Picking Up My Wife

Wang Xiaoyan, Song Anquan's wife, lived in a town called Shihe Town in Lu County, Hangcheng.

Though they only lived in a town, her family's conditions were not bad—in fact, much better than Song Anquan's family.

At first, Wang Xiaoyan's parents weren't too keen on their marriage. In their eyes, Song Anquan was just a poor boy. Even though he worked in Hangcheng, his career prospects weren't great.

A monthly salary of eight or nine thousand was relatively low for a big city like Hangcheng, so Wang Xiaoyan's parents' attitude toward Song Anquan was somewhat ambiguous—not exactly mocking, but far from warm.

However, Wang Xiaoyan and Song Anquan had a strong emotional foundation, and her parents eventually gave in and agreed.

......

At 6:20 in the morning, a convoy of eleven cars arrived grandly in Shihe Town.

In the early August dawn, the sun had already begun to rise behind the distant mountains.

The gentle sunlight filtered through thin clouds, casting a peaceful and beautiful glow over every corner of the town.

The town was bisected by a river—Shihe—making the entire place look exceptionally picturesque.

Since it was still early, the streets weren't crowded.

The eleven cars drove along the road beside Shihe River.

Inside one of the cars, Su Yang muttered to himself, "This place isn't bad at all. It's much better developed than most towns in our province."

Song Anquan nodded beside him. "Yeah, people here have money. Even an ordinary town looks better planned than some county seats back home."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that."

"We're almost there. Nervous?" Su Yang turned to look at Song Anquan with a smile.

Song Anquan rubbed his stiff neck. "Of course I am. The closer we get, the more nervous I feel."

Su Yang chuckled lightly. "Relax, it's no big deal. It's just picking up the bride."

"Right. Let’s just get there, bring her home, and be done with it!"

As they chatted, the convoy turned left onto a smaller road.

After driving for another two minutes, Song Anquan leaned forward and pointed. "Hey, slow down a bit. See that house up ahead all decorated with lanterns and ribbons?"

Su Yang nodded. "Got it."

"That's the place. We’ll go a little further, then stop to set off firecrackers."

Su Yang glanced down. "Got it!"

He drove another twenty or thirty meters before pulling over.

The ten cars behind them also came to a stop one after another.

Wang Xiaoyan's house stood about fifty or sixty meters away, along the roadside. The houses on either side of this road weren’t densely packed.

Each home was spaced about ten meters apart, and they all looked like little Western-style villas—though, of course, they were still self-built houses, just constructed in a more modern fashion.

Wang Xiaoyan's house was much larger than Song Anquan's, and there were two buildings enclosed by a pale gray wall.

One was a three-story building, the other two stories, both with white-tiled exteriors and red-tiled roofs.

From a distance, young men and women occasionally stepped out of Wang Xiaoyan's gate, glanced at the wedding procession, then quickly ran back inside.

Inside the courtyard, a middle-aged man asked one of the young men who had just returned, "Did you see? What kind of car is leading?"

"Yeah, the lead car looks like a Rolls-Royce Cullinan."

"What? Hah, finally splurging a bit, huh? Renting a Cullinan as the lead car."

"Well, at least they know how to save face. This hurdle’s cleared."

"Mm, can’t argue with a Cullinan. What about the cars behind?"

"Didn’t get a good look, but the colors weren’t uniform. Probably just their relatives’ and friends’ own cars."

The middle-aged man smirked. "Fine, one Cullinan as the lead car is acceptable..."

......

Back with Su Yang’s group, once all eleven cars had stopped, everyone got out. Song Anquan quickly jogged toward the rear.

"Uncle Li, you’ve got the firecrackers in your car, right?"

"Yep, I’ll get them out right away."

"Great! Oh, and the fireworks too."

"They’re all in my car. Little He, come help carry this stuff!"

"On it!"

Everyone started bustling about, the atmosphere lively.

Two groomsmen each carried a large red tray—one holding the betrothal gifts, the other the "three golds" (traditionally given to the bride).

Six or seven others, both men and women, also carried red trays laden with fruit, wedding candies, two bottles of Moutai liquor, melon seeds, peanuts, clothes, shoes, noodles, a pork leg, and more.

Seeing this, Su Yang couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Damn, this is a whole production. Does getting married really need to be this complicated?"

Jiang Mengyun, standing nearby with her arms crossed, laughed. "This isn’t even that complicated. I’ve been to a few wedding pickups where they needed twenty people just to carry all the random stuff. This is just seven or eight people—small scale."

Su Yang turned to her with a faint smile. "Didn’t realize you were such a wedding pickup veteran."

"Just relatives. I never wanted to go, but my dad always made me help."

"So you didn’t want to come this time either?"

"Of course not. These things are exhausting. But at least I ran into you and got a ride. Heh."

Su Yang chuckled helplessly. "So what’s the general procedure now?"

Jiang Mengyun thought for a moment. "Based on past experience, after the firecrackers, we’ll take all this stuff into the bride’s house. Then comes the ‘door-blocking wine’—not sure if they do that here."

Su Yang grinned. "They probably do."

"Most likely. After that, it’s a bunch of people knocking on the door, throwing red envelopes, playing games, stuff like that."

"Finally, once we get into the bride’s room, the bride’s side will make all kinds of demands—little games, maybe a heartfelt confession from the groom, and then it’s pretty much over."

"That’s it?"

"What else do you want? Every one I’ve been to went like that."

Su Yang nodded. "Alright then."

As they talked, Song Anquan and the others set up the firecrackers and fireworks by the roadside and lit them.

After a few seconds of silence, the street erupted in a cacophony of crackling.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The fireworks followed, bursting colorfully in the sky.

Since it was already daylight, their brilliance was somewhat diminished, but no one really minded.

Once the noise died down, the group formed a procession, cheering as they followed Song Anquan—holding a bouquet of flowers—toward Wang Xiaoyan’s house.

The photographer darted around, snapping pictures left and right, turning the street into a lively spectacle.

Neighbors came out to watch the commotion.

The short distance was covered in no time, and soon, twenty or thirty people crowded outside Wang Xiaoyan’s iron gate, shouting:

"Open up, open up! The groom’s here to take his bride!!"

Inside the courtyard, the bride’s side had gathered just as many people.

Three young men and women were standing guard at the door. In front of them was a long table filled with disposable cups of Baijiu.

In the crowd behind the three, a straight path was cleared, leading directly to the main entrance of Wang Xiaoyan's house.

However, this cleared path was also lined with benches filled with Baijiu.

Although there seemed to be a large amount of alcohol, the bride's family wasn't so harsh as to fill the cups to the brim. After all, this was Baijiu, and each cup contained less than half a glass.

But it still took some ability to drink all of it.

At this moment, the people outside the door looked at the scene and shouted in unison, "Damn it! There's so much alcohol!"

The three young people laughed and said, "You think this is a lot? We've already poured very little. Anyway, you have to finish all of it before you can go in and knock on the door!"