The matter was settled perfectly, and the villagers were overjoyed. Men and women alike wore blissful smiles—except, of course, for the single men, who looked utterly miserable.
To thank Zhu Chenyi for his kindness, the villagers said they wanted to treat him to a meal. He was just about to refuse when he realized it was already late. With no other choice, he nodded and agreed.
The simple, honest villagers were delighted that Zhu Chenyi had agreed. Led by the village chief, every household contributed rice, vegetables, and livestock, and they began cooking over the fire.
The women busied themselves preparing the food while the men sat with Zhu Chenyi beneath the hundred-year-old locust tree at the village entrance, chatting. Zhu Chenyi, who had seen and heard much, spun one wild yarn after another, leaving the villagers who loved tales of ghosts and spirits dizzy and utterly bewildered.
More than an hour later, the food was ready. Over a dozen tables were set up on the threshing ground, and all kinds of strong liquor and farm dishes were brought out. The small tables were packed to overflowing.
The men serving the feast came over carrying several enormous wine jars. The large bowls on the tables were quickly filled to the brim. Zhu Chenyi was seated at the head, accompanied by the village chief and several highly respected elders.
The feast lasted until deep into the night. It finally ended only after Zhu Chenyi passed out drunk on the table.
Early the next morning, Zhu Chenyi was woken by the chaotic commotion outside. Rubbing his heavy, foggy head, he went out.
But as soon as he stepped into the courtyard, someone seized him by the collar. Still unsure what was happening, Zhu Chenyi was startled and hurriedly looked up. A burly