For her wedding photos, Grandpa had issued several ultimatums to Cousin in the family chat group, sternly ordering him not to treat the wedding as a joke.
Yet Cousin never replied.
Zhōng Yì comforted Auntie, “There are still twelve shots left; that’s enough to cover the wedding.”
Jiang Rui didn’t understand what her son was trying to prove, insisting on dismantling things himself.
At that moment, Jiang Jingyuan came downstairs in a dark suit.
Jiang Rui circled around Third Uncle, appraising him. “Not bad. This outfit makes you look younger.”
Jiang Jingyuan felt he wasn’t that old. “What do you mean by ‘younger’?”
Jiang Rui didn’t catch his implication and said frankly, “You don’t look like someone in their fifties at all.”
Jiang Jingyuan chose to stay silent and patted his sister’s shoulder. “Go rest upstairs for a bit.”
“I’m not sleepy,” Jiang Rui replied.
Before she finished, two cars drove into the courtyard—Zhōng Zhuóhuá’s personal stylist had arrived, followed closely by Jì Fánxīng’s car. They all moved in the same circles and were familiar with each other.
***
After the morning’s bride pickup, both families were to meet at the hotel for the photoshoot.
To allow ample time, Zhōu Shíyì had already discussed with his father-in-law before sending invitations, arranging the banquet for the evening.
Once Jì Fánxīng arrived, the house grew livelier.
Meanwhile, the bridal room was eerily quiet.
In the downstairs living room, Zhōu Sùjìn leaned back on the sofa with his eyes closed, resting.
He had returned from the wedding site just past midnight and was woken at four in the morning by Zhōu Jiāyè’s call, urging him to come early.
Expecting urgent news, it turned out to be about dealing with Mǐn Tíng and Jiāng Yǎnfēng.
The eldest cousin was also roused from sleep by Zhōu Jiāyè’s call; since he wasn’t a groomsman and didn’t have important tasks like Jiāyè, it was a rude awakening.
Jiāyè was worried. “It won’t be easy with Jiāng Yǎnfēng.”
The eldest cousin pressed his forehead, exhausted, and closed his eyes. “Isn’t it simple? If you can’t beat them, join them.”
Jiāyè glanced toward the stairs. Thankfully, no one else was around. “You better not let Zhōu Shíyì hear this.”
“What’s the harm? He can join in too.”
Jiāyè turned to the others. “Say something.”
Zhōu Sùjìn: “Say what?”
Seeing their calm, Jiāyè suddenly wanted to lie down again.
As the night faded and dawn broke, cars arrived one after another in the courtyard.
Zhōu Shíyì, tying his Windsor knot, heard Jiang Bo look out the window and tell him the brothers-in-law had arrived.
He responded calmly—he wasn’t counting on these brothers-in-law for the bride pickup today.
Among the three brothers-in-law, two were from Hong Kong Island and one from Shenzhen.
At the mother-in-law’s house, she chatted in Cantonese with them so much they probably forgot why they were even there.
What’s the use of many relatives, then?
He had no choice but to call Níng Quē as backup.
With his Windsor knot tied, Zhōu Shíyì took his new suit jacket from the wardrobe.
Having grown used to the scent of all the clothes in the house, even though this one lacked cedar and fir base notes, he couldn’t tell the difference.
But his shirt carried the sharp undertone Zhōng Yì had mentioned—something familiar enough not to feel strange to her.
All the black suits in the wardrobe looked similar at first glance.
Jiang Bo carefully examined the suit Zhōu Shíyì pulled out, confirming it was the set Zhōng Yì had custom-ordered, and only then felt at ease.
Zhōu Shíyì put on the suit and walked toward the jewelry stand, slipping two hair clips into his inner pocket.
Jiang Bo wanted to ask: why wear children’s hair clips at a wedding?
Those hair clips belonged to Chén Chén; he had seen the exact ones on Chén Chén’s little maruko doll.
Jiang Bo reminded him, “You should take off the ring first.
At the wedding, exchanging rings while still wearing one wouldn’t feel ceremonial.”
Zhōu Shíyì glanced at his ring finger. “No rush. I’ll take it off before the banquet.”
***
On the jewelry stand lay two velvet boxes side by side—the one on the left was a diamond ring the Flagship Jewelry Store had sent recently, the one on the right a pair of rings Zhōu Shíyì had custom-made two years ago.
The diamond ring was valuable; Jiang Bo would keep it today and take it to the hotel.
Jiang Bo wasn’t sure which diamond ring Zhōu Shíyì would choose but didn’t ask, patiently waiting for instructions.
Zhōu Shíyì lifted the velvet box on the right and opened it.
When he had the rings made, he planned to go back.
He couldn’t let go of the pride lost in the breakup, nor could he let go of her.
By then, she had already returned to Jinghe.
On February 24th, the day he got the rings, he wanted to visit Jiangcheng Town.
To see the place she grew up and visit her parents.
He asked Zhan Liang to inquire about her family’s address in the town, but Jingcheng replied there was never a family with the surname Zhōng there.
With no choice, he used her high school class info to provide her personal details and asked his second uncle and fourth uncle for help.
The second uncle called back first: “You shouldn’t have looked.”
From his tone, Zhōu Shíyì sensed the gravity of the situation and asked what had happened in her family.
The second uncle said, “She’s the daughter of Jiang Laosan and Zhōng Zhuóhuá. The Jiang family keeps things tightly hidden; just pretend you know nothing.”
For him, this was good news.
He no longer needed to swallow his pride and reconcile with her; he could marry into her family through connections.
As he considered how to let Jiang Jingyuan know he had dated his daughter, on the 29th, Lù Chéng won Best Actor, dedicating most of his acceptance speech to thanking Zhōng Zhuóhuá.
That was also the day Zhōu Shíyì found out she had already deleted him after his messages failed to send.
He didn’t know what to do with the rings.
Until a year later, when the engagement date with his former alliance partner was set, his grandfather called, reminding him to buy rings.
By then, only a few days remained until the date when he and his alliance partner had agreed to settle the past and move forward together.
He had to handle not just the wedding dress but also the photos and videos of her on his phone, and the pair of rings.
About the past—even without his alliance partner saying it—he planned to clear everything before the engagement.
Since they had agreed to move forward, he would try his best not to repeat his parents’ mistakes or become like his father.
As for Zhōng Yì, if she ran into trouble, she didn’t need his help.
Once Jiang Jingyuan publicly revealed her identity, she would gradually have a new circle of friends and wouldn’t have to eat alone.
Whether she and Lù Chéng would last or end well, he didn’t know, but Zhōng Zhuóhuá kept promoting Lù Chéng’s upcoming film.
He silently wished her fulfillment of that hope.
That was the first time he ever wished her well.
The night he decided to deal with the dress and photos, he watched her video one last time—her leaning on him, singing the new OST she had just learned.
After watching, he still couldn’t bring himself to delete it.
Auntie had already come to collect the wedding dress, but he told her to leave it in place.
He could never bear to erase the past with her.
He had kept the rings ever since.
Zhōu Shíyì closed the velvet box and handed it to Jiang Bo. “Use these at the wedding.”
Time was nearly up; he headed downstairs.
The pre-ceremony process was still incomplete.
Jiang Bo said, “Everyone’s here, saying they’re discussing the bride pickup strategy.”
Zhōu Shíyì thought they were serious and looked down from the spiral staircase.
The sofa was a mess—everyone was asleep.
Only Níng Quē sat upright, gulping coffee.
A few videographers stood quietly in the corner, having switched off their cameras; they couldn’t film such a scene.
Having covered weddings of the elite for years, they had never seen a pre-bride pickup like this—no words could be said.
Zhōu Shíyì wasn’t surprised and, out of goodwill for the rushed wedding, let them sleep a few more minutes.
When the groom finally came downstairs, the videographers sprang into action.
Zhōu Shíyì gestured them to rest. “Don’t film me.”
The videographers exchanged looks. If they weren’t filming the groom, what else was there?
They had wanted to follow him upstairs, but the housekeeper told them to wait downstairs. Now that he was downstairs, he said no filming.
Zhōu Shíyì added, “Film during the bride pickup.”
He also instructed, “When my parents arrive, film them first.”
His parents’ wedding coincided with their thirtieth anniversary; they married at the start of the year and had him by year-end—purely to fulfill marriage and childbearing duties.
He had watched their wedding video a few years ago.
As Grandpa put it, it looked less like a wedding and more like a feud.
His mother regretted that wedding somewhat, so now that she and his father were dressed up together rarely, it was a good chance to film anew.
Níng Quē pointed at the untouched coffee in front of her. “Want some?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “You drink it.”
He wasn’t tired, so he didn’t need it.
Níng Quē downed the coffee, stealing a glance at the six people sprawled on the sofa. Just as Zhōu Shíyì said, none of them were reliable.
They were about to go pick up the bride but were calm and comfortable enough to nap.
The first rays of morning light streamed in as the elders gradually arrived.
The napping group forced themselves up.
Shī Fányīn’s boutonniere hadn’t been pinned yet; Zhōu Yúnlián took it from Jiang Bo. “I’ll do it.”
She looked up at the man as he bent down to pin it. Seeing the videographers nearby, she lowered her voice. “You’re being unusually kind today. Not like you.”
Zhōu Yúnlián glanced at her. “You’ve been driving me crazy. Is this okay?”
Shī Fányīn smiled, “Fine.”
Zhōu Yúnlián ignored her teasing and continued adjusting the boutonniere.
Jiang Laosan had called last night, hoping to avoid any discord at his daughter and son-in-law’s wedding.
Even without Jiang Jingyuan’s reminders, Zhōu Yúnlián wouldn’t quarrel with his wife at their son’s wedding.
Shī Fányīn asked, “Remember how it was when we got married?”
Zhōu Yúnlián: “You cried your eyes out.”
“I’m not worse than your ex,” she said, modestly.
“Why’d you have to cry so much?”
Shī Fányīn: “You should reflect on yourself.”
Zhōu Yúnlián didn’t think he was at fault but chose not to argue today.
He played along. “Fine, I’ll reflect properly at home.”
Shī Fányīn looked at him in surprise, instinctively checking his forehead to see if he really had a fever.
Zhōu Yúnlián pushed her hand aside. “Don’t touch! Are you going to let me pin this boutonniere or not?”
Shī Fányīn silently studied him—something was off today; usually, he wouldn’t speak softly to her like this.
Thirty years of marriage—one look from her was enough for Zhōu Yúnlián to know what she was thinking.
For some reason, the videographers kept focusing on them.
If not filming the groom, what were they filming?
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