The matter was settled to everyone's satisfaction. The villagers were delighted, and happy smiles bloomed across the faces of both men and women—except, of course, the bachelors, who wore long, miserable faces.
To thank Zhu Chenyi for his kindness, the villagers insisted on treating him to a meal. He was just about to refuse when he realized it was already getting late. With no other choice, he nodded and agreed.
The simple, honest villagers were overjoyed that Zhu Chenyi had agreed. Led by the village chief, each household contributed rice, vegetables, and livestock, and they began setting up pots and preparing the feast.
The women busied themselves with the food, while the men accompanied Zhu Chenyi beneath the century-old locust tree at the village entrance, chatting with him. Zhu Chenyi had seen the world and knew a great deal, but he spun one wild tale after another, leaving the villagers who loved ghost stories dizzy and bewildered.
Over an hour later, the food was ready. More than a dozen tables were set up on the threshing ground, and all kinds of strong liquor and farm-style dishes were brought out. The not-so-large tables were packed until they were overflowing.
The men serving the guests carried over several enormous jars of liquor. The large bowls on the tables were quickly filled to the brim. Zhu Chenyi was seated at the head of the table, accompanied by the village chief and several highly respected village elders.
The feast went on until the dead of night. It finally ended only when Zhu Chenyi collapsed drunk on the table.
Early the next morning, Zhu Chenyi was awakened by the noisy commotion outside. Rubbing his heavy, foggy head, he went out.
Unexpectedly, the moment he stepped into the courtyard, someone grabbed him by the collar. Zhu