Chapter 009 Wedding Ceremony 01

Chapter 009 The Wedding March 01

"Is my father really that stubborn?" Zhou Younan asked Zhou Mo.

"Yes. He once sponsored a student who wrote to decline his help, but he insisted the student must have encountered difficulties and was determined to visit in person." Helplessness flickered in Zhou Mo's eyes.

Zhou Younan searched his memory, but found nothing.

"He... is a good man."

"Yes, he is a very good man." Zhou Mo adjusted his tie and asked, "May I come in for a glass of water?"

Zhou Younan stepped aside, allowing Zhou Mo into the room.

After pouring Zhou Mo a glass of water, Zhou Mo stopped him, "Nan Nan."

Zhou Younan looked at him.

Zhou Mo sat on the sofa, a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, and asked, "Since you resolved Lance's issue, can I take that as you accepting me as your brother?"

Zhou Younan replied, "You are my cousin."

Zhou Mo sighed. "I wasn't asking about our blood relation, but about your true feelings."

"After you were found, I advised Father to treat you well. Clearly, he didn't take my advice, which is why you've been guarded around me from the start."

Seeing Zhou Younan about to speak, Zhou Mo interjected, "Don't deny it. I can tell."

Zhou Younan had indeed been wary of Zhou Mo, precisely because he was Zhou Quan's son.

Zhou Mo took a sip of water, his gaze lowered. "It's been six years—six years since I last returned to the Zhou family. Though I'm the eldest son, I'm only a Beta."

As he spoke, his face showed a mix of loneliness and resignation.

Zhou Younan understood one thing: despite being the eldest son, Zhou Mo was not favored by Zhou Quan due to his Beta status.

Zhou Mo managed a smile and said to Zhou Younan, "Don't hold prejudice against me just because I'm his son. I'm not like him."

His dark eyes held a cautious vulnerability.

Zhou Younan recognized that behind this wariness was an outstretched hand, yearning to be held.

Moved, Zhou Younan said, "You're the only one in the Zhou family who has shown me kindness. You deserve to be called a brother."

Zhou Mo smiled happily, his eyes glistening slightly. "Can you tell me what happened during your month with the Zhou family?"

Zhou Younan shook his head. "I don't want to recall those things."

"I'm sorry. I apologize on their behalf."

"It's not your fault. You don't need to apologize."

"Right, apologies are useless. Then, what can I do to make it up to you?" Zhou Mo asked, lowering his posture.

Zhou Younan was about to refuse.

Then he thought of Luo Luo, now alone, and said, "Luo Luo. I want you to arrange for his protection."

"That child you brought with you?"

"Yes. Luo Luo is someone I've watched grow up since he was little."

"If Luo Luo is your brother, then he's my brother too. I'll arrange protection for him—don't worry."

Zhou Younan thanked him.

"All these years... how did you manage alone? Why were you in the Short-Tailed Star detention center?"

Zhou Mo's tone was gentle, his eyes filled with visible concern.

Under such a gaze, a pang of sadness welled up in Zhou Younan's heart.

The events of those years couldn't be summarized in a few words, but the concern touched him deeply.

Afraid that his past struggles—like scavenging—might make Zhou Mo look down on him, Zhou Younan only told him about his experiences at the 411 Research Institute and his time in the detention center.

Zhou Mo listened attentively, often voicing concern over Zhou Younan's hardships.

"So someone discovered the existence of the research institute," Zhou Mo said thoughtfully. "From your description, the ones who rescued you sounded like military personnel."

"The institute had a blackout that night, and it was dark. They were also masked—no one knew who they were. I must have passed out and woke up in the detention center."

Zhou Mo nodded in understanding, then smiled. "You've suffered too much these years. The Zhou family's old estate is still standing. If you ever return, I'll take you to see it."

Zhou Younan didn't know about the old estate and had assumed the high-rise was the Zhou family residence.

"Your father and other father were good people. They used to live in the old estate. Visiting might help jog some old memories."

Zhou Younan nodded, accepting Zhou Mo's suggestion.

***

Before they knew it, it was the day before the wedding.

At 8 p.m., Henry Gray entered Wei Qing's home with him.

By 10 p.m., Henry reluctantly left Wei Qing’s house, looking back again and again.

"Marshal, tomorrow is the wedding. Please don't forget."

"You said no need for formal attire, so I've ironed your military uniform and placed it by your bed. Please wear it."

"I'll pick you up at 9:30 tomorrow morning. Please don't sleep in."

"I know, I know. You've been nagging since Nuwa Star—my ears are calloused." Wei Qing frowned as he ushered Henry out.

"Marshal!" Henry had a premonition. He stopped at the door and suggested, "Perhaps I should stay the night?"

"Get out." With a forceful shove, Wei Qing pushed Henry out the door.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Henry repeated his reminders, then called out louder, "Marshal, did you hear me? If you did, please respond!"

There was only silence from within.

Henry decided he'd arrive at 9 a.m. the next day to check on the situation.

On the wedding day, at 9 a.m., Henry knocked on Wei Qing's door.

The door was opened by the bulky, somewhat dim-witted housekeeping robot, Wu Huarou.

Henry's eyelid twitched as he urgently asked, "Has the Marshal gotten up yet?!"

"He has." Wu Huarou's electronic voice was distinctly old-fashioned.

Henry sighed in relief. Good, he was up. Seeing Wu Huarou answer the door had made him fear Wei Qing was still asleep.

"Did the Marshal put on his uniform?" Henry pressed.

Wu Huarou replied, "He did."

He was up and dressed—now all that was left was to go to the hall for the ceremony!

The wedding was scheduled for 11 a.m. Though the Marshal acted nonchalant, his actions were quite proactive.

Well, even if this was his third marriage, how could he not be eager to marry?

Henry's thoughts were optimistic, but after entering the house, he searched high and low, inside and out, three times over, and still couldn't find Wei Qing.

"Where is he?!" Henry snapped at Wu Huarou in frustration.

The robot calmly replied, "The master left ten minutes ago."

"WTF—!" Henry couldn't help but curse. Ten minutes ago—just as he had arrived—meaning he and Wei Qing had just missed each other.

He blamed Wu Huarou, "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

The robot replied flatly, "You didn't ask."

Henry had no time to argue with the "artificial idiot." He rushed out in a panic.

Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to secretly attach a tracker to Wei Qing's clothes the day before. The tracker pinged Wei Qing's current location at—No. 400 Renmin Road, Jiande District, the home of Retired Old Marshal Wang Han.

Wang Han, 120 years old, a retired Empire Marshal, had a hobby of collecting antique curios, among them, snuff bottles.

"What's the Marshal doing there?" Henry wondered, then froze mid-step.

The Marshal had lost his snuff bottle recently and had been sulking ever since.

"Don't tell me he's gone to con another snuff bottle?!"

Snuff bottles were relics from Earth's past—long out of fashion among interstellar humans.

Though advanced 3D printing could replicate their shape, Wei Qing was extremely old-fashioned in some ways.

He disliked 3D-printed snuff bottles, preferring only the ceramic, wood-carved, glass, and patterned ones in Old Marshal Wang Han's collection.

In the study of a sizable estate, the owner—Old Marshal Wang Han—was hosting a guest.

The antique mechanical clock on the wall showed it was already 10 a.m.

Wang Han, with his goatee, took a small pinch of snuff and closed his eyes, savoring the bitter-sweet kick of cocoa powder as it entered his nasal cavity.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his old friend Wei Qing, casually tossing one of his prized snuff bottles in the air.

Wei Qing always wore black gloves.

The snuff bottle arced gracefully from his gloved hand, rotating 180 degrees as if in slow motion.

It reminded Wang Han of all the other snuff bottles Wei Qing had smooth-talked him out of.

Anger flared as he pointed accusingly, "What are you doing? Testing the feel? Didn't you say you weren't here for my snuff bottle today—just to try my new batch of snuff?"

Wei Qing caught the bottle, completely unashamed of being caught. "Uh, it's just a habit. A bad habit."

Seeing Wei Qing relent, Wang Han's temper cooled considerably. His tone softened. "You really need to break that bad habit."

"Yeah, yeah." Wei Qing uncorked the bottle, sniffed it, then gave Wang Han a thumbs-up. "This new snuff smells fantastic."

"Does it?" Old Marshal Wang Han's wrinkled face twisted in disdain.

He mimicked Wei Qing, holding the bottle under his nose—but caught barely a whiff of scent.

"What kind of sniffing is that? How many times have I told you—snuff is meant to be inhaled! You just hold it under your nose—what can you even smell like that?"

"My sense of smell is excellent. A sniff is enough. If I inhaled it like you, I'd pass out," Wei Qing insisted on his method.

Wang Han scoffed. Wei Qing always used that excuse.

"So sharp you'll faint? Who'd believe that!"

Normally, he'd let it go—but this morning, he'd argued with his daughter over his eldest grandson, leaving him in a foul mood.

Irritation surged as Wang Han snorted. "Today, you're doing it my way. Take a real sniff. I want to see if you really faint."

Wei Qing paused. "And if I do?"

Wang Han, grinning slyly, said, "If you actually faint, you can keep that snuff bottle."

Wei Qing flipped the bottle and caught it with one hand. This snuff bottle felt perfect—he was very pleased.

With a smirk, he said, "It's a deal then."

"It's a deal."

Wang Han scooped a tiny, rice-grain-sized pinch of snuff and placed it on Wei Qing's philtrum.

Wei Qing inhaled the snuff into his nasal cavity, then closed his eyes, a look of pure enjoyment on his face.

Wang Han chuckled. "Feels good, doesn't it? Much better than just sniffing."

Wei Qing didn't answer.

"Eh? Well?" Wang Han patted him.

Wei Qing's head lolled to the side—as if he'd fainted.

"Huh?!" Wang Han thought Wei Qing was joking and grinned. "Faking won't cut it."

Still no reaction.

"Hey." Wang Han lightly tapped Wei Qing's cheek. "Keep faking, and I'll really do something."

He cracked his knuckles, warming up—just as Henry burst in, ready to "deal with" the seemingly unconscious Wei Qing.

The moment Henry saw Wei Qing slumped unconscious in the chair, he let out a panicked shriek: "Aaaaah—Marshal!!"

Wang Han winced, covering his ears, annoyed. "He's faking! Why are you wailing?"

"Faking?" Henry carefully examined his Marshal—the back of his hand was already flushing red, looking like hives were forming.

He cried out again, "He's not faking! Our Marshal is allergic to chocolate—did he eat some?"

Wang Han's jaw dropped. "Wei Qing is allergic to chocolate?!"

As he spoke, he subtly hid the snuff bottle in his hand—it contained cocoa powder.

When he spoke again, Wang Han wasn't so confident anymore. "He didn't eat any, just... inhaled a tiny bit."

"His arms are already turning red!" Henry was on the verge of a breakdown.

Wang Han snapped, "Stop overreacting! It's just an allergy—just give him an anti-allergy shot and it'll be fine!"

Intimidated by the Old Marshal's imposing presence, Henry muttered in protest, "But... the wedding is about to start!"

"Wedding? What wedding? Whose wedding?" Wang Han looked utterly confused.

"The Marshal and Young Master Zhou's wedding," Henry said with a pained expression.

Wang Han exclaimed, "Huh?! It's today?!"

"Yes," Henry frowned. Just moments ago, the Old Marshal had told him not to overreact—now he was the one freaking out.

Wang Han glanced at Wei Qing, who was dressed impeccably today. He had wondered why Wei Qing was so formally attired.

So that's why he's getting married!

"If he's getting married today, why did he even come here?!" Wang Han was also about to lose his cool.