Chapter 28: The Wedding Feast
Those with energy stones were cut open to retrieve the crystals.
Early the next morning, the two of them checked the mutated beasts in the firebreak buffer zone one by one. Zhao Man set four energy stones aside and watched as Tang Heng scanned each carcass in turn.
“All these mutated beasts are ours. I’ll take them along when I report for duty at the garrison tomorrow. Do you want the pelts?” Tang Heng asked.
“Yes.”
“Should I just have them tanned?”
Zhao Man surveyed the beasts, pointing at four of the stockiest ones with the densest fur. “Let’s turn these four into padded jackets—one set for each of us. Can the rest be made into blankets?”
“Sure.”
Once the carcasses were sorted, the two stood in the courtyard while the heating unit hummed, blowing steady drafts of warm air beside them.
“Do you have a plan for the planting area?” Tang Heng asked.
“Yeah.” Zhao Man had grown thoroughly bored staying cooped up indoors and had spent plenty of time pacing the courtyard, sketching out careful plans in his head.
“I gave it some thought. The sand yam bed is bare, so I want to put it on the roof to catch more sunlight.” Zhao Man pointed toward the roof above the room, then angled his hand toward the upper-right corner of the courtyard. “I’ll plant the rest over here.”
He then marked out an eight-square-meter area by the front gate. “I want to section off an entryway here. The space next to the bedroom can hold tools, and that whole stretch extending past the bedroom will be the cultivation zone. What do you think?”
“A partition wall between the recreation space and the planting area?” Tang Heng asked.
“How about installing a rolling shutter door?” Zhao Man replied.
“Sounds good.”
Zhao Man’s itch to build had been thoroughly stirred. Glancing around, he wanted to dive into the work immediately, but without the proper tools, he was reduced to pacing back and forth in circles. Tang Heng trailed closely behind him.
After a few laps, Tang Heng spoke up. “Want to take a walk around the garrison?”
“Can I?” Since the snow season set in, Zhao Man hadn’t stepped outside once and had long grown restless.
“Of course.”
It was right around noon, and the wind and snow outside had temporarily let up. They engaged the house’s perimeter defense system and sealed the doors and windows. Just as Zhao Man was pulling up the zipper on his windbreaker, Tang Heng fitted the hood of the snowsuit over Zhao Man’s head, pulled Zhao Man’s cotton cap onto his own, took him by the hand, and set off toward the garrison.
The garrison lay in the same direction as the market, only farther out. The roads were caked in a thick crust of ice. Gripping Tang Heng’s arm, Zhao Man stumbled and slipped along for nearly an hour before they finally reached the compound.
The Cloud-Cocoon underlayer performed wonderfully; as long as it warmed up indoors first, it held heat continuously. After an hour’s trek, Zhao Man felt comfortable everywhere except for his exposed cheeks.
Enclosing the garrison was an enormous perimeter wall that ringed a five-story administration block, dormitories, and several utility structures of unknown purpose, though it lacked an overhead dome.
Tang Heng led Zhao Man to his dormitory quarters in the southwest corner of the grounds. The suite consisted of two rooms, partitioned by a double-sided shelving unit. The side facing the bedroom held high-value weaponry, while the side facing the door stored various tools and everyday sundries. The larger furnishings amounted to just a bed and a wardrobe.
Shedding his snowsuit, Tang Heng turned on the heater, dug out a set of padded cotton clothes from the wardrobe to change into, and pulled open the bottom compartment of the wardrobe. Inside rested a spare snowsuit.
“This was my old snowsuit. I grew too fast during my growth spurt and outgrew it after only a few wears. I couldn’t bear to sell it, so it’s been sitting here ever since.” Tang Heng unfolded the suit and held it up against Zhao Man to check the fit. “Just right.”
Stowing the snowsuit away, Tang Heng fussed over whether Zhao Man was thirsty or hungry, or if he wanted a tour of the compound, pacing about endlessly until Zhao Man’s head spun. “I want to learn how to shoot.”
Ever since he had acquired the firearm from the unregistered intruders a few days ago, Zhao Man had been itching to try it. But Tang Heng had never had a free moment, and the foundational marksmanship module on the terminal cost forty points.
“I’ll teach you.”
Tang Heng pulled a lockbox from the top shelf of the bedroom tool rack, laid it flat on the floor, and popped it open. Zhao Man saw three firearms resting inside. Looking up at the shelves, he realized the top three tiers were lined with lockboxes of various lengths.
“Are all those cases up there filled with guns?” Zhao Man asked eagerly. What man didn’t want to handle firearms? Who hadn’t fantasized about dropping in from above, taking down hostiles with a casual bang-bang-bang, sliding the gun back into its holster, and casting an aloof, sideways glance at the neutralized enemies sprawled on the ground?
“Yeah. I stockpiled them little by little. This one is a Maro training gun that the base patrol teams issue to green recruits. It doesn’t require mental strength. Hold onto this first.”
Tang Heng handed the weapon to Zhao Man, retrieved a target from the case to mount on the wall, and stepped up beside Zhao Man, taking in his awkward, crooked stance.
Mimicking police dramas he had watched on television, Zhao Man gripped the gun with both hands and squinted one eye. Seeing Tang Heng approach, he asked, “How is it?”
“Not bad, but shift your center of gravity forward slightly, set your feet wider than shoulder-width, and take the shot right at the end of a natural exhale.”
The moment the words left Tang Heng’s mouth, Zhao Man’s breathing turned noticeably forced. He squeezed the trigger, and the shot nearly veered completely off the target.
Tang Heng fought back a smirk. “Don’t force the breath. For a first attempt, that’s already very good.”
The Maro gun was calibrated to match the base specs of standard-issue garrison sidearms. It required no live ammunition and had zero lethal yield, but it housed specialized practice charges. Once synced to a personal terminal, it calculated the shooter’s stance, trigger pressure, and environmental factors to register virtual impacts—perfect for beginners drilling proper form and tactile recoil.
“This is a Generation 6 model; Generation 7 is the standard now. We’ll take it with us when we head back, so you can practice at home whenever you like,” Tang Heng said.
“Alright.”
Mid-sentence, Zhao Man’s posture drifted out of alignment again. Tang Heng stepped up behind him, leaning in slightly to adjust Zhao Man’s arm with one hand. “Keep your form steady. If you’re going to drill, drill it right.”
Warm breath brushed against Zhao Man’s ear, prompting him to tilt his head away slightly.
“Don’t squirm.”
“It tickles a little.”
Tickles? Tang Heng glanced at Zhao Man’s faintly reddening earlobe. It certainly seemed so.
Thump, thump, thump. “Captain!” A voice sounded from outside the door.
Tang Heng went to answer it while Zhao Man lowered the gun, rolling his sore shoulders.
Outside stood Li Guang, one of Tang Heng’s squad members. Tang Heng took an item from his hands, exchanged a few hushed words, and sent him on his way.
“Hungry? Let’s go eat.” Tang Heng set the item down and looked over at Zhao Man.
Once Zhao Man nodded, Tang Heng shut the door and led him by the hand on a five-minute walk to a small recreation room. Without knocking, he pushed the door straight open.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The sharp crack of bursting fireworks rang out, causing Zhao Man to squeeze his eyes shut on reflex.
“Happy wedding! Wishing you a hundred years of harmony!” A chorus of mismatched voices erupted in unison.
Zhao Man opened his eyes to find the room packed with people—all members of Brigade 12, along with Zhao Qingjin and an unfamiliar young woman beside him. The space had been decorated with vibrant strips of cloth, lending it a distinctly festive air. The floor was free of paper scraps; off to the side stood two electronic pyrotechnic tubes that emitted rhythmic pop-pop-pop sounds before projecting halos of light that blossomed into bursting fireworks across the ceiling.
This was the standard for a wedding in the Fourth or Fifth Rings. Beyond the Third Ring, no one on the base squandered hard-earned points on impractical novelties like real fireworks, which gave rise to the electronic variety.
The crowd surged forward with congratulatory cheers. Tang Heng held Zhao Man’s hand and guided him to a seat at the table. It was a massive round banquet table with more than enough room for a dozen people. Zhao Man counted ten dishes laid out—a balanced spread of greens and meat, every platter heaped high with generous portions.
The woman beside Zhao Qingjin was his Omega partner, a nurse named Zhang Jing. Seated right next to Zhao Man, the two exchanged terminal contact details between rounds of conversation.
There was no alcohol at the feast, but Zhao Man received heartfelt blessings from everyone present. By the end of the meal, his cheeks were stiff from smiling.
By the time they returned to the dormitory, it was nearly six o’clock. Tang Heng pulled out a duffel bag, packed up his clothes and personal belongings from the room, slung the pack over his shoulder, and took Zhao Man by the hand to head home.
Outside, the wind had picked up, and snow began to drift down once more. Bundled in Tang Heng’s old snowsuit, Zhao Man walked alongside him in quiet companionship the entire way.
Once inside, Tang Heng drew a package from his rucksack and handed it to Zhao Man. Zhao Man recognized it as the bundle Li Guang had dropped off earlier. Opening it, he found it packed with square sheets of coarse yellow paper—joss paper.
Noticing that Zhao Man had been quiet the whole way back, Tang Heng felt a slight knot of unease. He had modeled today’s gathering on the standard Fourth Ring ceremonies. Up in the Third Ring, weddings had formal emcees and fresh flowers, but during the snow season in the Sixth Ring, such luxuries were nearly impossible to secure no matter how many points one had.
“Why so quiet? Are you upset?”
Zhao Man looked down at the bundle of paper offerings, his chest tightening with warmth. Hearing Tang Heng’s hesitant question, he was momentarily taken aback. “Upset about what?”
“About the wedding feast.” Compared to what folks had in the Third Ring, it was rough around the edges, and none of Zhao Man’s own family or friends had been there.
Zhao Man shook his head. While it had been sudden and the initial surprise somewhat awkward, he was hardly so ungrateful as to fail to recognize genuine care.
“Not at all.” Zhao Man looked up at Tang Heng, adding softly, “I’m really happy. Where did you even buy these?”
When browsing the markets, Zhao Man had searched all over and found zero ancestral offerings.
“You can find them on the black market, but they’re rare. People in the Sixth Ring almost never use them. Whenever you need more down the road, just let me know, and I’ll track them down for you.”
The items weren’t expensive; it was just that nobody on the base used them anymore. He had asked a colleague to source some yellow paper and copied old pre-calamity video clips to fold them into shape.
Zhao Man led Tang Heng to a quiet spot to burn the paper for his grandparents in that distant other world. As the flames consumed the sheets, he whispered in his heart:
Grandpa, Grandma, I got married. I’m sorry, it’s to a man—but he’s a good guy, and I’m doing alright.
Zhao Man stole a glance at Tang Heng. Seeing the man looking gently back at him, he added one final thought in his heart:
No matter what happens, I’m going to live a good, long life.
