had crayfish available. Yan Lie ordered two jin and dragged a small stool over to peel them for Fang Zhuo, and mixed her a bowl of noodles on the side.

Yan’s mother had also prepared other food in the room beforehand, but all the groomsmen and bridesmaids had resisted touching it, saying they wanted to save room for the banquet.

The hotel manager came by to move things along before long. The makeup artist touched up Fang Zhuo’s look and they all hurried downstairs together.

At that point in the program, the guest speeches were underway.

Liu Qiaohong and both advisors each went onstage briefly to offer a few words of blessing, lending the occasion a particular note of uprightness. The emcee then had the singer warm up the atmosphere, bringing the energy of the room back to life.

The surrounding staff did a final check on the details, and reported that the venue was ready. Following the plan, Ye Yuncheng came to stand beside Fang Zhuo, ready to walk her up.

The heavy wooden doors swung open, and the brightest lights came flooding in.

In the vast warmth of that golden light, Ye Yuncheng’s arm trembled, and he couldn’t hear the emcee’s words.

Only when the staff member beside him hurried to gesture with both hands did he finally step forward.

Ye Yuncheng’s gait had become much more natural over the years — and yet this short stretch of red carpet still felt very long to him. With each lift of his left leg, he felt as though half his body had gone hollow, with nothing beneath him.

He turned his head to look at Fang Zhuo, then continued walking toward the figure waiting in the strong light ahead.

His steps came to a stop in front of Yan Lie, and their faces came into focus. The arm Fang Zhuo held tightened slightly. Only then did Ye Yuncheng feel the ground solid beneath him.

He looked at the two people he cared about most in the world, his eyes blurring with a heat he couldn’t help. He smiled through it, and placed Fang Zhuo’s hand into Yan Lie’s.

The music in the background and the emcee’s amplified voice were both too loud — it was impossible to organize any thoughts he might have wanted to say.

Ye Yuncheng moved his lips, pressed his hand over the back of Yan Lie’s, and passed along his unspoken wishes in silence.

Fang Zhuo took Yan Lie’s hand, and only then realized his palm was slick with cold sweat, trembling faintly.

Everyone onstage was somewhere else entirely — answering the emcee’s questions in a daze, too distracted to spare any more of themselves. It continued this way until the ring ceremony, when they both snapped into sudden clarity.

Yan Lie took the ring from the bridesmaid’s hand. His expression was perfectly composed, as though he had practiced this a hundred times, and slipped it onto Fang Zhuo’s finger. Then, to a rising tide of cheering from the room, he took her hand and lightly kissed the tips of her fingers.

The emcee called out urgently from behind: “A kiss — not the hand! A kiss on the lips!”

Yan Lie didn’t hear.

He felt that Fang Zhuo’s presence in his world was something almost too unreal to believe. And yet it was only when he had Fang Zhuo that he could feel the world itself as real.

Like that night when fireworks were bursting across the sky — the world kept shifting between light and dark, and time slipped away soundlessly with the fading cold light, as the new year descended in a blaze through the glowing curtain of the sky.

Every wish Yan Lie had stored in Fang Zhuo’s memory had, on this day, become something already done.

He lowered his head — into the soft, dazed, ardent gaze of her eyes, still slightly misted — and kissed her on the lips, warm and yielding.

He wanted every blank space yet to be filled in the future to hold her name.