Chapter 050: No Need to Postpone the Wedding
After the herbal medicine had cooled, everyone helped Old Master Duan to sit up against the headboard and fed him the bowl of medicine. Bai Chuwei, with seemingly good intentions, had chosen the most bitter concoction and specifically instructed that it should be fed to him spoonful by spoonful. Even Old Master Duan, who was accustomed to hardship, nearly retched as the bitterness hit his mouth.
It took over half an hour to finish the bowl; by the end, Old Master Duan’s lips were trembling from the bitterness. Gradually, he opened his clouded eyes and gazed at the family surrounding him, muttering, “In my life, I’ve only ever done one thing against my conscience. This illness is retribution—it’s come for me.”
Old Master Duan had lived a life of integrity, save for one moment when he crossed his own moral boundary. Twenty years ago, his third son, barely eighteen, had fallen for a girl named Bai Chu and insisted on marrying her despite her wishes. At the time, Old Master Duan admired Bai Chu and hoped she would become his daughter-in-law, so he tacitly permitted Duan Xiuqi’s actions. Thinking back now, perhaps it truly was retribution.
No one paid much attention to what Old Master Duan was saying; they were simply astonished that he had not only opened his eyes but was able to speak. Since the diagnosis of late-stage stomach cancer, he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. This medicine had truly worked!
If they hadn’t seen Old Master Duan take the medicine themselves, the rest of the family might have believed he was experiencing a brief surge before death.
Tong Yunrou exclaimed in delight, “Fourth Uncle, does this mean Uncle Duan is getting better? In that case, there’s no need to postpone my wedding with Xiuqi, right?”
Duan Xiuqi’s expression was grim. He certainly didn’t wish for his own father’s death, but his feelings were tangled and complex. Meeting Tong Yunrou’s hopeful gaze, he replied absent-mindedly, “If Father recovers, of course the wedding doesn’t need to be delayed.”
Duan Feihan spoke coolly, “Medicine alone isn’t enough. Starting tomorrow for a week, Dr. Bai’s apprentice will come to give Father medicinal baths and acupuncture.”
That three-hundred-yuan prescription was just the beginning; the most crucial part was Bai Chuwei’s Thirteen Spiritual Acupuncture Points.
Duan Xingye asked curiously, “Fourth Uncle, won’t Weiwei come in person to do the acupuncture for Grandpa?”
It seemed Weiwei truly disliked Grandpa—she didn’t even want to make a house call.
“Mm. Here’s your book.” Duan Feihan picked up the classic from the table and tossed it into Duan Xingye’s arms, then turned and walked toward his study.
His study was decorated in a vintage style, bookshelves lining the walls, bathed in warm, yellow light. His slender fingers glided over the spines of the books until his cool fingertips paused and drew out a particular volume.
Although “The Chronicles of Mountain Moon” was hailed as the foremost classic of the country’s literature, it was unfortunately an unfinished novel. Last century, a scholar wrote an ending, which was widely accepted by the people. The ten-year anniversary edition in Duan Feihan’s hands included this ending, making it the perfect gift for Bai Chuwei.
*
“Xiuqi, once Uncle Duan recovers, we can finally hold our wedding. What do you think of this invitation design? I love white invitations—they symbolize beauty and purity,” Tong Yunrou said softly, her eyes filled with longing as she gazed at the design album.
Having just settled Old Master Duan to sleep, the two had left the bedroom. Tong Yunrou wasted no time, pulling out the album for Duan Xiuqi to choose the invitation style, eager to finalize every detail of the wedding in a single night.
Yet as she looked at the man beside her, unease gnawed at her heart. She knew this marriage was something she had forced. A dark premonition lingered—she sensed that Bai Chu, that woman, might soon return.