Three days later.
Before dawn had fully broken, the crowing of roosters at the eastern end of Lanxi Village had just torn through the morning mist when waves of footsteps already began sounding along the village road.
Last night's dew had left the bluestone path gleaming. Several half-grown children ran ahead with bamboo baskets slung over their arms, scattering red-dyed peanuts and dried red dates in their wake with crisp rattles.
"Brother Yan is getting married today!" shouted the child in front, his clear voice startling the sparrows from the treetops and waking this sleeping mountain village.
This was the liveliest day Lanxi Village had seen in nearly ten years.
Ever since Yan Shuangfei had led some twenty young and able hunters from the village in an assault on Qingfeng Village a month ago, slain the bandit chief, wiped out that gang of bandits, and rescued the twenty-odd girls they had abducted—
And not only recovered the possessions the bandits had stolen from them, but also returned to the village with dozens of carts laden with treasure, the villagers had regarded this young outsider as a living Bodhisattva.
Now that he was marrying Murong Zhi's daughter, the village beauty Murong Feiyan, the entire village seemed to have been soaking in a jar of honey for half a month already.
The mud-brick walls of the Murong Family's courtyard had been freshly plastered with yellow mud until they shone brightly, while a colorful gate two zhang high had been erected outside the courtyard entrance.
Its frame was made of green bamboo, its canopy of red silk, adorned with dried wild chrysanthemums and double-happiness characters cut from gold foil paper. Whenever the wind blew, they rustled softly.
Several women stood on wooden stools, pasting large red wedding characters onto the doorframe. The paste