Chapter 478 Wedding Congratulations

Chapter 478: Wedding Celebration

Wuliji was the only one still moving a muscle.

He kept his head down, quietly eating the mutton off his plate, as if he hadn't noticed the air around them had turned to stone.

He chewed twice, swallowed, and took another bite.

After finishing the mutton, Wuliji picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a spare rib, and dropped it into Cheng Ge's bowl.

"Muyu... eat too," he said quietly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Cheng Ge stared at the spare rib in his bowl, feeling the air at the table freeze over once again.

Seven pairs of eyes bore into him, heavier and hotter than before.

He braced himself and reached for the rib with his chopsticks, his fingertips trembling slightly.

Before he could even lift it, a cold snort rang out.

Zhou Zhan set his chopsticks down on the table with a clatter. His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried a barb:

"What, are all you Di people just for show—can't carry a thing, can't lift a thing, can't even pick up your own food without someone feeding you?"

Cheng Ge's chopsticks paused mid-air. He couldn't eat, but he couldn't not eat either.

He took a deep breath, set down his chopsticks, stood up, and smiled as he picked up a piece of fish and placed it into Zhou Zhan's bowl.

His voice was soft and coaxing, like he was soothing a child: "Your Highness, this fish is quite good. You should try some."

Zhou Zhan looked down at the fish in his bowl, then up at Cheng Ge's beaming face.

He opened his mouth, swallowed back the words he was about to say, the tips of his ears turning pink as he reached for his chopsticks.

The second he picked them up, a snicker came from the side.

Yun Xunyu leaned back in his chair, twirling his folding fan between his fingers, the corners of his mouth curved upward, his voice lazy:

"Didn't His Highness just say the Di people can't carry or lift a thing and need others to wait on them?

So how come he's gone all frail and helpless now, needing someone to serve him too?"

Zhou Zhan's chopsticks froze mid-air, the blush spreading from his ears all the way down his neck.

He shot a vicious glare at Yun Xunyu, wishing he could cut him into a thousand pieces—but those words had come from his own mouth, so he could only swallow the bitter pill.

Cheng Ge, afraid Yun Xunyu's venomous tongue would push Zhou Zhan over the edge, quickly picked up a piece of fish for Yun Xunyu as well. "You eat too. Keep that mouth of yours busy."

Yun Xunyu immediately changed his expression, those flirtatious eyes curving into crescents, his voice sweet enough to make one's teeth ache: "Thanks, dear."

As he spoke, his fingertips grazed the red string on Cheng Ge's wrist, using the excuse of taking the food.

Cheng Ge: "..."

Suddenly, the atmosphere turned icy. Cheng Ge yanked his hand back and let out a couple of awkward laughs. "Come on, everyone, eat. Don't hold back."

Zhou Yinyun let out a cold snort, setting down his teacup with a crisp clink.

"If you ask me, as the saying goes—those not of our kind are bound to think differently. Isn't the Third Prince planning to head back to Nanling anytime soon?"

That was as good as kicking him out.

Cheng Ge's grip on his chopsticks tightened, his knuckles going white. He instinctively glanced at Yun Xunyu.

Yun Xunyu finished his fish slowly, even picking the bones clean.

Then he looked up and suddenly coughed to the side—not loud, but sharp, enough to make everyone's heart skip.

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

He jumped to his feet, scared out of his wits, not even stopping to right the chair he'd knocked over. "What's wrong? Are you okay?!"

Yun Xunyu covered his lips and coughed several more times, a vivid flush spreading to the corners of his eyes from the fit. He turned back to look at the panicked Cheng Ge, his voice hoarse:

"Nanling is far, and my body's weak now. I never wanted that position anyway—I just want to stay by your side, life after life."

Cheng Ge's eyes stung. Yun Xunyu had ruined his health saving him, and the guilt had been eating at him ever since. Hearing that now, the ache in his chest was unbearable.

"Nanling's too far—no need to go back. If you don't like staying outside, just move into the Marquis's place for a while." The words spilled out of Cheng Ge's mouth before he could stop them.

Yun Xunyu looked at Cheng Ge, the smile in his eyes deepening. "Really? My dear?"

Everyone rolled their eyes at that.

Zhou Mingqi set down his chopsticks, his expression calm yet carrying an unyielding authority:

"The Great Zhou guest house is fine. If the Third Prince doesn't like it, I can grant you a residence.

Minister Cheng is an important official of Great Zhou. He shouldn't have too much contact with outsiders, or people will talk."

Cheng Ge looked at Zhou Mingqi and thought that made sense.

He was about to speak when Cui Ji, who had remained silent on the side, finally opened his mouth: "If the Third Prince has nowhere to go, my estate has plenty of spare rooms. Take your pick."

At that, Yun Xunyu's coughing stopped dead.

He slowly lifted his eyes, his gaze drifting lazily over to Cui Ji.

"Prince Zhenbei's kindness, this prince appreciates."

Yun Xunyu gently waved his folding fan, his tone lazy yet every word laced with thorns.

"It's just that I've always liked quiet. When it comes to where I sleep—if there's an outsider around, even a fly would keep me up all night."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Cui Ji, a faint, knowing smile curling at the corner of his mouth:

"But... outsiders can't stay. An 'insider,' though—that's a different story."

Everyone: "..."

Cheng Ge's face went crimson in an instant, the heat spreading all the way to his ears.

He fumbled with the hem of his robe under the table, wishing he could dig a hole and crawl into it.

Cui Ji's eyes darkened, the chill around him turning even sharper.

Seeing this powder keg about to blow, Cheng Ge's head was spinning. His survival instinct kicked in, and he grabbed the wine cup in front of him, staggering to his feet.

"So, uh..."

Cheng Ge's voice cracked from nerves, and he forced a smile that was uglier than a cry, raising his wine cup high while his eyes darted around, not daring to meet anyone's.

"What a beautiful day, with all of you here. I... I just remembered—Lord Lin's new place is the talk of the capital!"

He blurted it all out in one breath, not giving a damn how forced the pivot was, then threw back the cup and downed it in one go, coughing his lungs out.

"Ahem... I say we—we all drink to this! Here's to Yuli climbing high and moving up fast!"

Everyone stared at Cheng Ge's pathetic scramble to change the subject by chugging his drink, and their faces said it all.

But no matter how much they butted heads, they wouldn't humiliate Cheng Ge, so they grudgingly raised their glasses.

Just as Cheng Ge was about to sit down, a bony hand reached over and dropped some fresh greens and a soft piece of tofu into his bowl.

"Eat something, Muyu, to line your stomach." Lin Nanshu's voice was warm and smooth, like a spring breeze.

Cheng Ge, fresh off being tortured by those "little demons," now looked at Lin Nanshu and thought he was practically glowing—a literal angel sent down to save his sorry ass.

Touched, he let his hand slide down the table's edge, hidden under the tablecloth, and tentatively reached for Lin Nanshu's hand on his knee.

Lin Nanshu's face went stiff, and he turned to Cheng Ge, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually still, calm eyes.

But he didn't pull back—instead, his fingers twitched and squeezed back.

Their palms met, warmth blooming between them. Cheng Ge was basking in this secret little moment with Lin Nanshu.

But when he looked up, he locked eyes with Cui Ji—a look of blatant warning.

Cheng Ge flinched, let go of Lin Nanshu's hand with regret, and grabbed his cup to toast again: "Come on, come on, drink up!"

After a few rounds, even with Cheng Ge's decent tolerance, he was starting to feel it.

His vision blurred, the room spun, and to his horror, dozens of "husbands" swam before his eyes.

It was late, and the banquet was finally winding down. Nobody wanted to stick around.

Zhou Zhan spoke up first, his eyes landing on the drunk, bleary-eyed Cheng Ge: "Muyu's drunk. I'll have someone take you home."

"No need to bother the Crown Prince." Yun Xunyu smiled sweetly. "My dear's drunk—no need to trouble outsiders."

"I'm heading that way anyway," Cui Ji said flatly.

Lin Nanshu was about to say something when he felt his sleeve yanked hard.

Cheng Ge was plastered to him, mumbling: "Not going... not going..."

Everyone: "..."

Even though everyone was grinding their molars in frustration, Cheng Ge was glued to Lin Nanshu like an octopus, and there was nothing they could do.

Finally, everyone dispersed.

Zhou Zhan glanced back on his way out, and Cui Ji paused at the door.

Yun Xunyu spun his folding fan three times before tucking it into his sleeve.

Zhou Yinyun's cold snort echoed from the corridor, and Zhou Mingqi's carriage lingered at the gate for a long while—but they all left.

Cheng Ge hung on Lin Nanshu like a crumpled tissue, soft and limp, impossible to straighten out.

His face was buried in the crook of Lin Nanshu's shoulder, his breath heavy and hot with wine, puffing against Lin Nanshu's neck in steady waves.

Lin Nanshu stood still, one hand on his waist, the other on his back, like propping up a bamboo bent by the wind—not rushing to straighten it, just letting him lean.

"They're gone?" Cheng Ge asked in a muffled voice.

"They're gone," Lin Nanshu said.

Cheng Ge lifted his head from his shoulder, squinting at the door—empty, just two lanterns swaying in the night breeze.

A smile tugged at his lips, and he buried his face again, deeper this time, nuzzling Lin Nanshu's collar like a cat that found its nest and refused to leave.

"Muyu," Lin Nanshu's voice came from above, soft, "time to rest."

"Not going." Cheng Ge's voice was muffled against his chest, slurred and whiny. "It's comfy here."

Lin Nanshu said nothing, just held him a little tighter.

After a long moment, Cheng Ge finally pulled back.

Not because the wine wore off, but because he got tired of hanging on.

His face had a faint red mark from the fabric, his eyes still hazy, a few strands of hair loose—he looked messy and soft at once.

Lin Nanshu reached out, and Cheng Ge's hand slipped into his on its own, fingers lacing together, palm to palm.

Lin Nanshu led him to the back courtyard. The red silk from the daytime celebration still hung under the eaves, not yet taken down.

Lantern after lantern lit their way, the red silk swaying in the night breeze, casting a rosy glow over both their faces.

Mid-walk, Cheng Ge suddenly stopped, dropped Lin Nanshu's hand, stumbled two steps to the pillar, and stood on his toes to tug at the red silk.

"Muyu!" Lin Nanshu rushed over to steady him, scared he'd fall.

Cheng Ge ignored him, yanked down the red silk, clutched it in his hand, kept one end for himself, and shoved the other into Lin Nanshu's hand.

His fingers were hot, his knuckles flushed, gripping the red silk like it was something precious.

He looked up at Lin Nanshu.

The lantern light caught his eyes, bright and hazy, like they were veiled in mist.

"Today I marry you," he said, soft but clear, like he'd been thinking about it for ages. "I'll take you to the bridal chamber."

Lin Nanshu went still.

The red silk hung from his hand, one end in Cheng Ge's grip, the other dangling in midair.

Cheng Ge looked at his stunned face, flushed from the red silk's glow, and smiled.

He reached out, took the other end of the red silk, and pressed it back into Lin Nanshu's palm, curling his fingers around it to help him hold on.

"Hold it tight," he said, his voice soft like he was coaxing a kid. "Groom."

With that, he took the other end of the red silk and turned to walk ahead.

He stumbled after two steps, caught himself, and kept going in a crooked line—but his direction was clear: toward the guest rooms.

The red silk pulled taut, then went slack, then taut again, like a thread tying two people together, trembling in the night breeze, refusing to snap.

Lin Nanshu stood still, watching Cheng Ge's retreating figure—

His bamboo green robe shimmered faintly in the moonlight, hair loose, with unsteady steps, clutching a length of red silk in his hand, yet carrying an inexplicable air of triumphant swagger.

He glanced down at the red silk in his own hand—the other end held by Cheng Ge, tugging again and again, as if urging him forward.

He hesitated for just a moment, then lifted his foot and followed.

Cheng Ge swaggered along, his strides wide and floaty, like stilt-walking on clouds—each step planted with utter confidence, the floor tiles practically feeling guilty for him.

The red silk flapped back and forth in his hand like a drunken snake, staggering along with him.

The servants in the compound spotted him from afar, froze for a beat, then all at once lowered their heads and pressed themselves against the walls to clear the way, as if they wished they could squeeze themselves into the cracks in the wall.

But Cheng Ge wasn't about to let them off the hook.

He stopped, cocked his head to look at a young maid cowering behind a corridor pillar, squinted his eyes, and his mouth curled up into a big grin.

"You," he said, raising a finger and pointing at her with a shaky hand, "come, congratulate me on getting married."

The maid's face flushed crimson. She glanced at Lin Nanshu standing behind Cheng Ge, her lips trembling for a long moment before she squeezed out: "Con... congratulations to the Marquis on his wedding..."

Cheng Ge nodded with satisfaction, reached into his sleeve, fumbled around for a while, pulled out a handful of copper coins, and pressed them into the maid's hand.

"For you," he said, his tone as lavish as if he were handing out a mountain of gold.

The maid clutched the few copper coins, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Cheng Ge had already turned and walked off, the red silk swinging through the night breeze once more.

He walked and stopped, stopping and walking. An old servant sweeping the ground was intercepted for congratulations and received two copper coins.

A young lad hauling wine jars was stopped for congratulations and got three copper coins.

A bookkeeper who had just stepped out of the latrine, still disoriented, was grabbed by the sleeve and congratulated, stumbling away in a daze with a handful of coins clutched in his hand.

Lin Nanshu followed behind, the red silk in his hand trembling with each tug, step by step in tow.

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