He'd Married a Treasure

September 8, an auspicious day.

The whole of Fengtian City was brimming with joy.

The Great Green House at the Marshal's Mansion was especially lively, with red lanterns hung high and colorful silk streamers fluttering in the breeze. Banquet tables stretched from noon until night, and the endless stream of guests nearly wore down the threshold.

Zhang Xueming wore a traditional scarlet wedding robe, with a large red flower pinned to his chest. His already handsome features looked even more dashing against the festive red.

But the expression on his face didn't quite match his outfit.

"Come on, can't you at least smile?"

Feng Yong came up beside him with a wine cup in hand and nudged him with an elbow.

"Today's your big day. Who are you scowling at?"

Feng Yong was Feng Delin's son. He and Zhang Xueming had grown up together, close enough to share a pair of pants.

"I can't smile."

Zhang Xueming downed a gulp of wine. It tasted bitter all the way down.

"You know I got pushed into this."

"All right, all right." Feng Yong patted his shoulder. "I heard that Eldest Miss of the Yu Family is a famous talent—cultured, well-mannered, and beautiful, too. What more could you want? Besides, for the armaments factory, it's worth it!"

Zhang Xueming shot him a sideways glance and said nothing.

Was it worth it?

Of course it was.

But the thought of handing over his freedom for the rest of his life left a lump in his chest.

He pulled Feng Yong over to a quieter corner and lowered his voice.

"Yongzi, tell me, what do you think of the Feng Army's equipment right now?"

Feng Yong paused, then answered, "It's all right, I guess. We've got guns and cannons. We're much better equipped than those ragtag armies down south."

"Better my ass!"

Zhang Xueming cursed without holding back.

"Our cannons are all secondhand imports. They cost a fortune, and we have to rely on others for shells. And our guns? A hodgepodge from every nation! Keeping them supplied is enough to drive a man crazy. And with all that, we expect to fight our way Inside the Passes? Dream on!"

Feng Yong looked a little baffled by the outburst and scratched his head.

"You're getting married today. Why are you so fired up?"

"I'm not fired up. I'm anxious."

Zhang Xueming gazed at the officers in the distance, raising cups and exchanging toasts, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

"Yongzi, I'm going to tell you something. Don't repeat it to anyone."

"Go ahead."

"Just running around on the ground won't cut it. We need to get up in the sky."

"Up in the sky?" Feng Yong was even more confused. "What do you mean? You want to become an Immortal?"

"An Immortal, my foot!" Zhang Xueming looked at him as if he were beyond help. "I mean airplanes! Those things that fly through the sky and drop bombs!"

He gestured as he spoke.

"Picture it: the two armies face off, and our planes fly right over their heads, BAM, BAM, dropping iron lumps from above. What can the men down there do besides scatter and cover their heads? That's a Dimensional Strike. Get it?"

Feng Yong's mouth slowly fell open, his eyes full of astonishment.

He didn't really understand what "Dimensional Strike" meant, but he understood Zhang Xueming's description.

Just imagining such a scene was enough to make his blood race.

"I... I get it!" Feng Yong grabbed Zhang Xueming's arm in excitement. "Xue Ming, you... you want to build an... Air Force?"

"Shh!" Zhang Xueming motioned for him to keep quiet. "It's nowhere near a done deal. It's just an idea I have."

He fixed his eyes on Feng Yong and spoke one word at a time.

"I want you to take charge of it."

"Me?" Feng Yong pointed at himself, his face full of disbelief.

"Yes, you." Zhang Xueming's tone left no room for argument. "After the New Year, I'll send you to Europe—to Germany, France, and Britain! Go study! Learn how they build planes, how they fly them, and the theories behind using them in war. Bring it all back to me!"

"When you return, you'll be Commander of the Feng Army's Aviation Corps!"

Feng Yong's heart pounded like a drum.

He looked at Zhang Xueming, his childhood friend, and saw a force about him that made a person believe in him.

"Good!" Feng Yong gave a firm nod and raised his cup. "To your Air Force—I'll drink to that!"

They clinked cups and drained them.

The wedding ceremony was long and full of complicated rituals. By the time Zhang Xueming could finally return to the bridal chamber, night had fallen completely.

He pushed open the door, and a faint, sweet fragrance wafted toward him.

The room was decked out in red. Dragon and Phoenix wedding candles burned quietly, their flickering light falling upon the figure seated on the edge of the bed.

Yu Fengzhi wore a Phoenix coronet and ceremonial robes, her face covered by a red veil. She sat there quietly, her hands folded in her lap, like a delicate porcelain figurine.

Zhang Xueming walked over and picked up the wedding scale from the table.

Just as he was about to lift the veil, the woman beneath it spoke first.

"Second Young Master."

Her words were crisp, her tone steady, without a trace of a new bride's shyness or nervousness.

"I know this marriage was originally meant for Eldest Young Master. I'm just a substitute."

Zhang Xueming stopped.

He hadn't expected her to be so direct.

"The Yu Family needs the Zhang Family's protection, and Marshal needs the Yu Family's wealth to build the armaments factory. This is a transaction. I understand."

Yu Fengzhi continued in a calm voice, without the slightest ripple of emotion.

"So, Second Young Master, you needn't feel awkward. From now on, do whatever you like. Fengzhi will never become a burden to you. Whatever you ask me to do, I will do."