Chapter 386 Attending the Wedding

Chapter 386: Attending the Wedding

Cheng Ge: "..." Sometimes he really wanted to sew his own mouth shut.

He clutched the heavy wooden box in his arms, feeling his arms go numb.

His ears were ringing, with only the word "betrothal gift" echoing wildly in his mind.

The words he had casually made up earlier to get himself out of a bind had now become the heaviest boomerang, landing squarely on him.

Every item in the box seemed to burn his fingertips; the weight pressed not only on his hands but also heavily on his heart.

Throw it away? How could he dare! Keep it? How could he dare!

Wuliji watched the spectacular, ever-changing expression on his face, and the confusion in his deep eyes deepened. He asked in a low voice, "You don't like it?"

Cheng Ge jolted, snapping back to reality. Meeting Wuliji's earnest gaze, a chill ran down his spine.

He forced out a stiff, twitchy dry laugh, his voice drifting: "How—how could that be... I like... like it..."

He swallowed hard, his tongue feeling tied in knots, "...I do like it. It's just..."

He tried to steer the conversation back on track, hefting the troublesome box in his arms, "...it's just too precious to give as a gift."

Wuliji clearly couldn't understand Cheng Ge's logic at all. He asked directly, "What does 'giving a gift' mean?"

Cheng Ge choked on the question, suddenly realizing there might be a huge cultural gap between them.

He had no choice but to patiently explain as simply as he could: "It means when you attend someone's happy occasion, you bring a gift or money to show your congratulations. It's a form of etiquette. Usually, you don't bring this 'much.'"

He emphasized the last word, glancing again at the eye-searing treasure in his arms.

Wuliji listened, silent for a moment, as if digesting this concept that was quite foreign to him.

Then he gave a concise conclusion: "Around here... no need... for gifts."

Cheng Ge: "...Oh." He hugged the box, even more bewildered.

...

The wedding gathering was livelier than Cheng Ge had imagined.

A massive bonfire had already been lit, orange-red flames leaping high, lighting up the area like daylight.

People gathered around the fire, the air filled with the mixed scent of roasted meat, milk wine, and burning pine resin.

The moment Wuliji appeared, the noisy crowd fell silent for a beat.

Then, the men, women, old and young near them all placed their right hands over their left chests.

They bowed slightly and called out in respectful unison, "Chief Wuliji."

The voice wasn't particularly loud, but the genuine respect was unmistakable.

Wuliji's expression remained unchanged. He merely gave a slight nod and returned the greeting, placing his right hand on his chest.

His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering a moment longer on a few of the elders, nodding slightly in greeting.

Cheng Ge stood half a step behind him to the side, a little intimidated by the spectacle. Instinctively, he straightened his back.

His gaze wandered curiously and soon settled on the night's main couple—the bride and groom.

One look and he nearly blurted out "whoa!"

Weren't the bride and groom just the girl Tana he'd seen galloping across the grassland a few days ago, and the young man chasing after her horse?!

Good heavens! They'd only just set eyes on each other a few days ago, and now they're already tying the knot?

That's faster than a blitzkrieg! No getting to know each other first? No courtship period?

Cheng Ge grumbled inwardly, but his face quickly adjusted into a standard, eight-toothed, sincere smile.

He nodded at the couple and said in what he thought was his most proper tone, "May you live in harmony for a hundred years, with hearts joined as one."

Tana had just been teased by her companions, her cheeks flushed red. Hearing Cheng Ge's elegant blessing, her eyes lit up.

Her smile grew even wider, and she rattled off a string of Northern Di words at Cheng Ge, her tone excited.

Cheng Ge's smile froze on his face. He looked at Wuliji, bewildered.

Wuliji turned and translated quietly: "She says... you speak... very nicely."

Cheng Ge, hearing this, actually felt a bit embarrassed and scratched his head, acting modest: "Oh, it's nothing, just so-so, just so-so."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he reached into his robe and pulled out a sachet.

This was something Lü Rou had casually slipped into his sleeve earlier, originally stuffed with some refreshing herbs.

He stepped forward and handed the sachet to Tana, with a natural, casual air.

"Here... this is for you. A little something to wish you both happiness and harmony."

Tana looked at the sachet offered to her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

She instinctively took half a step back, glanced at Cheng Ge, then quickly turned her gaze to Wuliji, looking to him for permission, a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

Wuliji looked at the sachet in Cheng Ge's hand, his gaze flickering almost imperceptibly. Then he gave Tana the faintest of nods.

Only after getting the chief's approval did Tana accept the sachet with both hands, carefully untying the drawstring and peeking inside.

Inside were a few small, round gold beads with intricate spiral patterns, gleaming with a soft, rich luster in the firelight—exquisite and beautiful.

Tana's eyes immediately brightened. She clearly adored this unique and valuable gift.

She looked up at Cheng Ge and, in halting Great Zhou speech, said word by word, "Thank... you."

Cheng Ge waved his hand dismissively: "You're welcome, you're welcome. It's nothing."

He thought to himself that it wasn't his stuff anyway—he'd just swiped it from Wuliji's hair earlier, so he didn't feel a pang of loss at all.

The wedding ceremony was simple.

Led by the tribal elder, the couple swore an oath to the Eternal Heaven, then shared a bowl of fermented mare's milk, and with that, the ceremony was complete.

There were no elaborate formalities, yet it was filled with the grassland's unique simplicity, sincerity, and reverence for heaven and earth.

By the bonfire, the eldest shaman raised a silver bowl filled with mare's milk, turned toward the night sky.

In a mournful, drawn-out melody, he began to chant, calling on the Eternal Heaven, the mountains, and the ancestral spirits to bear witness.

Then, he turned to the new couple.

The firelight danced across Temur's young and resolute face, wearing a brand-new indigo robe.

Tana stood beside him, dressed up, she had traded her usual briskness for a softer, more graceful solemnity.

The elder's gaze first rested on Tana, his voice slow and clear:

"Tana, pearl of the Kerait tribe, do you willingly take Temur as your partner, like a horse to its saddle, a bowstring to its arrow?

Through snowstorms sweeping the pastures, or wolves closing in on the sheepfold; through health like a spring foal, or frailty like a seed in the wind.

Will you share the same bowl of water with him, dwell in the same yurt, and bind your fate to his saddle, until your soul returns to the Eternal Blue Sky?"

Tana lifted her head, her gaze bright as stars, and answered without hesitation in a clear voice: "I will! I swear by the glory of my ancestors and my bow!"

The elder nodded, then turned to Temur, his expression more solemn:

"Temur, warrior of the Uliangha Tribe, do you willingly take Tana as your wife, as the grassland protects its springs, as the eagle protects its nest?

Will you shield her from blade and arrow with your body, win glory for her with your valor, and bear all future hardships?

Whether she laughs or weeps, whether she is strong or in need of support, will you see her as an inseparable part of your life, forged together like iron in fire, never to part?"

Temur drew a deep breath, his chest rising and falling powerfully.

He turned, firmly grasping Tana's hand, and spoke in a voice loud and resolute, as if to make the entire grassland hear:

"I will! I swear by my name 'Temur'! Her joy is my joy, her people are my people! The Eternal Blue Sky bears witness; this oath shall never waver!"

"Good!" the elder praised loudly, holding out the silver bowl to them. "Your vows have been carried across the grasslands by the wind, forged into your souls by fire!

Now, drink this cup of wine that binds you, and your lives will blend like milk and water, inseparable from this moment on!"

Temur and Tana exchanged a smile, and holding the silver bowl together, they drank it dry.

Instantly, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, whistles, and song!

---

The ceremony over, the real celebration was just beginning. Fine wine and delicacies were brought forth endlessly, the atmosphere electric.

As the symbolic bowl of mare's milk wine was drained by the couple, the surrounding cheers nearly shook the bonfire apart.

Eager revelers surged forward, encircling Temur and Tana.

Hand drums sounded, their rapid, lively rhythm firing up the crowd. Young men and women joined hands in circles, dancing with stamping feet and robes swirling.

The aroma of food grew richer and more enticing amid the fervor.

A whole roasted lamb was carried to a wooden table set up next to the bonfire.

Its golden, crackling skin glistened in the firelight, fat dripping and sizzling.

Milk tea steamed from a large copper pot, its rich, creamy scent mingling with the aroma of tea.

Cheng Ge's attention had long been locked on that fragrant, crispy roast lamb.

Seated on a felt mat not far from Wuliji, he stared fixedly at the meaty leg, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly.

His stomach rumbled like a war drum, and any earlier feelings about the ceremony were now wholly replaced by primal hunger.

Just as Cheng Ge was eyeing the leg, pondering how to get at the meat as fast as possible, and with some dignity (though mainly fast), the felt mat beside him sank slightly.

Before he knew it, Wuliji had taken a seat next to him, still in that composed, silent manner.

A stocky man holding a short knife approached the roast lamb, respectfully bowing toward Wuliji.

Then, with practiced skill, he carved off the most succulent, golden-roasted hind leg, placed it on a broad wooden platter, and offered it with both hands to the low table before Wuliji.

Wuliji gave a slight nod and nonchalantly slid the whole platter toward Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge's eyes lit up. Dropping all pretense, he rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

But the leg was enormous, all bone and meat, steaming hot—he found himself at a loss for where to start.

Tear it with his hands? Too uncouth, and likely to burn. Use chopsticks? Clearly impractical.

He blinked, reached into his robe, and pulled out the dagger he always carried.

Its sheath was plain, but when drawn, the blade gleamed with a faint, cold glint in the firelight.

Cheng Ge gripped the dagger, twisted his wrist slightly, and the sharp tip precisely cut into the soft membrane at the joint. A gentle turn and lift.

A piece of meat, with crispy skin and tender flesh, came away cleanly.

He quickly speared it with the dagger's tip, blew on it twice, and popped it into his mouth, chewing rapidly.

A Northern Di man, who had been strolling past and glanced over, suddenly halted mid-step.

His gaze fixed on the grease-covered dagger in Cheng Ge's hand, his eyes widening in shock.

Cheng Ge, chewing happily with cheeks bulging, keenly sensed the almost tangible stare. He turned, mouth full of meat, and met a pair of astonished eyes.

Assuming the man was also drawn to the roast leg, he enthusiastically pointed at the rest of the meat on the platter and mumbled, "Want some? There's plenty left."

The man shook his head violently, as if burned, his gaze still locked on the dagger.

Confused by the reaction, Cheng Ge followed his gaze to the blade in his own hand.

He swallowed the meat and asked, confused, "What's wrong? This knife... is there a problem?"

The man took a deep breath and stammered in the tongue of the Great Zhou: "No... no problem... it's too good..."

He glanced at Wuliji again before continuing, "This knife... our Chief spent a long time, with his own hands, slowly grinding it out.

It's made of the rarest black iron, and the handle is made from the antler of the first white-lipped deer he hunted.

And this gem and pearl at the pommel—his mother left it to him... said it was for his future Khatun."

His tone was almost reverent. "Now I see... it's truly sharp... a fine blade."

Cheng Ge's movements froze completely. The lingering aroma of lamb in his mouth seemed to curdle in an instant.

He stiffly lowered his head, looking again at the "handy" dagger in his hand.

Grease had soaked into its once-pristine lines, and the fine patterns on the antler handle were faintly visible beneath the stains.

Cheng Ge: "???"

Those words hit Cheng Ge like hammer blows.

Cheng Ge recoiled as if the antler had seared him, yanked his hand back, then, realizing that was wrong, froze mid-air, his fingers on the handle not daring to loosen or tighten.

He licked his greasy lips, the lump of mutton he hadn't quite swallowed stuck in his throat.

The knife he'd swiped on impulse... how the hell was it Wuliji's?!

If he'd known earlier... he wouldn't have touched it for anything! Cheng Ge suddenly remembered—he'd even stabbed Wuliji with this very dagger.

Damn it! This wasn't a knife; it was a death warrant! No—this was worse, a hot potato he couldn't drop!

Cheng Ge felt the dagger in his hand weigh a thousand pounds, the grease seeming to seep into his bones, making them feel like they were on fire.

He forced the mutton down with difficulty, his neck craning as he swallowed.

The celebratory noise around him seemed to fade in an instant, leaving only his own thundering heartbeat, the wary gaze of the man across from him, and the unsettlingly calm presence of Wuliji beside him.

He had to say something... had to explain...